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bonewreath · 4 months

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𝐬𝐦𝐨𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐮𝐭 | 𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐦𝐬 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

description: you’ve been getting closer to ellie lately and, unbeknownst to you, your blossoming crush is entirely reciprocated. cue your first smoke sesh together… and a little something more, too. [modern au, ellie and reader are both over 18]

warnings: weed use, oral sex, fingering. this fic is 18+, minors do not interact.

author’s note: my first ellie fic and my first fic on this blog! pls be nice :) let me know what you think <3

The first few times you hung out with Ellie, she’d offered you a joint. It’s no secret that Ellie’s the town’s top dealer, a welcome sight at rowdy house parties, her backpack stuffed with ziplock bags of the best bud around. You’d tried weed before, had taken a puff or two from poorly-rolled blunts here and there, but you’d never particularly enjoyed it. Mostly, you’d just coughed up a lung and felt nothing but a vague lightheadedness. So when Ellie rolled up a joint the first time you’d come over to her place, offering you a drag after she’d sparked up, you’d politely declined.

Ellie had arched a brow. “You mind if I smoke? Shit - I can put it out.”

Before you’d had the chance to respond, she was already reaching for the ashtray on her nightstand, ceramic and painted to resemble an eight-ball.

“No, no, it’s fine,” you interjected, reaching out and touching her wrist almost involuntarily. You pushed down the flurry of butterflies that erupted in your stomach at the contact. God, you had to be touch-starved or something. Since when did touching someone’s arm make your heart skip a beat?

Ellie looked at you with a guarded kind of suspicion, like she didn’t believe that you were fine with her smoking. “You’re sure?”

“I’m sure,” you said, lips curling into an encouraging smile. “I don’t mind weed, it just doesn’t do anything for me.”

“Huh.” Ellie nodded. She lifted the joint to her lips again and you glanced away, chest tightening from the sight of her lips pursing.

“If you ever wanna try again,” she paused to exhale a plume of smoke, intentionally avoiding your direction, “let me know. Not to, like, toot my own horn or anything, but I’ve never had someone try my weed and not like it.”

You let out an easy laugh. “Okay, we’ll have to see about that.”

Ellie was smiling at you, those green eyes twinkling like so many stars. “No pressure.”

That was months ago, when the summer heat still blazed from sunrise to sunset. It’s mid-winter now, the chill nipping at your cheeks and the end of your nose. To your agony, it hasn’t gotten any easier to breathe when you touch Ellie - when she greets you with a hug and a smile at her front door, you feel like you’re paralyzed with want. And Ellie’s probably none the wiser, of course. You wonder if she’s ever noticed the way your breath hitches when she stretches out on the couch beside you, leaning her head on your shoulder while some tacky eighties film lights up the television screen. You figure she’s oblivious - she’s just being friendly. She probably doesn’t even know you like girls, anyway. Plus, she doesn’t shy away from talking about the girls she’s been with before. You’ve spent more than a few nights seething with jealousy as she recounted her latest hookup, schooling your expression into one of disinterest or even mild enthusiasm.

It’s been a while since she’s talked like that, luckily. You’re grateful you don’t have to feign excitement about Ellie’s latest conquests anymore.

“Whatcha thinkin’ about?” Ellie interrupts your internal monologue, hands still working at the joint in her lap. She’s got a pile of ground-up weed on a rolling tray, sprinkling it into the perfectly-rolled cone like it’s muscle memory. It probably is.

“Nothing,” you blurt, cheeks warming. “Sorry, just zoned out for a second.”

“Oh, bullshit,” Ellie quips, rolling her eyes despite the smile playing at her lips. “What, you can’t tell me? I thought we were friends, cherry.��

You flush anew at the nickname. She’d picked it out for you after you’d scarfed down an entire jar of maraschino cherries one night, after Ellie had bought them for ice cream sundaes. You’d never live that down… But you’re not sure you want to, because every time the nickname leaves Ellie’s lips, you feel like you’re glowing bright red with admiration.

“We are friends!” You nudge Ellie’s shoulder with yours, rolling your eyes with that same playfulness she’d expressed. “Sorry, it’s just - it’s embarrassing.”

Ellie narrows her eyes. It’s like you can see the cogs turning in her head. “Embarrassing? What, you got a crush on some guy or something?”

You open your mouth to respond, but before you can, she’s prattling on again. “Y’know, just ‘cause I’m gay doesn’t mean you can’t talk to me about your crushes. Swear I won’t be weird about it.”

Oh god.

“It’s not - I’m not…” You sigh, gaze lowering to your lap, where you’re fiddling with your hands. Should you tell her? You should probably tell her.

“I like girls, you know.”

It’s quiet for so long that you need to look up at Ellie to make sure she’s still there, still listening. And she is; her eyes are glued to you, wide in disbelief.

“What?” You feel like a bug under a microscope with her looking at you like that. “Is it that hard to believe?”

Ellie shakes her head emphatically. “No, no - it’s not. I just didn’t expect that.”

She turns away to finish rolling the joint, twisting the very end of the paper until it forms a little point. “Guess you’re just full of surprises, huh, cherry?”

You bite your lip to stifle a smile, but Ellie sees it anyway.

“So who’s the lucky girl?” She asks, rummaging through her pocket until she finds her lighter. You watch Ellie spark the joint, the twisted end catching fire until the cherry starts to glow. Ellie takes a few puffs and the scent of smoke tickles your nose.

“I’d prefer not to say,” you tell her, chewing on the inside of your lip. Your nerves are off the wall; you’re so anxious that the joint in Ellie’s slender fingers is suddenly tempting.

Ellie scoffs. “Boring.”

She looks up at you as she flicks ash off the end of the joint, and when she notices you eyeing it, her brows lift.

“Want some? Will that make you spill?”

You huff a nervous laugh, toying with the ends of your hair. “No… I don’t know. Maybe?”

Ellie whoops, her free hand curling into a fist of victory. “Fuck yeah. Here, take it.”

