#and uh. I agreed to go to church with him

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

Career Day

Tags: teeth rotting fluff, crack, jjk men as dads / fem!reader

An: Your child comes home and says tomorrow is career day at their school. They want to bring you and their daddy to school to show off how cool you two are, but.. their dad doesn’t exactly have the most conventional job.

SATORU • SUGURU • TOJI • SUKUNA

SATORU

“My daddy is the strongest!” Your son explains to a room full of his peers. Satoru is proudly beaming next to him. You note how much they look alike. The white hair, the bright blue eyes. Your son looks like he came straight from Satoru and had nothing to do with you.

But your son, Aoi, definitely had your personality.

“Nuh uh. He can’t be the strongest. Superman’s the strongest!” Another kid protested with an unconvinced frown.

“Well, my daddy is like superman!” Aoi retorts, keeping his headstrong personality like his mama. “Actually, he’s even better than superman!”

“He’s not even wearing a suit!” A different child speaks up. You share a nervous glance with Satoru. He’s enjoying this all too much.

“He doesn’t need a suit to be the strongest, dumbass!” Your sweet boy yells, and you promptly cover his mouth. Satoru is laughing his ass off, making the entire situation worse.

Correction, Aoi trying out his dad’s signature hand signal and saying “domain expansion” made the entire situation so much worse.

“You’re grounded, Aoi. You can’t say those things to other people. It’s rude and hurtful.” You say as you and Satoru walk your young boy home. Aoi lets out a small frustrated groan.

“I’m still getting him ice cream.” Satoru interjects with a proud smile. “My boy tried to cast his first domain at just six-years-old. He deserves a sweet treat.” Two wide smiles look up at you, and you realize you’re outnumbered here. Rolling your eyes, you nudge Satoru.

“I want a girl next.”

SUGURU

Mimiko and Nanako begged Suguru to come to their school’s career day. He was of course hesitant to do so, given that Jujutsu sorcery was still a hidden art in Japan. He didn’t exactly know how to explain his career to a bunch of kids.

He had a plan though. He would just tell the children that he was a preacher at a church. It’s not… completely a lie. He was a leader for.. a type of church.

You and Geto walk into the cozy looking classroom and see a load of other parents there. Your husband grimaced at the thought of having to interact with all these… people.

You give Suguru a reassuring squeeze of the hand. “It’ll be okay. Anything for the girls, right?” You whisper into his ear, making him nod. Anything for the girls.

When it’s finally Mimiko and Nanako’s turn to explain what their daddy does for a living, your small family gathers at the front of the classroom. Plenty of small innocent faces and reassuring smiles fill the room.

“Okay girls, tell us what your parents do for a living.” Their teacher prompts with a warm smile.

“My daddy swallows balls for a living!” Nanako says proudly with a beaming smile.

The kids erupted into laughter while their parents gave you two disgusted looks.

To make matters worse, “He also hates filthy mo-“ Mimiko tries to add on, but Geto quickly covers her mouth with his hand.

After explaining what a vivid imagination your twins have, you go on to explain that Geto is a leader at a church, and well, that doesn’t go over too well either.

“Homeschool?” Geto suggests as the four of you walk home.

“Most definitely.” You agree. Mimiko and Nanako are now educated by you at the home, where they can’t out their dad for swallowing balls.

TOJI

“Mama, make papa come to career day.” Your young son, Megumi, demanded. He had a small little pout on his face, and his arms were firmly crossed over his chest. Behind him, Toji stood, shaking his head at his son’s determination.

He often did this: telling you to make Toji do something because you were the only person who could make Toji do anything. After all these years, mans was still wrapped around your finger.

“Baby, Papa’s job is kinda private.” You explain quietly as you pet Megumi’s soft hair.

The small boy’s look of determination shifted to a look of reserve. Even as a young child, he wasn’t great at showing when his feelings were hurt, but you could always tell.

“Gumi.” You say his name softly, bending over to look at the boy’s flat expression.

You were also the only one who could coax Megumi into showing his real emotions.

Tears welled in his eyes, and his bottom lip started quivering. “I don’t wanna be the only one whose parents didn’t come.”

“Oh baby.” You frown as you pull your son into a hug. You glare upwards at Toji, and his eyes widened slightly. He knew what that look meant. “You’re going to career day.” You say to him, leaving no room for argument.

The next day,

“Okay Mr. Fushiguro, what do you do for a living?” The teacher asks Toji as he’s sat next to Megumi. Your son is actually smiling, enjoying the fact that Toji actually came to career day.

“People pay me a large sum of money, and I take care of someone for them.” Toji explains vaguely.

“Oh! Like a doctor?” One of the kids asked with an impressed smile.

“Sure, like a doctor.” Your husband lies, knowing that he does quite the opposite of what a doctor does.

SUKUNA

The look on the kids faces as your tall, muscular, tatted husband walked into the classroom was hilarious. Most of them were completely mortified, giving Sukuna frightened stares.

Your husband was completely unfazed. If anything, he was soaking in the kids’ fear. He sat at the front of the room with a look of arrogance.

Your nephew, Yuji, sat between you two. No, he was technically not your kid, but he didn’t have anyone else to bring to career day. So, Unc Sukuna and Auntie Yn were to the rescue.

“And.. what do you do for work, sir?” The teacher asked in almost a judgmental tone as she eyed Sukuna. You couldn’t tell if she despised him or wanted to fuck him.

“I don’t work. I live off tithe.” Sukuna bluntly answered with a shrug. His lopsided smile never left his face.

“What’s a tithe?” A small child asked quietly.

“It means people pay me out of fear of that I’ll harm them if they don’t.” Your husband gives a child a sharp stare with a challenging smile. He wanted the kids to keep asking questions. The thought of scaring multiple children all at once fueled him.

“Like… beat them up?” Another child asked.

“Like eating their snot-nosed children.” Sukuna answered with a toothy grin. The children all shrieked and cried in terror. Hell, even their parents looked frightened.

“Ryomen.” You chide as you look over towards your husband. He was laughing maniacally, even slapping his knee like the old man he was.

Yuji never invited you two to another career day.

[bread-of-death]

How did I manage to let this happen

[anniebass]

baby don't be mad

1.3k word actverse ficlet under the jump rating: M tags: dialogue-heavy, beginning of the relationship, the boys are arguinggg, old man eddie's being a clueless slut, and also a dweeb, and steve's being... a person that rly needs therapy lol

Rapid catchups, they name it, though it doesn’t really need a name, it’s basically just talking. Early on Eddie realizes he doesn’t know all that much about his sexy old-but-new long distance serious boyfriend, that he possesses a fuckton of outdated information, that, duh, people change, especially in the long-ass time they spent apart. That the habits and opinions of a twenty-year-old shithead don’t necessarily last until someone’s forties.

That evening, they do the rapid catchups, starting off easy, prompted by the takeout dinner they have at Steve’s: best Asian food, go, at which without a second thought Steve says Chinese, while Eddie goes with Japanese, love me some sushi, yum. Later, when they’re full of kung pao and mapo tofu, lazily digesting on the couch, half-watching an old movie where Sharon Stone saunters across the screen and smolders at bad men, Steve says: you have to sleep with a woman, any woman in the world, dead or alive, go.

Eddie groans and slides down the couch, throws his hands up: dude, I don’t know! Uh, like maybe— Cleopatra? Or maybe one of those amazonian greek warriors with one boobie?

So, no one you actually know the face of? he says, with a little smirk.

Man, I don’t— I mean, there are some beautiful women walking this earth, like stunning stunning women I can’t get enough of, but that don’t mean I want to fuck them! My willy shrinks at the thought, he explains meekly, and shrugs, clicking his tongue: I dunno, maybe Eartha Kitt? She seems very fun.

Good choice, mutters Steve, and to Eddie’s your turn he tilts his head, scratches his nose: I don’t know if that question really applies to me. But if I had to have a sex list, it would be… Linda Evangelista? Or Sharon, she’s hot. Or— yeah, Monica Belucci, Jesus. Her, definitely. If not her then Cleopatra, that’s actually a great answer, she must have been good for all that shit to go down around her, he says with a smile, and Eddie sighs dreamily, oh, I’d love to watch. From the closet, imagine myself in her place. In a little egyptian wig, he adds, to which Steve snorts, rolling his eyes.

