#like red orange yellow would be a fucking nightmare for me

[erikisser]

i'd fr riot if i was an idol and my company gave me a designated color i don't like

#like red orange yellow would be a fucking nightmare for me #purple would be fine i'd definitely grow to hate it #if i didn't get white black grey blue or green then what's the point #i'd also take pink even though i would side eye bc it wouldn't fit my personality #yeah basically the other 5 are the only options #i'd also take silver as a clever spin on grey #000

[mistyresolve]

| One Thing You Love - Simon “Ghost” Riley x Reader

Word Count - 1.1k

Summary - Simon is no stranger to nightmares and the fear and panic that follows. He has a routine and has developed tricks to aid them. Especially when they plague you at night. 

Tags/Warnings - Fluff, Explicit Language, Depictions of Panic Attacks and Night Terrors, Mentions of Childhood Trauma, 

A/N - Imagine being loved by someone like him!!!

Masterlist  ❤︎  Tag List Form

An invisible hand reached into his sleep and pulled him from sleep just in time to see you bolt up from the sheets, clawing at the air. Hair sticking to your forehead and tears staining your face. You gasped out unintelligible words, reaching for someone, anyone to help you. Simon was already moving and was kneeling beside you immediately. 

The first time you had had an episode it was absolutely terrifying for him. He had been jolted awake from you thrashing against his arm, blubbering incoherently. At first, he thought he had accidentally done something to hurt you. Until you called out for your mom, begged her to “make it stop”. He felt completely useless, he didn't know what to do. Flicking on the lamp he had tried shaking you awake and calling out your name. 

When you finally woke up you were inconsolable. He stayed up till dawn with you as you cried. 

This time he knew what he had to do, he had done it so many times that he moved almost mindlessly. Cautiously, he moved to sit behind you, legs on either side of you and arms wrapping around you. He grasped your wrists gently and crossed them over your chest, applying just enough pressure to the embrace. He leaned back against the headboard slowly, pulling you back with him. 

You struggled against him, breaths coming in short uncontrollable bursts, "Wait. No. I'm - I'm sorry," You sputtered. 

Simon felt his shatter at the words. You've never and refused to tell him what your dreams were about but he had his theories. He would never asks you, he was waiting for you to tell him. He knew about what had happened in your childhood home. What would be said there, to you, done to you. What they would do to you when they caught you using you “out of line”. You'd told him about it, once. And only once did you speak freely about it. He’d felt sick to his stomach.  

"Shhh, it's only me. I'm here." He whispered into your ear as softly and calmly as he could. 

"Simon," he loosed a breath at the sound of your broken voice, you were awake. You stopped your struggling but you were still in panic in his arms. Eyes wild and unseeing. 

"Name five colours." His own voice quivered with anger. He had sworn to himself that if he ever saw your parents. He wouldn't hold back. He'd fucking kill them. He would burn them to ashes. He would pack the years of torture and pain you endured into one night. He’d become a nightmare for you.

When you didn't say anything he pulled you even closer, "Think of the rainbow, Darlin"

"Green."

"Good. Four more," 

"Orange. Red." Each word was a struggle between your gasps for breath. 

"Green." 

"You already said that one. Two more." 

"Yellow, and blue." 

"Now, tell me four weekdays." Simon stares off at the door to the hallway. He was ready to protect you against the world.  

"Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday." You said in one breath.

"Slower." He lowered his voice and you had to strain to hear him. You obeyed, slowly repeating the weekdays to him. 

"Three foods." He leaned his head down on your shoulder, the smell of his shampoo invading your senses. Breath by breath you returned to your body, to the hollowness in your chest, to the throbbing headache. Your fingers ached too, and when you look at them you realize your bone-crushing grip on his arms. Immediately you let go, leaving behind little angry red fingerprints. Your finger nimbly danced along the markings. He pressed a small kiss to your jaw as if to tell you "It's okay". 

"Grapes. Chicken. And..." You paused for a second, thinking. "Does chocolate count?"

He rubbed wide, slow circles into your shoulder, "Oh, of course. Two things you hate," His questions need increasingly more thought, effectivly distracting you. He had looked at how to deal with panic attacks and nightmares and how to help someone come down from one, and he was pulled every trick he knew for these moments. Took notes on his own nightmares and demons. On what helped soothe his panicked heart.  

"Mushrooms," you scrunch your nose. He chuckled softly, the sound rumbling in his chest and against your back. He loved them. 

"And being damp, not wet but not completely dry either,” you considered for a second, “Like when you get caught in the rain." 

He hummed in agreement, "And one thing you love." 

Your eyes dropped to the arms wrapped around you, the fingers rubbing slow circle on your skin. Warmth rolled from the man behind you and into your chilled lungs. His smokey bourbon scent. You thought of the shared whispers at nights before falling asleep, the early mornings and their lazy kisses. The chilly walks to the park, and the laughter. 

You pulled your arms free of his, "You," You leaned your head back on his shoulder, then half turned to face him, catching his face in your hands. He leaned into your touch, eyes falling shut. "I love you, Simon Riley." 

A rare boyish smile graced his lips and then those incredible dark eyes found yours. "I love you too," then he moved you so you'd be facing him entirely. “Do you wanna talk about it?" He offered his full attention. You shake your head, you never said yes. He always asked though. 

Leaning your head on his shoulder you savoured the silence for a minute, just feeling each other's presence. He ran his hand up and down your back.    

"I'm sorry I keep doing this to you," You admit sheepishly. A fat warm tear slipped down your cheek. He pulled away from you. 

"I am yours, and my purpose is to protect you. I would be fucking useless if I wasn't there for you. Don't ever be sorry. We all get nightmares." He tilted his head to the side as he wiped the tears from existence, then placed a warm kiss where it once was. Then another kiss for your nose, your cheek. He hovered over your lips. "I will always be here for you." He closed the distance. The kiss was sweet and tender, and your chest squeezed at your bleeding heart. His hand slid into your hair, tilting your head to the side to deepen the kiss. The remaining fear from my nightmare was pushed to the back of my mind. 

He pulled away, his thumb rubbing your bottom lip. He settled you back into the bed, you cuddled into his chest and him caging you in. He placed one final kiss to your temple. "Get some sleep, okay." 

You nodded your eyes already drifting shut, his warmth and steady breath lulling you back to sleep. Your last thoughts before falling way to sleep were of him. Of how you'd had gotten so lucky as to steal him for yourself. 

Masterlist  ❤︎  Tag List Form

A/N - for the fellow ghosties who get nightmares 🤍

Tag List -  @thychuvaluswife ❤︎ @shuttlelauncher81 ❤︎  @lostinsideourminds ❤︎ @v1naco ❤︎  @konig-breedme ❤︎ @wolfyland07 ❤︎ @dog55teeth ❤︎ @cumbersome-robes ❤︎ @meaganjean ❤︎ @purplefishingline​ ❤︎ @ddioriez

#simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley fanfiction #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley imagine #simon riley x you #cod #cod ghost #cod fanfic #MW2 #mw2 x reader #ghost mw2 #MistyGhosties

[14muffinz]

Hi so I wrote a thingy

Inspired by @tblsomedoodles adopted AU, I wanted to do my own spin on the brothers finding Angie. 

Uhhh just trying to get this out of my brain for a good nights sleep. So yeah. lesgo

I’ll put a keep reading somewhere in here

⠀

⠀

Angelo had to be seeing things.

He just-- he had to be, okay? Because in front of him was that same goddamn sewer tunnel that always haunted his nightmares, the cracked orange paint that shouldn’t be cracked because he shouldn’t be here.

And yeah, it had to be some sort of fucked up nightmare, because there were more handprints on the wall than the ones that should be there.

Everywhere are splashes of blue, purple and-- fuck that was red, that was Pops-- no, it was the brother Raphael, the one he never thought he’d have to face again, and his handprints were staining this goddamned wall and it didn’t fucking make sense--

Angelo cried. And he didn’t care who was listening.

And maybe, the hysterical part of him, one buried over the years, laughed at how broken he was for a 12-year-old.

Raph dropped his sketchbook on the kitchen counter at the sound of an alarm he’d only heard once in his life.

Someone was in range of the mural.

Oh, oh no, not the goddamn--

“Donnie, Leo!” He roared, charging into the common room where sure enough, the twins were both charging from their respective rooms at top speed towards the purple curtain covering Donnie’s lab.

“I’m getting my bō, and then I’m going to maim a bitch!” Donnie announced.

True to his word, the twins emerged from the lab before Raph could even make it upstairs, folded up bō in hand.

Leo was never far behind from his twin. Not anymore. 

“Let’s go,” Donnie said coldly.

⠀

Raph twirled a sai nervously as they got closer and closer to the mural. He didn’t come down this way often. Too many memories, and sometimes they got overwhelming and Savage--

It wasn’t a very nice place for him.

But then, as the anger in Donnie and Leo only got more and more intense, they all picked up the faint sounds of sobbing. Unfamiliar sobbing. Heart-wrenching, guttural cries that now that they were listening for, bounced off the sewer walls without even an attempt to be covered.

And after a moment of consideration, they all ran.

Ran like their lives fucking depended on it, because before they’d hoped whoever the intruder was would just leave, but now that it was clear they were just crying, they needed to know who the hell this was. Because only April and Pops knew the route to the mural. And there were more sensors surrounding it, there was no way to just appear in front of it, right?

Right?

The twins screeched to a halt and Raph nearly crashed into himself before he froze as well.

Sitting against where Orange’s handprints, the last evidence of his existence, were painted was a green figure, with Orange spots and a yellow mask wrapped around his eyes. He wore orange knee and elbow pads, and the ones visible all had red lightning bolts on them. There were also stickers on his shell--

His shell. His shell. Because that figure was a turtle. Because that figure was their brother.

“Orange?” Leo squeaked.

The figure stared at them, his eyes shining under the yellow mask, which was stained darker with tears. He had orange freckles on his face. 

“Blue?” 

And before they all could process, Orange ran.

They ran after him, of course, but he was as fast and as feisty as their bleary memories and the few stories they’d wrangled out of their father had described.

The chase only lasted 3 minutes before the tears came back and Orange popped completely into his shell mid-trip, like Pops had always said he did when he was surprised.

After a silence that felt thicker than concrete, Orange popped back out of his shell, still shaking with silent tears.

