#can i be frustrated about church at you for a minute?

[rowenabean]

🏚

#can i be frustrated about church at you for a minute? #currently v high on Christian platitudes v low on theology #the new pastors have been here 3 months in which there has been 1 good sermon #they keep inviting people to come tell their testimony which is nice but not the focus of a whole church service imo #it's like. not bad but I'm hungry for something different that we're not getting #and idk if there's anything productive i can do or say other than just be annoyed about it #like. they invite people to speak before eucharist and it's still just platitudes? i could give five different #theological explorations of the eucharist each with three scripture readings and that's off the top of my head. like ok i get that this is #my special interest but there is SO MUCH to say and NONE of it is being said #maybe i will try to get in on speaking before eucharist myself #that might be more productive than complaining #rowena adventures #faith musings

[literaila]

fighting

gojo satoru x fem!reader

summary: megumi gets in trouble at school

warnings: they are a family (and hate each other)

last part | next part

*

year three.

your mouth is a straight line, and you know both of them are staring at you. 

you're all sitting in the car, three hours before megumi's supposed to get out of school, and it's been quiet for the last ten minutes. 

you don't have anything to say, you think. nothing that will make sense of the mess in your head. 

and satoru's eyes are glaring into your head, burning your skin. you want to shove him and tell him to leave you alone--even though he's not doing anything--but that seems hypocritical. 

especially considering that megumi is suspended for the rest of the week. 

“okay,” satoru says, after his eyes have basically glazed over from focusing on you for too long. “megumi, can you say something? i think her head's about to explode.” 

“i'm fine,” you hiss. and then you glance at megumi in the rearview mirror and feel a little bad. 

he looks smaller than usual. his eyes are shifting from you to satoru, and his mouth is open like he wants to say something but isn't sure what. and, of course, he's scrunched himself up, almost a ball right behind you. 

you don't want to be frustrated with him, but it seems inevitable. he's just a kid, you try to think, but it doesn't work. when you were a kid you didn't-- 

so yeah, you feel bad for him. not that bad though. you know he knows what you’re going to say. 

megumi sighs (but it sounds more reminiscent of one of satoru’s many whines). “i’m… sorry.” 

he might as well be telling you that he cut out your heart, and blew up a church with how dreary his voice is. 

satoru grins. “there. we’re cool now.” he reaches back and ruffles megumi’s hair. his arms are too long for anything in the world. he's basically an arachnoid. “y/n…” he hums. “you can stop frowning now. he apologized.” 

you glance over at him, unimpressed. satoru will brush this away like everything else. 

even though you know he cares--and doesn't want you to be mad, or megumi to feel guilty. 

his stupid smile almost makes you break, but you look away. 

“sorry for what megumi?” you ask, softly, trying to ignore your stupid roommate. he’s been downgraded. 

“…hitting those kids.” 

“are you actually sorry?” you clarify, even though you know the answer. 

he’s silent. 

you can see out of your peripheral when satoru gives him a nasty look. mouthing something to him. 

at least you know where megumi gets this from. his protectiveness is not unique to you, but at least satoru does it jokingly. at least he only destroys the already destroyed. 

maybe you're thinking too hard about this. 

you sigh, this time, rubbing your eyes with one hand. “look, megumi, we can talk about it later.” 

you could use a break from both of them. a couple of minutes to yourself to... probably cry in your bed and wonder why the world is so terrible. 

“um, no we can’t.” satoru says. “i’m going to be gone later. i told you about my—“ 

you pinch his thigh over the gearshift. “we’ll talk without you.” 

he gasps. “excuse you,” he says, “but i am a part of this conversation.” 

“yes, i think you’ve done plenty to contribute to this, gojo.” 

“what’s that supposed to mean?” 

you try to smile at him, but it feels more like a grimace. “just that you’re the one sparing with megumi on the weekends.” 

satoru frowns. “we’re practicing. you want him to be as weak as every other shikigami user in the world?” he asks, rhetorically. 

“i like sparring,” megumi interjects, like it matters. 

“maybe a little too much,” you say, under your breath. 

satoru grabs your hand from his leg, intertwining his fingers with yours. it would be sweet--a nice connection--if you weren't actively trying to hurt him. 

maybe megumi gets it from both of you. 

“okay, megumi,” satoru sings. “you can’t hit your classmates, okay? look i fixed it.” 

you glare at him. then turn into your driveway. 

satoru groans. “why are you both so difficult? megumi, just apologize, and y/n, he made a mistake. he’s not gonna do it again.” 

“i’m not talking about this right now,” you tell him, shaking your hand from his, wanting not to be mad at either of them.

but you’re mad at both. they both suck and you love them too much to even yell. 

“i’m difficult?” megumi retorts. 

satoru groans again and you all get out of the car. 

“go get started on your homework,” you tell megumi, after you unlock the door. “we can talk in a bit.” 

your voice is naturally softer with him. megumi’s too cute to stay angry at. 

satoru doesn’t have that issue. 

megumi looks back at you, his eyes inquisitive, his mouth pinched. “you’re mad at me?” 

you sigh, hanging the keys on the hook. “no, megs. it’s fine. we just need to talk about it. later. 

“you’re mad,” he repeats, all-knowing. seriously, who allowed satoru to raise him? 

“i… maybe a little. not really at you. just the situation.” 

“i’m sorry.” 

you shake your head, hand on your back as you gently nudge him down the hall. “just go hang out for a bit. relax.”

you try not to notice how he rubs his fists, tiny bruises forming on his tiny knuckles.

satoru walks in behind you, bumping into you purposefully. “start writing your opening statement,” he adds, grinning at you both. 

you push him away and megumi rolls his eyes. 

you walk into the kitchen, thinking about moving megumi to a new school—a new family. they’ll probably do better than you’re doing. at least there he won't have one parent who actively eggs him into violence every day. 

you know satoru is following you (because when isn’t he?) but you don’t expect a hand tapping on your arm, and wary blue eyes meeting yours. 

dark blue eyes. 

“can we talk now?” megumi asks, his voice softer than usual. you can tell he feels bad, but you know that it’s only because you’re upset. 

and it’s not even him. you just wish that he had a better response to these things. that he didn’t feel like fixing everything was his responsibility.

you’re not sure where you went wrong, but you know that it was somewhere. 

“megumi… i just need to think for a bit. i’m really not mad.” this time you actually smile at him, because even if he’s beating kids up in school, he’s so sweet to all of you. so cautious.

(except for satoru, but he deserves it). 

“i’m really sorry. i didn’t mean to get in trouble.” 

satoru snorts from behind you. he’s leaning against the wall, watching. 

lord knows he wouldn’t be any help—even if he actually was contributing to the conversation. 

you swallow, because you really don't want to tell megumi anything. not without running it through satoru first, at least. without considering the consequences. 

but he looks very worried, and you don't want to leave him to obsess over this by himself. 

“i just don’t understand why…” you shake your head. you’re not going to make any sense of a nine-year-old mind. “you can’t hit people because you’re upset. you know that.” 

“they were messing with a girl in class,” he says, frowning. then he looks to satoru, his head tilted. “i thought that’s what you told me? i’m stronger, i can help.”

“uh….” satoru scratches the back of his neck, wincing. he's lucky that he's several feet away from you. 

you turn. “what?” 

“i—“ he holds his hands up in defense immediately. “i may or may not have mentioned that we, as in all of us, we’re meant to be upstanders, you know. not—“ he clears his throat. clasps his hands together. “bystanders.” 

“satoru.” you groan, leaning against the counter. at least it's all coming together. 

you need to bug him or something, just to monitor everything he says 

satoru continues. “but i meant in public! with curses. not—not children,” he glares at megumi. 

probably for ratting him out. 

“but you said that if someone was in trouble—“ 

“can you stop talking?” satoru says to him, shaking his head, lips pouting pathetically. “i didn’t raise a snitch.” 

you furrow your brows and megumi crosses his arms. 

“satoru, you told him to fight people?” 

he winces again, adjusting his glasses. “i meant… bad people.” 

“they were bad,” megumi reassures you both because it obviously matters. “they tried to steal her backpack. that’s bad.” 

you sigh, shaking your head. 

you can't believe that you're still standing here, still contemplating what to say to him. 

where did it all go wrong? 

“was the backpack cool?” satoru wonders, going to stand right next to you, hand slinging around your shoulder. he ignores it when you try to push him off. 

he's probably just trying to be annoying. 

megumi frowns. “i don’t know, i didn’t ask her to—“ 

“stop talking, both of you.” 

you ponder running away from all of them and starting a new life. rome is supposed to be nice this time of year, and you’ve been saving up… 

but you’d feel bad for leaving tsumiki with the two of them. plus, satoru doesn’t know how to fill out his tax return. 

“we’re talking,” satoru says, raising a brow at you. “you like that.” he grins at you like he’s solved world hunger or something. 

with his stupid face and stupid mouth. you would move to rome just so you never had to look at him again and feel briefly distracted. 

“i need a minute to think.” 

the two boys share a look. how you’ve survived three years with them is questionable. 

finally, you sigh again, rubbing your temple. “megumi, you know you can’t hit people. why didn’t you get a teacher? violence is never an option.” 

satoru frowns. “what about—“ 

“in the real world,” you correct, glaring at him. “violence is not an option. don’t put your hands on other people. talk to someone.”

megumi kicks his foot against the hardwood. “i didn’t think they’d listen.” 

you nudge his chin, getting him to look at you. “then you tell one of us. preferably not satoru. i know—i understand that you want to help, but hurting someone just to protect someone else isn’t any better than bullying, okay?” 

“yeah, don’t bully your bullies," satoru waves a finger at him. 

you roll your eyes, and megumi looks disheartened—annoyed maybe—but nods eventually. 

not that you expect him to agree immediately anyway. megumi has never been fond of talking. even with all of you, he'd rather hug you than ask how your day is. 

and it's fine, usually. you don't want to push him. 

you also don't want to have to bail him out of jail. 

“okay. good. if this ever happens again i'm homeschooling you.” 

megumi doesn’t seem to mind this, shrugging at the threat.

you pause, then say, “actually, satoru is homeschooling you.” 

the boy frowns. 

satoru nudges your side, giving you a skeptical look. “no punishment? he’s just free to go? last time i tried to—“ 

“you were trying to put megumi in a headlock.” 

“he was eating the last mochi! he knew i was saving it.” 

you scowl at him. “it’s not even his fault,” you say, looking pointedly at him. then you brighten. “and he has to deal with you every day, that’s punishment enough.” 

satoru opens his mouth, holding a hand in the air. then he closes it. 

you turn around to see megumi smirking at him. 

you roll your eyes. “what do you want to tell tsumiki?”

you'll have to pick her up in an hour or two, and she's going to ask questions. plus, megumi's scratched-up hands are not very discreet. 

megumi’s face falls. “um—“ 

satoru starts laughing beside you, body shaking against yours, and you feel like there’s about to be another fight. 

but at least you’re not upset anymore. 

megumi says something to satoru--like shut up--but you're not really listening anymore. just looking between the two like they aren't the most important, special things in the world to you. 

whatever happens, you think, is satoru's fault. 

*

next part | series masterlist

#gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #jjk gojo #jujutsu gojo #gojo x reader #gojo smut #satoru gojo #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru fluff #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo x y/n #satoru gojō x reader #satoru gojo fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk fanfic #jjk x reader #a typical family

[bitchinbarzal]

Runaway Groom | N Hischier

summary: Nico’s getting married and he thinks he’s got the wrong bride.

-

“He wants you there schatzi” Katya mumbled, sipping her coffee across from you.

You shook your head “Yes but she doesn’t… I’m ok just seeing the pictures after”

You watched her eyes drop and her mouth pull into a tight line “Y/N, we thought it would be you”

Your stomach sinks and you smile softly “Yeah… but it’s not and I’m ok with that. I want Nico to be happy”

His mom wanted to reply, tell you he’d be happy with you. That his smile isn’t as wide with her as it is with you.

But she didn’t. She just squeezed your hand.

Their wedding is all anyone was talking about the week before; the welcome drinks, the rehearsal dinner, the church, the party.

You were tired of hearing about them. They could go back to New Jersey now for your liking.

The night of the rehearsal dinner had you getting ready for the gym when your front door opened and you heard the familiar voice shouting

“Hallo?”

“Timo?” You yelled back, puzzled

“I’m here to pick you up!”

Your head pokes out of your bedroom “for what? Why are you wearing a suit?”

He looks puzzled “Nico and Rosie’s welcome dinner?”

You laughed “I’m not going to that”

“Why not?”

“Because i don’t want to? I’m sorry did everyone just forget that me and Nico are ex’s?”

Timo rolls his eyes, entering your bedroom and beginning to rake through your wardrobe, pulling out a dress.

You stumbled for a moment seeing it again, the dress you wore to Nico’s captain’s dinner. The team had thrown him a fancy dinner in the city to celebrate him becoming captain and you wore that red dress.

“Put this on, you’ve got five minutes” he informed, shoving the dress into your hands and walking out.

Before you walked out the house you looked at yourself in the mirror and huffed “It’s only two hours… two hours you got this!”

Nico’s family were elated to see you walk in the door, diverting their attention all to you.

You didn’t see him but Nico also diverted his attention to you, his grip on his soon to be wife’s hand slipping as he spotted you in that dress.

The last time he saw that dress it was on the floor of your bedroom.

Your eyes scanned the room, finally falling on him. You gave him a soft smile and he reciprocated until he noticed your hand placed firmly in Timo’s.

There was nothing there but he couldn’t help but feel his gut twist. He was getting married and thinking about you.

Throughout the night you were stopped by various teammates and their partners all expressing just how much they missed you.

“I always thought this would be you” Klara, Jonas’ wife comments and you can only give a tight smile

“Rosie is lovely, no?”

“She doesn’t know him like you… he’s not the same”

“Nico decided I wasn’t what he wanted” is all you could say before venturing off somewhere else.

You wanted to go home. You were tired of hearing about how it should be you.

That night when you arrived home, you checked your phone which you’d subsequently left on the nightstand after being rushed out the house.

Only one notification stood out. A text from Nico.

it meant a lot to see you tonight, take care of yourself schatzi.

Your thumb hovered over the text pad, considering a reply. You stared at the words so long you didn’t notice the tears starting to gather in your eyes.

“Fuck, Neeks” you cursed, throwing your phone onto the bed and gripping at your hair in frustration before you picked the phone back up again and dialled his number.

“Hel-“

“Don’t you dare! Don’t you dare call me names, I’m not yours anymore Nico! You remember? You broke up with me!” You sobbed, so angry and frustrated. You were overwhelmed.

“Schatzi… don’t cry”

“Nico” you mumbled, the exhausted tone of your voice evident on your words.

He sighs “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have text you… it was a lot to see you tonight”

You scrunched your eyes closed in an attempt to stop the tears falling.

“Will you be at the wedding tomorrow?” He mumbles, somewhat hopeful.

You paused, silent so much so he asked “Can you hear me?”