Alright, my turn. Best casual sex you’ve ever had, go, says Eddie, and Steve hums at that, leans back on the couch, rubbing his chin, mumbling under his breath, until he sighs and says: I actually didn’t have that much of it beyond my teens, and what I had back then was very… teenaged, y’know. And in that short gap between my first and second wife I slept with just three people, two dudes and one woman, and neither of those was mind-blowing. The guys were kinda disappointing, I thought after so many years of straight sex I’d be blown away, but it was just… okay. Actually—, he adds, shaking his head: it sucked. I was drunk, they were drunk, I don’t remember much of it. Or don’t want to. I remember stinky balls. So, I dunno—, he says, and sighs, and glances at him: am I a big loser if I say the best one was when we reconnected? Could say it was still casual back then, right? When we fucked in the church, or by the pool, or—, yeah, there was a lot of it, on that trip.

It really was magical, agrees Eddie, smiling at him.

So, uh, your turn, says Steve. Best you've ever had, go.

Oh, man, mutters Eddie. I know my answer to that. Japan, in the mid-nineties. We were on tour and stayed for a few nights in Tokyo, and I got to explore the city, research shit with the help of a very discreet translator, and finally, on our last night there, I ended up in a gay bar. Very hush-hush, a basement place hidden away in some grimy back alley, he says, lowering his voice into sultry tones of gossip. Met a guy there, this… slightly chubby middle-aged businessman type, suit and tie and briefcase, wedding ring on his finger, very regular looking guy, and we drank sake through the night, sang some karaoke, and ended up in some seedy by-the-hour love hotel. He didn’t know who I was, didn’t speak a lick of English, I was obviously drunk, but I still remember that night like it was yesterday. God, just— the way that guy fucked me, the way he seemed to know every inch of my body without having seen it before, the way he just knew what I wanted without any language, it was insane. We did it a few times that one night, practically without stopping, and never saw each other again. I actually jerk off to that memory to this day.

To this, Steve lets out a small hm, purses his lips and leans back, crossing his arms, and Eddie clicks his tongue, leaning closer, touching his shoulder: aw, don’t be jealous. That was casual, but out of all people, of course you are my number one, no contest. I just— remember that one time in Japan, because it worked so well without language, and that’s always kinda hot. Language of love, all that cheesy stuff. Up to that point and following it, it'd mostly happen with some hot Brazilians.

Okay, he says.

Eddie sighs, watching his face: Steve, you know that’s what my life was like back then, this neverending barrage of hookups. And most of those weren’t even that good, like, you talk of stinky balls? I met dozens, slobbered over them anyway like they were fucking Ferrero Rocher!, he says to a small groan in return, then sighs, speaks softer: being with you is a completely different quality from that, even from my previous relationships. It’s way different. With Marcell, we both slept around, there wasn’t much that we had in common beyond, like, incredible attraction at the beginning, and the fact that we work in the same industry, could endlessly talk about that. And with Zu, we— we really loved each other, but we weren’t a good fit. It was this weird thing where she needed someone more masc, but also I needed someone more masc, he says with an amused scoff. We were two bottoms in love, and it’s hard to make it work in the long term, without fucking other people. We’re way better off as friends. And the other dudes I dated, it was just— me being a drunken asshole, most of the time. I was a very shitty boyfriend for a looong-ass time.

There’s a stretch of silence, and Steve slides down the couch, still frowning: man… I just wonder why you asked that question in the first place. Because it seems to me like you wanted to brag a little about this incredible hookup you had in fucking… Japan. Do you miss fucking other people, Eddie?

He sighs, rakes a hand through his hair: Steve, I literally just told you I don’t. I might romanticize it, the— the way I might romanticize being on drugs, but I don’t want to go back to that. I asked because I want to know everything about you! I dunno, I— I guess I like Japan. It’s such a weird place, I really want to go back there, he says and inches closer, placing a calm hand on his thigh: come with me. Like, for two weeks or something. We’d take the girls with us, go in the summer or for the spring break. Would be cool to just wander around, shop, sing karaoke, eat tons of good food. Go to Kyoto, see the geishas, tea ceremony. Go to hot springs. Japan’s truly like no place you’ve ever been to.

I didn't know you liked it that much. A trip does sound nice, says Steve, with a small smile. Emily would go crazy, she loves those cartoons. Chels would like it too, I think.

Eddie smiles and squeezes his leg: sounds like a plan. Also, just to— get it out of the way: from the moment you first kissed me, I stopped thinking of us as casual. I was, like, fully fully back in love with you in point two seconds. Even before that, to be honest. If I ever for a single moment considered that a hookup, it’d totally blow that businessman out of the water. If you want, I could show you, uh, how I blew him out of the— fucking—, he falters, then snorts: sorry, failed metaphor. But you catch my drift.

Yes, please, says Steve.

[morganbritton132]

Omg ok so my sisters used to play soccer and one of the moms had a cowbell. This woman would ring the bell every time the team got a goal. And now like 20 years later our mother was talking to someone about how my sisters used to do the local soccer thing and the other person was like “omg do you remember the cowbell lady? That team was so good but dear lord that cowbell was annoying!”……..I can picture Eddie getting a cowbell

Absolutely yes. No notes. Eddie definitely does this.

Steve kinda dooms himself to it because they played a scrimmage against a team that brought their own cheerleaders. Eddie prides himself on a level of dramatism that is not going to let that slide so he asks.

He did ask if he could be Steve’s cheerleader.

Steve, who melts every time Eddie takes an interest in one of his hobbies, does not think of the consequences when he says, “You’re already my cheerleader, but sure.”

If Steve thought about it for a little bit than he would probably think that Eddie was going to show up at the game in an actual cheerleading uniform, but he didn’t think about it. He actually forgot about the entire conversation until the next weekend when Eddie tries to get into the car with an electric guitar.

Steve stops him, “What are you doing?”

“Uh, cheerleading?”

“Where would you even plug that in at?”

“Oh, you’re right,” Eddie considers and then darts back into the house. He returns a few minutes later with an acoustic guitar, but Steve gives him a look that says very clearly ‘absolutely not.’ Eddie strums the guitar anyways and says, “I love you, bitch. I ain’t never gonna stop-“

“Eddie, we’re going to be late!”

So, he didn’t do anything that weekend other than come up with some on-the-fly cheers with another player’s girlfriend and agree to design them shirts. Nancy did say that if he tried to start a wave in the crowd that she would divorce him. From the land of the living.

He thinks she means it too.

Eddie’s already picked out the cowbell by the time next weekend rolls around. They’re playing against a group from the nearby methodist church and the only thing that Steve requests is that Eddie stays off his soapbox about organized religion. He says nothing about cowbells.

Nancy isn’t even aware that he has it until he whips it out after the first goal and starts ringing it. The whole field stops moving and just stares at him for a second, which is great. Eddie loves an audience.

Steve looks fucking delighted, too.

It is rather unfortunate that the team they’re playing against sucks major ass and they score more goals than they have in any other game because that cowbell rings with enthusiasm every single time. Except for the last goal because when Eddie went to reach for the bell, Ozzy put his paw over his hand to tell him to stop.

It doesn’t matter though because Steve runs over to him as soon as the game ends, all smiles and kisses. It’s painfully and sickeningly sweet when he tells him, “Best cheerleader I’ve ever had.”

Steve kisses him again and tells him, “Never do it again though.”

[ghostboneswrites2]

A Mess || Part 8

New account! @ghostbones was banned! Transferring everything here starting with this series since it was the most popular!

A/N: this is not the last part I promise

Summary: You finally make it to the town you set out for all those days ago. Feelings get shared when you find a place to stay for the night.

18+ MDNI || WARNINGS: profanity, suggestive

        "Can't believe we left the map." Daryl shook his head as he drove. He finally got one of the cars working, though it had a strong gasoline smell as he drove it. 

        "You were in charge of it." You pointed out.

        "Don;t need it anyhow." He defended. Men and their pride when it came to directions never ceased to amuse you. "Should be 'bout thirty minutes up this road. We can load up some while we're there, get gas, hole up of the night, and loot s'more before we head back tomorrow."

        "Sounds great." You agreed. "If I have to go one more day without a shower I'm gonna kill someone."       

        "Can barely fight a walker off of ya. Who you gonna kill?" He teased.

        "I was distracted." You defended.