She offers you the joint and you take it, but not without a moment or two of hesitation. You will the anxiety away with the thought that you probably won’t feel anything. Ellie watches as you bring the joint to your lips and inhale, praying you won’t cough and make a fool of yourself. Especially not with Ellie watching so intently.

By the grace of some kind of divine being, you don’t cough. Your throat tickles, and you feel emboldened to take one more hit, letting the smoke fill your lungs. You imagine your body relaxing, the knot in your stomach unwinding. You hand the joint back to Ellie and she takes a puff of her own, her lips curled into the faintest little smirk.

“So…” Ellie trails off expectantly.

“God, you’re persistent,” you groan. She just peers at you knowingly from behind a veil of smoke.

“There’s not much to tell,” you say. “I’ve had a crush on this girl for a while now, but I don’t think she feels the same.”

“Have you asked her?” Ellie prompts, flicking ash off the joint.

You shake your head. “No way.”

“Then,” Ellie pauses to take another hit, “how do you know she doesn’t feel the same?”

You should be feeling anxious with her drilling you like this - you know you should. Usually, you’d be retreating into yourself with every prodding question Ellie asks. But all you feel now is yearning; there’s an ache in your chest that only she can remedy. And, clearly, Ellie’s clueless about it.

You don’t want her to be clueless, you realize.

The words leave your lips before you can think better of them. “Do you, Ellie?”

Her brows knit together, forming a crease that you’ve memorized by now - like every other freckle and wrinkle on her face. “Huh? Do I what?”

You reach for the joint and she yields it without question.

“Do you feel the same about me?”

The weed has certainly helped with your nerves, you think, watching Ellie’s expression shift from confusion to realization. Her plush lips part, but all that comes out is a series of stammers and false sentence starts: “I—you—what?”

Fuck it, you think. You stretch out to reach the nightstand beside Ellie’s bed, leaving the joint in one of the ashtray’s notches. A steady stream of smoke ribbons upward from the fading cherry.

“Ellie,” you start, settling back into your place on the rug. You look at her to find her already staring at you, blinking. “It’s you. I have a crush on you. It’s been—”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Ellie interjects, voice softer than you’d expected.

You blink. “I didn’t want to ruin our friendship, I guess. And you always talked about other girls, so I thought you just… Weren’t interested.”

“Cherry.” Ellie sits up on her knees so she can get closer to you, the sleeves of her oversized flannel slipping down to her forearms as she reaches out and grabs your face. Her touch is gentle but firm, insistent. You can feel the callouses on her fingers against your skin, her thumbs brushing up against your cheekbones, and the air is suddenly so thin you can hardly inhale.

“I have… I’ve had feelings for you for so long. So fucking long, cherry.” Ellie’s gaze is intense, eyes boring into you. You feel exposed, raw, alive with something electric.

You stare right back at her, frozen in her grasp.

“But you were always talking about other girls,” you say. Doubt lingers in the back of your head; this is too good to be true. Right?

“I know, fuck, I’m sorry,” Ellie sighs. “I thought you weren’t interested in me. Thought it was hopeless, y’know? My perfect best friend having feelings for me? Unreal.”

One of Ellie’s hands smooths over your hair; it’s something she’s done plenty of times before, but it feels different now. More intimate, with your shared confessions between you.

“Wanna know something?” Ellie asks then plows on, not really waiting for an answer, “I stopped hooking up with other girls a while ago. I just… Couldn’t.”

You nod in understanding. Your eyelids feel heavy all of the sudden, each blink heavier than the last.

“They weren’t you,” Ellie adds.

They weren’t you, her words echo in your mind.

“Ellie,” you breathe. Her face is impossibly close; you can pick out every detail of her face. Each pore, each freckle, each fleck of brown in her green eyes. You can smell the weed smoke on her breath.

“Cherry,” she responds, voice hushed just as low as yours. “Cherry. Can I kiss you?”

“God, yes,” you practically whine.

When Ellie kisses you for the first time, she tastes like relief.

Her lips are soft and insistent against yours, the pad of her thumb warm against your cheek as you lean in closer to kiss her back. It’s like time has gone still; the hum of the speaker on Ellie’s dresser fades away, as does the sound of the winter winds hissing and whooshing against the window. All you know is Ellie: her hand slipping down the length of your back to grab your hip, her mouth hot and needy against yours. It’s a desperate sort of kiss, one that you’d both been yearning for, and months of pining drain from your mouth to hers, then back again.

You’re not sure if you’d been kissing for seconds or hours when Ellie finally breaks away, gasping.

“Fuck,” she whispers. The tip of her nose brushes against your cheek, then your nose. “We should stop, before I…”

She trails off but you know exactly what she’d left unsaid. And your stomach flips in response; the mere thought of what else Ellie might do with her mouth has your cunt throbbing.

Ellie’s hand leaves your hip and it’s like she’s left a burn there - one shaped like her touch, a scathing outline on your skin.

“I don’t want to stop,” you find the courage to admit.

You’re not sure who makes the first move this time - only that you’re kissing again, swallowing Ellie’s pleased moans as your tongue prods between her lips. You gasp and pant into each other’s mouths, hands roaming on newly discovered skin; Ellie’s hands slip beneath your tee, her palms hot against your abdomen, your hips, your lower back. When her fingers find the clasp of your bra and unfasten it, you practically shiver with anticipation, back arching into her touch.

“Whoa there,” Ellie laughs, nudging her nose against yours. You go in for another kiss, annoyed that she’d stopped, but she pulls back. “You’re sure you want this, cherry?”

“Please,” you say, taking advantage of the moment to pull your shirt over your head and set it aside. You toss your bra into the growing pile, turning back to Ellie to find her gaping at you.

“Christ,” she says, licking her lips, “you’re fucking perfect.”

She gives you one last heated kiss before her mouth moves to your jawline, then the column of your neck, where she leaves a trail of wet kisses. She sucks on a spot right on the crook of your neck, just shy of leaving a hickey, and your toes fucking curl.