You nodded, not that he could see you “I can hear you Neeks”

“Neeks” you chuckled “It’s been so long since I heard that”

“I’m not coming, this is probably the last time we can ever speak again…”

Nico bit his lip on the other side of the phone, tears now in his waterline. The weight of this on his shoulders.

“I can’t lose you Y/N”

“You lost me the day you broke up with me… you don’t get the best of both worlds. Goodbye Nico, good luck at the wedding” you mumbled, pulling the phone away and hanging up.

You threw your head back and cried out a strangled cry “Fucking Hischier!”

The next morning you lay in bed, the longer you were in your bed the less you had to face the real world.

It wasn’t until twelve you rolled onto the side of your bed, where your phone was charging. Your notifications were crazy.

Multiple missed calls. Texts. Voicemails.

Before you could read them, Nina was calling you.

“Hello? Ni what’s going-“

“Where is Nico?!”

You frowned “at his wedding? Aren’t you-“

“He’s not here! They’re all panicking he’s just disappeared and we can’t find him” she cried out, you could hear other panicked voices in the background specifically Rosie’s

“I’ll call him” is all you said, hanging up and staring at your reflection in the black screen “Hischier… where are you?”

You had tried calling him with no answer, leaving multiple voicemails. You grabbed your keys to head out the door when you spotted him, sitting out on your porch.

You opened the door, making your way to the porch swing and sitting next to him. Nico didn’t speak, just looking out at the mountains.

Your head dropped to his shoulder “Neeks she’s waiting for you”

He sniffled “This was supposed to be us”

You nod, grabbing his hand in yours “But it’s not, it’s you and Rosie. Nico you gotta go back to her”

He finally looked at you, his eyes rimmed red “What if I don’t? What if I just stay here? Would you have me?”

You swallowed loudly “Nico, I love you so much and if you ever came to me before I’d say yes but you don’t want me you’re just confused”

He shook his head “I love you! I’m not confused… I want this, I want you! This, this house! This life!”

The house was bought by Nico, at your request your Switzerland home had to be in the countryside. He let you have it after the breakup.

The two of you were inches apart, tears streaming down both of your faces “Neeks…”

“Kiss me” he mumbled, holding the back of your head waiting for your move. You did. You leaned up to capture his lips in yours, his tongue slipped past your bottom lip into your mouth.

You moaned into the kiss before pulling away and pecking his lips once more “Hell of a last kiss”

“No, not a last kiss” he says and you look sadly

“Nico, let’s go…”

“Where?”

“To your wedding”

He wanted to argue, tell you he was going to stay but you looked at him with an expression that told him he didn’t get a say.

At the church you stood outside the doors, just enough time to spare. He’d got changed at your house, trying to fix his red and splotchy face as much as you could.

Outside the church entrance you stood hand in hand, Nico staring at you sadly “I don’t want to lose you”

You shook your head softly, leaning up on your tiptoes to kiss him softly and mumble

“You’ll always be mine even if I’m not yours”

He couldn’t answer before his family came out, shouting at him where he was. You smiled softly and whispered something about leaving before you turned around and walked away.

He watched you walk back to the car, watching you walk away from him for the last time.

#nico hischier x reader #nico hischier imagine

[dreamofbecoming]

ok fuck it context now on ao3

—

“I’m freaking out, man!”

“You’re what? Why? This is like, what you’ve been waiting for, isn’t it?”

“I mean, yeah, dude, but now it’s here, it’s happening, and tomorrow it’ll be done and I can’t take it back!”

“Do you want to take it back? Because I think that’s a terrible idea, but if it’s really what you want, I’ll sneak you out the back right now.”

Dustin deflates a little, slumping into the plush chair this weird little church greenroom was nice enough to provide. “No, I don’t want to leave. Of course I don’t.”

Steve puts his hands on Dustin’s shoulders, not massaging, just resting. He doesn’t want to smear too much of his scent onto him before the ceremony, but old habits die hard. Steve suspects he’s always going to want to scent the kids for comfort, even though they’re literally all grown and starting families of their own and don’t need their old omega babysitter anymore.

Case in point, Dustin’s wedding is meant to start in, oh, looks like about 25 minutes, so Steve has to smooth this crisis over double time.

“What’s really bothering you, Dust? You were over the moon yesterday, and the day before that, and every day since you and Susie proposed to each other. Hell, every day since you met! What’s going on now?”

There’s a pause, which is always unsettling coming from Dustin, who hasn’t shut up for more than twelve consecutive minutes in the decade plus Steve has known him, but then he sighs.

“She wants kids.”

Steve’s brow furrows. “And you…don’t?”

Dustin huffs, frustration rising in his scent. “It’s not that I don’t, it’s that I don’t know if it’s a good idea, you know?”

“And you guys haven’t talked about this before now? You’ve been together for like eleven years, dude!”

“We have, of course we have! I’m just thinking about the risks, Steve! I’m a beta, I can’t carry her pups, and pregnancies are dicey for alpha females! What if something happens?”

“First of all don’t call women females, it’s weird. Erica or Nance will definitely smack you for that, and you don’t need a black eye in your wedding photos.” Dustin nods, cringing a little.

“Second, pregnancy isn’t the only option, man, and also it’s her decision. If she wants to carry them, that’s a discussion you need to have with her, but you can’t just shut her down about it. She knew you were a beta when she decided to marry you. She picked you because she loves you, don’t go deciding for her she’s better off with someone else. And besides, if you decide it doesn’t feel right for both of you, you can talk about adoption, or surrogacy, or…I don’t know what all the options are, but I bet there’s tons! Hell, I’d carry for you guys, if you wanted.”

“You would?” Dustin’s eyes get big and shiny almost immediately, and shit, Steve’s gotta shut this down now. The groom can’t be going out there with red eyes and tear stains, Susie will murder Steve on principle.

But he can’t lie to Dustin. Swore he never would, not when it mattered. “Course I would, man, what’s family for? Aw hell, kid, don’t cry, your mate will run me over with her car if your photos are fucked up because of me.”

“I just- I can’t believe you’d do that for me! You don’t even know if I’ll be any good at it!”

Ah, so that’s what this is really about.

“Of course you’ll be good at it, Henderson. You’d be an incredible dad, any kid would be lucky to have you. I mean, your kids are gonna turn out to be nerd city, but that was always a given.”

Dustin gives him a bitchy little eye roll, which was of course Steve’s aim. He still smells anxious, though.

“How can you be sure, though? It’s not like I have any idea what a dad is supposed to be like, you know? It’s why I kept latching onto older male figures, no offense to you and Eddie.”

Little shit. “You should be so lucky, you little twerp.”

Dustin shoves him away, but he’s grinning now, and his scent is slowly returning to the lemon-bright joy that colors it so often Steve just associates it with Dustin’s base scent at this point, so he’ll take the win.

“You really wanna know how I know you’ll make a great dad, Dustybun?”

“Don’t fucking call me that, today’s supposed to be my day!”

“I’m your best man, I’ll call you whatever I want. Seriously though, I have a story for you.”

“A story, huh? I don’t know, Eddie’s more the storyteller in your relationship…”

“I’m gonna go out there and tell your bride to delay the ceremony because you shat your slacks and need new ones, you menace.”

“Okay, okay!” Dustin laughs. “Tell your story.”

“I was gonna put this in my speech later, but I think you need to hear it now, and honestly it might be more about me than you, and I don’t want to steal the spotlight or anything.”

“Not worried about that, but I’m intrigued.”

“You know how when you’re a kid, you learn how to pick out emotion scents by context clues, from like your family and stuff?”

Dustin lifts an unimpressed eyebrow. “Yes, Steve, I’m aware of one of the foundational tenets of our society, which we all personally experienced.”

“Almost fifteen years I’ve known you, and your attitude hasn’t improved one bit, you know that?”

Dustin waves imperiously for him to continue. Steve glares at him, but they really are running short on time.

“You ever know a kid who had like, a gap? Some feeling they had never run into before, so they didn’t know what the smell meant?” Dustin shakes his head, looking curious.

“There was this girl in my class when we were like, seven? Eight? Something like that. Anyway, she borrowed Tommy’s favorite eraser, one of those animal-shaped ones with the faces printed on? He loved that thing. The girl, Cassie, she broke it, by accident. Tommy lost his shit. I’d never seen him so angry. And like, you know how little kids emotions don’t really come through that strong? He smelled like, grown-up angry. Filled the whole room. Freaked the teacher out, too. Everyone’s backing the hell up out of Tommy’s way, even me. But Cassie was just confused. Because no adult in her life had ever been truly angry around her, so she hadn’t learned what it smelled like yet.”

Dustin is listening avidly, looking gratifyingly similar to how he does when Eddie DMs.

“Anyway, Tommy slapped her so hard it left a bruise, got his dumb ass suspended. But I just remember being so jealous, you know? Can you imagine? Eight years old and never knew what anger smelled like. Hell, at that point anger was just what home smelled like to me.”

Aw shit, now Dustin just smells sad.

“Do you remember when I drove you to the Snow Ball?”

Dustin’s got his thinking face on now, trying to figure out why Steve keeps jumping all over the place. Sue him, he’s no Eddie.

He nods anyway.

“Before you got out of the car, when I told you I’d come back to pick you up, you gave me this huge smile, and the car filled up with something I’d never smelled before. Not really, anyway. Maybe like, in passing, you know? Like in the hallway at school, but always faint and never towards me, so I never focused on it.”

Dustin’s eyebrows are totally scrunched up now, little genius brain whirring away. Goddamn brat never had any patience.

“I didn’t ask about it, because I wasn’t sure it was important, and also a little because I felt like enough of a caveman around you little rocket scientist dweebs I didn’t need you explaining feelings to me too, but I kept smelling it from you after that. And from El, and a little from Lucas and Max and even once from your mom, but it was just confusing, you know? I couldn’t figure out what was causing it, so I had no context clues to figure out what it meant.

“And then at Starcourt, after Robin and I went to go puke up those Russian drugs—”

“Ditched me and Erica who were very responsibly trying to wrangle you, you mean.”

“Tomato, tomahto, kid. Anyway, I told her I had a crush on her and she panicked and came out to me, so I switched to making fun of her crush so she would know I was okay with it, and suddenly there was that smell again. First time I ever smelled it coming from her. So after everything was done, I asked her.”

“Oh, so you’ll ask her, but not me? Hurtful, Steve.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Yeah, shithead, because Robbie already knew I was a moron, and she was never gonna want to go out with me, so I didn’t need to impress her. I could look stupid to Rob back then, but I still wanted you guys to think I was cool.”

“Steve, buddy, my brother, my best friend, my favorite jock please don’t tell Lucas I said that, we literally never thought you were cool.”

“Now who’s being hurtful?”

“Just the truth, Munson. I tell it like it is.”

“Ugh, whatever. The point is, I asked Bobbie what she felt for me in that bathroom, and she told me that’s when she realized she would love me forever. That we were going to be best friends.”

Dustin looks stricken.

“That’s what I was smelling all that time. Honey. That’s what I smelled in the car in the Hawkins Middle parking lot. You loved me. You were literally the first person in my whole life who ever did.”

“Steve—”

“This isn’t—look, I know it’s kind of sad and pathetic for kid Steve, but this isn’t about that. It’s not about me, okay? It’s about how my whole life turned around the day Dustin Henderson decided he loved me, because he never stopped. Not for a single second of the last thirteen years, and because you loved me then, I have a platonic soulmate and a horde of little siblings and a mate I adore and more friends than I can count on all my fingers and toes! You’re the one who encouraged me to go to cosmetology school, you’re the one who introduced me to Eddie, you’re the one who stood by me and let me crash on your mom’s couch when my parents kicked me out. My life is full of love, and joy, and purpose, and it all started with you, Dustin. I’m here because you loved me, and because once you started loving me you never stopped. I have smelled honey on you every single day since the 1984 Snow Ball, and that’s how I know you’ll be an incredible father. Because if you have all that love for a washed up ex-jock omega nobody had ever loved before? You’ll have all that and more times a million for any kid lucky enough to call you Dad.”

They’re both crying by now. Susie is gonna kill them for sure, but as Dustin buries himself in Steve’s arms like he’s still six inches shorter, Steve decides it doesn’t matter. This is worth it.

There’s a knock at the door, just in time it seems.

“Dingus, baby Dingus, you in there? T minus 5 minutes, boys, stick those feet in the oven if you gotta!”

“Yeah, Bobs, I hear you! We’ll be out in a sec, no cold feet in sight.”

“Roger that, bubba! I’ll inform the bride!” He can hear her racing off, probably dancing with pre-wedding excitement. For a cynical lesbian who has a new girlfriend every month and swears marriage is an archaic institution built on misogyny and omegaphobia, she sure does love weddings.

“You ready, kid?”

Dustin has taken the brief interlude as an opportunity to splash his face with water from the sink in the corner, so he doesn’t look like he’s been crying to into Steve’s shoulder, but Steve makes sure to straighten his tie and finger comb his curls back into place.

“Yeah, I think I’m ready.” He looks at Steve for a long moment, then throws his arms around him one last time. “I’m really glad you’re my brother, Steve.”

Steve squeezes him tighter for a moment, breathing in the familiar scent of lemon and cut grass and honey. Of family. Of love.

“Yeah, kid. Me too.”

#stranger things #steve harrington #dustin henderson #steve harrington & dustin henderson #dustin henderson x suzie bingham #that’s her last name right? #whatever it is now #steddie is mentioned #platonic stobin is also mentioned #omegaverse #omega steve harrington #beta dustin henderson #not super relevant but also: #alpha eddie munson #alpha suzie bingham #beta robin buckley #timeline? i don’t know her #anyway i was supposed to be asleep an hour ago but the brainworms are real and wait for no man #my writing #i’m a disciple of the inex verse and it shows lmao

[queerfanfiction]

Could you write a fluffy smut where reader has mummy issues who cancelled on her for taking her bra shopping and Larissa offered to go with her and helps her pick out the perfect set but then it ends with smut idk you chose :)

Mummy Issues

Prompt is shown above. :)

word count: 3.6k includes: mommy issues, public-ish sex, discussion of trauma, fingering, fluff, mommy kink, praise kink

Your therapist is actually the one who suggested you ask your mom to go shopping with you to find a bra set for an upcoming performance. You’re not saying this specific reparenting technique doesn’t work, but there was no way in hell your mother was going to follow through. Still, you tried anyway. You were vulnerable anyway.

You’re exhausted from parenting your own parent, always considering other’s needs before your own. Fresh out of university and you still have never had anyone else take care of you for a change. The shopping idea was intended to be a low-stakes role reversal where your mom would step up to the task at hand.

Earlier that morning you texted your mom to confirm the meet up in Burlington. You never heard back, which wasn’t uncommon. Since you were coming all the way from Montreal, though, you expected some sort of acknowledgement. You even texted her as you were driving over to no avail. Downtown Burlington was not where you would have picked to shop if your mother was not involved. It was close to where she lived, and she loved the hustle and bustle of Church Street. To you it always seemed like a hot mess. Now you were in the middle of that mess alone.