        "With what? The view?" He retorted. Well, yes, but you couldn't tell him that.

        "Whatever." You grumbled, crossing your arms and turning your attention out of the window.

        It wasn't long before the town you two originally set out for rolled into view. You spent an hour looting an old thrift store for some clothes and random things you thought the prison could use. Board games, soaps, hairbrushes, plates and bowls, you name it. If they had it, you took it. Next was the pawnshop for guns and ammo, which were pretty sparse but they did have some good knives and machetes. You also found an old DVD player and some movies that you thought might be nice for Carl or something. Daryl focused more on equipment. Golf clubs, tools, lawn equipment for when everyone started working on the garden.

        On your way out of the pawnshop with your load of treasure, you noticed a flyer on the window. 'MONTHLY FOOD DRIVE - DELIVER ALL GOODS TO 227 PINEBLUFF CT DR'

        "Hey, check this out." You called Daryl over. He squinted as he read it.

        "C'mon. Town's small. Can't be too hard to find."

----

        It wasn't hard to find. It was a church, of course. Wasn't hard to clear the place out, either. Just the pastor and a few ladies stumbling around. They had a bunch of canned goods stored in an office, which you and Daryl happily loaded up in the car.

        "Think this is a good spot to crash for the night?" You asked him. 

        "Nah. Windows are all busted. We'll find a little house or somethin." He said.

        So, when you guys were done with the church, you drove around for a little while, siphoning gas from random vehicles and searching for a house suitable for the night. He settled on a little blue house, with a fenced in front and back yard. He reasoned the fencing was good added protection.  Plus, the windows looked to be in tact and overall the place looked untouched.

        There weren't any walkers inside, but there also wasn't any food. There was, however, running water. Whoever these people were, they ran their house off filtered rain water. 

        While Daryl was working on blocking all the exits off with furniture and nailing blankets over the windows so nothing could see inside, you opted for a shower. It wasn't hot since the house had no power, but damn was it nice to feel clean. Well, as clean as you could get with no soap, anyways. The towels were all dusty, so you drip dried when you got out. When you were dry enough you slid into the extra outfit you packed, and found your way back out to Daryl. He had the house as safe as he could get it by then.

        "All yours." You told him.

        "Nah." He shrugged.

        "Uh, you smell like a biohazard." You insisted. He glared.

        "Yeah, shoulda smelled yourself. By day two in that tree house you were chokin' flies." He shot back.

        "And, would ya look at that, I showered!" You sneered. He huffed a little breathy laugh and shook his head as he grabbed his bag and disappeared to the shower.

        You were hungry, so you decided to light the gas stove and heat up a can of Campbell's chunky beef stew for the two of you to share. By the time it was done, he was out, so the two of you ate in silence before tossing the emtpy can and borrowed spoon in the sink.

        "It's not even dark yet." You commented.

        "Yeah. Best to get to bed early. We can head out first thing, make it back home by tomorrow night." He reasoned.

        "Guess so." You agreed.

        "Guess? You don't wanna get back?" He questioned.

        "And give up our quality bonding time?" You joked. He scoffed and shook his head. Damn, you were a smartass. 

        "'S that what ya call it?"

        "Yup. What else would it be?"

        "Thought we were stranded on an island." He recalled.

        "Oh, that. No, I was just hungry." You shrugged. "Never take me seriously when I'm hungry. I become a different person, really."

        He rolled his eyes a little. "Still wanna play that game?" He asked.

        "What game?"

        "Twenty questions."

        "Twenty-one questions, Dixon." You corrected. "And sure. You go first."

        "Alright." He nodded, pondering for a moment. He had a million questions he could ask, but somehow they felt too personal. Did you miss Shane? Were you ready to move on? Did you like him, or were you just a tease? Why did you always pick on him? Was it the same reason he always picked at you and gave you shit? "How ya like the shoes?"

        "They're good." You nodded. "I love them. Thanks again. Uh.." You thought for a second. "How long do you wanna grow your hair out?"

        "I dunno." He shrugged. "What'd ya like to do before the world went to shit?"

        "Hmm... Paint, listen to music, go go out and eat my weight in food from little hole in the wall restaurants." You recalled. "What kind of music do you like?"

        "Whatever was on the radio." He said. "You plan on movin' on?"

        That was an okay question to ask, right? He broke the ice pretty well, he thought, with the rapid fire Q&A flying between the two of you. He realized maybe not, though, because you seemed to really take your time with that one.

        "Don't see why not." You finally said. "I mean, he would, right? As long as I thought I found someone who would treat me right... Are you seeing anyone right now?"

        You asked the question so casually but it choked him up. He felt so naked, like a chicken with all its feathers plucked off one by one.

        "No." He cleared his throat. "Nah."

        Uncomfortable silence blanketed over the two of you.

        "Your turn." You reminded him.

        "Oh. Are you?"

        "Am I..?"

        "Seein' anyone." He clarified. You giggled a little.

        "No. But I have met someone. Real nice guy, actually. He gets me gifts and teases the hell out of me,  but I think he'd do just about anything for me." You smiled to yourself. He had to know you were talking about him, right? Wrong. He was clueless. Right over his head. He admittedly felt sad to hear it. Who was this guy? He kind of sounded like everything Daryl tried to be for you. "Do you like anyone?" You asked, taking him out of his swirling thoughts.

        "Nah." He shrugged. A lie, but everything he had tried to work up to was washed away when you said you met someone.

        "Oh." You said, slight sadness hinting in your voice. "Your turn." You reminded him again.

        "Who's the guy?" He asked.

        "Oh, you don't know him." You waved him off. If you could slap yourself, your would. What kind of lie was that? He knew everyone. There were literally less than ten of you if you didn't count the baby. 

        "Oh? Some kind o' pen or somethin'?" He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. Then it hit him; you were talking about him. That's why it sounded like everything Daryl tried to be for you, because it was him. "Oh." He blurted quietly.

        Your face felt like it drained of blood completely. Well, way to completely humiliate yourself around the only real friend you had, huh?

        "You okay?" He asked.

        "Yeah." You nodded, forcing a smile, but your voice was sort of meek and squeaky. You shook it off, reminding yourself that you were, in fact, not the type to falter under pressure. This would be no different. So what if you liked him and he didn't feel the same? You could get past that. It was nothing--

        "(Y/N)." He snapped you out of your thoughts. 

        "Hmm?"

        "You asked if I like someone..." He trailed as he shifted uncomfortably.

        "Yeah?"

        "It's just -- I do, but... How do I know she likes me too?" 

        He didn't make eye contact as he asked. In fact, he looked quite literally everywhere except at you.

        "You just... ask. And if you don't wanna ask... Make your move." You shrugged.

        "Right." He nodded.

        Well, that conversation had gotten awkward enough for you, so you figured that was a good place to end it. You cleared your throat and stood up.

        "I'm gonna go choose a bed." You announced.

        You went to walk past where he sat on the couch but he stood up abruptly and cut you off.

        You looked up at him with confusion. What did he want? Your nerves were eating away at you and you were honestly pretty tired. You shifted your weight anxiously.

        "Daryl--" You went to complain about it but he had other plans. He gripped your arms firmly and smashed his face into yours. Like, actually smashed. It hurt. "Ow." You mumbled as you rubbed over your mouth. He gulped. It was supposed to be a kiss. Was he always so clumsy?

        "Sorry, I--"

        "Were you trying to kiss me?" You asked. He just stared at you. "'Cause, I gotta tell ya,you could really work on your technique." You smirked. 

        When he remained frozen, you began to feel bad for teasing him. He clearly had no idea what to do now. His hands were even still rested on your arms.

        "Here, let me show you." You whispered. You reached up for his face, his hands sliding softly off of your arms. When your palms found his checks,you tippy-toed up a couple of inches, and slowly leaned in, placing your lips softly on his. It wasn't a long, rhythmic kind of kiss. It was just simple and soft, and it lasted just a few seconds longer than a quick peck-and-go.

        His eyes were still closed when you pulled back, a tiny smile slowly spreading over your lips. When his eyes opened,he looked disappointed, like he was waiting for more. 

        He leaned down slowly, a little unsure. He was waiting for you to stop him, but you didn't. You pushed yourself back up on your toes o close the gap and snaked your arms around his neck. This time, it was deeper. You slowly moved your lips, allowing him to find the rhythm and synchronise. When he felt a little more confident, his hands gripped your hips and he quickened the pace.