Ellie only gives a low hum of approval at your reaction before she’s moving lower, lower. Her kisses cover your breasts, every inch of skin worshipped by her lips until she finally takes a peaked nipple into her mouth. You feel her tongue swirl against the sensitive bud and you nearly cry from the pleasure, one hand flying up to knot into her hair and tug.

Her gaze moves up to meet yours, and your cunt tightens again at the look of unbridled desire in her eyes - her lids are heavy, too, but you can’t tell if it’s from the weed or sheer lust. Maybe both, you’re not sure, but you don’t have much time to consider it before Ellie’s moving to your other nipple, tongue laving against the taut flesh before she closes her mouth around it and sucks. A ragged moan tears from your throat and you tense, tugging again at the locks of Ellie’s hair in your fist.

She leaves your nipples flushed and sensitive, shining with saliva, and you’re suddenly very aware of the layers of clothes separating you from her. Separating the wetness of your cunt from hers, the bony curve of her hips from your needy mouth. You need those layers gone.

“Ellie,” you whine, pulling at the collar of her flannel.

“Shh, I know,” she coos, voice dripping with syrupy sweet lust. “Why don’t you get on the bed for me, hm?”

You nod and oblige, but not without stopping to slip out of your jeans. You leave your panties on because, well, they’re cute. A white lace thong with a tiny, silky pink bow just below your navel - Ellie’s eyes linger there as she stands at the edge of the bed, unbuckling her belt and stepping out of her cargos. You can feel the wet patch on your panties as you press your thighs together and watch her undress. She’s always been on the thinner side, but as she slides off her flannel and pulls her sports bra over her head, you realize that she’s much more toned than you’d imagined. Her arms flex with each movement and her abdomen is clearly taut with muscle; every inch of new skin she reveals only adds to the agonizing desire churning in your stomach.

Luckily, she seems just as eager as you are. She’s still in a pair of oversized plaid boxers when she grabs hold of your hips and yanks you toward the edge of the bed, pulling your knees apart so she can see what’s between them.

“Look at you,” she says, eyes wide at the sight of your soaked panties. “I didn’t realize you were so needy, cherry. Should’ve let me take care of you sooner.”

Her words send another gush of arousal flooding from your cunt, your stomach twisting. “‘M sorry, Ellie.”

“Don’t be sorry,” she says, lowering herself onto her knees before you. Her fingers hook beneath the lace of your panties to pull them down, leaving them in a crumpled heap on the rug.

Her face sinks between your legs, and the first stroke of her tongue against your folds makes you shiver with relief.

“Oh my god,” you gasp. Ellie moans against your pussy, tongue splitting through your folds, spreading your wetness with every swipe and lick. Your back arches involuntarily, your toes curling in sheer pleasure.

She laps at your cunt like a woman starving, hot tongue drawing circles around your puffy clit. It’s maddening, the way she knows exactly what you need, speeding up and slowing down in accordance with your moans and sighs and whimpers. You’ve never felt so close so quickly, but you don’t want it to stop - her mouth is magic between your legs, and as you hurtle towards your orgasm, she slips a finger into your clenching hole. You nearly scream.

“Ellie,” you moan shakily, your thighs tightening on both sides of her head. “Ellie, I’m gonna…”

She just moans again, mouth working at your clit while her finger sinks in and out of your cunt. She adds another not long after and it’s hardly a stretch with how wet you are. You’re trembling with every stroke of her tongue against your clit, and soon enough, you feel yourself slipping off the edge into oblivion. Your orgasm tears through you like never before, hot and electric, every muscle tensing as Ellie finger-fucks you through every wave of pleasure. Eventually, you push the heel of your hand against her forehead, too overstimulated for her to keep sucking at your too-sensitive clit. She pulls back and sits on her heels, fingers leaving the tight grip of your cunt as she wipes her mouth with her other hand. Your slick covers her from the nose down, the shining evidence of how good she’d made you feel.

“So fucking pretty when you come,” Ellie tells you, standing up and lifting a knee onto the bed beside you. Her hair is a mess, you’d made sure of it, but she doesn’t seem to notice or care.

“Think you’ve got a few more for me?” She smiles at you, wolfish and wicked, and her hand moves to grope at one of your tits.

“Mm,” you hum, reaching out for her. “Only if you have a few for me.”

When she’s close enough, you slip your hand between Ellie’s legs, your fingers brushing through sparse curls to find the heat of her folds. She’s soaked, you realize with self-satisfaction, your tongue swiping over your lower lip.

This will be fun.

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rodolfoparras · 11 months

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Thinking about all the ways you can be intimate with Price that doesn’t involve having sex

One thing about Price is that he’s known for his love for hats. But very few people know the reason as to why he wears them in the first place.

Truth be told, more often than not, he will let his hair grow past the length that’s stated in haircut regulations. Curls will start forming at the back of his neck , unruly strands will stick to his temple as he sweats and if it’s a particularly windy day, wisps of hair will fall into his eyes and obscure his vision. So to cover up the fact that he’s clearly breaking regulations and to keep his hair in check, he’ll wear a hat on his head.

He always tells himself he’ll cut it short. Hell, he even goes out his way to take down the box of clippers from the shelf where they’ve been collecting dust for God knows how long. But every time he intends to cut it something comes up and he opts for wearing a hat instead.

However this time around, it’s a different story since inspection week is coming up and you’re the first to notice how long his hair has been getting lately.

As you lean in for a kiss, you feel the unruly strands of hair wrap around your fingers tips. You smile as you twirl them in your grasp, lips still kissing Price’s.

He pulls away, mirroring the smile on your face as he says “what are you smiling about?”

“Your hair’s been getting so long lately” you say as you run a hand through his hair, tugging lightly at the long strands as if to empathize your point.