After waiting in your car for 15 minutes, it doesn’t take a genius to know you got stood up once again. You contemplated just driving back right then and there. This wasn’t exactly something you wanted to do alone, yet none of your friends are in the area any longer. They all had moved away. Overwhelmed by the sheer fuckery of nothing ever working out, you were frustrated and tired. You consider breaking down into tears over the wasted trip and the years of parental neglect represented by this one instance.

The only person who you can think of still in the area is Ms. Weems. You suppose it’s Principal Weems now (thank you social media for that one). Is it weird to invite a former teacher you once had a massive crush on to go shopping? It’s been so long that it would be nice to catch up. You’re not going to lie, you were yearning to see the older woman. Impulsively, you dial the number she gave you for emergencies back when you attended Nevermore. To your surprise, a firm but sweet voice answers—the same voice that you’d fantasize about in your dorm when your roommate was out. You try to control your voice, but too many conflicting emotions make you croak and sniffle a bit when identifying yourself.

“My dear, is everything alright? And, please, it’s Larissa.” A tone of worry was inflected back to you by the other woman.

In an attempt to dodge the question about your wellbeing, you respond, “I’m actually back in Burlington, trying to find an outfit for an upcoming performance. Any chance you’re free?” You tried to sound as nonchalant as you could.

Larissa returned with, “Oh, I don’t wish to intrude, but it was very kind of you to think of me.” Shit, apparently too nonchalant…

You reflect on all the times Larissa had comforted you back at Nevermore. She was protective of all her students, but it truly meant the world to you. You had always thought it was just another day, another student problem for her. There were many times you were neglected or mistreated by your mother that Larissa was privy to back then. Knowing this, as a Hail Mary, you softly let slip out, “I was supposed to meet my mom…”

Without missing a beat, Larissa’s voice turned tight, “Where are you?” You glance at the cross streets, give her your location, and let her know the specific store you’re at. She concludes, “I’ll be there in 20 minutes, love.”

Your heart flutters at the familiar pet name.

—

You’re already occupying the changing room when Larissa arrives. She calls out for you, and you crack open the door to let her into the small fitting area.

You are met with the most comforting hug. Larissa stroked your hair and squeezed you tightly. The last time an embrace has felt so all-encompassing was also from Larissa, which is a bit embarrassing. You guess you just don’t have a lot of good huggers in your life, and it felt so nice to be held close by someone. You breathe out a long sigh, as if all your troubles are muted by the closeness of the woman in front of you. Her scent replaces the air in your lungs, and you consider how nice it would be to never end this embrace.

When she pulls back and sees that your eyes are slightly red and puffy, she bends down towards you to cup your face with both of her hands. All that comes out of her mouth is “Oh, sweetie.” You give her a half-hearted smile in response. Her hands immediately begin stroking your face, brushing hair from your eyes, and occasionally resting her thumb and index finger at your chin. This. This is what being cared for is; the realization hits you and radiates out through your body.

“I’m here for whatever you need. Would you like to debrief about your mother? Or carry on with what’s needed here?” Larissa gestures to the garments in the fitting room without taking her eyes off of you.

Noticing how close she still is to your face makes your head dizzy, and you stutter, “I-I need s-something to wear under a strapless dress that won’t show during a piano performance.”

Reassuringly, Larissa states, “We can do that. You know I have an eye for those sorts of things. We’ll have you sorted in no time.” She then moves her hands to your upper arms and rubs them before turning to examine the items already set out.

“Piano? It’s no wonder. You always played brilliantly at Nevermore,” Larissa continued elatedly, brandishing a supportive smile. You think back to times when you’d be practicing in Nevermore’s music auditorium alone and feel a comforting presence at the back of the concert hall near the doors. You always assumed it was your imagination, not daring to get your hopes up that someone cared enough to support you or cheer you on. Your mother made sure of that…

You feel so much more at ease with Larissa here. Now that you think about it, she has always provided stability and nurtured you. You remember that she would sometimes give you rides to Jericho when the only Nevermore vehicle at the time was in use. You credit a lot of your success with the piano to her too, because she would encourage you to do open mics at the Weathervane and signed you up to play at a parade that Jericho had every couple of years. 

Yes, you felt indebted to the tall, gorgeous woman before you. The years since you’ve seen her have only emphasized her beauty. Her demeanor is both commanding and protective. It’s as if she is more comfortable in her skin than before; there is a sureness in her stance that is nice to see and that you wish you had. Even though you always considered her fashionable, her clothes now exude a kind of pride and carefully crafted style. Larissa’s perfectly-coiffed updo accentuates the smooth, supple skin of her neck before disappearing beneath her expertly tailored dress.

These thoughts invoke a light blush from your cheeks, and you know you can’t speak about your crush on her in the past tense. Your immediate dry mouth while watching her is proof that it never went away. Now you’re wondering if you shouldn’t have sought her out to assist in purchasing the perfect underwear, especially because you see her turn towards the garments and an emotion flashes across her face when she realizes the kinds of items you’ve picked out and need assistance with.

You’ve always liked the idea of dressing up underneath your formal outfit. To you, it made it feel more special, gave you extra confidence. For instance, knowing a sexy lace set was underneath your clothes made you feel as if you had a fun secret. Though, you realize it’s probably inappropriate to expect Larissa to help with this. If she felt uncomfortable, she was hiding it well. You tried to continue on as if everything was normal, even though doing so felt impossible.

When Larissa sits on the small ledge provided in the dressing room, you emphasize, “Thank you again for coming. I just drove from where I am now in Montreal.”

Realizing you should continue trying items on, you reach to unbutton your shirt when you hear, “You poor thing! Have you eaten?”

At this, you scrunch your face and shake off your blouse. “I’ll get something after this.” So many conflicting emotions swirl inside of you. You’re conflicted at whether to relish in the desperately needed maternal care or to shrug it off as a defense mechanism.

You begin to unhook a bra from its hanger and feel like you should ask, “Do you mind?” Larissa interprets that you’d like to change from your bra into the new one, waving her hand dismissively and saying, “Go ahead” in a delicate manner.

Without looking too awkward and challenged, you attempt to put on the new bra while taking  your current bra off in quick succession. It would have worked if the one you were trying on actually fit you. You had a hard time getting it on, and once you did, your breasts spill out of the top half, giving you the illusion of having four boobs. With you panting from the endeavor, you and Larissa begin to laugh at how silly it looks. You’re surprised that you’re not mortified, but instead having fun.

With some of your own tension released, you turn away from Larissa and towards the mirror to decide if you like the bra enough to go up a cup size. As you do this, what you don’t see is Larissa’s curious gaze, as if she is wishing she could reach out and touch the pillowy softness of your breasts.

“So, this one is NOT it.” Your playful declaration pulls Larissa from her lustful thoughts. It’s short-lived, though, since you immediately begin to try on more items. This time you choose a deep maroon matching set, and you turn slightly away from Larissa in order to pull up the bottoms over your current underwear. Because of the limited space in the room, your ass accidentally winds up in Larissa’s face. As if it is all in your head, you pretend the enclosed space is not rife with sexual tension.

“That’s gorgeous,” Larissa coos moments later with her hand reaching out. With both hands, she rubs along the intricate lace detail at your hip bones, and it feels as if your skin is set ablaze. You fight the urge for your breath to turn heavy and wanting.

Even if all of the tension is in your head and one-sided, it doesn’t change the fact that you’ll need to stop trying things on soon. Well, at least stop trying on bottoms, because you can feel yourself getting wet under Larissa’s stares and encouragement.

“That fits you so very well.” “I love this on you.” “It looks absolutely spectacular.” “You look stunning.”

Not to mention Larissa has taken a hands-on approach to her support. After briefly touching your hips, she began dragging her long fingers along bits of your exposed skin when she was discussing an area. There’s no way she doesn’t notice the goosebumps that arise each time her touch lingers. At least being half naked in the chilly changing room is an excuse for the tight buds of your nipples. 

The juxtaposition between this experience and what your mother would have had in store for you is dizzying. No doubt she would have critiqued your strong shoulders or the cellulite on your thighs. It would have ended in a fight, you just know it. However, everything out of Larissa’s mouth was refreshing and electrifying. Maybe even healing at times?

The final set you had picked out was a delicate mesh thong bodysuit that was almost entirely see-through. You hesitated for a moment, wondering if you should you stop trying things on. Larissa must have noticed, because she uncrossed and crossed her legs a few times before voicing, “Go on, honey.”

Embracing the process sheepishly, you slip into the item and turn away from Larissa to look at yourself. You study the outline of your breasts in the mirror, trying to determine if the subtle texture of the mesh would be noticeable under your dress. Or would the distance between the stage and the seats obscure the texture?

You then see that Larissa seems to be studying them too, except her eyelids are hooded and her pupils are dilated. Almost in slow motion you watch her involuntarily lick her lips. Your heart beats quicker, a flash of heat moves through your body, and you suppress a low moan.

Your eyes meet Larissa’s in the mirror.

You couldn’t say who initiated what next. Only that you were on Larissa’s lap, straddling her, while her hands were on you, roaming over your body and settling on your hips. Your mouths are working in tandem with each other, and you welcome her red lipstick staining your lips and neck. Your hands go to Larissa’s face—one cupping it possessively and the other slinking back to grip the nape of her neck. You want desperately to wreck her perfect hair, turning it into physical evidence of your connection and closeness.

Both you and Larissa can feel the heated energy building between you as you frantically attempt to take off the mesh bodysuit. Before you can, though, Larissa steadies your hands and inquires breathlessly, “Is this okay, darling?” Her eyes search your own, and you can make out desire and worry in her eyes.

You have to take a moment to let what she is asking sink in. This feels like such a natural (if not slightly expedited) progression of your feelings for Larissa. You wonder if there is more underlying her question. You know you two will have to debrief your feelings but right now the hormones raging through your body make it hard to focus too much on the worry or questions around if this should be happening. Instead, your body wiggles on top of hers, begging to continue the friction of your hips against her. You involuntarily whine and nod. “I want this, Larissa.”

Seeing your need and the sureness in your gaze, Larissa regains her composure and utters, “Shh, let me take care of you.”

—

Larissa rivals your intensity with her own fierce need. Her kisses are passionate yet soft. Her hands are gentle but unyielding in how they explore your body once the mesh bodysuit is off. With her every caress and tender nip over your skin, you feel so wholly wanted, cared for, and desired. A fire underlies Larissa’s behavior, as if each touch begets more longing and thirst for you. At the same time, you couldn’t have anticipated the fervent need you had to be validated and devoured by this woman.

Once she has marked your neck with her lipstick and teeth, Larissa moves downward to take one of your fleshy, beaded nipples in her mouth. Barely audible to you, she breathes out, “Absolutely beautiful” before flicking it with her tongue and causing you to arch your back.

One of Larissa’s hands runs over your thighs, teasing you and drawing circles and zigzags on your delicate skin. You can’t help but whimper in need every single time her fingers get closer to where your thighs meet. After almost resigning to her pace and authority, she trails up to cup your arousal. Your legs twitch with the sudden contact, and you emit a gasp.

“You’re so wet for me.” Pleased, Larissa enunciates every word, drawing the words out and reveling in how at her mercy you are. “It’s intoxicating.”

Unable to withstand not taking action, you press your lips against hers roughly, trying to close any distance between your bodies. Breathless after many kisses, you move to suck on her neck and whisper, “Larissa.”

“Please.”

Only after this plea does Larissa finally dip a finger into you. It doesn’t feel like nearly enough. You would usually appreciate a sexual partner pacing themselves, but the need for her to fill you is overpowering. You wriggle your hips back and forth impatiently and breathlessly request, “More.”

Larissa delighted in your clear hunger for her, fully intending to give you everything you want. She eases in another finger past her second knuckle before adding a third finger once she realizes how slick and open you are for her. You unintentionally bite down on her shoulder, not expecting to get what you want without more begging.

 You couldn’t have imagined how good her fingers feel inside you. And you absolutely had imagined it. You remember pretending your fingers were hers after late nights riding back with her from Jericho. Or the time she gave you her coat on a chilly night and forgot to get it back, so you ended up masterbating to her scent surrounding you. Okay, you’re not super proud of that one, but at the time it felt world-changing the desire you had. Her fingers working inside of you now are of a different caliber. In fact, you never understood the metaphor of sex as worship or religion, but being on top of Larissa with her half-lidded eyes roaming your body changes things. You want to make her feel a sliver of how good you do right now.

Your hands begin to grab at the fabric of her top, desperate to remove her clothing and pleasure her as she is inside of you. Larissa lets out a low, throaty chuckle before asserting, “Ah, ah, ah. I want to focus on you, love. Let me please you.”

Her interjection just makes your heart swell more for her, and noticeably your noise level swells, as well. You’re not used to undivided attention and care—someone wanting your happiness above all else. It’s more erotic than you could have ever anticipated. At the increase in breathiness and moans, one of Larissa’s hands clamps over your mouth while the other continues to pump in and out of you. Out of the corner of your eye you can see the reflection in the dressing room mirror of you riding her long fingers completely nude while she is fully clothed. The sight makes your knees weaker, and you groan, “Oh, fuck.”

Larissa’s whispers and affirmations throughout only brought you closer and closer to release. She has to know how her words are affecting you. Her hot breath over and over in your ear, inching you towards the edge.

“I’ve got you, sweetie.” “I’ll give you anything you want.” “Shh, stay quiet for me.” “That’s a good girl.”

You feel yourself tighten around Larissa’s fingers, becoming more breathless and spacey as she presses the pads of her curled fingers inside you toward your pelvic bone, urging you to come undone. So, you do. Your entire body tenses, and you feel as if you will crumble under the anticipation and pressure. Tingles shoot down your arms and legs in waves, threatening overstimulation.

Larissa’s fingers still, and she presses you close to her, clutching you tightly. After a moment of your eyes being closed and your breathing slowly relaxing, Larissa asks you to bear down with your pelvic floor muscles. Confused, you obey. She gingerly removes her fingers from inside you, and your body aches at the loss. She proceeds to lean forward with you still on her lap, wrapping her arms around you and begins to rock you.

“You did so well, my love,” Larissa murmurs while stroking your hair away from your damp forehead. “You were so good for me.”

You can’t remember the last time someone was so attentive and sweet with you after sex—if ever. You also have never felt like an exposed live wire due to euphoria either, so… Her thoughtfulness makes your heart swell, and you’re hoping it’s not just due to the hormones flooding your body right now. As if you can’t contain the disbelief and gratefulness, you blurt in awe, “How are you real?”

Larissa pulls away from the embrace, searching your eyes for understanding. “I ask myself the same question about you.” At that, you rest your forehead against Larissa’s, exhausted and happy.

After sensing your heart rate has stabilized, wanting to make sure you go to the bathroom and hydrate becomes Larissa’s next priority. Her voice breaks the comfortable silence. “Let’s get you some food now. I’m sure you’ve worked up an appetite.”