        Slowly, he eased you down onto the couch. You gladly followed his lead. When you were comfortably seated, his lips peeled away and his kisses found their way down from your cheek to your neck to your collarbone. Oh, this was going to get good.

A/N: next part will be spicy ;)

Masterlist || Taglist

tags: @kissmeunicornbaobei @thesadcatt0 @clairealeehelsing @duckybird101 @tmntfixationxreader

((I didn't use the tags in all the one shots I just transferred cause I didn't wanna hit you guys with like 348827502720 notifications in one day))

[topguncortez]

Speak Now ~ J. Seresin

Hangman Masterlist | Main Masterlist

synopsis: Jake gets a wedding invite from the girl he's still in love with. Based off of Speak Now (TV) by Taylor Swift

word count: 4.1k

warnings: cursing, break-ups, runaway bride, miscommunication

Jake knew you probably hated the invites. You had told him over and over that you never wanted a big wedding, you wanted something small. You had agreed with your mom to not just go to the courthouse, but would at least do something a little bigger. Jake ran his fingers over the pale pink paper that was decorated with flowers and had your name and your fiancé’s name written in gold cursive letters. He knew you were somewhere screaming and pulling your hair out.

‘PLEASE JOIN US FOR THE CEREMONY OF MATRIMONY OF Y/N M/N AND BILLY “FRITZ” AVALON’

“Yeah, I just got it,” Jake said to Coyote. He had called his best friend the moment he saw the light pink envelope in his mailbox, “I looked up the address, it’s a church. She always said she wouldn’t get married in a church, she was worried it would burn down around her,”

“I don’t think that’s possible,” Javy said, “She must be a different person now, when was the last time you talked to her?”

“I don’t know 2-3 years ago. I heard Bob ask Nat if she had figured out a bridesmaid dress yet,” Jake sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, “I guess it was for this.”

“Did you expect anything less? They’re best friends.”

Jake shrugged knowing his friend couldn’t see him, “I don’t think I’m gonna go,”

“You can’t do that!”

“Why would I go? To submit myself to the torture of watching her marry someone else? Watching someone else give her the life I couldn’t give her?” Jake said angrily, the images of their last fight filled his mind. He looked over to the front door from his kitchen, the replay of you walking out the door, with your bags packed and tears in your eyes was forever burned into his mind.

“You pushed her away, Jacob. You can only blame yourself for that,” Javy scolded and Jake sighed.

“I thought I was doing the right thing,” Jake mumbled.

“Well do the true right thing, and go to the wedding, for her. It’ll make her happy to see you there,” Javy said and Jake told him he’d think about it.

Jake sat down on his couch and closed his eyes. Ever since that fateful day, he let you go, he couldn’t fathom thinking about you with someone else. He knew though, he knew you had met someone else, but didn’t know it was Fritz until about a month ago. The two of you waltzed into the Hard Deck, hand-in-hand, smiles on your face. Jake couldn’t stand the sight of it. It made him physically ill to stand there and keep a smile on his face. You had caught only a glimpse of him as he walked out the door. 

Jake pushed himself off of his spot and walked to his room. He pulled down the box that sat on the top shelf of his closet and opened the lid. Pictures, concert tickets, notes, mixed CDs, random t-shirts, and postcards were all packed away in the box. Jake dug to the bottom of the box and pulled out the tiny light blue ring box and opened it. The pear-shaped diamond ring glared up at him in mockery.

———————————————

“Have you ever thought about the future?” You asked him, as you were both relaxing in the bathtub. Jake had a stressful day at work and just wanted to relax. You had made him something to eat and draw a bath.

“Of course,” Jake said, kissing your bare shoulder, “I think about it a lot, what I’m doing next week, or next month, or even next year,”

“Do you ever think of our future?” You asked softly.

“I-I uh, yeah sometimes. But I like where we are,” Jake said and you frowned slightly. You had been with Jake since freshman year of high school, right by his side through it all. From giving up your dream of going to UT, and moving to Maryland while he went to the academy, to waiting with other partners and spouses for him to come off the carrier after a deployment.  You loved Jake, you really did, but you were hoping for more, you wanted more.

“I think about getting married,” You said and sighed into Jake, “Something small, probably in my parents’ backyard on a beautiful summer night. I want that perfect day, where you just wake up and say, ‘Let’s get married’, nothing too crazy. I told my mom I won’t just go to the courthouse.”

“Yeah,” was all Jake could say.

“What?” You asked, turning your head to look at him, “You don’t… you don’t see that?”

“It’s not that I don’t see it, it’s that I don’t want it.”

“Oh,” You nodded. There was a beat of silence, until you pushed yourself up from Jake’s embrace.

“Wait, Y/N,” Jake said reaching out to you as you grabbed your towel.

“The water is getting cold,” You said and dried yourself off, before heading into the bathroom.

Jake cursed himself and got out of the bathtub, grabbing his towel and following you. You sat on the bed and looked at Jake with tears in your eyes. You had this sinking feeling for a while. Like things were bound to break between you. You loved Jake, you really did, and every day it felt like you were falling more in love with him. He always did something new to make you fall in love. Whether it was surprising you with some new recipe, bringing you home your favorite flowers, to sending you postcards from where ever he was in the world. But lately, all that had seemed to stop. You had slowly wondered if maybe, just maybe, Jake wasn’t in love with you anymore.

“Y/N…” Jake said your name softly.

“When did you fall out of love?”

“What-“

“Jake, please,” You asked him, tears now running down your face.

“I love you, Y/N, I really do. But I- My career is just starting to take off. I. . .,” Jake sighed, “I- I don’t want to be holding you back from everything that you want.”

“You don’t want to hold me back, or you don’t want me holding YOU back?”

Jake sighed and looked down at his feet. Truth was, he didn’t want to hold you back. He could see the small changes in you. You had decided to change your major from education to business, something that you insisted was what you wanted. He noticed that your grades had slipped, your GPA the lowest it had ever been. You had spent more time at home, next to him, than hanging out with your friends. Jake didn’t want to hurt you, but he wanted you to follow your dreams, even if that meant having to break his and your heart. Jake took a deep breath and grabbed your hands.

“I’m breaking up with you,” He said and bit the bullet. You closed your eyes and Jake was fighting the urge to wipe the tears from your eyes. A sob left your pink lips and you pulled your hands from his, “I’m sorry-“

“Just shut up, Jake,” You said and pushed yourself up from the bed. You walked into the bathroom and slammed it shut, locking the door behind you. You gripped the sides of the sink and sobbed. Jake listened on the other side of the door as you threw everything off the counter, and could hear the breaking of the mirror as you threw a hairbrush at it. Jake changed into his pajamas and then set some out for you. He wrote a note that he was going to stay at Josh’s for the night.

The next morning you woke up to a cold bed and a pounding headache. You looked around the empty room and sighed. You began with the closet, dumping all your clothes into your suitcase, leaving behind the stuff that Jake had either bought you or gifted you. You packed away all your underwear, socks, and makeup. The apartment slowly became bare as you packed your little trinkets and decorations away. You had hoped to get most of it done before Jake came back, but you weren’t that lucky.

“Where are you going?” Jake asked, walking into the apartment and seeing your bags by the front door.

“My sister’s house,” You said and Jake looked at you confused. This was the first time you had mentioned a sister, and he had been dating you for over 5 years, “You don’t know her, she’s a half-sister,”

“Okay… this is really it?”

“Yeah,” You said softly as you looked down at the item in your hand, a picture from your first date, taken when you were both 13. Your parents wouldn’t let you go alone, so Jake’s older sister and her boyfriend at the time had to tag along. She took the picture and Jake gave it to you as a gift on your first anniversary, “Here,” You handed Jake the picture.

“No, no, keep it.”

“I can’t,” You said, your voice breaking. You placed your hand on Jake’s cheek, and kissed his lips softly, one last time, “Goodbye, Jake. Be good to yourself, okay?”

“I will, Y/N. I love you,”

You couldn’t bring yourself to say it back, as you grabbed your bags and walked out the front door. Jake bit his lip as he watched you walk out the door and out of his life.