“It’s Angie. You-- you can call me Angie.”

~~~

Next

#rottmnt #tmnt 2003 #les be real angie swears a ton #like raph is his dad #quick hc for this au: red is more into drawings/art than canon rottmnt cuz angelo wasn't there to take it up #angie thinks hes 12 cuz they dont know his bday but hes 13 in this #UUH I started this at 10:45 its 11:30 now i think I’m in too deep #ficlet

[skylarsblue]

Random Slasher Headcanons

Michael Myers

Michael cannot stand peanut butter. He likes the smell of peanuts & peanut butter, but, the consistency is something he won’t allow. It sticks to his hands & the roof of his mouth and it makes him genuinely angry. He doesn’t mind candy with chunks of peanuts, but no peanut butter. None. Keep it away from him.

 THIS MAN IS A DRUMMER AT HIS HEART. Listen, if he wasn’t a stabby stabby murder man, he’d be a fucking drummer. It would be a fantastic way to get out his anger. Now, he’d certainly break his sticks constantly, but he’s a metal drummer. You can pry this from my cold, pale hands.

Michael can’t read. Not like he lacks the ability, but he cannot stand to sit down and read a book. Not only does it always make him tired, but most books have too small of text. Large paragraphs make his head hurt. Reading itself just feels like a boring hassle. He perceives visual and audible stuff a lot easier than reading it. This means he always ignores written instructions.

Michael is not a good cook. We know this. HOWEVER. He can do sandwiches, boxed mac & cheese, and grilled cheese. And he makes a pretty damn good grilled cheese. Man loves his cheddar.

Jason Voorhees

Woodcarving! Jason does woodcarving. He gets bored out there, alone in the forest, no technology. Even if he has his rounds to do, he gets bored in leisure time. He’s gained a few hobbies but woodcarving is his favorite. He makes little sculptures for his mother. She seems to like the bird ones the best.

 My man is super suited for the wild. He makes all his own traps! Even the bear traps he uses are tampered with, just so they hold people better. He’s really good at figuring out how to hide the traps as well. Jason is a hunter for sure.

 Jason Voorhees is red-yellow colorblind. Why do I say this? Because I can, damnit. Does this affect anything? No, but it does mean he likes cooler tones a lot more. Which is why he dresses in blue, green, etc. frequently. Reds, oranges, and yellows tend to just look like dull greys & browns. Pamela also had this! It’s why her favorite color was baby blue.

Jason’s fear of water kind of fluctuates. It’s a PTSD thing. Some days, he can handle water fine. It’s not something he prefers but it doesn’t freak him out as much. At worst it makes him a bit uncomfortable. On other days though, he gets really scared by even the memories of being near water. It’s made worse by flashbacks or nightmares. It all depends on the day and recent events.

Brahms Heelshire

We all know Brahms is a whore for sugary sweet treats, but, on the other side of the coin? Mans cannot do spice. To any degree. He thinks too much pepper is spicy, and he will complain. So, if you like actual flavor in your food, I’m sorry. Either you’ll have to make him something separate or you’ll need to dial it back a lot.

Even in his childish moments, Brahms has a very wide & eccentric vocabulary. He’s dabbled in poetry & short stories before. He especially gets into the writing mood after reading a good book. Now, he’d rather die than show anyone what he’s written, but it’s actually pretty good. If he dabbled in it more he could probably pass as a well seasoned author. He gets a bit ramble-y sometimes, though.

 Mans is an artist. You cannot tell me he hasn’t dabbled in water color, especially when his parents put him in the walls. I don’t think his parents would be too into the idea of him having a messy hobby. But, he’s a creative boy. Even if he prefers writing. Show him Bob Ross, he’ll be so relaxed.

Did someone say chronic back pain? He naturally bends down when roaming through the walls & he sits hunched over. Coming from a person who hunches over everything, back pain. Mans also has poppy joints. Like, every time he turns or moves something pops. Mostly his knees and back. His joints like doing a firecracker impression whenever he moves.

Bo Sinclair

I’ve mentioned this in his Fluff Alphabet, but I think Bo was taught to play the piano. Now that he’s older, the piano they own is all dusty in the attic, out of tune. When he was younger though, it was how he got out a lot of his emotions without actually bothering anyone. It was one of the few things he got praise for too. The fact he could make elegant melodies without needing notes on a sheet to guide him? Amazing! And no one notices the fact he was five seconds from a mental breakdown. …now he just, drinks a lot of beer and goes through at least three cigarettes a day.

Bo has very sensitive hearing. You’d think with all the music he blared as a teen or the shots from his shotgun would’ve harmed his eardrums, but no, oddly enough. Mister Sinclair can identify noises from like several yards away. It’s part of the reason hiding from him is so hard. He will hear you breathe. 

At some point, since all three boys were put in foster care, Bo had to get a lot of teen jobs to work up as much money as possible. Not only to cover things he and his brother would need when they turned eighteen, but so he could also adopt Lester. Lester is, at least, 4+ years younger than Bo & Vincent. Bo knew that when he and Vincent were able to be independent, the state would still be in control of where Lester was. Bo may be an asshole, but he’ll never leave one of his brothers alone. So as soon as he turned eighteen, he insisted on being Lester’s legal guardian. Worked out, thankfully. 

Some of y’all got it twisted thinking Vincent is the high maintenance brother. (I’m kidding, he is) Bo, though he’d never admit it, has an extensive self care routine. He hides it, of course. He doesn’t need people thinking he’s soft! Bo’s a bit vain, it’s how he counteracts a lot of his insecurities. He’s the pretty brother, it’s what he gets the most praise for, so he needs to stay the pretty brother. He doesn’t know what else he’d have otherwise.

Lester Sinclair

I know he has a dirty job, but I think it’d be absolutely hilarious if his home was actually pretty clean. Sure, it’d be decorated in animal skins & bones, but it’s not messy clutter. I think that him having the cleaner home in comparison to Bo & Vincent would be absolutely HILARIOUS.

I think he's actually a pretty decent cook. Lester makes godly fried chicken. He’s not necessarily a chef that’s good in all fields, but what he cooks he’s good at. These are things like omelets, fried chicken, gumbo, and cod fish. However, he has a bad habit of making everything spicy.

Despite appearing the most scrawny out of his brothers, he’s got a decent amount of strength. It just doesn’t show much on his body. He has a fast metabolism. It’s hard to put on muscle when you struggle to put on weight, especially when sometimes he forgets to eat, so he’s not doing well there either. Still, he can manage some heavy lifting fairly well. But what’s most surprising is his grip strength. He avoids handshakes because of it. Bo has told him about a million times that Lester could break someone’s fingers with his hands. Helps when he’s opening jars though.

Lester is a natural snuggler, because I said so. When he falls asleep he naturally hugs whatever is closest. Sometimes that’s a pillow, sometimes it’s Jonesy, and when he was younger it was Bo’s arm. Now, if he tries to sleep without something to hug, his arms will just be curled up to his chest all awkwardly. On top of that, if you put something near him when he’s asleep, he will eventually end up hugging it. Once he has it, it stays there until he wakes up.

Vincent Sinclair

Did someone say BACK PROBLEMS?! We all know the infamous “shrimp” pose done by millions of artist, and Vincent is no exception to this. He sits and hunches in the most awkward positions while working. Their back pops all the time. Bo hates it.

Vincent’s the doctor in Ambrose. While all three brothers have some first aid knowledge and a concept of human anatomy, Vincent is by far the most well versed. Anytime his brothers get hurt or sick beyond the point of where they can take care of themselves, they go to Vincent. He’s always ready to help them, even if he may be silently scolding them in his brain.

Vincent’s not the best cook whatsoever, but they manage a pretty decent breakfast. Lester is the best cook out of them all but they all have their specialties. Vincent’s is bacon, eggs, french toast, and pancakes. Anytime Vincent makes french toast, his brother’s come running. They’ll even fight over the last piece. Oh, he also makes great tea.

When they were younger, they had a caffeine addiction. Now he can’t handle it at all. It gives him the jitters and his heart goes all crazy. He also gets a bit sick. This is mostly the result of a bad experience. He drank three energy drinks in twenty minutes and his body did not handle it well, he got super sick. Now they won’t touch the stuff.

Thomas Hewitt

I think Thomas is capable of some speech, but it’s a bit of a struggle because, one, since he never spoke much his vocal chords just aren’t used to speaking. So they kind of hurt when he tries. And two, speech impediment trauma. (I used to have a struggle saying some words in school, for example, and those kids did not let me exist peacefully.)

Sometimes, if he is truly desperate enough for just a moment of quiet. A second where he’s not hearing the commotion of his home, he’ll go out to the little rickety barn they have. If someone, Hoyt, for example,  comes out to call him out for being “lazy”, he can easily just act like he’s working. Then as soon as they leave he’ll go back to sitting in quiet. My man needs a break.

Mans loves pie. And I mean he loves pie. Adores it. His favorites are apple, blueberry, and mixed berries. But he’ll eat any kind of pie. Key-lime to pumpkin, he is a whore for pie.

Thomas is allergic to bees, so when they start coming around, he gets freaked out. It’s not like they got the stuff to care for him if he goes into shock from a bee sting. So, if a bee gets too close, this dude is sprinting. It’d be kinda funny to watch this giant running from a bee, but if it could literally kill me, I’d run too.

Bubba Sawyer

Snow White. Bubba is basically snow white. Animals absolutely love him. Everything from chickens, to cats, to bugs. They love him. Even if there was an animal that Bubba has never had experience with before, it’d love Bubba. Bears? Elk? Hawks? They love Bubba. Everyone loves Bubba.

Bubba knows how to square dance. He’s from Texas, they got the boots, they got the want to dance. I imagine they don’t get the chance much, because dancing alone isn’t very fun to him, but if he ever gets a partner to dance with? It’s waltzin’ time!

Something that they can’t do often, but adore doing, is baking. Bubba loves to bake! Their favorite thing to make is pie, muffins, & apple pie. It’s hard to get all the things to make these items, sugar being something he struggles the most to find, but it’s something he prides himself in. Even his brothers praise his baking skills.

Bubba owns dresses, but they can’t wear them very often. Nubbins is probably the most accepting of that part of fashion, even if he still pokes fun here & there. But Drayton & Chop-Top make the most fun of Bubba, to the point it hurts his feelings. But, if both Drayton & Chop-Top are gone, and ideally Nubbins, Bubba will do all his housework in one of his dresses. He likes the flowy ones, with light colors & floral patterns. They get a sense of euphoria from wearing it with an apron overtop. They get euphoric in some outfits with pants too, but dresses are special because they can’t wear them often.

#rob zombie michael myers #michael myers #jason voorhees #brahms heelshire #bo sinclair #vincent sinclair #lester sinclair #bubba sawyer #thomas hewitt #slasher community #slashers #slasher fucker #slasher x reader #texas chainsaw massacre #house of wax #halloween #Friday the 13th #the boy 2016

[tnc-n3cl]

Find the word

Find the words from the list in your wips and post the paragraphs they belong to.

Thanks to @zeawesomebirdie for the tag.

1. Star

(From "Virli's Story", one of my LoZ "The Realm Walker" fics. Virli is a member of Revali's tribe of Rito so looks similar to him, but with orange-red feathers, no cheek tufts, and a shorter crest. She has blue eyes and a pair of white dots on her face near where Revali's red spots are. Also her "hair" is braided in a single braid that splits into four at the end.)

Virli’s flight group closes in on the Korikitan Market, and right off the bat their plan is in need of adjustment.  Below, a group of soldiers on horseback approach the monster horde, the black armor with red embossed patterns and horsehair decorated helmets are a clear sign that they’re from Yosikun’s Imperial Army. And if that wasn’t enough, many soldiers have banners attached to their backs, rectangular flags with a diagonal separation of colors, dark slate gray on the bottom and dark red on the top, with the bright red circular emblem of Diryen (De-rye-in), the Alliance’s counterpart to the Goddess Din.  There’s also a single gold four-point star at the top left of the banners, some kind of unit marking probably…

2. Eye

(From "The Long Nightmare", Revali's century long ordeal of being possessed by Ganon. He's just lost to Windblight...)

The creature hovers over Revali, making sickening gurgling noises.  Revali closes his eyes and waits for its cannon to burn through his flesh, “Dad, I guess I’ll see you soon…  Mom, please, stay strong…” Revali can still hear the gurgling, why hasn’t it finished him?!  He opens his eyes and glares at the beast, “Well, what are you waiting for?!  Go ahead!  Finish me already!” It just looks at him with that damned, pulsating Guardian eye.  “What, you want to gloat over me?  You want me to beg for my life or something?!  Fuck you!  You can’t defeat all of us!  Daruk or Urbosa or Mipha will send you back to whatever hell you crawled out of!”

3. Call

(From "The Ballad of Kass", where Kass and Rinili have sneaked into Gerudo village. They're wearing Rito lady clothes, but with the Gerudo veil, since Kass' crest is a male trait in my headcanon. Kass has a green hood and veil while Rinili's is red. Rinili is midnight blue with light blue legs (like Saki) and has four long ornamental tail feathers that he's cleverly tucked into a sash so they think they're part of an outfit instead of his body.)

Kass and Rinili make their way up the staircase and are blocked from entering when the guards cross their spears across the entranceway. The one on the left demands, “State your business vure.” Kass knows enough Gerudo to be insulted.  Yes, he IS a bird, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t rude to call a Rito that out of the blue.  Although, he’s diplomatic enough to let it slide, Kalia would likely have started an incident had she been sent!

4. Dark

(From "Ildia's Story" where Ildia, TP Link and Midna's daughter, first sees the sorry state of Hyrule Castle. She's wearing plate mail armor that's black with glowing blue lines. She has a bright orange ponytail and mismatched eyes, left is blue and right is red, while the whites of her eyes have a hint of yellow. She's standing on a rock near the quarry area in BotW.)

From the top of the rock Ildia can see the huge castle.  It’s like something out of a nightmare! The castle is surrounded by massive black stone pillars with purple lights emerging from the ground and the ruins of a town are in front of the castle, the entire scene surrounded by an ominous, dark aura.  She pulls out what looks like a bird mask, the Hawkeye tool her father once used.  She looks around the ruins: little more than piles of rubble where buildings once stood, more of those machines patrolling, pools of ominous purple and black slime, some of those pools have spike like structures sticking out of them. 

5. When

(From "The Azure Phoenix", where Revali's talking with Bedoli and Laissa after waking up from the coma he fell into after Link and Mipha freed him. He's sitting up on the floor of their roost, naked with a blanked wrapped around him. He's just learned that Link and Mipha are still in the village.)

Revali’s genuinely surprised, not so much by Mipha staying, it’s totally understandable that she would stay being the kind soul that she is.  But Link?  Why would he stay when he needs to rescue Daruk and Urbosa?!  It’s not like he and Link were friends, perhaps he didn’t want to leave Mipha alone here.  Then again, Link’s odds of succeeding in rescuing Daruk and Urbosa rise considerably if he has help from the greatest archer Hyrule has ever known... 

No pressure tags: @unmaskedcardinal, @autumnsakurajayy, and anyone else who wants to join!

Your words are: light, moon, sound, here, north

#tag game #thanks for the tag!

[paladinbaby]

@creacherkeeper & @paladinbaby / @goetic-justice / naddpod / i know the end, phoebe bridgers / jenny holzer / coming soon, annie dirusso / orange juice, noah kahan / ocean vuong / @paladinbaby / jenny holzer

[Image description: a collection of ten texts mostly on white backgrounds.

1: A discord conversation. “lev - nettle is like i may be intelligent but what if i want to beat ass instead

but it's also like

the inherent violence of being a very smart but very lonely kid who's prided on their brain and not on their feelings so you grow up somewhat emotionally traumatized and then are like. what if i was simply ruled only by emotion and that emotion is rage and im not going to admit that it's fueled by hurt

faun - literally if nettle tries for even a second to move past rage then she has to confront that both the life she was living before and the life she's living now are deeply fucked up in separate ways

and she has to confront that like even her physical body is not the thing she thought it was

lev - literally what does nettle have to trust in right now. the world is not what she thought. her abilities are not what she thought. her own self is not what she thought. she has literally no grounding and more is being asked of her now than ever before. like that's so deeply fucked”

2: “Cats never understand that you’re helping them get their claws unstuck from fabric. They’re just like “you’re tormenting me at the worst possible time I hate you””