You two pick up the items in the messy dressing room and sheepishly leave the clothes on the courtesy rack outside. A grin blooms over your features as you think about how being stood up by your mom feels like such a nonissue now. Even the dilemma of what underwear to wear for your upcoming performance seems trivial. Walking out of the store with Larissa’s lipstick all over you, you decide that you won’t wear anything under your dress, especially not if Larissa is in the audience.

—

@sapphicbeloved Remember when you sent this request literal months ago????? Oops. Apologies, and please enjoy!

#I'm so sorry this took MONTHS to finish #larissa weems x reader #larissa x reader #mommy issues #principal larissa weems #request #requests #gwendoline christie #larissa weems #asks #fanfic #not proofread #will also post to ao3 #sapphicbeloved #fluff #smut #fluffy smut

[laura1633]

Fic list and introduction Thought I would add a pinned post as a bit of an intro and also to provide a list of some of my stories (which are contained below the cut). My blog is mostly Lestappen related although I do post other F1 bits and pieces from time to time. I am a huge Max Verstappen fan so I am always happy to talk about Max, although only in a positive sense because I want to try and keep away from negativity as much as possible on this blog. I also adore Charles and not just in a Lestappen sense. I love Charles' racing style and I love it most when Max and Charles are battling on track. There are various other drivers I like such as Oscar, Fernando, Alex and more.

My ao3 name is - LaurawritingF1 I have written far too many stories to list them all here but I have included quite a long list of Lestappen fanfics I have written below the cut. I have tried to organise them into bottom Charles, bottom Max, omegaverse, silly, cute and drama. Feel free to send my any questions you have about any of my stories but please know that I am really still practising and learning so please try and be nice. Also please check the individual tags on each story on ao3 as there is a large variety. It's not a full list and doesn't include the other pairings I have written for (inc Landoscar, Maxiel, Max/Oscar), all my other fics can be found on my ao3 page.

Feel free to send me any questions about anything x

********** Links to various ao3 fics:

Bottom Charles: Good Boy - Multi Chapters - Trainee sub Charles and soft Dom Max. All the gear, no idea - Large cock Max, Size queen Charles. My first time - Virgin Charles. Daddy - Charles accidentally calls Max daddy. Curious - Charles' first experience with rimming. Princess - Max giving Charles the babygirl treatment. Nice Guy - Max comes to Charles' rescue when he is handcuffed to the bed Jealous - Max cuckolds Charles and Charles realises he is jealous of his girlfriend My Pretty Princess - AU -Multi Chapter - F1 driver Max and Camboy Charles. Safe - sub Charles safe words out of a scene, Dom Max gives him aftercare. Two Minutes - Charles tied up and vibes whilst Max is in a meeting. Solo - Charles lets Max watch him masturbate. Keeping warm - Charles cock warming Max to help him relax. Wake up call Charles riding Max whilst the Dutchman is asleep Like a Prayer - Sexy Priest Max and sex in a church I do - Multi Chapters - Angst with happy ending - Sex in a church Save a Bull, Ride a Thigh - Charles rides Max's thighs after a padel game How to properly care for your boyfriend’s thighs; A lesson by Charles Leclerc Red - Angst - Max fucks Charles in front of Charles' boyfriend Two Things - A developing relationship told through sex. No way at all - Max and Charles in a M/M/F threesome but interested in each other.

Bottom Max: Sounds from above - Charles hears Max having sex in the apartment upstairs The Sweetest Deal - AU - Sponsor Charles/Driver Max - Babygirlification Favourite Activity - Developing relationship told through sex 50 shades of red - Charles praises Max and makes him blush Pretty Cute - Charles telling Max how pretty he is The Auction - Dom Charles/sub Max - Charles bids on a night with Max All Yours - Multi chapters - ongoing - Dom Charles/sub Max 5 times Charles helps soothe Max to sleep - inc non sexual bondage Picture perfect - Max and Charles get Grindr Fast learner - Virgin Max Knock Out - Charles walks in on Max masturbating Can't even get it started - Frustration for Charles means he can't perform You play the role so well - Virgin Max Your hands on me - Charles chokes Max as he fucks him Earn it - Bratty sub Max and Dom Charles Late night question - Max is horny so goes to Charles - topping from bottom Pretty in red - A history of Max's experiences wearing panties Still Pretty in Red - Max in panties (again) A not so private show - AU - Camboy Max / Driver Charles Feel nothing. Feel something. Feel .... Charles is upset and needs to fuck it out A Late Night Snack - Charles eats Max out. Sweet like sugar - AU - Sugarbaby Max and Sugar Daddy Charles Other: Misunderstanding - Hand job - Max is oblivious to Charles' flirting with him An outfit fit for a surprise Charles in a crop top and Max masturbating over his waist Practice makes perfect - Max help Charles practice his blow jobs Pens, fingers and most definitely cock … - Max has an oral fixation Fia approved stress relief - Charles uses a sex doll that looks like Max, Max watches You're Hot - Charles praising Max in front of the mirror and giving him a blow job The Impact of errors - AU - boss Max spanks secretary Charles Red, Don't leave - Max providing Charles with aftercare Coming together - Soulmates - AU Porn start Charles and F1 driver Max Omegaverse Peaches and cream - Chussy - Alpha Max eating Omega Charles out Flush - AU - Chussy - Alpha Mob boss Max fucking Omega Charles The Eight - Omega Charles in a drug induced heat, locked in a room with alpha Max. Just need to get to you - Omega Charles gets his drink spiked, Protective Max. Chussy Whipped - Omega Charles makes Alpha Max watch him touch himselfSlick wet (at the thought of you) - Alpha Charles fingering Omega Max's pussy Tentacles: Don't touch what isn't yours - Max fucked by a tentacles sex toy Beautiful, unique and made for pleasure - Max has tentacles

Cute: A million times over - Max wakes from an operation and hits on his husband Charles Carburettor - Max and Charles have to look after a baby doll as part of grill the grid Tomato Soup - Max helps Charles prepare for his dinner date. Compliments -Max'f girlfriend never compliments him but Charles does. Falling in love - Love Confessions through a game involving a series of questions Just Pretend - Fake relationship trope - Angst with a happy ending A Different Kind of Hook up - Max asks Charles back to his to cuddle Caregiver Charles and Cute Little Max - Fluff - Multi chapters- Age regression

Silly: Zombies - Max gets scared by a zombie movie whilst at the cinema with Charles Heartbeat - Max is dressed up as a nurse and it's really affecting Charles' health. A shower, a spider and ...- - Max and Charles scared by a spider

Drama: On the line - Angst with happy ending - Charles gets his drink spiked In the morning - Angst with a happy ending - Max gets his drink spiked. Birthday Drunk - Multi Chapters - Falling in love over a series of Charles' birthdays Like a cat - Charles has a panic attack and Max looks after him I wish you could have known the person ... - Angst with happy ending - Coming out Not quite ready - Angst with hopeful ending - Max is outed against his will Drag me to the show - Charles shows Max his dresses - Supportive Max A love song - Angst with hopeful ending- Max comforting a stressed Charles Hitching a ride - Very Dark themes - True Crime AU - Hitchhiker Charles Enough for now - Angst with a happy ending - Max pining for Charles Red and Blue - Soulmates - Asexuality - Angst with happy ending Holding on to you - Charles navigates his relationship with asexual Max

The other Lestappen pairing: Firsts - Multi Chapter - Virgin Arthur - Falling in love - Max/Arthur Leclerc Threesomes/Foursomes/Groups involving Max/Charles: A Handful of Winner's Medals - Multi Chapter - Max fucked by multiple drivers The Anatomy Lesson of Dr Wolff - AU Anatomical model Max - Max x multi drivers An Unconventional Surprise - Top Max, Bottom Pierre, Bottom Charles Sleepover in 816 - Top Charles, Bottom Max, Top/Bottom Oscar Two's company; Three's even better - Pierre/Max/Charles - Free use bottom Max A weekend away - Foursome - Max/Charles/Carlos/Lando Three - Max/Carlos/Charles - Threesome from three perspectives with a twist Both so good - Lando and Charles give Max a blow job The Show - Carlando are stuck in a closet and watch Lestappen fuck Naughty or Nice - Competitive Threesome for Max's attention- Daniel/Max/Charles Double Date - subs Lando and Max with Doms Carlos and Charles A Lot to Handle - Max is too much for Daniel to handle alone - Daniel/Max/Charles A Little Bit of Max Time - Poly Daniel/Max/Charles There are other stories on my ao3 page <3

[lovelyladyabsinthewrites]

Um, if you’re taking Twilight requests, what about Edward lying about being a virgin and having never loved anyone before Bella? A past vampire lover shows up out of the blue and is upset that Edward has moved on? Maybe they separated because she didn’t want to do the vegetarian diet? But then she changed her mind because she was lonely and missed Edward. So she shows up asking the Cullens to let her join and teach her the diet in the hopes she and Edward can get back together. Carlisle can’t turn her away (maybe he turned her after Edward) and so she stays but it’s awkward for everyone. So you have this love triangle with the ex, Edward, and Bella. But Bella also still has her thing with Jacob lol. So it’s kind of a love square. And Bella feels insecure about this new woman showing up and it puts a strain on the relationship with Edward and the Cullens.

I just find it hard to believe Edward didn’t have an interest in anyone at all in 80+ years after being turned. It would really suck being the only single in a house of couples.

Pairing(s): Edward Cullen x Vampire!Reader, Edward Cullen x Bella Swan, Jacob Black x Bella Swan

Warnings: love square, mentions of blood (human and animal), hurt feelings, cheating?, longing, both bella and edward are sexually frustrated lol, past relationships mentioned, might be a two parter 🤷🏽‍♀️

Words: 2761

He can't help but think of her when the smell of jasmine filled the air. Bringing him back to a moment in time that he saved specifically to reminisce on when Edward found himself alone. He could practically feel the gentle breeze tousle his bronze hair. Her laugh ringing in his ears as clear as church bells. The only thing that ruined the memory was recalling the smear of red on her smiling face. Red of human blood.

Pulling himself out of his revery, Edward realizes that he'd been sitting at the piano for a possible hour, staring off as he dissociated. He hadn't thought of her in a while.

Must have to do with Bella's new perfume. It reminds him of-

The pinging of his phone has him sharply inhaling, abruptly remembering the physical world he's almost rudely thrown out of his own mind.

Bella's name shows up on his screen. That's right, he's supposed to be picking her up for a date in five minutes.

Edward scratches his head, pondering how long he'd exactly been there.

Quickly dashing to his keys, Edward is out the door in seconds. Dwelling in the past served him no purpose. His life was finally starting to move forward.

Well, there were a few halts along the way. Mainly one that went by the name of Jacob Black. A massive thorn in his side.

Damn it all that Bella even reciprocated the mongrel's feelings, despite her protesting. No doubt Bella loved Edward, that still didn't mean she didn't love Jacob too.

Perhaps that was why he was thinking so much about her as of late.

The lights in your hotel room are all turned off. Didn't matter if they were on. Your vision was clear either way as they watched the subtle movement of shadows cast by what little light streamed in through the blinds.

Your dinner lay still on the bed next to you. Nutrients drained from it. Usually you tried not to make a mess when you ate. If you had enough time in the day (also if your prey was easy on the eyes) you'd work on a way not to kill them. Only take a bit of their blood then dash off while they slept. Nothing too gruesome, though they probably question the healing slit on their wrist when they awoke the next morning.

Tonight, unfortunately, took a different tone. An atypical type of desperation filled you to the brim, screaming at you to consume every part of the man who you had your teeth sunk in. You wanted to rip him to shreds and actually eat the meat that clung to his bones. It terrified even you.

You sigh and finally withdrew yourself to the bathroom. There was work to be done. The blood on your face dried a long time ago.

What were you even doing with your immortal life?

Day in, day out, everything felt the same. Especially the gaping loneliness you'd been feeling.

In your beginning days of immortality, you'd quite enjoyed it. You discovered all sorts of new things you could do with your powerful new body. And you liked discovering them with Edward.

Back then it was just the four of you for the longest time: you, Edward, Carlisle and shortly after Esme. Then you and Edward went off together on your own for a couple of years.

You wished you and Edward had never strayed from Carlisle. At the end of it, you realized that you didn't want to go back. You wanted to feast on human blood and not shy away your power.

Young and dumb, that's what you thought of your past self now. Decades later and you were now seeing the repercussions of your actions come to light.

You missed having a mate to travel the world with. Someone to turn to late at night to keep you company. You miss Edward's gentle caresses that coaxed your attention his way.

The blood of humans wasn't worth it anymore.

Losing track of how many years it had been since you checked your private PO box, you honestly weren't anticipating anything. The only one who knew about it was Carlisle. He'd begged for some form of contact information before you split from his coven. Fatherly responsibility was the root of it. His second vampiric creation.

A part of you is delighted to find two slim envelopes collecting dust. The first one was dated over a decade ago. They'd been in Alaska apparently and met other vegetarian vampires. Most recent one only several weeks old. In this one he gave you an exact address in Washington.

You stare at Carlisle's hand writing. Getting choked up, you put the letters in your bag. It was quite the journey you had ahead of you to get to Forks.

In the blink of an eye, Edward leaps away from Bella at the feel of her fingers digging into his shirt in an attempt to deepen the kiss. They'd been playing this push and pull game for some time now.

"Bella-" He sighs in exasperation and runs a hand through his tousled hair.

Bella's brows furrow in return, a pout rising on her lips as she sits back on her bed again but at a distance. She'd heard him repeat himself so many times about being careful with her. How she's so fragile compared to him. Like she didn't already know of her delicate mortal body. Just a few months ago James nearly broke every bone in her body.

"I know!" She hadn't meant to sharply snap at him. Edward was just trying to protect her like he always did. A steady exhale flares through her nose as she rests her head against the back board of her bed. He constantly left her craving more of his touch.

Like any man, Edward desired physical contact. With Bella that desire was too much. Too dangerous. The forbidden fruit that Edward must resist by any and all costs.

The first and last girl he'd taken to bed was. . .

What he could never tell Bella was that he wasn't a virgin like he had told her. After all, he had been alive for decades. Being a virgin for that long was implausible.

He traced where the golden rays of the sun hit your skin. In the presence of light, your skin reflects like a million sparkling stars. You're trying to fix the headboard of your bed that both of you broke during your love making.

"We can just buy a new one." Edward chuckles, his fingers run up your bare spine causing you to shiver. The headboard wasn't the only thing both of you accidentally demolished. Bedsheets were torn to shreds, feathers from the pillows dusted your hair, even the mattress creaked ominously.

Your brows are creased in a small pout. "I hope this doesn't happen every time we have sex."

At your words, Edward felt something in his stomach unfurl and warm. Happy to hear that this wouldn't be the last time he got to touch you.

When you catch him staring, your frown turns up into a coy smile. "What're you looking at?"

"You."

"Obviously. But why?" You ask that like you weren't still naked as the day you were born.