———————————-

You looked half dead, as you sat in the makeup chair, bright and early on your wedding day. You had tried to go to sleep, but you tossed and turned the whole night. You had thought about running away, getting your car, and driving off to god knows where, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. Instead, you took some melatonin and slept for about 4 hours, until Natasha burst through your door with her unusually high amount of energy. You were just happy she brought you red bull and donuts.

“You look like shit?” Natasha said as she poured you a mimosa.

“I feel like it,” you reached your hand out for the glass.

“Oh my god,” She said and pulled the glass back, “Are you pregnant?!”

“No!” You yelled, “Give me the damn drink,”

“Fiesty,” She laughed and handed you the glass, “I steamed your dress, it’s hanging up in the bathroom,”

“Thank you,” You answered, “The boys?”

“I talked to Billy’s brother, Steven, he said they are up and moving. But, if you were wondering Rooster said that they are ALL on their way,”

“He’s coming?”

Natasha gave you a small smile and nodded, before going over to where the rest of your bridesmaids were. You looked up at your makeup artist and smiled as she placed false eyelashes on your eyes. You had tried to keep yourself from shaking with anxiety over seeing Jake, but you couldn’t help it. You had brushed it off as wedding day jitters. For the rest of the morning, you and your bridesmaids drank and ate a light breakfast that your parents had provided. You had a photographer taking pictures of you guys as you got ready. The bridesmaid dresses you had picked were emerald green, and you let them pick their own design. You sucked in a breath, as Natasha zipped the back of your dress. You stared at yourself in the mirror, and could hardly recognize the person in the mirror. The dress you and Billy had picked out was a classic style dress, with a deep v-cut, lace sleeves that went down to your wrists, and an open back. Billy said you looked like Princess Kate, but you felt more like Princess Di.

“Absolutely breathtaking,” Natasha said and You smiled, trying to make yourself feel better, “They want a first look. You okay with that?”

“I mean, Billy picked the dress out, so why not,”

Natasha smiled and walked out of the bedroom. You blinked and stared up at the ceiling, trying not to cry. You took a deep breath and then headed out of the bathroom. You looked up from your shoes to be shocked by the 3 men standing in front of you, one noticeably missing.

“Well god damn, Y/N, you can clean up nicely,” Javy said You laughed and walked over and hugged him.

“Like our very own princess,” Bob said.

“Thank you,” You said looking at all of them. You could feel a certain pair of blue eyes burning into you, “I can’t believe you guys actually came!”

“Well, my girlfriend is your maid of honor,” Javy said, putting his arm around Natasha’s waist.

“She’s the best maid of honor I could ask for,” You smiled at her.

“Speaking of which, we gotta get going. Can’t be late for your own wedding,” Natasha said and your face faltered.

“Yeah,” You said hoping none of them noticed the change in your demeanor, of course the oldest twin did.

“Alright, let’s get going okay,” Natasha said and the boys nodded, following her out of the room, all except Bob who hung back a second.

“You look amazing,” Bob said, “He would be here, but he just couldn’t see you quite yet.”

“Thank you, Bob,” You said honestly. He kissed your cheek and then left your room.

“You ready?” Natasha asked, coming back into the room. You nodded and grabbed the champagne bottle that was next to you. Natasha watched with wide eyes as you downed the rest of the bottle, “Liquid courage?”

“If I do something dumb, you promise to support me?”

Natasha squinted her eyes at you, “Depends on what dumb thing you’re thinking about doing.”

“We’ll have to see,”

The church was decorated beautifully, white roses and emerald green flowers were mixed in and decorated the altar. Javy sat on Jake’s right and Rooster on the left. Jake’s eyes were locked on his shoes as Billy and his parents made their way down the aisle. Rooster nudged him as your mom and brother made their way down the aisle. Your mom sent Jake a warm smile, making his heart beat faster in his chest. The look in her eyes was one that Jake had seen far too often. 

‘That should be you.’

“What if I stop the wedding?” Jake asked Javy.

“Don’t even think about it Jacob,” Javy whispered harshly.

“You saw how unhappy she is!” 

“She’s nervous, it’s her damn wedding day!” Javy snapped. 

“Stop, Natasha is walking down,” Bob said noticing his WSO walking down with your fiancé’s brother. Natasha winked at the boys, as she took her spot right next to wear you would stand at the alter. 

Jake’s heart fell to his ass as he heard that oh-so-familiar wedding march and everyone stood up, to look to the back of the church. The doors opened Jake’s breath caught in his throat. You were breathtaking, the dress hugging your body perfectly. Jake couldn’t help but wish that was for him. Your eyes were locked on Billy, as tears left his eyes. You had tried to dig deep in your heart and remember why you were going to marry him, but everything was drawing up a blank. The aisle felt like it was miles long, and you hated everyone’s eyes on you. When you got to the end of the aisle, Billy stepped down to take you from your father.

“Who gives this woman, to this man?” The priest asked.

“Her mother, and I,” Your dad said. He turned to you and hugged you, “Jake is here,” You went to move your head to look for him but your dad kept you from moving, “Make the right choice,” You nodded and kissed his cheek before pulling back and stepping up on the altar.

“Ladies and gentlemen, you maybe be seated,” The priest said and You handed Natasha your bouquet, your eyes searching the crowd of people, and finally landing on those familiar brown eyes, “Welcome, we are gathered here today to witness the symbolic ceremony of love between these two young people, Y/N M/N L/N and Billy Fritz Avalon. Is there anybody who believes that these two shouldn’t be married, speak now or forever hold your peace,”

Y/N closed her eyes and waited for someone to say something. Jake was about to stand before Javy grabbed his arm and held him down. He looked at his wingman with wide eyes, but the boy just shook his head and pointed toward you. Jake looked at you and locked eyes with him, as the priest was reading some passage about marriage and what it means in the Bible. Jake could read it in your eyes, you were really going through with this. Jake saw his window of opportunity finally close and the stages of grief started settling in his chest. He leaned back against the pew and tried to keep from crying.

“Billy, do you take Y/N, to have and to hold, to honor and treasure, to be at her side in sorrow and in joy, in the good times and bad, in sickness and health, for rich or for poor, to love and cherish her always until the moment of your last breath?”

“I do,” Billy said giving your hand a squeeze.

“Y/N,” The priest said, basically startling you, “Do you take Billy, to have and to hold, to honor and treasure, to be at his side in sorrow and in joy, in the good times and bad, in sickness and death, for rich or for poor, to love and cherish him always until the moment of your last breath?”

You looked at the priest and then at Billy, “I…,” You quickly glanced over to Jake, whose green eyes were locked on you. You swallowed and looked back at Billy, “I-” 

“No,” A voice from the crowd spoke. You snapped your head towards the audience, seeing Jake standing up and the look of shock on everyone’s face. 

“Hangman, what the,” Billy asked, dropping your hands and turning towards him.

“You never wanted to get married in a Church,” Jake said, pushing past Rooster and Bob, to stand in the middle of the aisle, “You said the church of Elvis was fine, but nothing like. . . this,” Jake gestured around, “You want the wedding where you wake up and say ‘let’s get married’. You want to eat hot dogs and mac’n’cheese in your parents’ backyard and light off fireworks.” 

Tears gathered in your eyes as Jake stepped closer to you, and you took a step down from the altar. 

“You want to jump off the dock at the lake house in your wedding dress because the lake has good luck in it and you believe in that stuff,” Jake licked his lips, “This isn’t you. . .” You nodded and Jake wiped away a stray tear with his thumb, “What do you say? Wanna get out of here?” 

“Yes please,” You said, as you grabbed Jake’s hand. The church erupted in chaos as the two of you ran towards the doors. 

“The hell did you say to her!?” Your mom asked your father, hitting him lightly on the chest.

“I just told her to make the right choice,” Your dad said smugly, “Never liked Buster anyway.”

“It’s Billy!”

You and Jake were bursting with laughter as you sprinted to his car. Jake had helped gather your dress in the car, before shutting the door carefully and jumping into the driver’s seat. Neither of you guys said anything as you drove away from the church. You weren’t sure where you were driving to, and it honestly didn’t matter. You looked over at Jake, who had a smile on his face as he grabbed your hand, and kissed your knuckles. 

But suddenly, the fate of the decision hit you like a ton of bricks. 

“Stop the car,” You said. 

Jake looked over at you, “What?” 