His brows furrow, before a look of realization crosses his face “I guess it has, hasn’t it? I’ve been meaning to cut it, just haven’t gotten around to doing it,”

You nod as you continue to play with the hair at the back of his head, already aware of the box of clippers that’s been collecting dust on his desk “when’s inspection now again?”

“Next week. Cut it for me?”

The bathroom connected to his room is rather small, barely fits two people but you make it work as you sit down on the toilet seat while he sits down on the floor.

He sits so close you get a whiff of his cologne. The scent’s a familiar one, one you know not only by smell but also by name. It’s a cologne you’d spontaneously bought one day and had managed to use once or twice before it somehow ended up in Price’s hands. Now it’s a scent solely associated with him.

You can also smell the cigars he smokes. The scent is sickly sweet but also earthy- reminds you of mahogany much like the mahogany curls he's sporting at the moment.

You gently grab onto his shoulder, forcing him to shuffle closer. He’s now perfectly slotted between your legs, as you go to inspect his hair.

“Any special request ?” You ask as you card your fingers through his hair, carefully inspecting the length. The man lets out an appreciative sound at your gently touch before he shakes his head in response to your question.

“Just want it short?” You ask again, fingers still carding through his hair.

“Yes, please”

“What if I mess up ?” You joke as you continue to inspect the length.

“Don’t really care, I’ll wear a hat either way” he shrugs, and flashes you a smile over his shoulder.

“Alright” you say, before you reach down and gently grab onto the edge of his shirt “May I?” You ask, lips brushing his ear as you lean down to ask for permission.

He shivers at your touch, but nods his head at your question.

You gently pull the shirt off of him, leaving him in just the undershirt that he’s wearing. The sudden exposure to the chilly bathroom air has goosebumps raising on his skin and your hands quickly find his arms as you attempt to warm him up.

“Sorry” you say as you plant a kiss on his shoulder. He just smiles and shakes his head “it’s okay, not your fault yeah?”

You grab onto the box where his clippers lay and take out the one you needed for his hair. You quickly adjust the settings on it before bringing it to his head.

As you turn on the machine you feel the familiar buzz coursing through your fingertips. You try not to let your nerves get the best of you as you get ready to cut his hair for him. However, sweat still trickles down your spine, the clippers almost fall out of your hand and you have to take a deep breath and apologize beforehand in case this doesn’t go as planned.

You do the first swipe with the clipper and watch as strands of hair fall to his bare shoulders. You quickly take the brush that came with the kit and gently brush the hair away from his skin. He hums in content as he relaxes into your embrace

“Good?”

He nods with a giggle “tickles”

You chuckle at that as you continue to cut his hair, tufts of it steadily falling to the floor and sprinkling across his shoulder. You even see the loose strands of hair sprinkling onto the undershirt that he’s wearing. However Price doesn’t seem to mind it, seemingly relaxed as ever.

Nothing can be heard except for the steady buzz coming from the machine, along with the soft noises Price will give in response when you ask him something. He’s long given up on talking, mind and body too relaxed to bother with it.

Your hands are gentle as ever as they grab onto his chin, cheeks and temples, turning his head in whichever direction is needed at the moment. His eyes, although closed, flutter at the touch, as he chuckles at the ticklish feeling that comes from your hands.

However you still check up on him to make sure that you aren’t hurting him.

“Am I hurting you?” You ask as you bring the clipper a bit closer to his ears. “Is this okay” You ask again when you fear you’re holding too tightly onto him. You even drop a “you tell me if I’m doing anything to hurt you yeah?” when you notice the flush on his skin.

Sometimes Price responds with a hum, sometimes with a nod and sometimes with the shake of his head (You almost have the mind to scold him for his careless movements but you allow him to do so anyway)He even chuckles at the last sentence as if saying not you, never you and that’s all the reassurance you need to continue cutting his hair for him.

At some point he does talk - asks if he can go for a smoke and of course you allow him to do so. If you smoke he’ll let you take a couple of puffs of his cigar. However he’ll use this as an excuse to steal a kiss since every time you lean in to put the cigar between your lips, he’ll place a kiss on your lips. If you don’t smoke he’ll have you light his cigar for him. He’ll playfully pulls you closer by your wrist, as you go to light his cigar for him, callused thumb mindlessly stroking it while you light it for him.

He stays in your embrace while smoking his cigar, enjoying your presence and your gentle touch.

From the bathroom window you can see that the sun is starting to set and the clouds of smoke that whirl around in the air become more prominent.

Price hooks his arm around your leg and mindlessly drags his hand along your thigh while he smokes his cigar.

“Thank you for doing this for me, love” he says and despite the clouds of smoke that swirl around in the air, you can still see the grateful smile on his face.

“No need to thank me ” you chuckle as you continue to cut his hair for him.

Once it’s done, you hand him a small mirror so that he can take a look at his hair. He takes a brief look in the mirror before he turns to you with a big smile on his face.

“It looks great,”

Truth be told he barely looked at his hair, didn’t see the crooked line or the uneven patches around his head (not that he would mind if he were to notice it anyway). All he saw in that very moment was your reflection in the mirror, the way you nervously chewed your lip, and the hopeful look in your eyes as you waited for him to comment on his new haircut.

Once it’s inspection day you’re back in that very same bathroom with him. He’s looking at himself in the mirror while you’re standing behind him with a comb in hand. His hair is still short and will surely pass inspection but you still want to comb and style it for him, claiming he needs to look professional and well groomed, seeing as he’s the captain.

“There, all done” you say with a smile on your face, finally feeling satisfied with the look of his hair. All of sudden he turns around, hands gently grabbing onto your hips before he pulls you closer to him. You’re still looking at his hair, searching for any imperfections that need to be corrected while he’s watching you with an adoring gaze. Once you spot a strand out of place, you lick the pad of your thumb before gently slicking it back with the rest of his hair.

You go to pull your hand away but before you can do so he gently wraps his hand around your wrist and brings your hand closer to his lips before he kisses it.