He coaxes you back into his arms, little resistance from your part as you rest your head against his chest. "Because you're painfully beautiful."

Edward wasn't just buttering you up. When he said that, there was undeniable warmth and adoration that dripped from his tone. He was smitten. You'd never had any man regard you in such a way that made you feel vulnerable. You trusted Edward with your most vulnerable self.

He smirks when he reads your thoughts. Gently, he tilts your head back so that he can capture your lips.

After you, Edward thought he'd never fall in love again. Not as intensely as he had with you.

Bella came extremely close. But because she was human, Edward was limited in how he can show his affection. Even holding her hand, Edward had to reign in his supernatural strength. The slightest amount of his real strength could break her entire hand.

Without reading her thoughts, he could feel her annoyance and frustration. She desperately wanted to take things to the next level like any healthy teenager would. Bella desired to experience the physical aspects of their relationship. Were he human or even like Jacob. . . Edward would be more than happy to let himself fall into his temptations.

That just wasn't so.

The drive back home was a silent one as Bella stared out the window. As of late her attempts to get intimate in him were becoming more and more frequent. Along with her desire for Edward to change her into a vampire. He didn't want to change her just because it would make their relationship easier. That was still a last case scenario that he kept in the back of his mind. She didn't view her humanity the way Edward and his family did. It wasn't something to carelessly throw away. None of them had a choice in the matter. All were on the brink of death when Carlisle turned them. They would not have willingly given up their mortality.

Edward tried multiple times to convey this to Bella. It would go in one ear and out the other. Normally Edward didn't mind stubborn women. You were as stubborn as a bull during arguments. The two of you literally butting heads to get your point across. Those arguments never mattered in the end. There'd only been one argument that truly tore the two of you apart. Your very last argument.

Getting within a five mile radius of the Cullen house, Edward nearly slams the brakes of the car when he listens to the minds of those in the house. One whom he couldn't quite believe he was hearing.

Bella felt the swerving of the car. She glances at Edward with concern. "A-Are you okay?"

His grip tightened on the wheel, the flimsy material bends under his fingers.

He was hearing YOUR thoughts.

Esme refused to let you out of her hug.

Helplessly, you glance around the room; your gaze landing on a smiling Carlisle.

"Welcome home." His smile is heard in his words.

Finally Esme pulls back, her hands flying to your face to turn it this way and that. "Have you been eating enough? Oh look at your clothes. Alice, can you get her some new clothes?" You notice how her face flinches with nervousness when her gold eyes meet your red ones.

"I'm fine, Esme." You giggle and lower her hands away from your face to give them a reassuring squeeze.

"Clearly. Look at her eyes. She's been feeding on human blood." Rosalie needlessly points out. Yeah, you didn't really miss her. You had no idea what her mate saw in her besides the pretty face. Emmett was a bear of a man with the personality of a stuffed animal. You hadn't yet met Alice, Jasper or Emmett. When you left it was only Carlisle, Edward, Esme, Rosalie and you.

"I know that'll have to change if I want to live here again." You murmur defensively. "I'm ready now. Human blood isn't worth being alone anymore."

Esme's smile beams and once again she smothers you in a bear hug.

"Esme, give her some space. We don't want to scare her off." Carlisle pats his wife on her shoulder. Even Carlisle couldn't stop smiling. He'd sent that letter so long ago that he doubted you'd even read it.

"By the way. . . Where's Edward?" You curiously ask. Everyone appeared to be home except the one face you really wanted to see.

Instantly the room goes deadly silent.

"What?"

Carlisle grimaces and glances at his wife who was equally unsure of how to tell you. "There's something you need to know."

Your eyebrow quirks up. "Oh?"

He couldn't continue. The door swings open. No one had heard the sound of Edward's car entering the driveway or heard his hurried steps up the porch.

When the two of you lock eyes, the rigidness of his frame slackens and his honey eyes glisten with that same fondness he'd always had for you. He breathes out your name like it's a sacred phrase. You were even more beautiful to him standing there than the day he'd lost you.

You feel it to. That instant pull of your heart as it attempts to escape from your chest to jump at Edward. Your entire body vibrates with the intense urge to be close to him.

You would have run to him. Had it not been for the human girl at his side.

The rose tint your world had taken on faded in that moment to reveal the drabness of this brunette that stuck to his side. Her own brown eyes wavering in your presence.

Now highly conscious of Bella's existence next to him, Edward hastily makes introductions. "Um, Bella, this is (y/n). (y/n), this is. . . Bella."

Alice groans. "Way to go Ed."

"What's going on?" Timidly asked Bella who was still staring at you. She didn't like the way you and Edward had stared at one another like star-crossed lovers come together again. Bella hated how he'd said your name with such veneration. For so long Bella possessed Edward's sole attention. She was loathe to relinquish any of it.

Jasper and Emmett averted their eyes from the train wreck that was occurring.

Being blunt as usual, Rosalie steps in. "They used to date too."

Bella's eyes widen and with an expression of betrayal flicks to Edward. "Date?"

"Well, probably more than simple dating from the sounds that would come out of their room." Rosalie's tone was that of boredom. This was old news to her but new news to Bella. News that shattered her perception of everything around her.

"Rosalie!" Edward snaps at her.

She rolls her eyes. "Everyone was taking way too damn long in saying anything. What? Doesn't Bella deserve to know?" Rosalie looks at you while pointing a finger between Edward and Bella. "They're dating now."

"Yeah, I kinda got that." You glare at the blonde who was unaffected by the daggers thrown at her. Really, you were angry with the human girl. A human with the man you'd called your mate for so long. Jealousy licks the walls of your stomach like white hot flames.

Edward stands in front of Bella. "You're the one who left me." He whispers but everyone can hear it.

Bristling, you turn your back on the two and back to your adoptive father. "Where did you say my room was?"

"You told me you never had sex before!!" Bella can't help the shaky quality of her voice. Anger and hurt overwhelmed her. Tears bubble along her lower lashes. She keeps as far away from Edward as possible. "What else haven't you told me? O-Or lied to me about?"

"Bella-"

"And you still love her! No! Don't try to deny it. I heard you say her name when you first saw her. Everyone did Edward!" Maybe that was the worst part of it. That Edward still held a flame for you. She had so many questions. How long was it after their separation did Edward meet Bella? Why weren't they still together? Clearly you were staying if you'd asked Carlisle where your room was. For how long?

Did you intend to take Edward from her? Would you hurt her?

"I shouldn't have lied to you. I'm sorry, Bella." And he was. Edward never thought you'd come back to him after all those years apart. Boy he was royally fucked though.

Because he was still in love with you. That much was evident. The knowledge of you being just down the hall was driving him crazy. Something deep inside of him was begging to be with you.

Meanwhile on your end of the hallway, you're doing the best you can to not break everything in your room. He was right. Damnit he was right. You were the one to leave. Unable to accommodate to the vegetarian lifestyle. You gave up Edward for the high that human blood offered you. It would be unfair to expect Edward to pine for you. You should've taken into thought that maybe he'd moved on.

The backs of your eyes burned with the urge to cry. Unable to produce tears, all you can do is wrap yourself in blankets and let the dark swallow you whole.

#reader insert #reader insert fanfiction #twilight fandom #twilight fanfiction #the twilight saga #twilight saga #twilight #edward cullen x reader #edward cullen fanfiction #edward cullen imagine #edward #edward cullen fanfic #edward cullen #edward cullen reader insert #story requests #requests #request

[ramblingoak]

Naps With Copia

Chapter 6: A Much Needed Nap

Other Naps: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 7 / 8 / 9

For @papas-ghoulette 💙

Papa Emeritus IV x GN Reader

These are all stand alone chapters so you do not have to read one before the other! This series came from my post about wanting to nap with Copia all around the abbey. The stories will all have gender neutral readers and soft Copia naps.

Warnings: Reader has insomnia and Copia has the solution, sfw, 800 words (thank you to @gothdaddyissues for the dividers!)

It had been another long night.

Another night of tossing and turning, of too much thinking.  On nights like that it was like your body just wouldn’t relax.  It didn’t matter what you did to try to calm down, to try to relax, nothing ever worked.  You were doomed to just lay there and watch the minutes pass, to watch the night become morning.  To watch the sun start shining in through the windows to greet another day.

Another day of trying to function on no sleep.

You stared down at your desk once more but the numbers on the budget paperwork were uncooperative and blurry.  With a groan you let your head drop onto the wood, trying to keep the frustrated tears at bay.  It wasn’t even lunch yet, you had practically an entire day left and not a single thing done.  And it wasn’t guaranteed you’d get any sleep tonight either.  Sometimes your insomnia lasted a few days in a row before you finally could get any decent rest. You shook your head against the wood while you mumbled under your breath.

“This is awful.”

“The budget usually is.”  With a startled gasp you sat up, blinking your eyes up at Papa as he stood in front of your desk.  There was a soft smile on his face when he spoke again,  “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, nothing Papa.  I’m just tired.”

“Ah, well you’ll have to get a good night’s rest tonight then, eh?”  You couldn’t help but snort, shaking your head and mumbling under your breath again.  People always acted like sleeping was easy.  “What did you say?”

“I said…I said ‘fat chance of that’.  Papa.”  You winced, afraid to look up at his face.  It wasn’t a good idea to mouth off to the head of the church.  A man you also considered to be a dear friend.  “Copia, I’m sorry.  I’m just tired.  Very, very tired.”

He started to walk around your desk and you froze, worried he was actually mad at you.  Instead he knelt down at your side, placing his hands on the arm of your chair while he looked up into your face. 

“I’ve had many sleepless nights myself, I know how hard it can be.”  Your eyes filled with tears at how compassionate he was.  Copia smiled, reaching up to swipe a few of them off your cheek with his gloved hand.  “You know what we’re going to do?”

“What?”

He grinned as he stood up, taking hold of your hands and pulling you out of your chair.  You stumbled after him as he first went to your office door and flicked the lock before he led you over to the big couch at the side of the room.  Copia cleared up the random books and paperwork you had haphazardly stacked there before he situated the throw pillows at one end.

“Take a nap with me.”

“Copia, no!  There’s too much to do, the budget needs to be finalized this week or Sister Imperator will have my head.”

“Have you done anything with the budget today besides stare at it?”  When you crossed your arms over your chest he nodded, stripping his jacket off and then slipping out of his shoes before he stretched out across the couch.  “Come on, come on.”

You stared at him, your brain trying to catch up with the last few minutes.  This was not how you expected your day to go but you were definitely not going to turn down a nap with Copia.  Your shoes quickly joined his on the floor and you gently tucked yourself in next to him, your head finding a spot on his shoulder.  Neither one of you spoke as you both got comfortable, settling in together as best you could on the old couch.  A hint of his cologne touched your nose and it seemed all at once your body and mind relaxed.  You practically melted against him and his arms became tighter around you in response.

Copia reached up and pulled at the blanket you had draped along the back, covering the both of you as best he could.  The warmth of that and of his body relaxed you even further and soon you were struggling to keep your eyes open.  You found yourself wanting to stay awake and revel in the feeling of being so close to him, of feeling how much he cared about you.  Your voice was a little shaky when you spoke but you couldn’t stop yourself.

“Thank you, Copia.”

“No need to thank me, I could use one too.”  He ran a hand up and down your back, the simple action the final puzzle piece for you to fall asleep.  You felt a ghost of a kiss on your head before sleep finally, finally embraced you.  “Rest now, for as long as you need.”

@ghuleh-recs your nap is next 😉

Other Naps: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 7 / 8 / 9

My Masterlist ~ My Archive of our Own ~ My Ko-Fi Tip Jar

#my fics #my writing #naps with copia #copia x reader #papa emeritus iv x reader #the band ghost fanfiction #ghost band fanfiction #copia fanfiction #papa emeritus iv fanfiction #papa emeritus x reader #reader insert #copia fanfic #the band ghost fanfic #tw insomnia

[vigilskeep]

sorry if this is an insane question, it's something i've been wondering about and you are the dragon age lore understander in my mind: ...is there canonical information about divorces (or annulments) in thedas? like, in dao you can find out that eamon suggested cailan 'put anora aside' but that's very vague about logistics. it's probably just something bioware doesn't care about but it haunts me. if cailan had tried to divorce anora and marry celene to create an orlais-fereldan alliance and the divine hadn't approved could thedas have had its own anglican church situation

[the below answer should be read with the visual of me with a white-knuckled grip of frustration leaving indents on steel]

there is NO lore and it drives me INSANE !!!

david gaider, on a random forum discussion post, said “there is annulment. there is no concept of ‘divorce’”. this along with the discussion of cailan setting anora aside is as far as i know all we have

so ‘annulment but no divorce’ is presumably drawing from andrastianism’s catholic inspirations. which basically means that divorce isn’t a thing but a marriage can be declared “null” if you can come up with a reason it was never valid from the start. to go for the henry viii example, he tried to have his marriage to catherine of aragon annulled on the grounds that she had married his late brother first, and he’d suddenly and conveniently realised this meant their marriage had never been okay. the pope refused, because a) a pope had already given henry and catherine permission to marry despite those circumstances meaning the marriage was literally fine and popes aren’t supposed to take that kind of thing back and b) also as an aside, for separate reasons the pope had had his city sacked and been taken prisoner by catherine’s nephew the holy roman emperor like five minutes ago, and so had reasonable fears for his health if he said yes

(sorry if any of the above historical info is slightly off it’s been a while but that’s pretty much the gist)

i have... absolutely no idea on what grounds you could annul cailan’s marriage to anora. but we really have no data on what the chantry considers grounds. could her supposed infertility be enough? it’s impossible to say. maybe eamon was working on some argument, it’s clear he’s been pushing for this for years

that said, if cailan himself was moving to marry celene, he’d have a much better shot at getting that annulment, if only because what’s the divine going to do, not grant an annulment to the guy the orlesian empress wants to marry? this is where anora not having any useful emperor nephews really lets her down. her father could certainly raise hell in ferelden, but they have zero reach in orlais

(as an aside, all this is something i’ve thought about for one of my absolute favourite dragon age timelines, sebhawke divorce. tell me inquisition wouldn’t be improved by starkhaven desperately trying to get an annulment meanwhile the divine is fucking exploded. you can’t.)

[wifetomegatron]

prowl, cerebros, red alert & fort max drabble (brain fart basically). prowl looks too good for a funeral, first contact au. (the fleabag brainrot continues to fester so) imagine a scene where you have to attend a funeral of a distant relative member, most likely a cousin twice removed, and the family asks you to bring your boyfriend with you. The problem wasn't the fact that he turns into a cop car or stands five—six, he would lie — meters tall when he's not begrudgingly sizing himself down for the comfort of his human hosts, but it was the fact that he's an asshole. And this is relevant because he just can't seem to look awful enough to mourn. Instead, he looks —

" — amazing. What the fuck? "

You threw your hands up, and he had to grit his teeth and swallow a response, opting to huff in equal frustration. His doorwings flapped as he paced away from the full-length mirror. 