“Stop the damn car!” You yelled. Jake complied and pulled the car over, putting it in park. You got out instantly, running towards the woodline, the soft rain falling on you. Jake watched as you tried to catch your breath. He walked to the other side of his BMW, and leaned against the passenger door as you paced. 

“I ran away,” You said eyes wide. You turned to face him, “I just ran away from the altar!”

“Yes, you did,” Jake nodded. 

“A-and because of you!” You yelled.

“I’m sorry,” Jake said, honestly. Guilt was swimming in his green eyes as you looked at him. He looked as bad as you felt. His suit was wrinkled, his hair slightly a mess from running his hands through it, his five o’clock shadow settling on his face. 

“Why? Why did it take you so long?” You asked and Jake looked at you. 

“I was scared,” He admitted, “I was scared of coming back and ruining what you had built. You went back to education, got your degree, you’re living your dream, and I…. I didn’t want to get in the way again.” 

You shook your head and walked up to him. You grabbed his hand, “Dance with me,”

Jake nodded and turned up the car radio. The sweet sound of Aretha Franklin’s Natural Woman’ filled your eardrums. Jake grabbed you softly and pulled you into him as he swayed with you in the moonlight. You guys lost track of time, as one song faded into the other, and you were both soaked, your dress was ruined.

“Your dress,” Jake said, looking at the dirty train, “I’m sorry, I’ll pay,”

“No, don’t worry about it,” You said and placed your hands on Jake’s face.

Jake’s rough hands carefully gripped the side of your face and pulled his lips against yours. For the first time in nearly 2 years, you were feeling his lips on yours again. You pulled him against you, wanting him to never let you go. He pulled back and rested his forehead against yours. You two didn’t say anything, but you didn’t have to. It was clear, you had made the right choice.

“Marry me,” Jake said and you looked up at him. He reached into his wet suit jacket and pulled out the blue box, “I don’t know what the hell I was thinking, I had this stashed away for the perfect moment but I just got scared. I didn’t want you to put your dreams on the back burner for me, so I let you go.”

“Jake, you dumbass,” You said, “You are my dream.”

“You’re mine too, I can’t believe I almost lost you to-”

“Shh, you have me now.”

“Marry me, please?” Jake asked getting down on one knee. You smiled and tackled him to the ground. He landed with a thud and laughed as he kissed you passionately. You pulled back and slid the ring that was already on your finger, and replaced it with the one Jake had for you, “Looks better.”

“Much better.” You said kissing him again.

3 weeks later, you woke up one morning to a cold bed, but the covers messed up. You looked out the window, seeing the sun shining and making everything glow warmly. You stretched and headed down to your kitchen, where Jake was already making dinner. You greeted him with a kiss and sat down at the table to eat the vegan pancakes he had made.

“We should get married today,” Jake suggested, “Javy got ordained online a couple of months ago and has been itching to use it.”

“My dad’s got a new dinner recipe he wants to try.” You said sipping your orange juice.

“Then it’s settled,” Jake smiled, “Let’s get married today,”

And that’s exactly what you two did. You sent out a text message for everyone to be at your house by 6 for your wedding. Nobody questioned It, knowing this was exactly what you and Jake wanted. Everyone gathered in your backyard, dressed causally for a summer backyard wedding. Jake stood barefoot in the grass as he waited for you to walk out of the house, in a simple white maxi sun dress. Javy was living for this moment to be the official of a wedding, and what better than to be one at his best friend’s wedding?

“Now, we can actually do this right this time,” Javy said winking at you.

“Jake, do you take Y/N-“

“Yes,” Jake said interrupting his brother.

“I have to say the speech, Jacobl,” Javy scolded and everyone chuckled, “Y/N, do you take Jake-“

“I do!” You answered by doing the same.

“You guys are so impatient,” Javy smiled, “Well, by the power vested in me by some officiating website and the state of California, I now pronounce you husband and wife. Jake, you may now kiss your bride,”

“Don’t gotta tell me twice,”

You giggled as Jake smashed his lips against yours. Cheers were let out from your family as he dipped you and sealed the deal with a kiss. He set you back on your two feet and grabbed your hand, walking you down the makeshift aisle, finally as husband and wife.

taglist: @shanimallina87 @phoenix1388 @desert-fern @mygyn @cherrycola27 @yanna-banana @seitmai @topgun-imagines @bradleybeachbabe @na-ta-sh-aa @startrekfangirl2233 @xoxabs88xox @atarmychick007 @lunamoonbby @sophiaslastbraincell @bradswolfe @fandom-princess-forevermore @thedroneranger @angelbabyange @callsignharper @dempy @lovelywiseprincess @krismdavis @eternallyvenus @dakotakazansky @pono-pura-vida @callsignartemis @starberryhorse @daggersquadphantom @gspenc @toobouquet @dreamgirl3300 @avada-kedavra-bitch-187

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[hauntedhokage]

a welcome confession

Priest!Nanami Kento/Fem!Reader and some Yuuji Itadori/Fem!Reader (some Sukuna/Fem!Reader)

act i of a lamb's devotion | act ii not posted | act iii: salvation | ao3 series

summary: an introduction to the town’s new priest and an evening with your best friend bring about the most interesting confessional you think you will ever experience. 

word count: 4.3k

warnings: MDNI, alternate universe - no jujutsu, sex in an alleyway, use of “good girl”, “little one”, “little lamb”, unprotected sex, hair pulling, Sukuna talks a bit, priest kink, blasphemy up the ass, improper use of prayer and a confessional booth, description of sexual acts, male masturbation, mentions of a small age gap (around sevenish years, reader is in her early-mid 20’s and Nanami is in his early thirties), mentions of demons, reader has both parents, 

Nanami Masterlist | All Masterlists | Ko-fi |

A new face in town was a big deal. Your return to town was also a big deal, which made you grateful for the new priest who pulled the attention away from you and onto him. You felt for the guy, but you also couldn’t be bothered too much because your mother was very concerned with how you’d find a suitable partner now that you were back in the small town and your father wanted you to use your education to get a better job than just bar tending at the local dive.

The new priest gave them something else to talk about when you stopped by for breakfast, and that was just fine. 

“Oh, honey, you just have to come with us to Mass. Father Kento delivers a wonderful sermon.” Your mother had said, gently patting your hand in her own way of telling you that she missed you going to church with her. Your father had only looked at you before drinking more of his coffee, and you’d sighed before agreeing. But you knew that to take the sacrament you’d need to go to confession, and that has you going to the church on your way to the bar one evening. 

It looked the same as it did before you’d left, but you supposed churches never change. Maybe got fresh coats of paint, pews replaced as they reached their end of life, but never a true overhaul. Not the church. There was still the dent in the wall from where your middle school boyfriend had fallen headfirst while trying to act drunk off the communion wine. Some things don’t change - churches were one of those things.

“Good evening.” The greeting has you turning, adjusting the way the strap of your bag sits on your shoulder and you almost choke on air when you see the man who had to be Father Kento. Priests weren’t supposed to be handsome; how could they guide their congregation to resist temptation if they themselves were the temptation? Maybe this was a test? Did you already fail?

“Uh, h-hi- hello. You must be Father Kento?”

“I am,” he nods, resting a hand on his hip as you take a step closer. “And who might you be, little lamb?”

And you introduce yourself, taking the hand he extends in a firm handshake as you explain who your parents were to provide more recognition. It clicks, and there’s additional recognition in his face that tells you that he’d been given a heads up about you - or at least told that your mother would love to see you in the church again. She was very open about how she felt, never anything truly negative but she wanted the best for you and thought you’d find that in the light of the Lord.

“Is there something I can help you with?”

“I was wondering when you held confessionals, Father. Before they were on Saturdays in the early evening, has that changed?”

“No, I still hold confessionals at that time. I also try to hold confessionals before the youth group starts on Wednesdays, but you can always stop by whenever you’d like. God’s house is always open.”

“Yeah, I need to confess before Sunday. If I can’t take the sacrament the town will crucify me, so…” you trail off, knowing that what you said was likely the worst thing you could say to a priest besides confessing that you wanted to climb him like a tree. You needed to leave, plain and simple, before you ended up making a total ass of yourself in front of the hot priest. “But, uh, I’ve gotta run to work. Thank you for talking with me for a moment, and welcome to town, Father.”

“God be with you little one. I’ll see you soon.”

“Thank you, Father.”