“Thank you again, love”

#captain John price #captain John price x reader #captain John price x male reader #John price #John price x reader #John price x male reader #Alec writes #happy pride month to my absolute favorite way of being close with another man #I apologize for any mistakes #idk man I make this so hard for me by using this writing style #it’s like future and past and present tense all at once I hate it djdjdj #anyway #I hope it’s okay #army shabang is probes not accurate but none of this is real so let’s kiss #my goal here was to showcase how such a simple act can be so intimate I hope i managed to do so #since this is sort of a love language to me #and first fluff on here #wooo #weird to say that since I have always written fluff fics believe it or not

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macbcth · 4 months

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meet me on high

sashisu, rated E, 5k words of satoshoko smut and banter, satoru’s sweet tooth, overstimulation and butt plugs, shotgunning, suguru’s absence being a character unto itself, and shoko almost succeeding at earnest conversation

#my first sashisu fic!! wooo!!!#sashisu #satoshoko #satosugu #shokosugu #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk fanfic #fanfic #mine #fanfic*#jjk*

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8ripecunts · 2 months

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happy anniversary to me deciding to rewatch mindhunter (ft this redraw of my very first bill tench sketch 🥺)

#mindhunter #bill tench #doodle #i just checked my first mh fanart and i saw that its dated a year ago today!!#(actually yesterday its already 2am here but whatevs)#my rewatch was supposed to be for funsies but it got so srs #i still think abt them all the time im not even kidding #i regularly check for fanart fics anything its crazy #anyway wooo

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veliseraptor · 1 year

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A Different Fit | Kinnporsche

Summary:

Vegas makes an offhand proposal. Naturally, actually going through with it is a little more complicated.

Notes:

I'm pretty sure this one is @ameliarating's fault, but then she did go and beta it for me too. Sometimes you set out to write smut and it ends up being about unresolved issues. And by that I mean mostly that's what happens, at least to me.

After spending most of its lifetime simply titled "bottom vegas fic" this almost ended up titled "shredded lettuce" after the Tumblr post reading "call my man shredded lettuce because he be a sub topping." Just so you know.

#a wild fic appeared #first of two year end fics i'm going to post before 2023! both kp smut. wooo #this one is the nicer one of the two #man i feel like i haven't written sufficiently fucked up vegaspete. should get on that #vegaspete #vegas theerapanyakul #pete saengtham #kinnporsche

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timetodiverge · 1 month

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Beware the Phoenix Squad-Room (Part 1 of 2)

In which Commander Wren is promptly punished for sneaking into Phoenix Four’s bunk (again) when the whole squad gets stuck in lockdown.

***

Shin Hati was many things, depending on who in the New Republic fleet you asked: a grey Jedi, a rumoured Sith; a deadly weapon or a useful asset. The best and the worst pilot in Phoenix Squadron. My so-called girlfriend (apparently).

Putting all that aside, what she truly was, was a blanket hog.

Once again I’d woken up in the freezing-cold Phoenix squad-room, shivering while she had the whole blanket tucked cosily around her; bare and cramped into the tiny space she’d graciously left for me in her bunk. True, there wasn’t much space for both of us in there, not with our combined pile of armour and weapons at our feet and scattered around the pillows. …still.

She doesn’t even need any blankets, I thought to myself. Shin always ran hot.

Read more on Ao3

#ohhh my first wolfwren fic wooo #wolfwren #ahsoka #ahsoka show #sabine wren #shin hati #commander wren #star wars #wolfwren fic #my fic #wolfwren fanfiction

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verecunda · 8 months

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Three-sentence prompt: Keith and Ewen, wildcat.

Yay, thank you! :D

Once, when he was a boy, Ewen's dog had cornered a wildcat upon the moors: a magnificent beast, which had arched its back and shown its teeth, hissing and spitting, and fetching the poor hound a great weal across his nose with its claws, so that he had turned tail with a yelp and fled.

It was this same wildcat which came into Ewen's mind when he first faced the English officer on Loch Oich side. Beneath the formality of his red coat, the man showed the same fierce, splendid spirit of defiance - a spirit which would not have shamed a Highlander, far less an Englishman - so that Ewen's heart warmed to him at once, even before they crossed swords. Three sentence ficathon!

#my fic #The Flight of the Heron #Ewen Cameron #Keith Windham #wooo!#my first Heron fic #:D #I think we can all agree that Keith has the energy of a very wet very angry cat #XD

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avastar-thelastfirebender · 4 months

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[REBLOGS > LIKES]

I really, really REALLY wanted to put this scenario down on paper for a while.

Character Warnings: Timekeeper Cookie, Roguefort Cookie (Pursuit of Lost Time)

TW: Early Stages of memory loss, gaslighting(?) and manipulation, severe sleep deprivation, nightmares

Other notes: In my fanon, Cinnamon is Roguefort's little brother. Remember this. (Also it's literally 1 AM so no beta we die like goombas)

It wasn't often that Roguefort would remain awake for days on end for anything but a heist. Well, this was a heist, just not one for gems. No, no, the target this time...it was far more precious.

"You're twitching. Perhaps you should get some rest." Timekeeper's voice snapped Roguefort out of their thoughts. Truth be told, Roguefort hadn't slept in days, weeks...actually...what day was it? Something that started with an F? It didn't matter.

"I don't think I've ever recalled you caring for my wellbeing." Rogueforf wouldn't make eye contact. Something in the back of their mind was telling them not to, but they just couldn't place their finger on why, exactly.

"Your moms weren't the ones who said they could help you find the watch, were they?" Timekeeper's tone had an edge of sugary malice to it as she continued to operate the aircraft. She didn't even need to look to know that Roguefort had flinched at the mention of their mothers.

"You and I both know damn well why they didn't." Usually, Roguefort would've done everything in their power to hode their anger. But a lack of sleep, grief, timeline jumping, and a misguided attempt at closure (for lack of a better term) all did a number on their mind. "You said yourself that I'd be able to fix the family if I went with you, so don't even go there."