"I'm not doing this on purpose."

" Bullshit. I told you not to go for a finish yesterday why did you —"

" I didn't go! " He growled. Ex-venting before correcting his tone, still sounding upset, " I didn't even clean myself before I got here, which is disgusting because I feel filthy."

You shook your head. Defeated.

" The funeral's in fifteen minutes and you look like you've gotten your armor polished."

" What does it matter?" He complained, eyes briefly catching himself against the mirror.

" It matters because my cousin's dead and everyone's going to think I made you go through a car wash for it !"

" That's not a funny joke."

There was a knock at the door. Past through the gap, you can hear the distant hum of the organ, the sea of people dressed in black drowning in hushed murmurs. It was Cerebros. He had half his body past the doorway, peeking in.

" People are looking for — Primus, Prowl, did you get a new paint job?"

You and Prowl cursed, arms up in defeat once again. Cerebros closed the door behind him as Prowl went on his rant, hands itching to flip a table. But fortunately, you were in one of the empty closets of the church. A portrait of Christ by the window, looking down at you all in disappointment.

Prowl begins to pick on his doors, trying to wipe away some invisible dirt off his arms. The effort was enough to trick you into thinking that he actually cares about this stupid situation, or maybe his ego is just basking in the moment of looking too good for a funeral. 

" No matter what I do, my doorwings keep falling in this really... candid way! "

Bastard.

" You look perfect, Cerebros," Prowl huffed. The black and white bot looked at himself and frowned, " Thanks."

There was another knock, and you were partially relieved it was Fortress Maximus and Red Alert instead of one of your relatives. The one-point-one percenter glared at Prowl, which wouldn't be abnormal, except he regarded him quietly before adding to the fire.

" This is not good."

" See!" You yelled, tilting your head up and contemplating if you should just sink on your knees and pray that a comet would strike your boyfriend where he stands so he'll at least look beaten enough to pay his respect over the open casket. Otherwise, he looks like he's ready to receive an award from Optimus instead, shining under the sunlight, worthy of applause from all of Cybertron.

" I think you should just wipe the polish off your face," Red Alert suggested.

Prowl froze, turning to the three of you.

" I'm not wearing any polish."

" What?"

#lol this is so stupid #transformers #transformers idw #prowl transformers #prowl x reader #cerebros #fortress maximus #red alert #idw mtmte #idw transformers #maccadams #transformers x reader #transformers x you #tf mtmte #mtmte #transformers mtmte #mtmte x reader #mtmte imagine #lost light #transformers lost light #tf headcanons #tf imagines #tf idw #transformers headcanons #transformers hc #tf hc #transformers first aid #lost light x reader #lost light au

[carlsdarling]

A fic where the reader and Carl are playing truth or dare and it gets more explicit the longer they play 🤭 you can say no

Truth or Dare

Carl and Y/N are bored and play truth or dare and it becomes juicy... Bit of a plot, then sex. Everyone is 18 or over.

WARNINGS: smut, nsfw

As was often the case, you and Carl hung out in his room, bored. As nice as it was to not have all the pre-apocalypse obligations (no one was bugging you anymore about applying to colleges and building your futures) all that free time brought other problems.

Specifically, a lot of boredom. Life within the walls of Alexandria was tranquil and mostly uneventful unless supply runs were coming up, walkers were scratching at the door, or Negan showed up.

"What should we do?" asked Carl languidly, setting aside the game controller. "I don't feel like gaming anymore." He yawned.

"How about Truth or Dare?" you suggested.

Carl shrugged his shoulders. "All right. I'll start. Whatcha gonna choose?"

"Dare," you replied.

"Okay. Massage my neck. I’m sore", Carl grinned and stretched out on the bed, invitingly. You sat down next to him and worked his tense muscles until he was relaxing and closed his eye. His skin felt warm under your fingers.

"That's enough," you then announced. "Your turn."

"Truth," Carl said wearily. He seemed to have appreciated your massage.

You regarded him mischievously. "How often do you masturbate?"

Carl turned bright red. "That's not fair," he protested.

"Yes, it is," you chuckled, "You had the choice."

Carl writhed in embarrassment, holding his hands to his face. "Uum... usually once a day?"

You squeaked with amusement. "Every day? Oh my God, Carl!" You bent over laughing.

"Enough of that," Carl tried to end the subject, clearing his throat. "Your turn." You could tell by Carl's face that you were now facing a similarly awkward question, so you decided to go with Dare. "Go find Eugene and ask him for condoms."

Your mouth was wide open. "You can't be serious," you grumbled, "Why Eugene of all people? And what would he think of me?"

Carl laughed gleefully. "Well, that's your problem. Come on, get out of here."

Sighing, you walked out. You found Eugene outside the church, chatting with Gabriel. "Eugene, can I talk to you alone for a minute?" you asked. He moved away with you a few steps. "I need condoms," you informed him in a straightforward manner. You wanted to get the task over with.

Eugene stared at you. "Condoms are used to perform activities of breeding without actually breeding," he then pontificated. "So do you want to engage in such activities?" He raised his eyebrows curiously.

"No, um... it's just that, I lost a bet," you mumbled.

Eugene looked like he didn't believe you. "Alright, well, I need to get some from storage," he then announced.

Mortified, you took the condoms from him a little later and returned to Carl, where you threw them on the floor in front of him. "That was mean," you fretted, "just you wait. I'm gonna get my revenge. Truth or Dare?"

Carl looked uncertain. "Umm... Truth," he chose, not wanting to be sent on an embarrassing mission, too.

"Have you ever tried putting on a condom?" He stared at you, disconcerted. "Yes or no, Carl?"

"Uum... yes," he then confessed. "Just to try it out to see if I could deal with it." He played with the blanket. Somehow you found the idea of Carl touching himself and experimenting with condoms sexy, and involuntarily you imagined him naked. "Truth or Dare?"

"Truth," you said.

"Have you ever had sex?"

You sighed in frustration. "Yes, once." It hadn't been particularly thrilling, but Carl looked impressed. "Okay, Carl, your turn."

"Dare."

"Put one of those condoms on right now."

"Uum... what?" he stammered. When you just looked at him, grinning, he picked up the condoms from the floor, placed them beside him, and fumbled hesitantly with the buttons on his jeans. Uncertainly, he then exposed himself, and you were amused to note that his cock was half-erect, sticking out from the tuft of dark pubic hair. "I've never been naked in front of anyone before," Carl murmured quietly and eyed you reluctantly.

You snickered and sat down next to him, and somehow the two of you ended up hugging and kissing, and your hand moved to Carl's lap. You began to gently stroke his cock, and it immediately became completely erected. It felt warm and hard at the same time, like steel covered in velvet. Carl moaned in delight. A little bit of moisture showed at his tip. "It's so good," he sighed, and lay backwards on the bed while you jerked him off. You enjoyed watching him having his pleasure. Carl squirmed under your caresses, moaning. He was so cute when he was aroused - his eye was closed, his face flushed, his mouth half open and his hair slightly messed up. You wondered if he looked the same when he was pleasuring himself. He moved his hips urgently, and more precum leaked out and poured over your hand. You bent down to kiss Carl. He put his arms around you, and his moans increased as he reached for your hand, closed it tighter around his cock, and showed you how he liked it best. "Faster," he whispered breathlessly. "Oh, please, Y/N, go faster." He whimpered and whined, clinging to you. "I'm cumming," he sighed then, only a split second later he shot his load.

Some of it had landed on your shirt. "Tzzzzzzz, Carl," you scolded him jokingly. "Look what you've done." He glanced at you from under half-closed eyelid, relaxed and happy. You lay down next to him to cuddle up with him.

"Truth or Dare?" he whispered, kissing you.

#the walking dead #twd #carl grimes fanfiction #carl grimes x reader #carl grimes x y/n #carl grimes smut #carl fanfiction #carl grimes #carl grimes imagines

[promptthebear]

Can u do #23 on the prompts for Frank🐰

Here you go!

Frank Castle x Reader- Selfcare

Prompt: Why can't I braid your hair?

CW: Written in 2nd person, reader is referred to as "you", GN!reader, reader has long hair but hair colour, body type etc are all left ambiguous. Mentions of guns and gun violence but nothing graphic. Reader has some negative self talk moments and low self esteem. Mild swearing. Frank uses petnames for the reader like baby, sweetheart, etc.

“God DAMMIT”

Frank set down his razor on the motel sink and turned to look at you over his shoulder. You were sitting a few feet away from him on the double bed, brush in hand. For the last forty five minutes you’d been struggling, and failing, to get your hair into a ponytail, and it seemed like the frustration was starting to get to you.

“You need help sweetheart?” he asked, even though he knew full well what the answer would be.

“I’m fine” you said, through gritted teeth “This is just…”

“Harder than it looks?”

“No” you shot back, pausing to blow a stray lock of hair from your eyes “I can manage”

Frank chuckled in spite of himself and shook his head. You glared back, your mouth set in a determined line. which Frank knew meant there was an argument coming. He loved your stubborn streak, but even he had to admit there was a very fine line between stubborn and foolish, and lately you’d been dancing on it for far too long.

“Babe-” he said, trying to keep his voice even so you didn’t think you were being made fun of “You got shot. If there was ever an excuse for needing help, you’ve got one.”

“I don’t need help!” you snapped back. You tried to cross your arms out of habit, only to hiss sharply through your teeth when you were met with a jolt of pain instead. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Frank wince, as though he was feeling your hurt as his own. The guilt you’d been trying so hard to ignore since that fateful night fell about your shoulders like a shroud. You turned away from Frank, and chose to focus instead on your reflection in the mirror that hung on the open closet door, across from the bed.

To put it simply, you looked like hell. You were wearing a pair of ratty sweats and a too big t-shirt Frank had grabbed from some church donation box. Your hair looked as though it hadn’t been properly brushed in a week, which wasn’t too far off from the truth, and you had dark circles around your eyes like you hadn’t slept for a month. You felt your eyes go instinctively to glare at the thick, white bandage wrapped around your bicep. It was blindingly clean, Frank made sure the bandages were changed daily, and made for a stark contrast against the rest of your outfit.

As far as gunshot wounds went, this one wasn’t the worst. It was a through and through, and according to that Claire lady, had missed the bone entirely. Better still, you hadn’t been hit in your dominant arm, not that it made a lot of difference. Your overall range of movement was severely limited while the shredded muscle healed, and you were quickly discovering there were some things you just couldn’t do without two hands. Like getting your hair out of your face.

“Maybe I should just cut it” you said, resigned. Hair would always grow back. Your dignity, however, was another matter entirely.

“Is that what you wanna do?” Frank asked. He’d left the bathroom to come over and sit next to you. The mattress dipped under his weight, which made you slide towards him and made your knee and shoulder bump against his. You wanted so badly to lean into the familiar warmth of his body and let yourself be taken care of, but…

Much to your disgust, you felt an unbidden tear slip down your cheek. You reached up quickly with your good hand to wipe it away, hoping Frank didn’t notice. Unfortunately luck wasn’t on your side today.

“Hey. Baby, what’s wrong?”

His voice was soft, his brown eyes filled with worry, and damn if that didn’t almost break your heart. You’d seen him walking around with his face beaten into hamburger meat and yet the second you got so much as a hangnail, he lost his damn mind.

“Is your arm hurting you? I can get you more pain meds. Or I can call Claire. Red gave me her number in case of emergencies”

He was clutching your good hand to his chest now, and you could feel the panicked flutter of his heartbeat against your palm. You made a half choked noise, which was meant to be a laugh but came out more like a hiccup or a sob. There was something funny about that, in a twisted sort of way. The big, bad Punisher, panicking.

“It’s not my arm” you said, turning your face away to stare at the wall. If you looked him in the eye again, there was no way you were going to be able to keep it together.

“Then what? I can’t help if you don’t talk to me”

The hand holding yours tightened its grip. You could feel Frank staring at you, most likely counting every tear drop and silently promising to bring Hellfire down on whoever was behind each one. Since he’d come into your life, he’d brought nothing but chaos. Before you met him over a year ago, you didn’t even know anyone who owned a gun. Now you knew several, including the people who decided to point those guns directly at you, and for that, Frank wasn’t sure he’d be able to forgive himself.

“You need to stop beating yourself up over me” you said, hating the way tears made you sound hoarse “It’s not your fault I can’t take care of myself.”

“Because you can’t put your hair up?” Frank asked, with a lopsided grin. When you didn’t immediately smile back, his expression turned serious. As he suspected, there was more to this than you not being able to do a ponytail on your own. “Honey. C’mon. Just lemme help you.”

“That’s just it!” you blurted “You are always helping me! You have so much shit on your plate already and I feel like all I do is pile more onto it. If I wasn’t so stupid and useless, then we wouldn’t be in this mess in the first place!”

Frank’s body jerked, as he was warding off a blow. You heard him inhale, sharp and quick, before you felt his arm drape across your shoulders. You tried to protest, but any attempts were quickly muffled as you were drawn against the flannel fabric of Frank’s shirt. He had pulled you close, practically into his lap, and was squeezing you as tightly as he could without hurting you.

At first, you resisted, keeping your body stiff and unwilling to lean into the embrace. However, the familiar smell of Frank’s aftershave and the faint, smoky scent of gunpowder that always seemed to cling to his skin had you surrendering all too quickly. You collapsed into his arms, allowing yourself to be cradled and coddled while a fresh round of sobs shook through you.

“Shhhh, it’s okay. I’m right here.”

You could feel Frank’s breath ghosting across the crown of your head, and one of his hands had come up to stroke your hair. He went slowly, being mindful not to tug on any mats or snarls as he ran his fingers over the tangled locks. It never ceased to surprise you how a man you’d watched tear into his enemies like a rabid dog also had the capacity to be so gentle with you. Frank made you feel a lot of things, but fear had never been one of them, not when he treated you like this.

“Sweetheart, look at me.”

You did as he asked, the last of your sobs leaving you with a series of shaky hiccups. The sounds echoed, high pitched in the otherwise silent room, which made you let out a halfhearted giggle. So much for your dignity.

Frank gave you another lopsided smile, the hand that was in your hair coming up to thumb away the few remaining tears on your cheeks. You resisted the urge to pepper that beautiful mouth of his with kisses, figuring for once he wouldn’t appreciate the interruption.

“You’re not a burden. Or stupid. Or useless, and I don’t ever wanna hear you saying that kind of shit about yourself ever again, okay?

“Okay,” you said, your voice strained from crying “But you’re always having to bail my ass out, and I just feel like your life would be easier if I could handle myself a little better, y’know? If I brought something else to the table.”

Frank laughed, and you felt it rumble in the hollow of his chest.

“You really think the world would be a better place if everyone was some kind of knuckle dragger who’s only skills are knocking heads like me? No way. We need more people like you baby. People who are kind, who remind others that the only difference between human beings and that other shit is how we treat each other. Then maybe all the idiots like me could retire.”