3: “The world should have protected you, but you have been asked to protect it. What an honor, what an injustice.” The text is highlighted in a light purple, with a reference number at the end.

4: “Drivin’ out into the sun / Let the ultraviolet cover me up / Went lookin’ for a creation myth / Ended up with a pair of cracked lips / Windows down, scream along”

5: A yellow plaque on a grey background that reads “protect me from what I want” in block capitals.

6: “Well I used to be smart and I used to be nice / Now I’m neither of those, but I’ve been feelin’ alright / And it used to be easy, just coastin’ through life / And it’s not anymore, but I’ve been feelin’ alright

I’m doin’ fine / Only losin’ my mind every once in a while”

7: “[Chorus] / Feels like I’ve been ready for you to come home / For so long / That I didn’t think to ask where you’d gone / Why’d you go?”

8: A printed quote, underlined in red pen. “So hello, hi, the blood / inside my hands / is now inside / the world. Words, the prophets / tell us, destroy / nothing they can’t / rebuild.”

9: “14. What keeps them up at night?

well where to start 😅😭i think nettle has lived a very solitary life and suddenly her entire world has been forced outwards in a way that in some places would actually be good for her if she let it be. So she had these two nightmares”

10: A letterboard on a white wall under pink lighting that reads “the breakdown comes when you stop controlling yourself and want the release of a bloodbath” End ID.]

thinking about nettle, my favourite normal guy

#personal #litstack #web weaving #nettle :) #c:lensa #these are so fun #so so sorry to non lensa mutuals #i have one left in my drafts but for another day #i don’t think I quite got my order on this right but it’s a pain to edit

[princess-schez]

Fic: Sweet Dreams, Beautiful Nightmare - Chapter 1

Title: Sweet Dreams, Beautiful Nightmare

Rating: M (cuz there will be language and smut)

Genre: Bill Cipher/Reader fanfic

Summary: The Reader has been plagued by violent nightmares for as long as she can remember. Deciding to move to Oregon for a simpler pace of life, it is there she meets the dream demon himself and begins to unravel a mystery connecting them both.

Notes: Happy 10th Anniversary to Gravity Falls! Without it, I wouldn't be here writing Bill Cipher smut, lol. Enjoy!

Fic under cut below.

Chapter 1.

Bright pulses of light streaked across your closed eyes, the intensity almost seared into your mind—flashes of reds, yellows, oranges… pulsating vividness as a roar of thunder broke through the air, giving way to a world that was—in your mind, falling apart at the seams…. The heat from nearby fire licked at your body as you lay on a hard, unforgiving surface.

“Oh–Oh dear,” you gasped, slowly bringing your hands down towards the wound in a last attempt to save yourself. But as smoke flooded the edges of your vision while your energy practically drained out of you, you knew the effort would be wasted.

Screams, you heard, the screams of your friends were coming at you from all angles, sending a stake straight through your heart.

The chaotic energy around you felt far away as you slipped in and out of consciousness. All your energy felt zapped—drained—as your life slipped away from you, slowly, slowly…. Everything began to fade away, your last thoughts fleeting as you wondered where the one person you wanted near you was, and why they weren’t there right now.

Slowly, each beat of your heart grew fainter, until it stopped altogether... and you sat bolt upright in bed. Sweat beaded on your brow as the morning light came pouring in through your curtains, blinding you. Taking a deep breath, you rubbed your face with your hands, wiping away the sleep from your eyes as your heart raced from another night of horrible dreams.

“What the fuck,” is all you could say. “What… the fuck?”

You stared at the ceiling a bit longer, bringing up your hands to rub tiredly at your face again… You didn’t… You didn’t even know who ‘they’ were, or why you even thought that in your nightmare to begin with, and, and…

“Stress,” you reasoned with yourself, groaning. “Just… chill out… You’re going to Oregon, damn it, not hell…”

You would have given anything to stop these nightmares from happening, but nonetheless, they persisted. Which was why you were leaving the big city for a slower-paced life in a small town in Oregon. And that meant today was the big day—moving day.

Flopping back down on your mattress, you groaned loudly, knowing you couldn’t very well spend it in bed. Sighing, you got up and dressed, having a quick breakfast and coffee, hoping to improve your sour mood as you scrolled through your social media pages as you ate. A notification popped up, a message from a friend interrupting your scrolling.

Hey! Hope you are doing well on your big day!You texted back. I wish. Had another nightmare.Sorry to hear. :-(Yeah, just wish I didn’t have them at all.Same semi-apocalyptic weirdness?Same one. Wish I knew what it was trying to tell me. And why I can’t just have regular sex dreams like normal people?LOL! It’s probably just stress-related. Try not to dwell too much on it. We have a busy day ahead of us!You smiled sadly as you read your friend’s message, the full realization of what was happening hitting you. It wasn’t like you would never see your friends again, but you were moving a few states away to accept a decent job offer, and you knew you would miss them terribly. Not to mention you were dreading the actual leaving part and the crying that was sure to follow with it.

See you later then. You replied.

Getting up to clean your dishes, you looked around at the small kitchen of your mom’s house, knowing how hard it was going to be for the both of you. This job had been a great opportunity, and one you didn’t want to miss. And while your mom understood, it didn’t make it any easier.

You heard her coming into the kitchen as you were finishing cleaning up. She kissed you on the cheek, a somewhat sad smile on her face.

“Are you all finished packing?” she asked, stroking your arm.

You nodded, thinking of everything you owned packed into boxes, some of which were already stored inside your Uhaul. “I think so.”

“Don’t worry, if you missed anything, I can always send it to you.”

“I know, mom.”

She reached around with her arms, giving you a big hug, which you gratefully returned. The safety and security provided a welcome change, taking your mind away from the recurring nightmares—and the fear of everything changing…

∆∆∆∆

You rubbed your temples as you looked at the map again, making notes here and there to ensure you had the correct coordinates, not wanting to end up lost in some new state. Outside, your friends and mom were chatting, having a few good laughs., but you had excused yourself from the merriment, claiming you needed to take a call, but in actuality, you had to step back. An overwhelming feeling of sadness engulfed you, and nothing you could think of could make the feeling any better. You were leaving everything you knew behind.

Your friends had come over to help you pack up the Uhaul and have a little going away party for you. And while it was appreciated, you grabbed a soda from the kitchen and made your way to the backyard—to wallow in some self-pity—sitting down on a lawn chair as you drank your soda.

Looking around the backyard where you had so many wonderful memories, you smiled a bit at the thought, committing the good times to your memories. But the silence was broken when your mom came out to join you. She didn’t say a word. Instead, sat down next to you and just enjoyed the quietness with you.

Calm washed over you and you smiled gratefully at her.

∆∆∆∆

"Don’t forget to text!" your friends yelled as the Uhaul slowly made its way out of the driveway.

"Please call me every hour!" your mom yelled.

You stuck your arm out the driver’s side window and waved as you took off. "I promise! You guys are gonna be sick of hearing from me!"

Their friendly faces grew smaller and smaller as you drove further away, soon disappearing entirely as you turned a corner, making your way past city limits. The sky overhead was no longer dotted with skyscrapers and buildings, eventually giving way to clear skies and trees. Birds chirped in the distance, the peaceful, calming nature putting you at ease.

___

End Notes:

Thanks for reading! Unfortunately, updates will be sporadic as I work two jobs, so finding time to post (much less sleep, lol) is a challenge, but hang with me and you won't be disappointed, I hope. :-)

Also want to give a shout out to @thereaderinsertlady for her tips on this chapter. 🙂

Fic is cross-posted to Wattpad and AO3 also. Chapter 2

Buy me a coffee!

#bill cipher x reader #bill cipher #gravity falls #fanfic #my fanfic #fan fic #my writing #ao3 #wattpad

[star--nymph]

People have opened up the flood gates; I will now be making a list of random facts about Kassandra and you guys will ENJOY IT.

Has PTSD, Depression, and Clinical Anxiety.

May have undiagnosed ADHD.

BISEXUAL.

5'2 ft of pure unadulterated, unstoppable POWER.

Insomniac; has nightmares and terrors and will avoid sleeping for days at a time.

May have a deathwish/suicidal tendencies.

Copes with: Alcohol, Cigarettes, Fighting.

As the story progresses, develops a hobby/coping mechanism with plants and flowers.

Allergic to kiwi.

Favorite colors are ‘dawn’ colors: red, pink, orange, yellow/gold. BRIGHT.

Loves flowers, plants, and knows a lot more about flower language than most people would expect.

Has been playing chess with Ryuu since they were kids. She’s currently losing 228 to 219.

Actually loves shopping and clothes a lot, but doesn’t wear her nice things often enough.

Notoriously bad cook.

Has like. A closet full of different colored leather jackets. Won’t stop buying clothes.

Loves reality shows, horror movies (she loves creature features), and romcoms.

Actually really bad at videos game but doesn’t give up to like. A concerning degree.

Likes to listen to music and sing to herself when she’s alone.

Loves dancing and drags people up to dance with her.

Eventually gets a red bearded dragon named Poppy.

Favorite animals are all lizard. Can name every type of lizard if you ask her.

Lives off of a coffee and red bull and pure willpower.

Gives such GOOD hugs and cuddles but has to be wrestled into being the little spoon??

Horses freak her out. Really all big animals do but especially horses.

Big Sister Friend.

On bad terms with her uncle.

Had a girlfriend for a period of six years that broke up with her three years prior to the current story; doesn’t like to talk about her.

Loves kids.

Has the sweetest, softest voice when she sings. Sings a LOT.

Her favorite song is ‘I Wanna Dance With Someone’ by Whitney Huston.

Hates sodas and anything that pops in her mouth. Bad texture.

Loves Birthday Cake flavored ice cream.

Hates hates hates the cold!!

Actually a far better listener than most people give her credit for.

That kid in elementary school who lifted all the chairs during clean up time because someone told her she wasn’t strong enough to do it.

Also that kid in school who would not sit down in her desk and by would I mean COULD NOT. She just wanted to TALK TO HER FRIENDS.

Loved light up sneakers so much as a kid that now she literally ha combat boots that glow.

Cares for everyone but isn’t keen on letting her guard down

WHAT IS VULERANBlITY I ASK YOU

“don’t ask me to talk about my feelings, I’ll fight you, I’ll fight your mom, I’LL FIGHT ME”

will hold a grudge until the end of fucking time

you know that joke where someone tells character A to disarm and it takes them literally stripping down with a pile of weapons in front of them to do so? That's Kass

Surprisingly shy with romance??? Melts easily buT Don’T LOOK AT HER

Kind of working on her impulses and her mouth works faster than her brain a lot of the time

Should have the one brain cell of the group but absolutely doES NOT

Has almost a Phoenix Wright level of pain tolerance and yes that should scare you.

Has a rose on the back of her neck to cover up a former military tattoo

Was called 'The Brat' during her military days

When she sees a pretty person she gets all dreamy and flirty but then when she actually flirts she does the bisexual finger gun thing

#deity oc- kassandra rosales #I just LOVE HER SO MUCH #I LOVE HER SO SO SO MUCH #Godkiller//Deity

[whumpacabra]

Sharing of Burden

Angst, food, referenced hospital and coma, implied past child abuse and neglect

[Directly follows Vigil]

“You’re good at this.” They didn’t look up from their bowl, instant ramen steaming. Casey shot them a quizzical glance, his mouth already filled with too-hot noodles. “Taking care of people. Yourself.”

It burned to swallow, but it quenched the sourness in his stomach.

“Yeah. I am.” He didn’t mean to be too curt with them - Ghost was in a fucking coma and they hadn’t left the hospital in days. It was half a miracle he convinced them to let him drive them to his apartment.

RJ picked at their meal, chopsticks awkward in heavy hands.

“Teach me.”

“Hm?”

“Teach me how you do it. How you learned.” There was a dull intensity to their demand, a childish bluntness that hadn’t sharpened with age or ability. “Ghost didn’t teach me what to do when he was gone.”

“You think she taught me?”

“You’re doing it, aren’t you?”

Casey put his bowl down, stomach too heavy to entertain the idea of finishing it. Bitterness burned in his throat and stung at his eyes.

He slowly met their eyes, scanning over their dark eye bags and still blood spattered shirt. They were sleep deprived and dehydrated and their eyes were red from crying, but that didn’t dampen their electric focus.

“…What do you know about her,” he swallowed the word ‘mom,’ “about Liza?”

RJ blinked, exhausted confusion gracing their usually well composed expression. They really were spent to be slipping up, even around him.

“Ghost trusts her.” Their dark eyes flickered to the bowl in front of them. “He…still had her as an emergency contact, that’s why she was the one who called me - ”

“Those are things about him, not her.” Casey could feel his voice tightening, his sigh forced. RJ ducked their head, apologizing without words. He hadn’t seen them like this since he had to wake them up from a nightmare on a job in Santa Cruz.

Casey poked at the contents of his bowl with no intent to finish it. Sorting the vegetables and meat and noodles by color would keep him distracted from the words he spoke to fill the silence.

“She abandoned me. I was…I was 8 and she left me to deal with her debt.” All of the orange bits of carrot in one section, green was next. “She didn’t teach me anything. I guess you could say those - those - the motherfuckers who came to collect on her debt taught me a lot. All the different ways to hurt and use a person who couldn’t fight back.”

His wheeze was the best bitter laughter he could muster. Green done. Yellow noodles next - that would be difficult with all the broth.

“But being alone…living alone…I taught myself that. Getting food from the store with whatever stipend they left me with. Reading books and learning my numbers along with the programs on the telly.” He could feel the tears welling in his eyes. The sight of that Saturday morning educational program still knocked the wind out of him whenever he clicked through the cable channels.

RJ’s hands twitched above the table, signing since their voice was lost in their tired and troubled mind.

“Sorry - for asking and…I didn’t know, Ghost never - ”

“Of course he didn’t. She’s his friend. His only friend.” Casey felt the bark of resentment in his throat. If only that stubborn old Ghost had the balls to cut her off completely, to force himself to find new contacts and allies and friends and -

Casey knew the business as well as the Ghost these days. He had slept with far worse that a neglectful mother too ashamed to handle her mistakes. There wasn’t much room for improvement in this line of work when concerning something as rare as friendship.

“Besides, I haven’t been alone in a long time, and you aren’t either.” Casey left his gaze soften, a lopsided smile meeting RJ’s quizzical expression. “You’ve got me. And you’re stuck with me, dumbass. Somebody has to make sure you don’t die before G-man wakes up.”

RJ’s face twitched, amusement creeping over their exhausted, worried features.

“Now eat your fucking ramen and take a shower - you’re mopping up the mud you tracked in here when you’re done.”

[Before Up Late]

(Part of my Freelancers: Boy Meets World series)

#whump #angst #comfort #referenced medical setting #referenced coma #implied past abuse #implied past neglect #freelancers #no context november

[moonfurthetemmie]

Unfortunate Meeting of the DS Verses

Apparently words came faster than I thought. Warnings for blood and murder

Previous | Next

“W-wait! You’ve got the wrong-“

Ink sighed and clicked the handcuffs closed. “Look, if I listened to every random fuckwit who said that, there would be several actual criminals still running around and I’d be out of a job. Just shut up and save it for the people who care.”

The young man’s shoulder’s slumped. Ink didn’t care. Today she was just making arrests, and she didn’t get paid to worry about it. Something did feel off, though. It had nothing to do with the man being taken into JR custody, though, that much she was sure of. She’d been doing this long enough to know when someone was watching her.

Loved ones of people JR had arrested or executed, people who just hated the organization’s methods and took extreme measures, people who just hated police. There were a lot of possibilities. Nothing she couldn’t handle, though, so she resolved herself to just keep an eye out and carry on with her day.

She’d already found the people on her list, so she could either ‘stay vigilant’ and make sure there weren’t any wanted criminals in the area, go on ‘patrol’ or whatever, or ignore all of that and go take her lunch break early and just step in if she saw something going down. Naturally, she decided that since she’d technically fulfilled her given duties for the morning, and that she deserved to take an early break.

She kept an eye out as she followed Google Maps to the nearest Dunkin’, but while the feeling of being watched never went away, she never saw anyone suspicious.