The bar you spent your evenings at was small. You wouldn’t call it a dive, it was just the only real option that wasn’t the strip club on the other side of your small town or drinking at home. You were told that business picked up when word got around that you were working there, as your father’s friends and some others you’d grown up with were curious as to what the hell you were doing back here. If they asked, you were just feeling homesick and wanted to make sure your grandmother’s house didn’t go uninhabited (since you knew your mother wouldn’t sell it).

It was easy work, you liked it. 

“Hey, pretty lady.”

And then there was Yuuji. Your childhood best friend, the boy you’d on-off dated through high school, your adult best friend and the only person you know who fully understands how you feel about being back in town. He was your favorite person, always stopping into the bar to say hi and have a drink - always tipping nicely even though you put the cash back into his wallet after your shift. Right now there wasn’t anything serious between you, but the sex was incredible now that you’d separated for university and come back with other experiences. If you thought hard enough about it, you could probably see yourself falling into the small town curse and marrying him. That was just how things worked around here. 

“Hi, Yuuji. How was the shop today?”

“Busy,” he laughs, accepting the glass of water you hand him with a grateful smile. “But Mother’s Day is around the corner, y’know.”

“Yeah, which reminds me-”

“I saved an arrangement for you. I know you said you were working on your thesis all day.”

“Yeah,” you mumble with a sigh, leaning forward against the counter as he does. “You wanna come over tonight?”

“You know I do. But I wanna do something with you tonight.”

“Do what?” 

He leans in closer, gesturing for you to do the same. You comply, leaning forward so that you were basically laying on the bar so he could properly get close to your ear to whisper, “I wanna fuck you in the back alley.”

“Yuuji,” you whisper back, gently swatting his arm when he lets out a small laugh. “You’re so bad. What if someone sees?”

“Who’s gonna be snooping around by the dumpster at one in the morning? I’ve been thinking about you all day and I don’t wanna wait until we get to a house.”

And you don’t stop him after your shift, grateful for the way he catches on when you lock the front door of the bar first before going between the bar and the bank next door to get to the back door to lock it. The keys are still in your hand when he’s got you pressed against the cold brick wall, his kiss bordering on frantic as his hands travel your body to the button of your jeans. 

“Wanna fuck you from behind so I don’t have to take these off all the way, you gonna let me?”

Of course you would. There were logistical reasons why it’d be the best way, but you can’t think clearly enough to list them after he’s got you turned against the wall and your pants down around your thighs. When did Yuuji get so fast?

“You’re already soaked, girl,” he groans, teeth grazing against your jawline. “Don’t have time to finger you, just need to get inside you.”

And you don’t complain when you feel the blunt tip of his cock graze your clit before dragging back along your slit until he’s teasing your entrance. Only for a moment, then he’s pushing inside while his fingers dig into the soft flesh at your hips. His pace is bruising from the start, everything about the way his body touches yours rough and consuming.

“Don’t ruin that pretty face on the brick, I’d never forgive you.”

If that was a concern, he’d offer something to protect your skin since Yuuji was always so sweet - even when he was impatient. But you supposed that maybe the environment and potential for exposure had him on edge to the point where he wasn’t thinking clearly. Not that you had much time to think for yourself, as the immediate quick pace he set did well to clear any consideration for his behavior as his hips knocked into your ass with bruising force. You’re trying your best to keep quiet, but the few muffled moans that snuck out from behind your hand were enough to have one of those large hands grab the back of your neck much like a kitten would be grabbed for corrective actions.

“Keep quiet,” he hisses in your ear, his voice low and warning of impending danger. “Don’t want anyone finding us, do we?”

You can only shake your head, earning a “good girl” growled into your ear that has your knees weaker than they already were and him chuckling at the desperate whimper you let out when his hand moves from your hip to play with your clit. 

“Come for me like the little slut you are, and I’ll fill you like you want so badly.”

You don’t fully remember how you got home. You’d basically blacked out after the second round in the alley, returned to coherency as your back hit your mattress with Yuuji easily climbing onto you while removing the rest of his clothes. It was everything you wanted, what you were convinced you needed, so you’d never complain when he bit down hard enough to break skin or dug his fingernails in deep enough to draw blood - you’d never complain when Yuuji let himself go. It was nice that he trusted you enough to allow himself to relax with you. 

You didn’t really appreciate how mean he could get sometimes, but he was always so sweet to you outside of sex that you supposed it could be forgiven. People said things they didn’t totally mean when they got lost in the moment, perhaps it was just that? You wouldn’t want to make him feel bad, which you knew would happen should it get mentioned, so you were just going to leave it alone until he said something truly hurtful. No harm, no foul - right? 

“Hey, pretty girl.” Yuuji murmurs, voice still heavy with sleep and his hand carefully rubbing your side.

“Hi Yuuji,” you whisper, catching his hand to hold in your own and bringing it to rest against your chest. He was warmer than he had been the night before, more cuddly and like his normal self. What had happened last night? “Doin’ okay?”

“Yeah, I’m good. You okay?”

“Yeah. Little sore but that’s normal after a night with you.” 

“Want me to kiss it better?”

“No, you’re good, but can we lay here for a minute?�� You feel small asking him something like that despite him being in your bed in your house. Maybe it was how cold he seemed last night before getting you into bed for another round, or that dark glint in his eye that you know you saw when you looked back at him in the alley. But he tells you that he wants to be with you for as long as he can, adjusts how you laid in his arms and presses his forehead into your neck and you’re feeling that warmth again that makes you feel the opposite of small. “You sure you’re okay?”

“I just feel bad that you’re hurting because of me. I honestly feel like I blacked out during it,” he mumbles into your shoulder, gently peppering your skin with kisses. “Like I was there, but watching and not actually doing. It was good though?”

“It was great and you’ve got nothing to feel bad about, but let’s not make a habit out of fucking in alleyways.”

“But it was hot, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah,” you murmur into your pillow, truly content to simply lie there with his warmth at your back. Any uneasiness you’d had about his behavior from the night before has dissipated, the sweetness emanating from him doing a great job of eliminating any bad feelings about him. 

“It’s really nice having you back.” He comments after a moment of quiet, something that had you humming softly as you considered that. It was nice to see him, but you’d hoped for more for both of you. More than this small town and living in the houses your grandparents bought. Bartending while trying to find something better that actually used the degree you worked so hard for while he ran a flower shop - you always thought that the two of you would leave and never come back. Maybe find each other again, but not here. 

“Still not sure if I share that sentiment, Yuuji,” you whisper, giving his arm a gentle squeeze as you feel him kiss your neck. His lips linger, and you can feel his breath against your skin as he waits for you to continue your thought. “I feel so small here, y’know? Like, I felt small out there too but it wasn’t suffocating like it can be when you’re here.”

“No, I get it. Out there you can do anything, be anyone. Here you’re just the same kid you always were, and you don’t really get to grow up until the people who made you a child leave in some way or another.”

He absolutely understands, and it’s relieving to have somebody else who knew what you were feeling about being back in your hometown. Like you; Yuuji had also gotten out and explored, went to university and had a life that wasn’t this small town. 

And just like you, he’d been sucked back in. 

He never talked about the true reason, just said his grandpa needed him and then he stayed. Too much here that he’d inherited that needed to be managed, like the flower shop, and he couldn’t leave it all or else that would be disgracing his grandpa’s last wishes. That was how he always was, though. Self sacrificing until the end. 

You’d heard from some mutual friends who went to the same school as him that Yuuji had gotten really sick, knocked out of commission for at least a week and then he disappeared for a while. It was only when he’d posted on social media about his grandfather’s passing that anybody knew where he really was. But he wouldn’t talk about it, and any questioning of what happened just had him shrugging it off as being unimportant. He was fine now, that was what mattered.

But maybe he wasn’t fine? You can’t help but think back to the way his mood shifted so quickly last night; how the man who laid in your bed until he had to go open his shop was a completely different person than the man who fucked you in an alley. Something had clearly happened, and you’re afraid to ask him just what it was that he was trying to hide from you. 

The church is quiet when you enter. One of the older women your grandmother had been friends with was leaving as you were heading up the front steps, stopping to tell you how nice it was to see you back at the church and in town again, then leaving you with a kiss on your cheek and a promise to pray for you. Typical for that generation of women in town, and you dreaded the day your mother and her circle evolved into touchy old ladies who were very open about their opinions of the younger ones. 