It was your turn to laugh, a warm, golden sound that made Frank’s whole face light up and his heart skip a beat. He could hear that sound every day for the rest of his life and never get sick of it.

“I guess a world full of Frank Castles would be…rough. But I think you could join the ordinary people like me, if you really wanted to.”

“Oh absolutely” Frank said, giving your cheek a gentle pinch “I can do the touchy-feely sunshine and rainbows bullshit. Make you breakfast, braid you hair.”

The last statement made you scrunch up your nose, which had Frank laughing again. Damn if you weren’t the cutest thing he’d ever seen.

“What’s that face for? Why can’t I braid your hair?”

“Well for starters,” you replied, easing off of Frank’s lap so you could retrieve the hairbrush from the bed “It’s in rough shape right now. You’d need a weed whacker to make any kind of progress. For another, there is no way Frank fricking Castle can braid hair.”

“Shows how much you know” Frank said, rising to stand. He dusted his palms against the sides of his jeans, before holding one out to you “Give it here.”

You eyed him warily from your spot on the bed, your gaze flitting nervously from his waiting hand to his eager expression. Something in your stomach, possibly the remnants of your common sense, flip flopped.

“Frank, I don’t know…”

“C’mon. I used to do this for Lisa all the time. Maria taught me how, so I could help out more after we had Frank Junior.”

At the mention of his family, your ears perked up a little. You’d known about them pretty much since day one, but Frank hardly said anything about them besides to tell you they were gone. It almost felt like by talking about them now, Frank was hoping you’d exchange a little vulnerability in return for his own.

“Fine.” you relented, finally handing him the brush “But we need a safe word or something. I’d rather not be snatched bald today.”

Frank’s grin could’ve lit up a whole city block. He sat down on the bed, spread his knees a little wider and jerked his chin towards the empty space between them on the floor.

“Have a seat, darling. We’ll have you fixed up in no time.”

For the next hour you sat snugly between Frank’s leg and true to his word, he knew what he was doing. You could feel him, working through each knot with the utmost precision, never once giving you a reason to cry out in pain.

After awhile, your eyes started to flutter close, the feeling of Frank’s fingers in your hair lulling you into a near doze. You’d been having a hard time sleeping lately, your arm made it difficult to get comfortable for too long and it seemed like whenever you were finally able to doze off, the nightmares would wake you right back up again. The men who’d shot you were nothing more than pink mist, Frank had made sure of that, but you could still hear the gunshot echoing every time you closed your eyes.

“Alright, whaddya think?”

It was Frank’s voice that woke you this time, not gunshots. You slowly opened your eyes, more than a little apprehensive about what would be waiting for you when you did. But when you caught sight of yourself in the closet mirror, you knew you shouldn’t have worried.

The matted, unruly mop that had previously hung around your ears had been tamed into a pair of tight, even dutch braids. It was all you could do to keep you jaw from dropping open. Even before you were injured, you couldn’t have done half as good a job.

“Holy shit.” you said, breathless

“That bad, huh?” Frank asked, bringing a hand up to scratch the back of his neck “Ah hell, I’m sorry baby. Maybe we should just go to that salon up the street and see what they can d-”

Frank’s next words were muffled as you leapt up and put your lips against his. He made a surprised nose in the back of his throat, bringing his hands to your waist so he could hold you up as you threw your good arm around his neck. You were clinging to him like your life depended on it, and while the feeling of your body, soft, warm and so very alive beneath his hands was reassuring, it wasn’t enough to erase the worried crease between his brows.

“Hey,” he said, tugging back slightly to break he kiss “Take it easy. You’re gonna pop your stitches if you keep carrying on like that.”

“It’ll be worth it” you replied, smiling against his neck “Thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome sweetheart. Anything for you.”

#easter askbox event #frank castle x reader #frank castle x you #frank castle #the punisher #frank castle imagine #frank castle fluff

[void-of-unparalled-chaos]

Okay so time for me to dump my thoughts on the Underworld Saga because I am going insane and tbh I'm not sure how coherent this will be because my brain is mostly keyboard smashing.

The Shades: "When does a man become a monster? 558 men who died under your command. CAPTAIN! CAPTAIN! CAPTAIN! CAPTAIN! Why would you let the cyclops live when ruthlessness is mercy?"

Okay so the harmonies of the Shades are amazing! But also this whole bit is just so... haunting. The call back to Just a Man and Ruthlessness does something to me. Could you imagine being screamed at by the ghosts of everyone you've failed? Also Jay confirmed that the shades in this song are just repeating their final thoughts in life. They drowned begging for their Captain to help them and died wondering why he failed them. This probably fucked Odysseus UP.

Odysseus: "I keep thinking of the infant from that night. I keep thinking of the infant from that night."

I swear I can hear the PTSD in his voice holy shit. Also Astyanax's music box motif being played in church bells in the back. I never would have noticed it if not for Jay's behind the scenes videos but knowing it's there makes this bit so much better.

Odysseus: "Polities..."

I was not nearly as wrecked at this bit until I saw this post mentioning that Odysseus quiet little "Polities..." is a mirror of Polities strangled "Captain..." when he died and now I will never be the same.

Odysseus' Mom

I am not exaggerating when I say I cried during the watch party. Everything about this is heartbreaking. His mom was thinking about him in her final moments. "Odyssues when you come home I'll be waiting" except she wont be. The shocked defeat in Odysseus' voice with "I took too long...". He's right there in front of her, but her shade just doesn't register him. They are so close physically yet still separated by death. Also the fact that Jay's mom voices her that is so sweet omg.

The change from "Here in the Underworld the past seems close behind" to "But in the Underworld your past is always close behind."

STTAGKDUKFUTAATUFOUCOUXGJXG

THE STRINGS!!!!! AND THE PIANO!!!!

Tiresias' voice is so haunting omg

Mason absolutely NAILED prophet who is constantly being shown everything all the time at one I love it sm.

The lyrics in this song are just.... so good. And the foreshadowing is top notch

Jay's voice acting for Odysseus' is also great in this.

The distress and frustration in "We've suffered and sailed through the toughest of hells. Now you tell us ur efforts are for NOTHING?!" and the absolute anger in "WHO!?!?!" (Its you, Ody. See your about to go through a complete change in morals about 5 minutes from now and become a completely different person).

THE DESCENDING ORGAN FOR THE SECOND CHORUS MY JAW DROPPED

Jorge don't think I didn't notice the Hunchback of Notre Dame, Hellfire, vibes at the end I see you.

This is my favorite song released in Epic so far and I am not normal about it at all.

The GUITAR! THE ELECTRIC GUITAR!

For those unfamiliar and being dragged along this nonsense post, Odysseues character is associated with the guitar. The acoustic guitar is when he is softer, kinder, and more "human" while the electric guitar represents him at his most brutal, ruthless, and "monsterous". This song is his turning point to which he is done being merciful. He will do ANYHTING to get home.

"Oh Ruthlessness is mercy upon ourselves..."

Really taking Poseidon's lesson to heart there.

Odysseus: "AND IF I GOTTA DROP ANOTHER INFANT FROM A WALL IN AN INSTANT SO WE ALL DON'T DIE? THEN I'LL BECOME THE MONSTER! I WILL DEAL THE BLOW!... SO WHAT IF I'M THE MONSTER?"

Ayrsgstusigxjgsutaut holy shit holy shit holy shit-

Play this back to back with Just A Man for some psychic damage. What an end for Act 1!

#epic the underworld saga #epic the musical

[juggalomary]

did yall miss me. i hope you did bc im returning with a bang. anyways here’s this. warnings: mcd, child abuse. up on ao3 within a few days

A new day, a new disaster, that’s what soap would say. He was always an optimist. Never heard saying anything about how they were likely going to die on suicide missions. Even though it was so valiantly obvious. He has to be watching from his overwatch position right now.

Ghost was glad to have him on his 6. They’d been switching places more often, soap on overwatch and sniping the people trying to end his life. He never called out to him about these people. Sometimes they’d just end up dead.

He always knows it was soap though, who else could do that so accurately. Soap was the best of the best. He’s not going to let ghost die. He’s not that selfish, never was.

Soap was the best of the best, most morally sound. He held his religion above many temptations. Infil was filled with chatter most of the time, except for soap, running his thumb over rosaries and whispering to a power long forgotten by the other men.

Exfil, a shell shocked soap would sit silently, or wail for not his mother, or ghost, but for someone, god maybe, to end his suffering. He was already going to hell, that’s what a priest told him at 15. He confessed and was told his punishment.

Never repeating that confession to anyone else, in fear of rejection. At 16 he carried his older cousin's casket in between the pews of that same church. He got home and told to man up. He turned 17 and enlisted.

That led to right now, soap covering his 6 and ghost shouting for help. A bullet lodged into his spine, blood gushing from the wound. His screams would’ve revealed his position if he cared anymore. There was no way he would get out of this. He just needed to get to a position he could radio to exfil from.

The enemy must’ve heard his screaming for Johnny, there was no response from soaps end. He must’ve been comprised.

The thundering footsteps we’re getting louder needed to move.

He pulled his hands above his head, chin resting on the ground. Looking up from under his eyebrows he saw about 20 meters until cover.

Pushing his arm to unbend he grabbed for purchase on the grass. He needed to pull himself forward to get to cover. His legs proving useless he grabbed a handful of grass and pulls. It rips.

He keeps trying to pull himself forward, but with every futile grasp comes a handfull of dirt and roots. The footsteps grow louder. He can’t die like this.

He screams in pain and frustration. Johnny is comprised, he’s comprised. It’s a solo mission, he needs to call exfil there’s no price here to scoop his useless self off the floor. He could cry. He won’t cry.

He grabbed a rock and pulled himself forward a foot. That’s okay, he’ll to cover soon. He’ll stay awake, he’ll stay strong. He will not cry.

Another idea comes to mind. He pulls 2 knives from his kit and stabs one into the dirt to use as a sort of handle.

One foot at a time he drags himself to the tree line. Sitting up to access his radio he leans on a tree.

He calls laswell. He needs exfil. He needs to leave. He’s losing blood, but he can’t feel it, he’ll pull through.

His eggs were twisted in horrible ways, he didn’t feel that pain, but he also couldn’t move them. He’ll be okay, he can just rest his eyes for a few minutes. His eyes were far to tired.

Nothing from soap. Nothing from laswell, there’s no point in staying awake, he’ll wake up to the radio transmission.

His eyes fall open again.

“-nom, SIMON! COME IN!” A young woman was on the other side of his radio.

“Mom? Mom I’m scared, I don’t want you to leave me here with him again.” It seemed he was crying.

“Simon who’s there, I’m coming, we need to know where you are.”

“Mommy I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to. I’m in the woods mom. Please don’t let him find me. He had a bat mom.” Drearily weeping through the radio was not something that elete SAS lieutenants do. But his mom was back, he missed her so much.

She tried her damn best, especially since he was stuck with his bummy ass father. She tended to his wounds whenever she was sober. She took beatings for him when he was too young to know he’s a man and he should be taking it. She wiped his tears whenever he came crying. Somehow it wasn’t enough.

He still had his tooth knocked out, he still was given drugs before he realized what they were. He still had to see that sex worker die. He still has to kiss that snake.

Haven forgotten about that snake until right now the hissing in his ear was not of any relief. It should’ve, it would mean his radio was working. His hands were too heavy to really hit the button to turn it on though.

Tears were not allowed though. The snake was in his ear, not biting his lip, his mom was talking to him. And Johnny would be back soon.

“Ghost, Simon, do you copy.”

“Mom I’m not alone anymore”

Crunching could he heard, a dark figure approaching him. He had a pistol. He shot the gun, but the bullet shot right next to his ear. He let himself relax, foolishly.

The man in front of him was his father, but his face was skewed. One part of it was his father, and the other half was of price. The side with price reached out and told him to calm down and stay awake. Then price was gone and it was just his father.

He was screaming, not Simon, Simon would recognize who was screaming and it wasn’t himself. A blow landed on his head, he saw it but didn’t feel it. His father was standing there, his mouth was moving but he wasn’t saying anything. Then he hissed like a snake. Mouth open he saw the snake that bit him all those years ago, he started screaming for real this time.

The snaked closed is mouth and then said something in Spainish. This man was none other than a cackling manual roba. Scalpel in one hand he laughed. The scar on his ribs flared up as he was called every insult under the sun. He was told to not fear as, it would feel so nice soon.

Turning his head out of the grasp roba has on his face he was met with Vernon’s rotting skeletal face. There was dirt in his eyes, ears, mouth, nose. He was buried.

“GHOST!”

“Mom? Save me.”

“Ghost who’s with you right now.”

He opens his eyes, praying he can see at the end of this all. Scratched corneas would end his career, and his career is all that he had left.

In front of him, soap was sitting, thumbing his rosaries and mumbling a prayer. Without greeting he looks up. “Simon, I’ve missed you.”

“Ghost. I repeat, who is with you?”

“Johnny. Bye mommy, I’ll see you soon.”

With his final goodbye to the only person to truly love him, he can rest.

“Simon, I loved you too.” A Scottish lilt was the last thing he heard before the world went silent. He laid his head on the tree and closed his eyes. He hoped that Johnny was in the next 7 minutes. And price and Gaz. Maybe he can finally see them again too. Laswell will join them at some point. Then they can meet her wife. Maybe she’ll have kids after retirement.

He hoped he was happy.

-

Ghost was found 2 days later. Soaps rosary in his pocket and tear tracks running down his face wiping off the eye black.

Task force 141 was together, earthly and in spirit. Buried in the national cemetery one next to the other.

#fanfic #ghoap #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #soapghost #ao3 #cod mw2 #call of duty #ao3 crosspost #kate laswell #agnst #heavy angst #main character death #don’t like don’t read

[feralbutfluffy]

57: Aziraphale

Chapter 57 of Too Wise to Woo Peaceably

*****

Crowley and Aziraphale had spent what might have been minutes or months curled into each other on the sofa before Crowley yawned, stretched theatrically, and said, “I think we should get some rest. What d’you say? Care to help this invalid to bed?”

Aziraphale pursed his lips in a show of disapproval, knowing ‘rest’ was the last thing on Crowley’s mind. 

The disapproval was entirely hollow.

His heart slammed against his ribs at the idea of lying with Crowley. They had managed to make the sofa feel sinful enough that a bed seemed like a dangerous proposition.

“...And the leopard shall lie down with the kid…”

Aziraphale wondered if one of them was the leopard. He wondered if one of them was the kid goat. He wondered which was which. 

He imagined Crowley’s teeth on his neck and felt a heavy, syrupy warmth settle deep in his bones. He thought he might be happy to be the kid. 

Crowley had always liked kids.

He stood up and absent-mindedly tugged at the seam of his trousers, then bent to put an arm around Crowley, who had slid over to the edge of the seat cushion. He threw his arm around Aziraphale’s neck, curling his fingers around the inside of his waistcoat; apparently, the fabric of his shirt wasn’t sufficient to guard against the burning awareness of their presence, because Aziraphale felt them acutely. He must have shivered in fact, because Crowley let out a soft huff of laughter.