There was someone who looked vaguely like Nightmare snooping around in an alleyway, but they were alone, had blue eyes and a scar, and didn’t seem to care that she saw them, so she ignored it. Whoever they were, they weren’t the one watching her.

She was almost starting to get worried, so when she got her coffee she decided to sit in the corner of the shop, with her back to the wall. She pulled out a notepad and pen to doodle on and blend in. She kept an eye on everyone coming through, watching for anyone who may be keeping too close an eye on her.

After a few minutes, someone in a brown and black jacket with the hood up came in. They stood off to the side, seemingly just looking at the menu and deciding what to order, but Ink’s senses were giving her a red alert. They didn’t take very long to get in line, and Ink tried to see if they were watching her.

She glanced away for one moment, to ‘focus’ on her drawing, and when she looked up the person had crossed half the distance between her and the register. Ink was so startled she watched openly as the person came over and sat across from her. 

They took a long sip of coffee, showing off the tattoos on their hands. Muscles, anatomically accurate muscles. Ink couldn’t see anything under their hood, but could tell they’d kept their eyes on her the whole time. The set the cup down, and said, in a startlingly familiar voice, “So, do you have a different name, or are you ‘Ink’ too?”

Ink could see their eyes now. Grey and yellow, and still shifting. Green and red, orange and blue, and still shifting.

“…I- What the fuck, where did you even come from?”

The other Ink took her hood off. She was almost a carbon copy of Ink, with the hair and eyes. The hand tattoos were definitely different, though. She shrugged, looking completely bored of the conversation already, putting her elbow on the table and her head on her hand. “No clue. Just kinda ended up here while I was on my way back to JR after a job.” She glanced up at Ink. “You get any donuts?”

Ink squinted at her. “You were following me around.”

“Yeah. And. You got donuts or what?”

Ink rolled her eyes. “Shit, if all you want are free donuts, you should’ve come sooner and just stolen my fucking money. Get your own damn donuts.”

Her alternate sighed, swirling her coffee around in its Styrofoam cup. “Man, I thought this would be interesting,” she complained. “You’re just some Guy.”

“Okay, fuck you?” Ink clicked her pen against the table for emphasis and pointed at her alternate. “Who are you then, the fucking Duke of Earl?”

Her alternate snorted. “Oh you wish.” She took another big drink of her coffee, and taped it against the table. “Alright, actually, I think I need your help. I don’t think I’m the only one who made it here, and I think they’re around here somewhere. You mind helping me look for them? I’ll throw away your coffee cup.”

Ink eyed her warily. “Depends. Who do you think’s here.”

The other Ink shrugged, and lowered her voice. “Not certain. I think it’s one of my version of the Meme Squad- They’re still called that here, right?” When Ink nodded, she continued on. “Cool. They may be criminals, but I’d like to think of Error as my friend and as such I’d feel bad leaving them here if I could find a way home. Also like. Four heads are better than one, or…something?”

Ink tapped her pen against her drawing pad absentmindedly. She couldn’t see any reason not to trust this alternate. She didn’t seem any different, aside from some aesthetic changes.

She thought back to person she mistook for Nightmare, though, and asked thoughtfully, “Does your Nightmare have a scar and blue eyes?”

The other Ink rubbed her chin. “Scar, yes. Blue eyes…occasionally. They all tend to disguise themselves when they’re in public and they have a lot of colored contacts…Did you see someone who might be him?”

“…Maybe,” Ink said carefully. “I’m not sure. He was in an alley a little ways from here.”

“Oh. Cool. Where is it?”

Ink…realized she couldn’t give directions. She hadn’t been in this town for long enough; she’d only gotten to the Dunkin’ with Google Maps.

She grumbled and packed up her meager art supplies. “I’ll just show you. Come on. Throw my cup away, too, since you offered.”

Her alternate snorted and kindly followed through with her promise, and they headed out together. At least Ink didn’t feel like she was being followed anymore.

Her alternate had pulled her hood back up when they’d gotten up to leave, but now Ink could see her eyes darting around, watching everyone around them, like trying to decide if they were threats. Like, damn. Paranoid, much?

“What’s your multiverse like?” Ink asked, attempting to make small talk.

The other Ink’s eyes snapped over to her. Piercing through her like they could see all of her secrets. “…’S nice, I guess?” She muttered. “Seems like this one’s mostly the same so far. ‘Specially with you working for JR.”

Ink grunted in acknowledgment. She didn’t really have many more questions, so she stayed quiet. They were very near the alleyway where she’d seen that odd Nightmare nearly-look-a-like, anyways.

Her alternate went in ahead of her, and then grunted. “Well, they aren’t here now, clearly.”

Ink shrugged. “If it was your Nightmare, I wouldn’t be surprised if he wanted to get out before I came looking for him.”

The other Ink sighed. “Given the circumstances, that’s kind of unlikely. He and the girls would probably be looking for me if they knew I was here, unless-“ she suddenly stopped, staring down at a dark spot on the ground. “…unless they’re distracted.”

Ink crouched down besides her alternate and shined her phone light on the ground.

“Aaaaaaand now I have to be on the clock,” she grumbled. “Ugh. I knew I shouldn’t have followed you.” She stood up straight. “Hey, do me a favor and make sure no civilians get here? I’ll get you your donuts later.”

Without a word, her alternate went off to stand at the entrance of the alley.

Ink sighed and dialed up JR’s law enforcement team. “Hey. It’s Ink. Yeah, so, there appears to have been a murder, unless someone on their period bleed all over the ground here.”

She poked around the site a little, just a cursory glance over for evidence. She couldn’t find anything, though, just thick wet blood along the floor and on some of the walls. Weird.

The guy in the phone was just as puzzled as Ink, until she mentioned her alternate. That freaked them out.

“What do you mean there’s another version of you?”

“What do you think I mean?” She deadpanned. “That’s not the point; she was looking for her multiverse’s version of the Meme Squad, and unless I misremembered which dank alley I saw that weirdo in, this could be that Nightmare’s blood.”

There was a long pause. Then, “I forgot you were out all morning.”

“…Yeah?”

More silence.

“Dude, don’t just go silent, did something happen?”

“…An entire wing of the castle in now under renovation. Three people, who we’ve deemed to be alternates of the Meme Squad, killed everyone who was there, save Finch, who’s currently unconscious in a hospital bed. It…..the bloodstains and everything aren’t…going to come out easily.”

Ink blinked. “…a whole wing? Before Dream noticed?”

“We’re not entirely sure how long it took,” they said darkly. “It didn’t take long for the alarms to go off, and they mentioned picking some off one at a time, but according to Dream they were laughing about how easily it was to get in and murder so many people before anyone noticed.”

“Jesus Christ…”

“Ink, are you sure you can trust this alternate of yours?” The guy asked.

“You’re under the impression I trust any random stranger,” she said lowly. “But no. And now I trust her even less, which is impressive.”

“…We’ll get there as fast as we can,” the guy on the phone said. “Keep an eye on her, and don’t, yknow. Let civilians see the carnage yet. Even if it’s only a bloodstain.”

“Yeah, yeah, I got it.” Ink hung up.

The next thing she remembered was a sickening crack! and her head exploding in pain.

Then she blacked out.

#cw blood #cw injury #cw suggested murder #cw mentioned murder #cw uhhh no donuts ig. I feel like there needs to be more #can’t think of any though. anyways #DreamSwap Ink #H!DS Gouge #Horror!DS #Ink gets the worst right off the bat. don’t meet strangers alone kids #they might knock you out and kidnap you #also woooo this one workked #Originally I had it from Gouge's POV but I couldn't get it to go anywhere so I switched it up and off we went!! #ink'll be fine don't worry (lie) #can't be bothered to go through to edit it properly sorry it's 9 am i woke up at 8 and have to leave for class in an hour #which is five minutes in adhd time

[rebeccccccaaa]

𝐈𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐞

________________________

ʙᴜᴄᴋʏ ʙᴀʀɴᴇs x ᴘʏʀᴏᴋɪɴᴇᴛɪᴄ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ʀᴇǫᴜᴇsᴛᴇᴅ: (ANON) heey!! Can you please write something (possibly smut pls) in which Bucky falls in love with Tony's adoptive daughter but they have to keep it a secret?

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: SMUT 18+, fluff, age gap (you’re like mid-twenties and Bucky’s early thirties) angry Tones, Steve being such an asshole lmao 

ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ’s ɴᴏᴛᴇs: I imagine that you were like thirteen to fifteen during the attack in new york and your parents uh… died ig and Tony took you in and they find out you got super powers teehee

________________________

It started when the Avengers had their first movie with Bucky as a new recruit. He had completed his evaluations and was applicable to join the team. That’s when he met you for the first time. 

You were this beautiful ball of craziness and light and he couldn’t take his eyes off you. You were tipsy, he could tell and every sudden burst of laughter or even a sneeze you’d spark a flame setting something on fire making you laugh even more. 

He practically fell in love with you that day. 

Weeks later he chalked it up and asked Steve more about you. He told Bucky that your parents had died when you were young during the attack on New York almost ten years ago now and Tony took it upon himself to take you in and protect you. 

“How did you guys know about her powers?”

“We didn’t. Few days after she moved into the Tower she sneezed during breakfast and set her food on fire. I don’t think she knew about them either.”

“Who were her parents?”

“We don’t know. She told us their names but it’s like they don’t exist; no medical history, socials, nothing.”

“Weird.”

You were a mystery, a beautiful mystery. But one thing everyone was that you were Tony’s daughter. Adopted, but still. And Tony still didn’t like him. It was an argument on it’s own to even let near the compound; telling him that he wanted to date his daughter would send him into cardiac arrest. 

So you guys are sneaking around.

Of course you noticed his shy and lingering eyes. You were flattered. You agreed a bunch that Bucky was one of the most gorgeous men you’ve ever laid your eyes on. You didn’t push anything and waited for him to come to you. And when he did, he came hard, literally.

It started when Steve was away on a mission in Berlin. Bucky had woken up from a nightmare and he hadn’t had one in weeks. During his time here, because of his infatuation with you, he grew close to you. 

You laid under him so perfectly; like you were meant to be there. The way you bit your lip to muffle your moans so you wouldn’t wake anyone. The way your eyes fluttered when he hit that particular spot. The stinging from your nails dragging down his back. 

“Fucking hell, you feel so good wrapped around me, doll,” he grunted as he continued to thrusted in and out of you. 

“Oh god, Bucky,” you moaned before pulling him down to connect your lips together. 

“Ugh, your dad’s gonna kill me,” he grunted.

“Fuck him,” you chuckled breathlessly.

Breakfast the next morning was foul. Everyone was eating as normal and Steve was set to fly back in from Berlin, but y couldn’t shake the awkward tension between you and Bucky. Both girls could sense that something had happened and when you told them later that day they nearly screamed like teenage girls. 

“You can’t tell anyone! Especially Tony!”

“We won’t say anything,” Nat giggled, “He’s gonna kill you.”

“Not if he kills Bucky first,” Wanda snorted.

Since then every lingering touch, every persistent stare, you found yourselves in either room making the most of however many minutes you had together until someone came looking for you. Your chest pressed against his, combing your fingers through his hair as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. 

“You’re absolutely irresistible, doll,” Bucky whispered against your ear.

“Fuck, we’re gonna get caught one day,” you panted.

“I know but we haven’t yet, so be a good girl and turn around for me so I can that gorgeous ass while I fuck you from behind.”

You turned over, getting on your hands and knees instantaneously feeling a pleasurable sting from Bucky’s hand on your cheek. He quickly soothed the pain by rubbing his hand over the red mark before gliding up your spine to softly rub your back. 

He slowly slid back in through your folds eliciting a moan from you both. His pelvis slapping against your soft skin, the sound echoing lewdly through the room. Your arms gave out and your face buried into the sheets under you letting Bucky hit deeper inside you making you nearly scream.

You threw your head back up covering your mouth to muffle the moans. Bucky bit his lip harshly in an attempt but wasn’t as successful as you were. His hips snapped violently, stuttering every now and then as he got closer to a release. 

“God, Buck! I’m gonna cum! Fuck!” you whined.

“Shit,” Bucky groaned before spilling inside you, coating your walls with hot cum. 

He fell forward pressing soft kisses to your slightly sweaty skin. He lifted himself and turned you around, settling between your legs lazily kissing you in your post sex bliss. You looked so pretty with your hair spread out on the sheets and the marks that littered your neck and your breasts. He truly fell in love with you and you did for him too. 

“Y/n,” he whispered looking intimately into your eyes.

“Bucky,” you whispered back with a grin.

“I lo-”

“Hey, Buck. I’ve been looking for- What the fuck!” Steve barged through the door to find you two nude in each other's arms. You tucked your face in your shoulder away from the door in shame and Bucky saw red. He reached above your head immediately and threw as hard as he could at the intruder.

“Get out!” 

Steve slammed the door shut with wide eyes and furrowed brows. Did he see what he thinks he saw? He went to the lab to look for Tony. 

“Hey, Tony, do you know about Y/n and Bucky?”

“Excuse me?” he sassed.

“I uh- I found them together. In Buck’s room. Uh... naked.” 

Tony slowly raised his head with an evil expression staring directly into Steve making the big super soldier feel timid. 

“What!”

You and Bucky cleaned yourselves up and changed as soon as Steve left. You sat next to each other on his bed unsure of what’s to come next. 

“Maybe Steve won’t say anything?” Bucky shrugged.

“My dad’s gonna kill me,” you sighed.

“Hey, I won’t let him-”

“Get the hell away from my daughter!” Tony shouted slamming the door to Bucky’s bedroom opened; behind him stood and guilty Steve and you felt rage.

“You fucking told on us!” you spiraled fire around your fingers ready to fight for revenge. Your hands and arms glowed bright red and orange and yellow and pits of fire glowed in your eyes. Steam practically

“Hey calm down,” Bucky grabbed your waist. He stepped in front you and lifted your chin to look at him. The second your eyes met with his, your entire body cooled down and you felt yourself fall in the ocean that are his eyes; as if a wave had dissipated the fire you created. 

“Hey, what the hell is going on?” Tony fumed.

“Leave her alone. She has nothing to do with this,” Bucky defended.

“The hell she does. You’re sleeping with my daughter!”

“I’m not talking about this; I’m talking about what we have. If it was anyone else, you wouldn’t be having a cow,” Bucky growled. 

“Tony,” you stepped forward.

“Dad,” you whispered; Tony's eyes snapped to yours. 

“Please, I love him.”

“No,” he couldn’t accept it.

“Well, whether or not you like it, we’re gonna be together.”

“I’ll make sure that doesn’t happen.”

“We’ll just keep sneaking around like we have been for months.”

“Months!”

“Yes, months. And it would’ve been longer if it wasn’t for you!” you pointed at Steve, who casted his eyes away in guilt.

“Dad, please. I love Bucky so much; and you’re not going to take him away from me,” you cried. 

Tony noticed how sincere you spoke. And the way he easily calmed you down; he knew there was love between you two. He wouldn’t be to live with himself if he took something that clearly made you so happy away from you. As much as he couldn’t move past his issues with Bucky he knows that Bucky was right and that this has nothing to do with you. 

“I don’t want any more accidents with walking in your private time. You’re lucky it was Steve and not me; I would’ve killed you both on the spot,” he said to you.

“Thank you, Dad,” you hugged him tightly before going back to Bucky’s side. 

“And you; if you so much as put her in a bad mood, I’ll fucking kill you,” Tony said before leaving.

“Well, well, well,” Bucky looked at Steve.

“Bucky, leave him alone; it’s not like he almost ruined our lives and tore us apart,” you chuckled.

“Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t think freak out like that,” Steve apologized.

“And why didn’t you lock the door?” he asked.

“Yeah, why didn’t you?” you looked at Bucky with furrowed brows. 

“Don’t turn on me, this is not my fault!” Bucky defended as you and Steve shared a laugh.

“Well, I’m happy for you guys. You’re good together,” Steve smiled before walking out and closing the door. 

“Wow, Toyn fucking terrifying when he’s in dad mode,” Bucky turned to you.

“Yeah, but he’ll come around.”

“I love you too, by the way.”

“I love you, Bucky.”

==========================

ᴛᴀɢʟɪsᴛ: (For all my work)

@mathletemadison​

@buckybarnes101​

@l-sofiamia-l 

@Pluto-grl 

Taglist?

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #james bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes smut #marvel fics #marvel smut

[barnesbabee]

[B]reeding Kink || C.S

[ꜱᴇxᴜᴀʟ ᴇɴᴄʏᴄʟᴏᴘᴇᴅɪᴀ - ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ʙ]