"I did say that, didn't I? I'm sure Cinnamon is in total agreement with your decision. After all, he looked up to you the most, so I bet he trusted you to make the right choice."

Okay, that was the last straw.

"You know what? I'm going to bed." Roguefort sounded angrier than they woumd've liked, but at the same time they sounded exasperated. Understandably so.

"Yes, yes, goodnight to you, too." Timekeeper feigned a yawn as she heard Roguefort storm off in annoyance. And as such, they would totally miss the little smirk growing on her face as they left.

Roguefort wasn't sure how an entire guest room could fit in an aircraft, but they had learned to not question Timekeeper's bs a while ago. They wouldn't feel themself flopping down on the mattress, they wouldn't feel their eyes closing. All they'd be able to hear before drifting off was the sound of their own voice humming Für Elise. They knew it made Cinnamon happy...they just wished they could remember why...

When Roguefort opened their eyes, they were in a dark, empty void. It wasn't cool or echo-y like voids in sci-fi movies, just one where Roguefort was truly alone.

That was when their eyes landed on Cinnamon.

"Cinnamon...hermanito....is that really you?" Roguefort's voice was shaky with tears and desperation, but Cinnamon wouldn't say a word, only continuing to stare at his big brother.

"Cinnamon...it's me!" Roguefort was met with more silence.

"Hermanito...please..." Silence. The silence made Roguefort feel something they couldn't describe. They just knew they didn't like it.

"Cinnamon...Cinnamon, come on! S-Say something, damn it!" But Cinnamon wouldn't say a word.

"CINNAMON!"

Roguefort sat up in the bed with the speed of a rocket, breathing heabily as they tried to regain their bearings. They had definitely had nightmares in the past, but this one felt different. Roguefort sighed, knowing there was no way in hell they'd be able to go back to sleep now. With a sigh, they left the guest room and returned to the main control panel, unsurprised to see Timekeeper still there.

"I thought you were going to bed?"

Roguefort hesitated.

"I'm not tired." They sat in the passenger side of the control panel, seeming determined and bored at the same time.

"We need to find that damn watch."

#my writing #cookie run #cookie run ovenbreak #pursuit of lost time #Timekeeper Cookie #Roguefort Cookie #Cinnamon Cookie #memory loss tw #manipulation tw #nightmare tw #sleep deprivation tw #gaslighting tw #< just in case #first fic wooo

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ihni · 1 year

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Where do we go from here

For @mungroveweek, day 2: "touch".

(Read on AO3)

~~~

Billy can’t sleep, after coming back from Darktown. It’s a problem.

It’s not surprising, that he can’t sleep. He’s being kept in a lab he doesn’t know the whereabouts of, having samples taken with or without his consent, and having to submit to various testing on the daily. All of those are perfectly good reasons for a person not to be able to sleep. But Billy has slept next to monsters. Next to certain death. The lab is not the reason why he can’t sleep.

No, the reason why he can’t sleep – and the reason why it’s a problem – is Eddie.

Over the course of the last couple of months, ever since he found the other boy in Darktown, he’s managed to get used to lying next to Eddie. It was a struggle, at first, to let someone that close – even someone who was barely conscious during that first time, and who was not in the state of being able to hurt a fly for a long while after. But Billy gritted his teeth and stayed close, even though the sound of someone else’s breaths so close to him and the feeling of someone else’s warmth leaking into his own skin made his skin crawl, because he had to be close in order to protect him. Had to stay close enough to be able to reach out and touch, to make sure he was still alive.

He’d been alone so long, by then, that he wouldn’t even let himself consider that this guy – the first other human he’d seen since he ended up in this place – could die.

Billy refused to let it happen. Not on his watch.

So he stayed close. And then he got used to it. And, when Eddie was coherent enough to start to talk to him, and started engaging Billy in conversation, he found that it was more than getting used to it; he craved it. Was starved for it.

He never initiated anything on his own, but that meant next to nothing when it came to Eddie. Because Eddie was the most tactile person Billy had ever known. Couldn’t spot a boundary until he tripped over it and fell flat on his face.

And that was another thing. Perhaps it was the fact that Billy had seen Eddie on the verge of death, or that he’d helped the guy back to health – but Eddie just didn’t register as a threat on Billy’s radar. Which most people did.

But not Eddie.

He never planned on letting his guard down around him. Never planned on letting Eddie get under his skin like that. But in his defense, he thought they were stuck in that dark place forever; never even considered the fact that they could get out, or that someone would come back for them. In the end, of course, no one did. They made their own way back, thank you – and by then, it was too late. Billy’s guard was down around one person, and one person only.

A clink in the armor is weakness, and weakness gets you killed. Billy knows that. But he’s also not willing to give if up, this new thing, the way that he can allow himself to relax a fraction when he’s with Eddie and know that both of them are okay for the moment.

They’ve saved each other’s lives several times, and up until now they’ve slept curled up next to each other in whatever semi-safe place they could find in the dark and dangerous world they’d both gotten lost in. Here, in the lab? In this strange new place that is too bright and clean, where Darktown was too dark and dirty? Everything feels just as wrong, and nowhere feels safe.

So he doesn’t sleep. It seems to bother the white coats, because eventually they insist on giving him an injection to help put him under, claiming his body needs rest to heal properly.

Billy’s been healing on his own for over a year even before Eddie showed up, with or without proper sleep. But Eddie stands right there in the background when they say this, looking worried at all the medical mumbo-jumbo they throw at him, so Billy lets them put the needle in the crook of his arm.

He shouldn’t have.

His dreams are full of monsters and death – other people’s deaths, never his own – and when he finally surfaces, he wakes up swinging. Breaks someone’s nose, pushes someone else away so hard that they fall over a cart, spreading metal items everywhere with a loud clatter he barely hears in his panic. He ends up pinned to the linoleum floor by several people, screaming hoarsely at the feeling of unwanted hands on his body. There’s a sharp prick in his ass cheek, and the world goes fuzzy. Just before he’s pulled under again, the hands – and with them, the feeling of wrongness – disappear. Someone’s shouting, and then there are hands rubbing circles into his back – familiar hands, Eddie’s hands – and soothing words that Billy can’t make sense of.

He goes under again.

This time, there are no dreams that he remembers.

When he wakes, it’s to a quiet room with the lights off and curtains drawn. He’s in a bed, without any beeping machines nearby, and Eddie is lying in the bed with him. The bed is not made for two people, but they’ve shared smaller spaces before, in Darktown.

Eddie’s asleep, snoring softly against Billy’s shoulder. Billy gives the room a cursory glance to make sure there are no threats, and when he’s satisfied that there aren’t any – and that no one else is there – he allows himself to relax. He doesn’t fall back asleep, but he … rests.