“So sensitive, angel…” he teased, and there was nothing unkind in it.

Aziraphale helped him up to standing, and together they slowly made their way into the hall. He reluctantly acquiesced when Crowley asked to look around the flat. The floor around the plants was still strewn with shard-studded dirt, and Crowley’s face went curiously blank as he looked at it. A sharp tug on Aziraphale’s waistcoat betrayed the fact that his hand had clenched reflexively at the sight.

“What did they not destroy?”

Aziraphale sighed. “Very little, I’m afraid. Anything from here to your bedroom was fairly demolished.”

“Oh.” A thoughtful silence. “What about the rest of it?”

“The rest of it?”

Crowley pulled on his sleeve. “Let’s go the other way.”

“I thought we were going to bed?” Aziraphale frowned, frustration nipping at the base of his spine.

Crowley had the nerve to laugh, then ducked his head and kissed the highest part of Aziraphale’s cheek, where he strongly suspected a blush had turned his skin bright pink.

“We’ve already waited thousands of years, angel. What’s your rush?”

Aziraphale could hardly get the words out. “Exactly! That- That is my rush!”

Crowley smiled at him as if his frustration was delightful, and not something that might drive him to madness.

“Right. Yes, but first- ” he pulled at Aziraphale, who reluctantly obeyed, turning away from the bedroom, “... let me have a look, I just want to check on a few things.”

“Such as?” asked Aziraphale, thinking Crowley’s scant decor didn’t leave much to be checked.

“Well, the lectern and such.”

“That ghastly eagle lectern? That survived." Aziraphale raised his eyes to the ceiling. "... Although I would argue that whether or not that can be considered a good thing is debateable.”

Crowley’s lips quirked. “You think it’s ghastly?”

“Perhaps ‘ghastly’ is unkind, but you must agree it is a bit… much .”

Crowley cast him a sidelong glance. “Belonged to your side, so that makes sense I suppose.”

“How do you mean?”

There was a brief pause.

“Picked it up from a church.” He said it casually, clearly expecting a reaction.

“A chur- Crowley! You stole a lectern from a church?”

“I didn’t say that!”

“Well I seriously doubt they were giving them away!”

“You don’t recognise it?”

Aziraphale blinked at Crowley, wrong-footed. “Should I?”

They had made their way over as they talked and now stood in front of it. Crowley leaned heavily against Aziraphale, draped across his shoulders, his weight comforting and warm. His eyes roamed over the lectern, looking for damage.

Aziraphale’s eyes, on the other hand, roamed over Crowley’s face. Eventually, satisfied it had survived the raid unscathed, Crowley looked down at him, and when he did the sheepish expression on his face was so captivating and unfamiliar that it made Aziraphale want to kiss him.

And then, unable to think of a single reason not to that he hadn’t already ignored, he took hold of the back of Crowley's head and pulled him down for a hungry kiss.

Might as well be hanged for a sheep as for a lamb… 

When he pulled away, Crowley swayed against him looking intoxicated. “What was that for?” he mumbled.

It was a heady feeling, Aziraphale thought, to have such a visible effect on his oldest friend.

His-

The thought snagged in his mind and whited out into an incredulous blank. He turned back to the lectern.

“Should I recognise this?” He asked again, reaching out to touch the eagle’s wing. 

Crowley’s head tipped sideways, coming to rest against Aziraphale’s, a heavy point of pressure that made his mouth go dry.

“Well, you’ve definitely seen it before,” he said cryptically, and Aziraphale felt Crowley nudge his forehead into his temple. He swallowed hard. He was certainly new - very new - to this world of physical affection, but he was almost positive that whatever Crowley was doing could only be described as nuzzling.

Crowley’s soft breaths grazed his ear on each exhale, and a shudder wracked through Aziraphale’s body, his knees almost buckling.

Oh.

Considering Crowley was leaning on him for support, that wouldn’t do. 

Aziraphale twisted his head away, breaking contact and giving Crowley a reproachful look. The former demon raised his eyebrow in silent question, trying and failing to hide a grin. He lifted his left hand and slowly, slowly, excruciatingly slowly traced the side of Aziraphale’s face with the back of his index finger.

Aziraphale felt heat, a wave of liquid fire that crashed over him and ran through his entire body with uncontrolled intensity, his skin tingling with sparks in the aftermath. His lips parted and he tried to breathe, but only managed needy, frustrated panting.

How demeaning.

Crowley’s expression changed. He dropped his hand, and Aziraphale considered it an act of mercy; he couldn't have endured much more.

He turned away and tapped the eagle’s head. “You’ve seen this before,” he repeated.

“Oh,” The angel struggled to drag his focus back to the large piece of stone statuary.

“Do you remember the church where you attempted to double-cross a bunch of nazis-”

Aziraphale frowned.

“... And you were - very unwisely - armed with nothing more than some dusty old books, your usual unsuspecting nature, and a substantial amount of rather wildly misplaced trust?”

His eyes narrowed, but Crowley continued undeterred.

“And I - dashingly, if I do say so myself - managed to arrive just in time to save you?”

“And my books,” added Aziraphale without thinking. 

Crowley nodded. “And your books.”

There was silence then. Aziraphale looked from Crowley to the lectern and back again.

“But…” He felt his heart flip itself inside out, “... But everything was obliterated by the bomb. There was just… rubble… ”

“Mmn, yeah. Well, rubble and this thing,” Crowley nodded at the lectern. “Went back for it later, after…” he trailed off, a complicated expression flashing across his face. He cleared his throat. “Well. After.”

Aziraphale’s gaze drifted back to the lectern and he stared, unseeing, at the stone form.

“Oh.”

Oh.

His mind pulled up the memory entirely unbidden; a completely dishevelled Crowley backing up against the bookshelves, face stricken, eyes wide with panic. Crowley almost stumbling out the door in his haste to leave. 

The thought that, after everything, he had returned to the church and dragged the lectern home as a souvenir made Aziraphale’s heart ache, and the knowledge that he had kept it in his apartment as one of the few impractical items in his flat… Well it made him want to pour that aching heart into a puddle at Crowley’s feet.

His throat tightened with emotion.

"I'm very sorry about that night, Crowley," he said in a quiet voice. "I didn't- I couldn't- It was too much-"

He looked up at Crowley to find his face drawn, his gaze fixed on the wall somewhere beyond Aziraphale's right shoulder.

"Not you, you were... " he trailed off lamely, trying to explain something he wasn't sure he fully understood. "... I felt too much. It felt good, and I was so afraid it might be wrong, you see. I'm sorry I blamed you. It was easier to blame you than to admit I might have done a bad thing, or- or- or been a bad angel."

Crowley's expression softened, "I know."

Aziraphale looked back at the lectern. "You really went back to that church for this?"

"Felt like I needed to find something intact in the ruins of it all," Crowley said. "Thought it might help me remember the good parts of the night, the parts before... well, before it all went to Hell in a handbasket."

Aziraphale stared openly at him.

“Anyway,” Crowley ducked his head, embarrassed, and tried to steer him away from what he had previously considered an incongruous and unnecessarily large piece of home decor.

Now he saw it as a monument to a night neither of them could forget.

“You know, Crowley,” he said, allowing the former demon to dictate the pace as they headed back up the hallway, “I think you might be what humans call ‘a romantic ’.”

“Yes, alright. Rub it in why don’t you,” he grumbled.

Their heavy footsteps echoed around them.

A thought occurred to Aziraphale that turned him slightly pink. “You’ll no doubt be glad to know that your blasphemous statue is - unfortunately - also still with us,”

“My blasphemous statue?” Crowley’s brow furrowed. “I have no idea what you’re referring to.”

“Oh! You know ,” said Aziraphale.

“Not at all! Describe it, go on. Maybe it will come to me.”

Aziraphale glared at Crowley, who looked back with an infuriating expression of pure innocence.

“The statue of the two angels,” he muttered.

“I have a statue of two angels?”

“Well, an angel and a demon."

"Really?" He dragged the word out far longer than necessary. "I don't recall. What are they doing?"

They’re… fighting.” He felt the heat in his cheeks. He slid a furtive glance at Crowley, who was watching him speak, half-lidded eyes fixed on his lips.

“... Oh is that what they’re doing?” Crowley murmured into his ear with a smile.

He was enjoying himself immensely, and Aziraphale couldn’t help but give him a small answering smile of his own.

They had finally reached the bedroom, and they stepped inside.

Their smiles immediately dropped into matching expressions of bewilderment.

“Muriel,” Aziraphale said, by way of explanation.

He reached up and squeezed Crowley’s hand apologetically.

“Ah yes,” said Crowley faintly. “Finishing touches.”

#good omens #ineffable idiots #crowley and aziraphale #aziraphale x crowley #good omens fanfic #good omens fanfiction #ineffable divorce #aziracrow #crowley #ineffable #ineffable husbands fic #ineffable husbands #ineffable spouses #good omens fic #good omens fic request #crowley x aziraphale #azicrow #aziraphale #azcrow #good omens longfic #go2 fanfic

[divine-misfortune]

Phantom watched. 

He watched because he was told to watch, and so he did. He stared as the air ghoul's thin fingers slowly closed into a tight fist. Graceful in the motion as each digit curled into their palm. The same delicate nature Zephyr spared the ivory keys of the church organ. 

Muscles drawn taut beneath the skin, a slight tremor kicking up as Phantom's mouth fell open helplessly. Like a game of tug of war, they withheld from him despite his body's attempt to gasp for air.

Embers began to sear at the floor of his lungs, a growing burn in his chest only matched by the heat coiled deep in his gut. They could extinguish the more problematic of the two just by releasing the tension in their hand but judging by the coy curl of their lips, they weren't interested in such things. Zephyr gladly held relief just out of arm's reach. 

Not that Phantom was trying all that hard, or even focusing on the act of trying to breathe. His focus was on the frantic and sloppy twist of his own fist up and down his cock, eyes never straying from Zephyr and the control they exhibited over him. Control they took away from him so easily. He would've groaned at the thought if he could, only managing a faint raspy sound that made Zephyr chuckle. Their laugh did more for him than any breath of air could have, it felt so dismissive. Belittling. Like just watching him suffocate was some sort of game. 

His cock kicked in his hand. Pre dribbled over knuckles and onto the floor between his knees, only adding to the small puddle he'd created. He knew they'd grimace at the mess later but couldn't help making it. It was small compared to what he could feel building as his vision dared to go hazy despite his attempts to keep it focused. There might as well have been something molten filling his lungs with how they screamed for reprieve, and it made his balls start to go tight. If he had the thoughts to spare, maybe he'd have wiped the drool from the corner of his mouth and tried to maintain a level of dignity but he was far too close to care. 

Pressure, low in his belly, built as he tried to fuck up into the slick grip of his own hand. He must have been a sight; nearly blue in the face, eyes just about crossed, chasing a climax he'd been denied several times already. He could feel it this time though, closer than he'd been before, close enough he could almost taste the white hot pleasure. 

"Aaaaaand," Zephyr's hand fell open and Phantom nearly toppled backwards as the vise around his lungs vanished. Chest finally allowed to expand fully after fighting against imaginative restraints. He sagged much like a marionette cut from its strings. “Hands off.”

Phantom, able to make a proper sound, let out something between a growl and a sob as he slapped his cum slicked palm against the floor in frustration. He hunched over and let his head hang, hiding behind thick dark hair. He stared pitifully at his dick give a pathetic bounce or two from the sudden lack of stimulation. Brows drawn together, he almost looked at his member apologetically. 

"Fucking-!" he gasped, body heaving with the force of it. "Was so close, why did you stop?!" 

"Because I don't need you passing out naked on my floor? Think you forget there's no way in hell I can carry you to the infirmary." 

"Couple more seconds wouldn't have-" 

"Ah, ah, ah." They clicked their tongue at him like a petulant child. "That doesn't sound very grateful, wisp. What do we say?" 

Even though he could very clearly breathe, Phantom made a little strangled sound as heat prickled over every inch of skin. He wouldn't be surprised if his flush had spread over him entirely. His tail flicked and Zephyr laughed again, Less low and condescending. It was breathy and delicate like a spring breeze. They sat forward after a minute of his sulking and scratched lightly over the crown of his head, he was helpless to give up the annoyed tension winding his muscles tight. 

"You with me, little shadow?" 

"...Mhm." 

"Give me three more deep breaths and sit up, you’re squishing your lungs like that." 

Zephyr continued to pet through his hair gently as he followed their instruction up until he uncurled from himself. Their smile was far more self satisfied than anything, sat elbows on their knees to be eye level with him. It was a position they'd regret if they continued to hold, but they hardly seemed bothered by the idea. Phantom let them lift his face with a single finger under his chin and kissed the little crease between his eyebrows. 

"Thank you," he sighed and closed his eyes, their cool lips pressed to his skin for another long beat. He could feel the little smile that creeped onto their face before they pulled back. 

It felt like their index finger was the one thing keeping him from tipping forward onto the floor. 

"Good boy, taking what I give you..." Zephyr's thumb traced the curve of his bottom lip and he let them part slightly as an offering, one Zephyr did not trust themself to accept. An indulgence for later. Not something they'd factored into their little game. "Are you alright?" 

"S'good." His nod is barely a twitch, but they recognize it enough. 

"Think you can give me another?" 

"Want to give you as many as you want." Phantom peeks out from under his lashes and Zephyr's heart stutters in their chest. The faintest trace of tears glittered in his eyes. "As many as it takes."

"That's my sweet star...Remind me of the rules?" 

"Can't touch unless you've got my breath" his tongue darted out to wet his lips and Zephyr hummed in encouragement. "Hands off when you let go." 

"And how do you tap out?" 

"Grab your tail." 

"That's right! So smart baby." 

Phantom would've shied away if he felt steady enough to lean back from their touch. Hid from their praise. They, however, shifted closer. Unwilling to miss how their words affected him. An awkward position for sure as they reached between his legs, he moaned pathetically loud as they gave him three slow and incredibly generous strokes. Their thumb swiped over his head and they pulled away to return to lounging just as quick. Phantom slumped forward against their calf, head resting against their knee as they licked a drop of pre off the pad of their finger. 

He could smell their arousal, so close like this. Clean like cotton and ocean air, a little too close to Rain's scent. Equally as dizzying. Phantom wanted to sit onto his knees and mouth at their clothed cock, obviously tented in their slacks, but knew better than to act out of turn. Even if he itched to. 

"Soon, pet." Zephyr patted his head softly as if his thoughts were being broadcast on the wall behind him and they might as well have been with the way he so blatantly stared. They'd dare to call it ogling. "Not till we finish. Cmon," they nudged him gently with their knee and he slumped off with a bit of an exaggerated sigh "back in place, I want to see how powerless you look again, just a little bit longer."

#writing #spicy tag #void writing #nameless ghouls #zephyr ghoul #phantom ghoul #aeon ghoul #the band ghost #the band ghost fic #ghost the band