Summary: He broke into your house, and now he’s breaking you. (it's not fucking consentual non-con it's just inmate!San istg)

Pairing: Choi San x Reader

Words: my fairy godmother said it was 4311 words

Genre: Smut

⚠ mention of drugs, breeding kink, mentions of blood, mentions of violence, inmate!San ⚠

  You woke up with loud banging on your door. It was so sudden, you didn’t know what time it was, what was happening, or where you were. It took you a quick second to scan your surroundings. 

    It was 2am, or so said the clock on your bedside table, and you were sitting up in your bed, startled and confused about the booming sound echoing through your house.

    You got up from the bed and hurriedly wrapped your robe around your body, however, just as you were getting to the living room to look through the peephole, the door burst open. You covered your mouth with your hand to prevent any noise from coming out and hid behind the sofa, praying to whatever wanted to help you that he hadn’t seen you.

    You closed your eyes tightly and started breathing heavily as you heard the loud footsteps roam around your house. 

    It was hard to breathe and you felt as if someone was pressing on your chest. 

    You opened your eyes slowly and peeked behind the couch. You could see a man… His appearance wasn’t clear as the whole place was dark, the only thing illuminating the room being the moon. He had a broad back and dark hair, that you noticed, and he wore heavy, black boots, that left a trail of dirt wherever he walked. 

   Who was he? What did he want? Why was he in your apartment?

   You hid back and waited until you could no longer hear him.

    The silence of his steps felt unsettling… Your chest rose and fell rapidly, and it took all of the courage you had to peek around the couch once more. 

    However, this time you were met with a man’s face. He wore a wide, Cheshire Cat-like smile on his face as he stared right at you. You could almost feel his warm breath hit your face…

    “Hello, doll!” 

    You opened your mouth to scream but the male was faster. He slapped his hand over your face, preventing you from yelling for help or anything of the sort. 

    The male approached his lips to your ears.

   “I’m gonna need your help doll…”

   You took a look at his appearance. He had on a white, stained, and slightly ripped wife-beater, along with a flashy orange jumpsuit. You examined his body carefully. His hair was damp and his inked, very well-built arms were shiny, he had been running. You were inspecting everything as carefully as you possibly could.. when you noticed.

     Was that blood!? 

     There were little spots and splatters of dried, red liquid all over his clothes, which made you widen your eyes. What the fuck had he done!? 

     He noticed your sudden change of emotions and realized you had seen the state of his clothes.

     “Listen, I don’t wanna hurt you. I need you to hide me, I’ll explain everything but you’re not in danger, yet.”

     The ‘yet’ at the end of his sentence sparked something in you and you began struggling under his hold. He gripped your arm and forced you to stop shifting.

    “Calm. Down. You’re not in danger, but if you call the police on me, if you yell for help, you will be. All you have to do is be a good girl and cooperate, because if anything goes wrong, all you need to know is that there are eight of us, if I get caught it won’t be looking too pretty for you.”

    You looked at him, eyes still widened and breathing very heavily.

    “You got it?” He asked.

     He slowly removed his hand from your mouth and placed it on his thigh. You were full-on crying in fear at that point. 

    The male said nothing, he just sighed and ran his hand through his sweaty hair. He also didn’t know what to do. He had no idea where the other seven were, he had no idea if they were still alive and he honestly didn’t know what happened next.

    “Y-you should take a shower.” You told him, as you finally felt the reek coming from him. 

   He looked down at himself and nodded. The male stood up and looked at you.

   “I can’t trust you though.”

   “W-what then? You’re just going to stink forever? Are you going to make me sit in the bathroom while you wash?”

   You were just mocking him, but from the way he shrugged you could tell he didn’t mind one bit to have you in the bathroom with him. You refused at first, but you didn’t really have much choice as he dragged you around looking for the bathroom.

    You sat on the toilet, facing the wall as you crossed your arms in front of your chest.

    “I can’t believe you’re okay with this.” You complained. 

   “I was in prison, doll, I had hundreds of men looking at my ass every day when I showered, having a girl in a bathroom with me isn’t exactly a nightmare.”

    You were both silent. The sound of the water hitting the floor echoed in the room and the water was so hot that the atmosphere around you two became foggy. 

    “Fuck, this is heaven…”

    You would’ve chuckled if you weren’t so scared and uncomfortable.

    “You know, we have warm water in there, but there are so many people taking showers at the same time so it just ends up being cold all the time. The showerheads are also really old, so they get clogged all the time and there’s barely any water coming out… You come out looking mustier than when you went in.”

    You smiled at that. You could tell he was a people person, he was comfortable enough in this situation to tell life stories and maybe that was the purpose, but you started slowly feeling a little at ease. So much so that you gained the courage to ask the question you were scared of. 

    “What were you in there for?”

    You had to know. You couldn’t have a conversation with him, you couldn’t not feel uncomfortable and uneasy without at least knowing. 

    There was silence, and the water turned off.

    “Murder.”

    Your eyes widened from the nth time that night and you felt all blood be drained from your body. The sense of fear and anxiety washed over you once more, and you didn’t know how to react. Should you run? Should you stay? Should you speak, or should you be quiet? 

    A little childish giggle sounded in the bathroom almost forcing you to look behind. He pulled the shower curtain to the side, and although this man was naked from head to toe right in front of you, your eyes were glued to his face. The giggling was creepy, you hated it.

    “I’m joking, I went in for drug abuse and distribution.”

    You took a deep, shaky breath and closed your eyes, letting your head fall forward. You shed a couple of tears out of stress and relief. 

    “You… fucking idiot.” You cursed at him, still feeling a little lightheaded.

    He giggled once more and wrapped a towel around his waist, after roaming about the bathroom looking for one.

    “Why… Did you have blood all over you then?” 

    He pointed at his abdomen, where a deep cut that your eyes had completely missed stood.

   “It was mine. Mostly… Listen escaping prison isn’t that easy and there’s trap wire and people shooting, if you’re not bleeding it’s because you’re Michael Scofield, and sadly we’re all kind of stupid.”

  Although he moved like the wound didn’t hurt, you couldn’t help but worry about it. You pointed at the ripped flesh.

  “Can I… Can I fix it for you?”

  He cocked his head to the side as he looked at you, silently questioning himself as to why you would want to help him. He shrugged, nevertheless. He wasn’t about to decline help…

   “I’d like that.”

    He tied the towel tighter around his hips so it wouldn’t fall, and sat down on the toilet you were previously resting on. You reached for the cabinet over the sink and took the medical supplies from it.

   “This is going to hurt a bit so just, distract yourself by telling me about you.”

   The male scoffed at your words.

   “I’ve been to prison, I don’t think I’ll be hurt by- oh f-fuck!”

   You giggled at his little curse as you pressed the gauze with hydrogen peroxide against his wounded skin.

   He rested his head against the wall and flexed his abdomen.

   “O-okay so, my name is San I’ve been in there for 2 years and- fucking Hell go easy on me!”

  You giggled and mumbled a soft ‘sorry’ as you listened to his stories. You tried very hard to focus on your job, but your eyes would sometimes wander around his torso and covered thighs.

  “I uh, I started selling drugs when I was eighteen, I got thrown out of the orphanage and my little sister came with me, and I wanted to make good money so she could go to university.” he paused for a second, wincing as you switched products “It was fine for a while, I made some friends there which was nice. I never really had friends, cause I kept moving from the orphanage to foster houses back and forth, so I never stayed in one place long enough to make lasting friendships… B-but it didn’t go so well cause I got caught in a swoop and the eight of us went in.”

  When he finished the story you had no idea what to say… You felt a little bad about what he had just told you. 

   “I’m sorry…”

   “It’s fine, life isn’t always kind. Plus,” he stopped to grab your chin and bring your gaze up to his “I never said I was a good person, doll. I just said I was tryna get my sister to a better place.” 

   You stared into his eyes for a second, before snapping back to reality. You stood up and mumbled something along the lines of ‘I’ll get you some clothes’ as you walked off.

  Some of your larger garments fit him quite well. A pair of large, black joggers and a yellow hoodie that looked stupidly big on you. He had to go commando however, since you didn’t happen to have a pair of boxers lying around.  

   You set up the couch for him to sleep in as you weren’t about to give up your bed for an inmate that had just broken in, but he seemed pretty content in the comfort of your couch. 

    “You sure you don’t need some company in there, doll?” 

    You chuckled at his bold attempt and pressed your tongue against the inside of your cheek. 

    “Yes San, I’d rather keep the convict at least one hallway away.” You joked.

    Although you felt a little more comfortable around him, knowing that he wasn’t 100% a scumbag, you couldn’t let your guard down. 

    Your theory was proven when you woke up not much later after you fell asleep with a shadow looking straight at you from the doorway. Not remembering that you had a guest, you yelled. 

    He immediately came rushing to your side and shut you up with his hand.

   “Why did you scream!?” San asked, panicking.

   You removed his hand from your face harshly.

   “Because a huge shadow man was standing in my doorway like a lunatic! What are you doing!?” 

  “It’s… It’s 7am I’m hungry.”

 You shot daggers at him through your sleepy, hooded eyes.

  “Do you not sleep?”

   “Not really…  We have a lot of sleep deprivation in there.”

   Somehow he had this habit of making you do things by making you feel bad. And this was no exception. 

   You groaned and dragged yourself off of the bed, feeling kind of embarrassed about how terrible you looked compared to him. Although his hair was messy, it still made him look good, as it further defined his jawline.

  You didn’t know what he wanted to eat, so you just pointed at your cabinets and began teaching him what was inside of each of them.

   As you did all of this, you realized how often he’d brush his dark locks back, in order to get them out of his face. You looked at your wrist and surely enough there was a spare hair tie on it. You offered it to San, who gladly accepted the item and tied his hair in a small ponytail.

  You started walking back to your bedroom, to resume your interrupted sleep, but a pertinent question popped in your mind, and sleep was no longer your biggest preoccupation.

   You turned around and walked back to the kitchen, to find San shoving his hand down the cereal box and eating it dry.

    “San… What’s your plan here? I mean, in the long run. You can’t just crash in my sofa forever.”

    The male in question looked at you, a suggestive gaze playing in his eyes.

   “I can always crash on your bed.” He wiggled his eyebrows at you as he said this.

   “I’m serious, San. This can be really problematic for me! Do you realize the trouble this could put me in? If someone finds out you’re here I’ll have so many legal complications! I’m on the fourth floor, why did you even choose my apartment!?”

   San went quiet for a second and looked at the floor.

   “You’re the 69th apartment…” He replied quietly.

   You rolled your eyes and turned around, stressed out about his response, while rubbing your temples.

  Before you could get very far, however, the man grabbed your wrist and made you turn around.

   “You’re right, I’m sorry… We agreed to meet up in an abandoned building a couple blocks down from where we lived. We needed to lay low for at least a couple of hours. I got lucky I managed to lose the coppers, but I don’t know about them…”

    He had sat down by the dining table and buried his head in his hands. For some reason, 

you felt as if you should comfort him, so you approached the male softly and pet his head slowly.

    “I can try to help with the smaller things!”

    But little did you know that that statement would soon come back to bite you in the ass, when you came home later in the day, after your very tiring night shift, and found eight very big men sitting around your living room, just chatting it up as if it was their own house.

    Ignoring the possibly dangerous men sprawled on your floor and couch, you closed the door and walked towards San.

    “What… The fuck.” You said through gritted teeth, trying to remain calm.

    “Well, you said you could help with the smaller things, and that side of the town was flooding with cops looking for us, so I figured we could come here to lay low!” He said, gesturing to his friends.

    You closed your eyes and inhaled deeply. 

    “When I said small things I meant maybe food or warm water to shower with. I didn’t mean I’d be the shelter for eight hooligans!”

    “What did you just call us?” One of them calmly asked. 

   You looked behind San to face the bleached haired male, who had a mixture of angry and offended on his face. It suddenly hit you that all of these escapee inmates were in your house, staring at you as you insulted them, and nervous tears started brimming in your eyes.

    “I-I’m sorry Sir, but you are sitting on my rug and you came from jail I think I’m entitled to be upset right now.” You told him, holding up your index finger.

     “Listen I’m sorry but overstaying my welcome-”

     “Oh, you think you’re overstaying!?” 

    Already sick of your snappy attitude, San gripped your arm and pushed you back against the wall, causing you to wince and drop your keys. His face was millimeters away from yours, so close you could feel his breath on you.

    “Listen doll, I don’t think anybody wants eight wanted criminals in their living room but you don’t have a choice, okay!? Neither of us would be here if we had a better choice but we fucking don’t, so why don’t you make this easier for all of us and cooperate?”

    You had no choice but to nod, as you swallowed nervously. San let go of you and sighed, disappointed that he had to resource to violence.

   There was an awkward silence, that the male you had known the longest felt the obligation to fill. 

    “So, uhm, these are my friends… “ He said and began introducing them one by one.

    Some of the men remained expressionless, only giving you a nod as a greeting, while a couple smiled politely and the rest chimed a small ‘hello’. 

   “Did you… All go in for the same thing?”

   “Friendship goals, right?” The male you now knew to be named Mingi said, stealing a smile out of you. 

   There was the heavy silence again… And you searched deep in your head for what could solve the awkwardness.

    “Are you guys hungry? I don’t have enough food here but I could go out and buy some chicken. I don’t think it’s safe to have people deliver.”

    They all agreed and so you went on your way, to buy food for all the unwanted guests. It was probably a bad idea to go out on your own and carry all this chicken and alcohol (that you bought hoping that the eight men would become bubblier and less threatening after consuming it) but you still thought that was a better scenario than being caught in public with a wanted criminal. So after about forty-five minutes of struggling, you managed to get into the house with three huge bags: two for the chicken and one for the drinks. 

    Their eyes all lit up once you stepped foot inside of the house and suddenly they resembled little kids. The men instantly attacked the food, proceeding to hurriedly unwrap the chicken.

    “Damn Y/N, were you in jail too?” San asked when he saw you hungrily devour the food. It seemed like you too hadn’t eaten anything that good in years.

    You quickly flipped him off and continued eating. 

  Your speculations were correct, and as the empty alcohol bottles started piling up, the room started echoing with happy chatter and laughter. 

   All of the stress and panic about the situation started washing off from them as the hours passed by and you had to admit, hadn’t they been wanted criminals you wouldn’t have minded being a part of their odd friend group.

    “H-hey Y/N, you should sit here, it’s more comfortable.” San joked with a sly smirk, as he patted his lap.

     “Keep trying, lover boy.” You told him as you rolled your eyes.

     San then placed his hands around your waist and pulled you to sit on his lap, keeping a slight grip on your body, soft enough for you to leave if you were uncomfortable. 

    “Was this a good enough try, doll?” He whispered in your ear.

    You said nothing, and your silence made him chuckle as he pulled you back, until your back hit his chest. Somehow he was right. It did feel more comfortable… And maybe it was the alcohol, or the fact that San was actually insanely hot, but all of the tension left in your body evaporated, and you felt yourself melt into his touch. 

    All of the sounds started fading into the background and you didn’t even acknowledge the rest of the boys, as all you could feel was the way San was drawing shapes on your thighs with his long fingers, and how you wanted them a little farther up your body. You pressed your thighs against each other, and this action didn’t go unnoticed by San, who squeezed them tighter in his hold and groaned in your ear. 