~~~

He’s a legal adult, so they don’t have to let anyone know he’s back. There’s no one to tell, anyway: his dad apparently fucked off a year ago, and Susan moved to New York to be closer to Max, who’s in a facility there, receiving specialist care on the government’s dime after what happened to her in the summer. Billy hasn’t let himself think too much about it. Tries really hard not to, actually, because he’s already got so many other things to worry about.

Like where he’ll go when he gets out of here. Which they assure him he will, eventually. The doctors who are monitoring both him and Eddie are running out of excuses to keep them here. They’ve already officially released Eddie, but he has opted to sticking around. The doctors let him, simply because Eddie is the only one who Billy trusts.

And isn’t that a novelty? Trust.

But what else can it be? He is tense at all times, except when he’s with Eddie. He’s always looking for danger, always on his guard – except when he’s with Eddie. He knows Eddie’s got his back, hasn’t ever doubted him. The guy proved himself over and over back in Darktown, and then again here, with the doctors.

They’re sitting in the bed in what he’s started to think of as his and Eddie’s room. Eddie’s reading a book, and Billy’s reading over his shoulder. It’s some random sci-fi book. The cheap kind sold in paperbacks at gas stations – someone probably grabbed it for them as an afterthought. These people have probably learned enough by now to not want either Billy or Eddie to be bored.

They’re pressed up close together, and Eddie’s rubbing idle circles over Billy’s knuckles with the thumb of the hand that’s not holding the book, only pausing when he has to use it to turn the page. It’s calming like nothing else is. Which is … unusual, for Billy.

Because he isn’t used to kind touches. Hasn’t really experienced them since he was a kid. Everyone who has touched him, after, has either wanted to hurt him somehow, or wanted to use him in some way. His dad was more likely to slap him in the face than give him a pat on the shoulder, his classmates only wanted to leech off his popularity and all their touches felt fake, and the only boy he ever got intimate with before the whole Darktown thing – the only one he willingly lowered his walls for – well … apparently that had only been a convoluted way to get revenge. Billy still gets choked up when he thinks about it, so he tries not to.

Anyway. All that adds up to not a whole lot of kind touching. And then of course he spent a year in another dimension where every living thing wanted to eat him, which didn’t exactly give him ample opportunity to get used to being touched. At least in a way that won’t get him killed.

And then he found Eddie, quite literally stumbled over him. Eddie, who barged through Billy’s defenses with his entire being. Who didn’t even seem to notice all the instances in which he touched Billy without even thinking of it; an approving hand on a shoulder, a friendly clap on the back, even the occasional pinched cheek when he’d made Billy the butt of a joke. And Billy got used to it; to Eddie’s touch, Eddie’s presence, Eddie.

What he can’t figure out, is –

“Why are you still here?”

He hasn’t meant to say it out loud. It’s just. Eddie can leave. His uncle knows that Eddie’s alive. They’ve spoken on the phone and Billy knows that Eddie’s expected to come and live with him in Pennsylvania, where he moved to get away from the shitstorm in Hawkins.

“Uh,” Eddie says, turning his head and glancing up at Billy. Face open, like always. “Because they haven’t given me my own room, and you haven’t told me to fuck off yet.”

“No,” Billy says, shaking his head. “I mean … here. In this place. Why haven’t you left yet?”

Eddie’s technically dead, and also technically still a wanted man, so there’s nothing for him left in Indiana. Yet here he is, in this undisclosed location in a state that has brought the both of them so much pain and sorrow. Why hasn’t Eddie left yet, to go live with his uncle?

Something in Eddie’s face softens at the question, and Billy hates the way his heart skips a beat at the sight of it. He’s seen it before, on Eddie’s face. It’s not pity, which Billy used to believe; it’s compassion, mixed with something else. Something that makes something like hope build in Billy’s chest without his permission.

“Because they haven’t released you yet.”

“Me?”

“Yeah, you. You think I’m letting you out of my sight after everything we’ve been through? I saw you punch a monster dog in the face with your fist, Bills. You’d just get in trouble without me.”

There is warmth spreading from somewhere inside Billy. It feels like a leak of something corrosive, something that erodes the walls he’s put up from the inside.

Damn it. No walls he tries to build last long around Eddie Munson.

“Says the guy who tried to fight the bats with a tennis racket.”

“Hey, that worked! … once.”

Unbidden, Billy’s lips twitch into a smile. “If only there hadn’t been like fifty of them.”

Eddie grins at the familiar argument and puts the book down. Gets comfortable against Billy’s side. “One out of fifty, that’s still progress. The first step to success.”

Billy puts his arm around his shoulder, tentatively. He might be getting used to Eddie’s touch, but he’s still not used to taking those steps himself. Eddie rewards him with a brilliant smile, though, and pulls his arm down so they’re closer. Almost cuddling.

“Admit it, tough guy. You’d be lost without me.”