    You could feel a hard-on beginning to form in San’s pants, as it began poking your ass. You shifted in his lap, causing his boner to harden by the second. He gripped his waist tighter and pressed you down on his growing problem. 

     “I really want you, doll, I think you want me too…” He whispered in your ear. 

     “You’re imagining things San.” 

      He rolled his hips up and held you in place, so you could feel every curve of his fully hardened member press against you. Of course he noticed the way you inhaled shakily and giggled. Giggled. 

     San was indeed an intriguing person…

     He kissed a couple of spots on your neck, and bit down on an area he found softer, managing to steal a small whimper out of you. 

     A couple of heads turned towards you and they smirked, acknowledging what was happening, but not wanting to bother or steal the moment away. They turned their attention back to the other men, leaving you two isolated once more. 

    “Please, let me fuck you, doll… I wanna feel how well you clench around me. Will you let me do that?”

    Your mind was clouded by pleasure and curiosity, and so you stood up and grabbed his wrist, pulling him towards your bedroom, not even bothering to give him a verbal response.

    The second the male heard the door click, he pushed you against it with his body and smashed his lips against yours. His hands were obsessed with your hips and thighs, constantly squeezing them as you grinded against his crotch. 

     He tapped the back of your legs and you wrapped them around him. San carried you to the bed as if you were made of feathers, and even though his tongue was harsh against yours, the way he let you down on the bed was soft.

      The two of you only pulled away when the confinement of your clothes started becoming unbearable. You peeled the work clothes (that you had never changed from) hastily from your body. San undressed just as quickly, and he couldn’t believe his view. After all that time being incarcerated he managed to have someone so good looking so willing to fuck him… He smirked and slapped your thighs, proceeding to grab them as he kissed your jaw, then your neck, then your chest, then your stomach, only stopping when his lips were dangerously close to a place you’d be wishing for him to touch you. He stopped and looked up at you. God, he wished he could take a picture of you right now… All jittery and messy, needy and aching for his touch. 

   "F-Fuck San, please!“ You begged, finally, when the teasing became too much. 

   "Anythin’ for you, doll." 

  He teased your entrance with his tongue before entering two fingers, as to prepare you for what was to come. San squeezed and bit your thighs as his fingers entered you in a high speed. 

    "Oh my G-God, San- I want you in me." 

    He groaned at your neediness, and shoved the fingers that had previously been in you past your lips. 

    You maintained eye contact as you sucked slowly on his digits.

    San lined up his cock with your entrance and pushed into you slowly, causing you to wince slightly and bite his fingers. 

    The male immediately removed his hand and moved both his hands to rest on your waist. 

    "Y-you okay, doll?” He asked, afraid he’d hurt you. 

    "Yes- yes, move…" 

     San bottomed out inside you with a loud groan. He didn’t move for a second, trying to take in how tight you were and how good he felt. And even though he tried to hold back by starting to thrust into you slowly, he soon lost control. His hips snapped against yours uncontrollably fast and neither of you cared if the moans and whimpers could be heard in the next room. 

    "S-shit, look at you doll, taking my cock like a good girl-“ 

     You gripped his arms, digging your nails into his skin, loving the way he talked to you. 

    Something about seeing all of those artworks in san’s body made you feel more attracted to the male. 

   "You feel so good inside me Sannie.”

    The pet name and the little praise caused his cock to twitch inside of you, and you could tell he was almost there, by the sloppiness of his thrusts. 

    You wanted to see what he looked like in pure lust, you wanted to do the dirtiest things with this man, his sinful figure bigging out someone you didn’t even know you had in you. 

     "I-I need to cum doll, where do you want me to-“ 

    "Inside me! Please, please cum inside me San!” You begged as you clung onto him for dear life. 

    His cock twitched once more, and he looked at you with a mix of surprise and lust in his eyes. 

    "Y/N are you sure cause-“ 

    "Fucking breed me, San! I want your cum dripping out of me, please!" 

   The intensity of his thrusts increased as did the grip he had on you. 

    "You want me to breed you? Hm? Make you mine forever? Turn you into a bad girl for me? Y-you’re so dirty…”

   "Y-yes! God yes!“ 

    "Oh f-fuck!” Was the last thing he managed to yell as he buried his member deep inside of you, shooting white spurts of cum that covered your walls. 

    It was the way his body trembled and the way his mouth fell open with small whimpers that caused you to climax right after him. 

   His sweaty body collapsed on top of yours as he slowly pulled out, and you could feel the cum drip out of your hole. 

   For a couple of seconds all that could be heard was the heavy panting, until San lifted his head and looked at you. 

    "Fuck, I guess you belong to me now…“

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Chreon, Rated-T

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For a price, anyone could check into a seedy motel, even three people covered in blood, guts, and grime, no questions asked, especially with the ashes of Raccoon City still cooling 100 miles away. So the horizon still held a faint glow of destruction when Leon and Claire stumbled, barely conscious, through the front door of the Tadpole motel at 2 PM October 1st, using each other as support and Sherry clinging to Leon’s back like a koala if a koala drooled and snored.

Two other motels along the highway turned the odd couple away, rumours already flying about Raccoon City, zombies, and a nuclear cover-up. But at the right price, triple the going rate, Claire managed to convince the manager to let them bunk down, courtesy of Leon’s stressed credit card.

The fact Leon’s credit card worked, or that he even still had his credit card, was a miracle. His wallet hadn’t exactly been a priority, and honestly, they could sleep in a cockroach-infested basement, and Leon would be happy because they were dead on their feet after hiking on foot what Leon estimated to be a good 30 miles of rough terrain to get to the nearest town. The sun barely peeked over the horizon when the sky behind them exploded.

Raccoon City was gone. The people Leon had sworn to defend were gone. Sherry and Claire were all he managed to protect, and he’d be damned if he failed now.

The motel room wasn’t terrible; two double beds, a small tube TV, and a leaky faucet. It wasn’t good, but it wasn’t something out of a horrible nightmare. They’d left that behind them.

“I’m glad we don’t have a blacklight,” Claire joked, but her tone fell flat.

Leon nudged the bed farthest from the door suspiciously with his boot, dragged back the yellow duvet, and inspected the mattress before he lay Sherry down and tucked her in. He even let Claire shower first, insisted, while he watched Sherry sleep, tossing and turning and whimpering from reliving the horrors in her dreams until Claire emerged from the bathroom, hair still damp, and crawled into bed beside Sherry.

By the time Leon scrubbed his skin raw, the water was cold, and Claire had passed out cold with Sherry cuddled up beside her, little hand tangled in the front of Claire’s dirty tank top like a lifeline. Leon passed out face first on the other bed. He couldn’t even muster the energy to get under the covers.

Movement woke Leon. He jolted awake, reaching for his gun on the bedside table, only to find Claire, fully dressed, perched on the end of his bed and tugging one of her boots. She smiled sadly at the gun levelled at her head.

Leon lowered Matilda, gasping for air. His arm fell limply to his side. “Claire?”

“Hey.” Claire pulled on her second boot. “Sorry.”

Leon blinked at the sleep crusting his eyes. “What... what are you doing?”

Claire sighed and set her foot back down solidly on the ground, hands grasping her thighs. “I need to find Chris. I need... I need to know he’s okay.”

“Now?” Leon glanced at the clock. The bright red numbers read 7:46. The setting sun outside glowed faintly behind the curtains.

“If you ever need me...”

“Forget me. What about Sherry?” Leon snapped, somewhat mollified when Claire winced.

“I know you’ll take good care of her.” Claire’s attention briefly snapped to the sleeping 12-year-old that had survived literal hell. “Leon... if I didn’t have to.”

“Yeah. Yeah, whatever,” Leon scoffed, then rolled over. His heart thundered in his chest. He heard Claire briefly wake up Sherry to say goodbye, promising they’d be in touch, that if Sherry ever needed her, all she needed to do was call.

The door creaked open. Leon clenched his eyes shut, willing down the panic swelling in his chest until it ached. This was it. He was all Sherry had left. They were on their own.

“Take care of our girl for me.” Claire’s voice was barely a whisper.

Leon’s hands trembled, buried in the sheets and pillows, he struggled to suck down air, and his hearing fuzzed. Claire was gone.

For hours, Leon faded in and out of consciousness, barely able to keep the crush of dread at bay. Finally, at some point around 3 AM, he gave up all pretense to sleep and kept a vigilant guard. He jumped at a car alarm, tensed at the slam of a door, and clenched Matilda tightly when soft footfalls passed their door. Eventually, Sherry climbed into his bed to watch early morning cartoons with him.

“Is Claire going to be okay?” Sherry asked softly. She hugged Leon’s arm, cuddling into his side like he used to with his grandma.

“Yeah. Don’t worry about her,” Leon said. He slumped to the side, gently resting his head on top of Sherry’s. “She’ll be fine, kiddo.”

When the sun rose, Leon and Sherry trekked down to the front office to extend their stay another night, then hiked into town searching for clothes and sustenance. Being out in public, surrounded by people, set both Leon and Sherry on edge. They jumped at the slightest sound, and Sherry refused to release Leon’s hand for anything less than going to the bathroom, and even then, he had to stand guard outside the stall. Thank god he had pissed before they left the motel because Sherry was clinging to the back of his jacket while he tried seemed ridiculous.

Their shopping trip was quick. They grabbed what they could, Sherry setting a brisk pace through the little thrift store they found, dragging Leon from rack to rack. They scrounged up a few changes of clothes, socks, underwear, which Leon was a little uncertain of, a jacket that fits over his side holster since he had a license to carry, and a backpack that they filled with snacks and a deck of cards from a little corner store. It turns out Leon’s palette was similar to a twelve-year-old.

The tenuous credit limit finally crapped out on Leon when he tried to buy a six-pack at a shady liquor store on the way back to the motel.

“No job. No money. Just great,” Leon sighed.

For the rest of the day, they holed up in their room munching on junk food, watching terrible daytime TV, and playing Go Fish until Leon made the brilliant decision to teach Sherry how to play poker, and she fleeced him for all the Cheetos.

Leon had no plan beyond survive, and he hadn’t even planned for that. His body ached from being tossed by mutated monsters and shot. His wrapped shoulder twinged.

“Shit,” Leon cursed and clutched his wound. They needed help. He needed help. Taking care of a kid without any resources would be impossible; never mind, he’d never taken care of a person in his life. He had no siblings, no parents. His grandma died when he was nine.

Leon smiled at Sherry in reassurance when she questioned him. This little girl couldn’t be another statistic of the system. He could fix that. He would fix that.

Covered in orange Cheeto dust, Sherry crashed around 8 in the evening. The glow of the sun behind the curtain reminded Leon of the mushroom cloud that had enveloped the sky 36 hours ago. Leon’s stomach twisted in knots. Every creak, every thump, every squeaky break, Leon tensed, waiting for something to crash through the door and disrupt the precarious peace.

Leon hunkered down on his bed, the one closest to the door and any potential threat that came for them, and prepared for another sleepless night on edge.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Around one in the morning, his eyes beginning to droop, Leon nearly fell off the bed in his mad scramble for his gun when someone knocked heavily on the door. Checking his clip, Leon cautiously crept to the door, motioning for now very awake Sherry to stay out of sight.

“Who is it,” Leon called.

“Hi. Look, I’m sorry to bother you. My name is Chris Redfield. I’m looking for my sister Claire.”

Leon blinked and glanced back at Sherry, whose head had popped out of the blanket at the sound of Claire’s name. Then, double-checking he had bolted the chain, Leon opened the door a crack to peek out.

A man a little taller than Leon stood under the flickering light outside the door, his hair cut short and a 5 o’clock shadow. Chris Redfield, decorated member of the Racoon City Stars Division. Leon recognized him from the old photo Claire had shown him, but also the records he’d run across during his frantic hunt through the Police Department.

“Chris?” Leon said, astonished it was actually him. He slammed the door, unbolted the chain, and flung the door open again. “What the- Claire’s looking for you. What are you doing here?”

Chris, who eyed the gun uncertainly, brightened at the mention of his sister. “Is she here? The manager at the front recognized her. Said she was here with some guy and a kid.” Chris glanced past Leon into the room to Sherry curled up in the other bed peering out with curious fear from under the blankets.

Leon shook his head, eyes scanning the parking lot. “She’s not here. She left this morning to find you.”

“Fuck.” Chris winced and glanced at Sherry again. “Shit, sorry.”

Sherry giggled into her hands, and Leon rolled his eyes. “I think she’s dealt with worse.” Like the apocalypse.

“But she’s okay. She’s alive?” Chris asked.

“Who? Claire? Yeah. Yeah, she’s fine. Saved my ass more than a few times.” Leon smiled wistfully and then frowned. So Claire had left, and now, here, her brother was trying to track her down. It must be nice to have someone that gave a damn about you.

“Oh, thank god.” Then, finally, all the tension and stiffness in Chris’ posture melted. “I got her message, and...”

Leon scanned the dark parking lot again for any sign of life, then gestured into the motel room. “You should come in.”

“No.” Chris waved off the invitation. “No, I need to find her.” But the fatigue in his voice threatened to topple him, and that would definitely fell Leon if he tried to catch him.

“Dude, you’re dead on your feet,” Leon said. “It’s the middle of the night. Crash for a few hours.”

“Yeah!” Sherry chimed in, bouncing on her bed. “Stay!”

Chris shook his head. “I can’t.”

Leon pursed his lips. “Look, I don’t know you, man. But I do know that if you pass out behind the wheel and wrap yourself around a pole, you’re pretty damn useless to her.”

Chris opened his mouth to argue, and Leon sighed, tilting his head to the side, ready to give up when Chris snapped his mouth closed and cleared his throat. He studied Leon closely, scrutinizing him like he would a suspect, but Chris must have been satisfied with what he found - weakness, terror, immaturity - because he finally said, “just a few hours.” And the anxiety squeezing the life out of Leon eased, just a tiny bit. Enough that he could breathe.

Chris excused himself to run and grab his go-bag, and Leon cursed his stupidity because nothing was stopping Chris from running. That tightness immediately returned, but a few minutes later, another sharp knock sounded at the door.

Leon smiled tiredly and welcomed Chris into the room, relieved to have the company, someone who knew what they were doing; an adult. Leon grew up fast, but he’d never been an adult in his life. Racoon City was supposed to be a fresh start, and now, he was back to square one. Not even. He was in the basement of square one—the root cellar.

Leon finally caught a good look at Sherry with the lights on, still covered in orange dust, her fingers and cheeks stained. “Jesus. Did you eat the Cheetos or roll in them?”

Sherry laughed. “Leon taught me to play poker, and then I won all the cheezies,” she said to Chris, who grinned.

“Nice job.” Chris offered her a high-five, which she eagerly accepted. The hero worship was already forming.

“He gets a little wrinkle right here when he lies,” Sherry said, pointing a small finger between her eyebrows.

“Okay,” Leon said, scooping Sherry off the bed and carrying her off under one arm. “Let’s get you cleaned up and back in bed, munchkin.”

Cheeto dust proved a formidable adversary, but they managed. When they walked back into the room, Chris was standing exactly where they had left him, his bag still slung over his shoulder and his boots laced.

Getting Sherry tucked back into bed became a struggle now that the brand new company hyped her up; no hesitation whatsoever. She liked Chris. She even made Chris put her to bed, Leon faking offence at being disregarded for the new guy, but there was something about seeing a six-foot boulder of a man coax a tiny twelve-year-old back to sleep that made Leon’s chest ache. Especially when Chris told the story of how Claire was convinced that if she left fake teeth under her pillow, she could trick the tooth fairy into giving her more money. It never worked. The tooth fairy left chocolate coins instead. Fake money for a fake tooth.

Leon watched perched on the edge of the other bed, a little envious of Chris’ skill with kids. He double-checked the safety on his handgun, then the clip. Chris eyed Leon as he set his weapon back down on the bedside table, and Leon couldn’t muster the energy to be self-conscious about his paranoia.

Chris may be Claire’s sister and a fellow survivor of Raccoon City, but Leon didn’t actually know him. For all he knew, he was a traitor like Irons or Wesker. Maybe he wasn’t the man Claire believed him to be. What the hell had he been thinking? Inviting a stranger to stay with them?

With Sherry asleep again, Leon and Chris were left to settle in for the remainder of the night. For Chris, that meant shedding his bulky jacket and combat boots.

“It’s Leon, right?” Chris said. He stood awkwardly beside the bed, watching Leon click off the light and climb under the blankets, tucking himself up against the edge of the mattress as close as he possibly could without toppling off. “Claire mentioned you in one of her messages.”

Leon almost facepalmed. He hadn’t introduced himself. He really was doing everything backwards. “Yeah. That’s me. Leon S. Kennedy.” He curled up into a small ball.

“Jesus Christ.” Chris swiped his palm across his mouth. “You’re the new rookie.”

Leon chuckled humourlessly, his hands tightening into fists around the sheets pulled up to his neck. “Was a hell of a first day.”

Chris picked up real quick that Leon didn’t want to talk about it. So instead, he climbed into his side of the bed, the one closest to the door. The mattress dipped under his weight, and Leon tensed. Where else would Chris have slept? The floor? The last person Leon shared a bed with was his ex, who had seemingly saved his life. If she hadn’t broken up with him, if he hadn’t gotten drunk, if he hadn’t slept in hungover as hell, he would have arrived right in the middle of the initial panic, and who knows if he would have survived that. No one else in the department had.

What would it have been like? The screams, the moans, the pleas for help- the sounds still played on repeat in Leon’s head. Lieutenant Marvin Branagh, mouth agape, stumbling towards him with his hands out. Leon had put two bullets between his eyes.

The first indications of a panic attack slammed into Leon. Abruptly, his throat closed. He couldn’t breathe, his vision slid out of focus, and his chest compressed. Like someone reached into his chest and squeezed his heart in a vice. His entire body shook.

Suddenly, a warm voice murmured in his ear, the soothing tone talking him down, calming him. Leon wasn’t alone. He wasn’t trapped in the police station battling endless waves of the undead, the people of Raccoon City he’d taken an oath to serve and protect.

“Leon, kid, you need to breathe,” Chris said. His presence was a solid wall behind Leon. “I’m going to touch you, okay?”

Leon focused on Chris’ voice. His vision began to swim back into focus, his hearing rushed back in a sudden wall of familiar night noises like the drip of the faucet in the bathroom or the lonely car that passed on the highway. He nodded, not fully understanding what Chris was saying. An arm slid around his waist and pulled him back into a firm chest. Leon flailed, seconds from panic again when Chris’ voice rumbled in his ear.

“You’re going to be okay. I got you.”

Leon grasped Chris’ arm, his grip probably tight enough to leave bruises, and he choked on a shuddering sob.

“It’s okay, Leon. You’re going to be okay.”

Gasping for air, Leon rolled over and buried his face in Chris’ chest, and Chris let him. Leon’s sobs were muffled in Chris’ arms, not wanting to disturb Sherry in the next bed. He felt every subtle muscle flex when Chris tightened his grip or shifted them into a more comfortable position. That’s how Leon passed out, wrapped in the reassuring embrace of a complete stranger, one who understood the hell he’d lived through and the fear and uncertainty he felt in his soul.

Morning came quickly. Leon woke up still curled into Chris’ chest with a death grip on the other man’s faded t-shirt. Chris’ nose was buried in Leon’s hair, each soft snore ruffling his hair, but his embrace hadn’t lessened overnight.

The warmth of embarrassment burning, Leon snuck out of bed, anxiously loosening Chris’ hold and dashing for the safety and solitude of the bathroom, horrified at his complete lack of control the night before. No one had held him like that before, at least not since he was a child and his grandma would sit up with him after a nightmare. But, sadly, this was another type of nightmare, a waking one.

When Leon finally mustered the courage to wander back into the room, Chris was up, sitting on the edge of the bed with his elbows on his knees.

“You okay?” Chris asked the same time Leon burst out, “I’m sorry!”

Chris sighed. “You didn’t do anything wrong. When I showed up on your doorstep last night, I saw right away that you were barely holding it together.”

Leon’s fists clenched at his side. He couldn’t meet Chris’ gentle gaze.

Chris crossed the room in two enormous strides and considerately grasped Leon by the shoulders. “It was the shock finally hitting you. It happened to me too, but I was alone,” Chris admitted. “Hey. Hey, come on. Look at me.”

Leon bit his lower lip, but he slowly looked up, eyes stinging. “I don’t know what to do.”

Telegraphing his movements, Chris gently pulled Leon into a tight hug. “You’re not alone. We’re going to do this together. I want to take Umbrella down, but first, I wanna make sure you’re okay.”

Leon jerked back so fast Chris stumbled. “I want to help. I want to make those sons of bitches pay.”

Chris smiled. “Good. But first, I have a safe house.”

Together, they set the plans. Leon and Sherry would meet Chris in two days, hopefully with Claire in tow, at Chris’ new safehouse three states over. Sherry and Leon could catch a bus a couple miles down the highway to get them most of the way. The trick would be getting up the mountain to the cabin. But they were in this together. Hope simmered once again.

Armed with a freshly drawn map on motel stationery, Leon watched Chris pack. Umbrella wouldn’t know what hit them.

“Here. Take it.”Chris handed Leon two rumpled twenties, a five, and a few ones he dug out of his wallet. “It’s all the cash I have on me, but it should be enough to get you there. I’ll drop you off-”

“No.” Leon took the cash, but waved off Chris’ offer to give him and Sherry a lift to the bus station. “It’s in the opposite direction. We’ll be fine.”

“Two days,” Chris promised. Sherry had climbed out of bed and now clung to Chris’ arm as if he couldn’t leave as long as she was attached. He ruffled her hair. “With or without Claire, I’ll be there and we’ll go from there.” Chris grabbed Leon by the back of the neck and dragged him into a gruff hug, their foreheads lightly pressed together. “It’s gonna be okay, kid.”

And Leon believed him. That is, until two hours later when an unmarked vehicle pulled up on Leon and Sherry hiking down the side of the road, hand in hand. They never made it to the rendezvous.

#chreon #leon s kennedy #chris redfield #claire redfield #sherry birkin #re2make #re fanfic #leon kennedy #kennfield

[themoonandotherslikeit]

Painted - Chapter One

“Every portrait that is painted with feeling is a portrait of the artist, not of the sitter.” - Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray

Y/N has moved on, her scars are barely noticeable anymore, and she’s finally stable. Or at least she was.

10 years after the worst day of her life, Y/N found herself staring face to face with an unimaginable horror. In the wake of her worst nightmare come to life, she finds herself reunited with the man that saved her all those years ago - Agent Dean Winchester who had left her a decade before broken and wanting.

Dean Winchester has spent the last 10 years trying desperately to forget Y/N and the tragedy that he pulled her out of, but when she called asking for his help he dropped everything to come to her aid as he knew he always would.

Can Y/N and Dean solve the mystery that has resurfaced after all this time? Will they be able to resist the pull between them? Or will this be the final brush strokes on a canvas, sealing their fate for good?

No Beta currently, all mistakes are my own!

Pairing: Dean/Reader

Tags: Dark!Fic, Agent!Dean, Serial Killer Fic, Smut etc.

Chapter One

Everything has a color. To Y/N, violence was red. She pulled back her arm, her fist colliding with the heft of her punching bag with a soft thud . One, two, kick. She liked training alone, it centered her, cleared her mind. She didn’t have to worry about pulling her punches, avoiding the knees when she kicked. The biggest danger was the skin on her knuckles, which were expertly wrapped.

It all started as self defense, a way to ease her mind as she walked back to her Jeep on the dark nights, but it had evolved to something else altogether. She didn’t fight because she was afraid, she fought because she was pissed . She was pissed that she had to learn to defend herself; that other women did. She taught classes so that her community would be safe, so that they’d find less women abandoned in ditches beaten to death.

But when she was alone, it was something else completely. The why of the thing was a mystery most of the time, even to her. People used to ask her if she was afraid she would see him again. She wasn't, not really. But she kept fighting anyway, and she would be lying if his face wasn’t the one she pictured every time her fist collided with the bag.

The beat of her music throbbed in her ears like an angry heartbeat as she went for an uppercut that rattled the bag. She was panting, sweat rolling down her temple. Each hit was a beat of her heart, causing the bag to come alive. With each swing she made, it swung back at her. She was strong, and she wasn’t holding back. One, two, kick.

Her watch chimed to alert her that she hit her workout goal for the day, but she had more fire within her that needed to be extinguished. It was a long workout, even for her, but she had a lot on her mind. If she was thinking about the ache of her knuckles and burning in her biceps, she was less likely to obsess over the things she couldn’t control. So she hit the bag again and again.

The sun was starting to speckle through the blinds on the storefront window, making the sweat on her arms glisten like diamonds. She considered, just for a moment, how the coast would look against the purples and oranges of the sunrise. She could have a coffee and just enjoy the silence. Or she could keep fighting. That answer was easy. She didn’t have time to appreciate the beauty in life. She hadn’t for a long time. All of the colors had lost their brightness, the depth that he used to talk about so frequently. The thing that kept him mixing until it was just right.

She hadn’t thought of him in so long, so when the thought came to her, she didn’t react fast enough to the bag swinging back toward her from her last hit. It collided directly with her face, sending her backwards onto the mat. A loud, painful crack echoed through her skull as her nose collided with the bag. She laid there for a moment, groaning. She tried to sit up, her nose throbbing and her mouth filling with blood from the hit. “Fuck me,” she whispered to no one in particular.

Trauma was black. According to her therapist, there were different types of trauma. Y/N learned that they all could be sorted into one of three main categories: acute trauma that results from a single incident, chronic trauma that is repeated and prolonged such as domestic violence or abuse, and complex trauma which is exposure to varied and multiple traumatic events, often of an invasive, interpersonal nature. More so, there was capital T trauma and what she called little t trauma . Capital T was the big stuff, the stuff that wrecks a person in an irreparable way. Little t was less so. It is possible for a traumatized person to get over a little t trauma.

In Y/N’s life she’d seen her fair share of trauma. Probably more than a thirty-three year old woman should’ve. She’d seen trauma happen to others, happen to herself, and continue to happen in case after case that she worked. She saw trauma that others didn’t. The kind of trauma that couldn’t be seen from the outside. The kind of trauma that a person inflicts upon themselves.

She was always told that trauma healed over time, like a bruise, but for her, trauma was a cut that kept reopening. It was a scab that she couldn’t stop picking at, a bruise that seemed to deepen to a darker purple before it ever yellowed. Her eyes stung from the hit, and she wiped her nose with the back of her hand.

The only way she knew how to heal was to move on, leave the trauma behind. Her therapist told her to imagine herself placing the memories in a box and locking them away. Sometimes, when she was alone, she could hear that box screaming, banging, and begging to be opened. She resisted the urge, especially today.

She forced herself to stand, her head spinning. She leaned against the wall to regain her balance before she walked out to her car, her head tilted back. She could feel the blood roll down the back of her throat since it was unable to escape her nostril. She’d be pissed if she broke her nose, but, from what she could tell, it seemed intact even though it hurt like a bitch.

Her headphones were askew, but still playing her workout mix. She adjusted them and spit some blood from her mouth. She wouldn’t be thwarted by a fall; no, she wouldn’t be taken down so easily. If she fell in the gym and no one was there to witness her humiliation, did she even fall? The answer to that depended on if anyone would notice her bruised nose after the fact. If they didn’t, as far as she was concerned, she had a perfect refreshing work out with no issues whatsoever. Maybe with enough makeup her secret would remain her own.

10 years earlier

The sound of his paintbrush swiping delicately against canvas was soothing to Y/N. She sat on the edge of the bed, atop black satin sheets, resting on her hands, her back arched and her legs spread just right. Her long strawberry hair fell down her shoulders in loose waves onto the sheets.

“Just like that,” Lucifer murmured, a blonde wave falling into his eye. He was focused, his tongue partially out of his mouth, his eyebrows knitted together. She wasn’t able to see the painting from her vantage point, but she knew what it was. It was always the same. I just can’t get you right, he’d complain, his voice laced with pain and disdain. She thought he made her more beautiful than she ever could be on her own.

When she’d met him, he was so focused on his art. He would eat, sleep, and drink his paintings. His clothing was speckled with oil colors, his fingers calloused from gripping paint brushes for hours on end. She found him sexy and mysterious. She was dying to know the man behind such beautiful pieces of art.

It didn’t take long for his obsession to shift from his art directly to her. He doted on her endlessly, showering her in flowers, candy, candlelight dinners. They made love constantly. He couldn’t get enough of her.

“Let me paint you, Y/N,” he’d purr between her legs. “I just want to paint you.” It took her weeks to say yes. She’d always brush him off, blushing and insecure. “You’re exquisite. Please let me paint you.”

She struggled to deny Lucifer’s requests when he asked as his breath tickled the inside of her thigh. It was hard to deny him of anything , if she was being honest. The first time she said yes, he arrived in her bedroom and asked her to drop the floral robe she was wearing. He’d seen her naked dozens of times, but she was still nervous, vulnerable, staring at him. She brought him a bag, insisting that he look inside before she disrobed.

He stared at the bag, confused.

“They’re body paints,” she explained. “I thought you wanted to paint me.”

His eyebrows shot up in surprise. They made love on the apartment floor, painting designs on each other's skin until she was swollen and wanting, gasping his name into the night.

When she woke up in the early hours of the morning, she found him painting her image onto a canvas laying splayed out, covered in swirls of sex and paint. “Don’t move,” he instructed calmly. She wanted to be angry, but she still felt drunk from being ravished, and his eyes examining her were sensual and slow. She watched his wrist spin and curl, and a chill ran up her spine.

“Lucifer, how much longer? ”

“You’re just so beautiful, Y/N. You know that, right?”

“No,” she murmured, and his eyebrows knitted together.

“We will fix that,” he promised. “You will always be this beautiful.” He was talking to her, she logically knew that, but from her vantage point she could’ve sworn he was speaking to the canvas.

Present

Y/N entered the code to unlock the front gate to her property, leaning half out her car window. Thankfully, her bleeding had stopped, but her upper lip and chin were still crusty with blood. She looked like a mess, if she was being honest, but the only one there to judge her was her chocolate brown pit bull, Castiel, and Y/N figured that Cas wouldn’t care much either way.

The iron gate opened with a groan, sliding to her right. She slid back into her seat and shifted out of park to pull forward down the driveway toward her house. It was modest, nothing too big or magnificent. The outside was grey brick, a two story home with a large green yard and a pool in the back. As she pulled up, she could already see Castiel’s nose pressed against the window, her head through the thick curtains. Y/N smiled, her heart warming at the sight. She wiggled her fingers at Castiel in a small wave.

Castiel greeted her at the door, his tail wagging excitedly. She knelt down to pet his chin only to be met with deep blue eyes and a pink tongue. “I know, buddy. I need to shower somethin’ fierce.”

She kissed his nose and murmured. “I’m good. We’re good.” Half the time she wasn’t sure who she was trying to convince. She locked the front door behind her and kicked off her shoes. Her arms ached and her heartbeat was still residing in her sinus from her fall. She let her hair out of the tie that kept it up in a high ponytail, letting it fall down her back. Her head was sore from her hair being up for hours. She massaged her scalp with a wince. Everything hurt and she couldn’t wait to wash her problems down the drain and start fresh.

Her work out clothes were discarded on the bathroom floor, the sound of running water and the steam accumulating in the air were already starting to soothe her. She took a deep breath in through her nose with a wince before stepping into the shower and closing the curtain behind her.