Opening his mouth to reply, Billy can’t get the words out. He can’t say yes, even though it would be the truth. But he can’t lie, either, even if Eddie is no doubt expecting a quip or for them to continue their banter like they usually do. He doesn’t want to lie to Eddie. So he just opens and closes his mouth, without any words coming out. Eddie watches him, and there is something knowing in his dark eyes. In the end, he takes pity on him.

“Anyway, I don��t know if you remember, but I’m a wanted man out there. Which is pretty badass, but like, I probably have a bounty on my head, still. So maybe I need a big strong man such as yourself to protect me, huh? Ever think of that?”

“I’m not –“ Strong. Capable of protecting anyone. Good for you.

A man.

Eddie waves it away. “You punched a monster dog. In its non-existent face. With your fist. I’m thinking, that’s exactly the kind of guy I want by my side.”

And Billy wants to. He will walk through fire for Eddie. Will get in between him and anything that wants to do him harm for the rest of his life, if Eddie lets him. That seems like somewhat of a heavy thing to say now, though. So instead he says, “I suppose I can stick around for a while.”

Beaming – and probably seeing right through him – Eddie pats Billy’s cheek. Like he’s proud, or happy. Billy’s skin burns where Eddie touched him, but he doesn’t mind it. Burning is better than freezing, and Billy’s been cold for so long.

“Good boy.”

Ignoring the way his whole face flushes at that, Billy clears his throat and voices the question he’s been mulling on for some time now. “Where will I– we go, then?”

The grin is still on Eddie’s face as he says, simply. “The very nice people from the government has promised to reimburse us for our troubles as thanks for all the samples we have so generously provided them with. And since we’re both, you know, technically dead, they said they were going to give us new names, as well.” He raises an eyebrow. “Now, we obviously can’t stick around in Indiana. And I really want to see Uncle Wayne for a bit, so I figure we’ll pop by Pennsylvania first. But after that?” He leans his head on Billy’s shoulder, and Billy is so warm it feels like his limbs are melting. “We can go anywhere we want.”

Billy closes his eyes and exhales. Feels all the tension he didn’t even know he still carried around seep out of him. And allows himself, for the first time in many years, to hope for a better future.

#mungrove #mungrove fic #kinda pre-relationship though #mungroveweek2023 #ihni writes #first mungrove-ish fic wooo #listen i have been told that 'hot and cold' needed some closure and i don't see a happy harringrove ending with that one #so you get this instead

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what-aboutno · 5 months

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Alternative wriochiluc dynamic where Diluc is exs with both of them and Wriochi start dating years later. They all meet again and it becomes really awkward. And Diluc realises oh I still have feelings for them and tries to avoid the pair. Wriothesley and Childe seem determined to talk to him though

Diluc can't imagine why theyd want to talk. Wriothesley and Childe try to talk to Diluc because both of them after seeing him again talked and realised they're both still in love with Diluc and want to at least figure out what happened in the past

Diluc has always tried to run away from his problems. He left during at night leaving Wriothesley. He suddenly left Childe to return to Mondstadt. So when he's confronted with both of them he can't help but want to run again. He runs because he's scared of what it means to love someone again.

They had really messy breakups which makes Diluc feel even worse when he's like oh... Since he doesn't think he deserves to love them again

They do end up talking after making sure Diluc can't run away again and some angst.

Here are some more notes and scenes if I ever write this fic

They meet again when the traveler brings Wriothesley and Childe to Mond to help out with a few things. End of the day the traveler brings them to angels share for a drink and to catch up with Diluc. So their first meeting is really awkward when the traveler introduces Diluc to not one but two of his exes who he ended things with no explanation.

Wriothesley and Childe do try to talk to him in the bar but Diluc just puts on the customer service persona so it doesn't go anywhere. They try again after he's locked up the bar and corner him but Diluc just ignored them and runs away. Since neither Wriothesley or Childe know the city very well yet Diluc gets away very fast and they lose track of him.

Now over that period of time Wriothesley and Childe stay in Mond they try so hard to talk to Diluc. Anytime they do see him they'll plead to just chat for even a second and he runs away. Those words to eventually get to him but here's where It gets messier.

Diluc doesn't know the two are dating until he thought he was ready to talk to them. Only to catch them kissing in some alleyway. And he's so confused on these feelings he has that he just apologises and leaves again.

When I say they corner him I literally mean one day Wriothesley and Childe went to angels share after closing and forced Diluc to talk.

The sound of the front door opening gets Diluc attention "We're closed"

He turned to see what drunkard would be waiting for him only to see Wriothesley and Childe.

"Diluc"

"We're closed please come back tomorrow"

"We just want to talk"

"I've told you before I'm not interested. Please leave..."

"What are you so scared of"

Everything. Diluc thinks to himself

"Nothing"

"Then why won't you talk to us"

Damn he's got him there... There really was no way out of this situation.

They have a long chat after this and become somewhat friends. But Diluc feels really guilty because he comes to the realisation he's fallen in love with both of them again...

It doesn't help that Wrio and Childe are so in love with each other because it means Diluc sees it all the time. And he can't bring himself to say anything because he thinks he doesn't get to be in love after being the one to break up with them before. And that same fear of love only to lose it again.

After talking for a while Diluc and Wriothesley eventually have a chat when Diluc was looking over the city.

"Aren't you needed back in Fontaine"

"I'm sure the Prison of Meropide will be fine for another week" Diluc only hums in response as he looks over the city again

"What's on your mind"

"Nothing..."

Wriothesley gives him a pointed look and Diluc can almost hear the plea to open up more. But he ignores it. They joke around for a bit before Diluc asks

"Can I be selfish just this once?"

This is where Wriothesley and Diluc have their first kiss after their breakup

This version is just wriochiluc but they're worse

#zara rambles #wriochiluc #wooo more au stuff i havent posted here skdjd #this is one of the more fleshed out ideas i have of them. the other being the wriochiluc series #people on twt seemed to have liked this idea #i do plan on posting more stuff from the timely account to here i just haven't yet snsjdjs #i will write this fic one day... a few more parts would need to get planned out first though

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