Y/N faced the water, letting the heat roll down her skin. The water ran brown from sweat and blood. She braced her hands on the walls of the shower to keep herself steady. She closed her eyes, letting the baptism wash her worries away. Time has a way of wrecking a person, she knew that much. It gave a false sense of security, a sense of growth and change. She spent so much time trying to put her past behind her, locked away inside of a box.

She opened her eyes and looked at the half sleeves covering her wrists and forearms. The flowers and vines twisting around her arms, climbing, and growing out of thick, pink scars - creating something beautiful out of tragedy. She had hoped, when she got them, that they would help her heal and forget. She could laugh now at that naive girl who thought anything would let her forget. Time heals wounds, yes, but the greatest ones still ached in the cold and the rain.

Suds from soap and shampoo swirled down the drain, and she reached down to turn off the water. She wrapped her hair in a towel and slipped into her robe. She could hear Castiel whine outside of the bathroom door, unusually unhappy with not being able to see her. “You’re good, Cas,” she called out, wiping the fog from the mirror. She examined her nose. It was a little swollen and already beginning to bruise. She cursed to herself and just hoped that it’d be dull enough that her painted foundation would cover it. The last thing she needed was to worry those around her.

Castiel scratched at the door again, and she opened it, her dog circling her legs impatiently. “What is your deal?” Y/N reached down and scratched behind her ear, eliciting licks from Castiel.

Towel drying her hair, she stepped out of the bathroom and rounded the corner. Her eyes were heavy, and her head pounded from the hit. She needed coffee, bad . As she turned the corner, she stopped dead in her tracks, her towel falling from her hand. Castiel whined insistently, nudging Y/N’s leg with his nose. She stared face to face with something so familiar that it made her gut tighten, acid crawling up her throat.

A painting hung at her eye level in the hallway near the bathroom. Fine brush strokes of pale peach skin, strawberry twists of hair splayed out on black satin sheets, flushed cheeks, parted lips, and freckled legs spread out, exposing a delicate pink vagina tucked between them.

Y/N stared at herself. Her eyes closed, her swollen mouth, her pink cheeks on a face and head that belonged to her. Her freckled neck blended downwards onto heavy breasts with dark nipples and a mole under the right that she’d never seen before.

Her knees were weak, and she stumbled back, bumping into Castiel and tumbling backwards. She fell, hitting her tailbone on the wood floors with a hard smack . Tears burned in her eyes, from pain or fear she wasn’t sure. Castiel came to her, licking her cheek in concern.

Anxiety crept into her chest, pressing down heavily. She gasped for breath and clamped her eyes shut. She pictured the box inside of her mind, thrashing and pulsing with anger, begging to be opened. Tears rolled down her cheeks, and she forced herself to stand on shaking legs. She made her way to her bedroom and quickly spun the code on her safe, pulling her gun from it. She clicked the safety off and held it in front of her.

With each room that she checked she only found an emptiness that overtook her home with a heaviness that seemed to engulf her completely. Nothing seemed strange or out of place other than the large depiction of her naked body that hung on her wall.

She kept her gun positioned outward and pulled out her cellphone, dialing the number that she could never forget. All she could hope for was an answer, and as a ring met her ear she let out a sigh of relief. It had been so long, she had expected a disconnected tone. She pressed the phone closer to her ear as she heard his voice.

“Y/N?”

“He’s back.”

------

Chapter Two

Read on A03 Here

Tag List: @lyarr24

@dean-winchesters-bacon

@waywardbaby @akshi8278

#Painted #Fanfiction #writing #mine #supernatural fanfiction #SPN FIC #dean x reader #SPN AU #supernatural AU #Agent!Dean Winchester #Dean/Reader #Dean Winchester/Reader #Horror fic #Dark!Fic #smut #sexy #love #otp #angst #Sam winchester #lucifer #lucifer/Reader

[sushi-guro]

Hey!

I would like to request a playlist for maki zen’in, if its alright with you!

let's get started - a Maki Zen'in inspired playlist

My body remembers. But I tried so hard to forget this fear.

⚠️I recommend you to listen to this playlist after getting through the manga⚠️

a/n: I've just finished ch.152 and omg, THIS WOMAN MAKES ME FEEL STRONG AND POWERFUL BY JUST WATCHING HER, I LOVE HER. Also, this might contain some Naoya references, cause we love to hate this man, right? :))) I hate him even more cause he's attractive, so, thank you maki for ruining his pretty face, he deserved that. I'm sorry for adding more than one song per artist but I thought they fit really well

They say I'm different - Betty Davis

And that’s why they say I’m different

And that’s why they say I’m strange

STFU! - Rina Sawayama

How come you don't respect me?

Expecting fantasies

Leave our reality, why don't you just sit down and shut the fuck up

Nightmare - Halsey

I, I keep a record of the wreckage of my life

I gotta recognize the weapon in my mind

They talk shit, but I love it every time

And I realize I'm no sweet dream, but I'm a hell of a night

¿ - Bring Me The Horizon (feat. Halsey)

Got mud on my face but I can′t get clean

Guess my fairy tale had a few plot holes

Dollhouse - Melanie Martinez

Places, places, get in your places

Throw on your dress and put on your doll faces

Everyone thinks that we're perfect

Please don't let them look through the curtains

Throne - Bring Me The Horizon

So you can throw me to the wolves

Tomorrow I will come back

Leader of the whole pack

Beat me black and blue

Every wound will shape me

Every scar will build my throne

Alphabet Boy - Melanie Martinez

I'm not a little kid now

Watch me get big now

Spell my name on the fridge now

With all your alphabet toys

You won the spelling bee now

But are you smarter than me now?

You're the prince of the playground

Little alphabet boy

Churchyard - AURORA

He told me I belong in a churchyard

He told me I could walk away but I wouldn't get far

Same Ol' Mistakes - Rihanna's cover

Finally taking flight

I know you don't think it's right

I know that you think it's fake

Maybe fake's what I like

Point is I have the right

Not thinking in black and white

Thinking it's worth the fight

Soon to be out of sight

Knowing it all this time

Going with what I always longed for

Venom - Little Simz

They would never wanna admit I'm the best here

From the mere fact that I've got ovaries

It's a woman's world, so to speak

Pussy, you sour

Never givin' credit where it's due 'cause you don't like pussy in power

Venom

Oh, you mad? Then come at me, you prick

Make a move, better patent it quick

I assume you'll be comin' for blood

That makes two of us

MY POWER - Nija, Beyoncé, Busiswa, Yemi Alade, Tierra Whack, Moonchild Sanelly, DJ Lag

he never seen so much rage from a queen

Rage from a queen, queen so strong, thought she was a machine

Castle - Halsey

And there's an old man sitting on the throne

That's saying that I probably shouldn't be so mean

Mother's Daughter - Miley Cyrus

Oh my gosh, she got the power

Oh, look at her, she got the power

Don't fuck with my freedom

I came up to get me some

I'm nasty, I'm evil

Must be something in the water

Or that I'm my mother's daughter

So back up, boy

Yellow Flicker Beat - Lorde

the scars that mark my body, they're silver and gold

This is the start of how it all ever ends

They used to shout my name, now they whisper it

I'm speeding up and this is the

Red, orange, yellow flicker beat sparking up my heart

spotify link

a/n: since @unbotheredfairy and @strangeenbytumi both requested a maki playlist I thought it was okay to include two requests in one bUT I'm always willing to make as many playlists as you want <3 I hope you enjoy this one as much as me! <3

check this if you wanna request a playlist too🌻

#jjk #jjk gojo #jjk hcs #jjk headcanons #jjk fluff #jjk smut #jjk angst #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu sorcerer #jujutsu megumi #fushiguro megumi #itadori yuji #nobara kugisaki #maki zenin #zenin maki #mai zenin #inumaki toge #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #jjk nanami #nanami kento #geto suguru #jjk choso #jujutsu kaisen hcs

[jeanslongschlong]

a-z fluff alphabet for connie springer

requested by @squidonmywall​ !! i hope you enjoy <3

warnings: some swearing

word count: 1871

A = Admiration (what do they absolutely adore about you?)

Your sense of humor! Connie is a really funny guy, so it means a lot to him that you can match his energy at all times. He doesn’t believe in soulmates, but he’s starting to think that maybe, just maybe…

B = Body (what is their favorite part of your body?)

Your cheeks! Connie LOVES to pinch them, caress them, kiss them, and so on. He makes it his life mission to make you blush, as seeing the red tint on your cheeks makes pride swell up in him over the fact that he made you have that reaction. He also loves when- jk, we’re keeping this PG here. I’ll expand more on this when I do his NSFW alphabet.

C = Cuddling (how do they like to cuddle?)

Under lots of blankets and on top of lots of pillows. But he will cuddle with you anywhere and everywhere; Connie is not shy about PDA with you.

D = Dates (what does their ideal date with you look like?)

I get extremely romantic vibes from Connie, so probably some sort of mountain getaway, during which you spend time in a sauna, go skiing, and have a candlelit dinner with the breathtaking view of the snow-tipped mountains in the background. I can assure you he will do everything in his power to make you swoon, and (more likely than not) CRINGE at some of his cheesy attempts at flirting. He may be a romantic, but I never said anything about being smooth. That is a whole other story.

E = Emotions (how do they express emotion around you?)

Connie is pretty open about his emotions with everyone, but even more so with you. You just make him feel so comfortable, he knows that no matter what he’s feeling you won’t judge him; you’ll try your hardest to sympathize and help him work through it. That’s another thing he loves about you, your empathy.

F = Family (do they want one? If they do, when?)

CONNIE WANTS LIKE FIVE KIDS AND YOU CANNOT CHANGE MY MIND. In any case, he only wants them if you want them of course. He isn’t going to force you into something you don’t want. However, I would say that it could be a deal breaker for him…but it just depends. If you do want to have kids as well, I’d say he wants to start having them around 24/25.

G = Gifts (how do they feel about gift giving? What are their habits when it comes to this?)

HE LOVES GIVING GIFTS. I don’t think he has a lot of money so they probably aren’t expensive ones, but expect a bunch of small things randomly. He doesn’t need a holiday to buy you a gift, he just does it whenever he feels like it (which is almost always LMFAO he’s such a sweetie I am in love).

H = Holding Hands (when/how do they like to hold hands?)

All the time. Everywhere. Everyday. He holds onto your hand like it’s his fucking LIFELINE. (please I simp for this man so much he is so precious help)

I = Injury (how would they act if you got hurt?)

Simply put, he would cry. Similar to Eren, he would most likely shut down, overwhelmed by the panic and regret that washes over him when someone informs him of your injury. He would be so patient and loving during your recovery period, though. If you were staying in a hospital room he would give you his pudding cups during dinnertime.

J = Jokes (do they like to joke around with or prank you? how?)

Obviously Connie likes to joke, he’s one of the funniest characters in AOT. However, pranks? Nah. Not alone, at least. Teamed up with Sasha is a whole other story. But I don’t think they’d be anything serious. If he did prank you, it would be like…hiding a whoopie cushion on the couch where you normally sit, not a breakup prank or a cheating prank. He thinks those are too cruel and he would feel wayyyy too bad about it.

K = Kisses (how do they like to kiss you?)

Lowkey…I feel like he gives wet and sloppy kisses. But the type that make you feel warm inside. Kissing him brightens your whole day, they’re so infused with love that you could faint.

L = Love (how do they show you they love you?)

Words, gifts, kisses, random hugs, cuddles, you name it. He makes it VERY KNOWN in every way possible that he loves you. He is not embarrassed about it at all, and he makes sure you don’t forget it.

M = Memory (favorite memory together?)

Your first date. He stuttered so bad and yet you didn’t make fun of him. That’s when he knew that he had it BAD for you. He went home and literally couldn’t sleep he was so overwhelmed with affection for you.

N = Nightmare (what is their worst fear?)

He’s afraid that his forwardness will eventually scare you away. He’s so open about everything, but that doesn’t necessarily mean that you are, so he’s afraid that one day he will overstep his boundaries and drive you away permanently.

O = Oddity (what is one quirk they have?)

French kissing is a no-no. Even though his kisses are wet and sloppy, I really think that the thought of your tongues in each other’s mouths gross him out. I think the same goes for Levi, too, if I’m being honest.

P = Pet Names (what do they like to call you?)

Angel, my love, my dearest. THIS BOY IS SO CHEESY BUT IT MELTS YOU

“You’re so pretty, angel. How the hell did I manage to get a girlfriend as heavenly as you?”

(And then you probably made fun of him and you two double over in the type of laughter that makes your stomach cramp. Oh, to be loved by Connie.)

Q = Quality Time (how do they like to spend time with you?)

A lot, quality time is his love language, second to gift giving. If he had it his way, the only time he would be away from you is when he was at work, at school, or going to the bathroom. Otherwise, he wants to be all up in your business. But, he respects your space so he tries to refrain from asking you to hang out every day. Key word: tries.

R = Rhythm (what song reminds you of them?)

“Two” by Sleeping At Last. No explanation needed.

S = Secrets (how open are they with you?)

He tells you everything, even things you think ‘god, why did he tell me that?’ afterwards. SO, he tells you everything. He keeps nothing from you, which makes surprising you SUPER hard for him LMAO. He just wants to tell you as soon as he possibly can.

T = Time (how long did it take you to get together?)

Not very long. 3 months at most. This boy can’t wait LOL he has 0 patience. He knew he wanted to make you his even before you had your first date, but he waited to give you time to think about what you wanted. (Although how could you not want him??? FR)

U = Upset (how do they act when you’re upset?)

Super supportive. He will be whatever you need him to be. If you need to scream at him to let out all of your frustration? He’ll let you. If you need him to hold a pillow for you to punch while you’re angry? Consider him your new punching bag. If you need him to just hold you and stroke your hair while you cry? He’ll do it. Anything for you.

V = Vaunt (what are they proud of? Do they like to show you off?)

He’s honestly just so happy that you love him. He loves to show you off; he tells anyone who will listen how amazing you are, how beautiful you are, how he’s convinced that if soulmates did exist, you’d be his.

W = Warrior (how do they feel about you fighting? Would they fight for you, beside you, etc?)

Like Eren, Connie would lay down his life for you in a heartbeat. He gets a little scared when he thinks about you fighting, but he knows that you’d be fine, so he never really voices that fear.

X = X-Ray (how well are they able to read you?)

Pretty damn well. He’s not dumb, he can tell when you’re actually mad and when you’re just crabby because you haven’t eaten. He’s memorized all of the indicators that point towards how you’re feeling, and he’s always prepared to deal with it.

Y = Yes (how would they propose to you?)

SOOOOO ROMANTICALLY PLS IM GONNA SOB THINKING ABOUT IT.

This is the only secret that I feel he would successfully keep from you; he wants to make it as special as possible (which is quite the opposite of Eren LOL). He would take you on a walk near sunset, and would time it so perfectly that you would end up at the place you first met right when the sun starts to set.

The sky is filled with picturesque shades of pinks, yellows, reds, and oranges, and you stop for a moment to gape in astonishment at its beauty. He admires you as you stare at the sky, your hand held to your forehead to shield your eyes from the brunt of the sun’s mighty rays, your eyes filled with such bewilderment that it warms him from the inside out. He takes this moment to kneel down onto one knee, reaching back to fish out the black ring box he had put in his pockets a few hours before.

“Y/N…” he says softly, trying to get your attention. You turn around, expecting him to make fun of you for being so infatuated with the colors of the sky, but instead let out a strangled gasp.

“Holy shit, are you-“

“Yes,” he smiles up at you and reaches out with his left hand to grasp your right. He gives your hand a loving squeeze, sucks in a breath, then continues, “I knew from the moment we met here all of those years ago that I was going to marry you. You know how I knew?” You shake your head no. “The moment our eyes met, I was filled with such a sense of completion that there was no other way to explain it. I’ve told you many times that I don’t believe in soulmates, that I think it’s just a shanty created by the romance genre to create unrealistic expectations when it comes to love. But…I’m now thoroughly convinced that you are mine.”

“Connie, I-“

“Marry me.”

“Yes.”

Z = Zen (what makes them feel calm?)

Taking a nap with you under a thick blanket. He loves to be held by you, so preferably with him on top of you, your arms wrapped tightly around him and him using your stomach as a pillow. Prime sleeping position for Connie Springer.

#aot headcanons #aot #attack on titan x reader #connie springer x reader #connie springer #connie springer fluff alphabet #snk #shingeki no kyojin #attack on titan