You hoped you missed that part of becoming an old lady. 

Your grateful that the church is empty, glad that there is nobody around to witness you entering a confessional booth for the first time in years. Grateful that you would only have an audience of one (spiritually two?) on this afternoon. 

Two knocks are placed against the wood surface of the door, the wood a new, darker version of what once had stood there and missing the various dents and scratch marks from decades of use. Even the seat in the booth had been replaced, the aging cracked bench replaced with a cushion should you want to sit rather than kneel. 

You choose to kneel, performing the sign of the cross as you take a deep breath to settle your nerves. 

“Bless me father, for I have sinned. It has been…” fuck, how long had it been since you last confessed? Your freshman year of college and maybe just a month or so in? “A few years, I guess, since my last confession.”

“May I ask why?”

“I confessed once in college, tried to involve myself with the church groups on campus but they were rather radical. Their beliefs didn’t align with what I had been taught, and the priest at the chapel by the school did not feel welcoming to me.”

He hums, and you think you see him nod through the divider in the window that separated your side of the confessional from his. 

“Anyway, I’d like to confess that I have not been actively attending church over the past few years, and have been committing many sinful acts.”

And you tell him everything you could recall, every detail that weighed heavy on your shoulders since returning back to this small town. How you spent more time with a bottle in your hand than a bible, how you let yourself fall victim to many temptations - the biggest ones being lust, gluttony, and sloth. How you partied heavily, often found yourself waking up next to strangers and knew you’d had sex with them. How you didn’t care, and wanted to continue having premarital sex because you enjoyed it. 

You even tell him about Yuuji. You weren’t planning on it, but the words tumble out of your mouth without any true restraint. 

“You’re close with your friend?”

“He’s the only person who gets me,” you reply, looking up from your hands with hope that you’d get to see Father Kento’s face as he listened to you. “I don’t think I’d ever be able to resist temptation when it’s related to him. Even last night, he wanted to do something different and as risky as it was I went with it. Because it was him, y’know?”

“Tell me about it, please.” That…he wasn’t asking for details of your sex life with Yuuji. There was no was a priest would desire details like that. It’s an absurd request. “The only way I can truly absolve you is to know what the true temptation is. Please, let me help you.”

He must have noticed the way you paused. You should have left, you know that you should leave and tell your parents that this new priest was weird and they should stop going to this church. A ton of churches streamed their sermons online, they could do that instead. You could avoid confessionals all together, and get away from this man. 

Those are all things you should have done. 

Instead you confess your latest sin: having sex in an alleyway with Yuuji. And Father Kento wanted details, so you spare none; telling him everything about the event that you could recall while trying to ignore the sound of his increasingly labored breaths that followed the rustling of some of his clothes on the other side of the divider. 

You tell him about how rough Yuuji had been, how much you enjoyed it despite it being a little scary. How he carried you home after giving you a couple of the most mind blowing orgasms and filling you with his cum, only to peel your clothes off in your bedroom for a softer yet still cold second round. 

But you can’t ignore your suspicions about what is happening on the other side of the confessional booth. 

“…Father?”

“Yes?”

“What are you doing?”

“Preparing to give you absolution, little lamb.” Absolution didn’t come with a belt buckle being undone, last you checked. “Do you have any more sins to confess?”

“No, but I fear for sins I may commit later.”

“I’ll protect you from them.” He sounds so certain despite the strain in his voice. Your eyes strain to get a better view of how he was preparing your absolution, but you know penance must come first. “God has spoken to me. He has shown me just how important you are, entrusted me with your road to the heavens.”

You’re not sure how much of this you can believe, but you’re too enamored by the thought of performing such a less act with a priest in the confessional booth to care. This was more than just a scandal, this was excommunication in progress should you be caught in the act. More than that, you’d both likely be banished from the town for this.

But worst of all - you were so turned on it was almost painful to be robbed of the sight of the attractive priest.

Was he big? He had to be, considering the size of the man himself. But was he bigger than Yuuji? Thicker? Was it possible he had any experience despite the vow of celibacy you knew priests had to take? There were so many questions bouncing around in your head that you couldn’t focus on just one, but you’re relieved that you don’t have to when he starts talking again. 

“Your penance, little lamb, is to abstain from those sins. Abstain and pray to our Father God that he may see your willingness to walk the path of his light.”

“Thank you, Father,” you whisper, watching as the light is blocked out by his imposing frame as he stands. His hand is moving at a quick pace, and you can see much better when he moves the wooden screen that was providing minimal anonymity for your confessional. 

“Pray the Act of Contrition for me, and I will give you your absolution.”

You’re practically leaning through the window, wanting to be closer to him and his already weeping cock as you whisper, “Oh, my God.”

How were you supposed to pray a promise to abstain from sinful acts when you got to see a cock like that? Even in the dim lighting you could see it perfectly, looking proud as his hand glided along it to further simulate. Just a taste of that red flushed head would likely have you reeling with all efforts towards this confession wasted. Did you need God’s plan when Father Kento’s cock was practically in your face?

“Continue your prayer.” 

“I am heartily sorry for having offended thee, and I detest all of my sins because of thy punishments,” you continue, but your heart is not in the prayer because now the priest is fucking into his fist and you can’t help but wish it was your mouth he was fucking into. You’d pray your heart out if it meant that you’d be rewarded with a taste of him. “But most of all, because they offend their, my god, who are deserving of all my love. I firmly resolve with the help of thy grace to sin no more and to avoid the near occasion of sin. Amen.”

“Amen,” he echoes, and your mouth falls open when the most sultry of groans leaves him. He had to be beautiful when he was about to cum, you’re sure his cheeks flushed and his lips parted so he could breathe properly. “Are you ready to be cleansed of your sins that you came to confess today?”

“Yes, Father, as long as you deem me worthy.” You aren’t expecting him to lower himself to your level, but you’re pleased to see his face in front of yours. He truly was very handsome, and you smile when he leans in to place a gentle kiss to your forehead. To feel such intimacy with a supposed holy man who you’d only spoken to once before your confession felt absurd, but there was something very different about Father Kento. It was like he saw right through you, you were sure he did, and you weren’t complaining about it. 

“God will always find you worthy,” he breathes, using his thumb to gently coax your mouth open. His thumb presses against your tongue, and you feel only slightly self conscious when you feel like he’s scrutinizing something before he requests that you leave your mouth open before he stands again and leaves you to watch with an open mouth as he pumps his cock to completion and allow the ropes of warm cum to hit your face and tongue. 

You’re swallowing what had come into your mouth when he kneels before you again, this time his hand coming to rest atop your head as he cracks the faintest of smiles at you. 

“When you feel temptation, little one, you come to me. My job is to help you fight the temptation and resist evil.”

“But don’t you have to maintain celibacy?” You supposed that was probably a stupid question, considering what had just happened and the evidence of the event that was still splattered across your face. But it was still a valid question, considering he was a priest and everything you knew about the priesthood went against the last twenty minutes you’d shared with him in this confessional booth. 

“Sweet lamb, this is not an act of pleasure. It is an act of God.” 

“Of course,” you murmur, closing your eyes as he brings the handkerchief he’d pulled from his pocket to carefully wipe his cum from your face. “He’s entrusted you with his plan.”

“He has, and I intend to ensure that you’re protected as he’s requested of me.” He was an interesting priest, that was for sure, but his brand of protection was something you’d happily indulge in. He would allow himself to become your temptation, which might have defeated the purpose, but maybe the intimacy of a holy man was different than anybody else? You’re not sure, and you don’t think to ask the question aloud out of fear that he’d think it was a stupid question - you’d asked enough of those today.

“May I ask you something, lamb?”

“Anything, Father.”

“Do you know anything about something called Sukuna?” 

[bonny-kookoo]

Yoonkook

𝓓𝓸 𝓡𝓮 𝓜𝓲 [Part 1]

There's something happening.

Tags/Warnings: Vampire!Yoongi, Vampire!Jungkook, Human!Reader, Angst, poly AU, emotional confusion, blood (duh), fluff, romance

Length: uh 2k I think

There is no taglist for this fic.

-> Masterlist

🩸.━━━━━━━━━━.❤️.━━━━━━━━━━━.🩸

True to what you've told him in the car, you didn't really reply to any of Jungkook's messages for the rest of the day of the donation.

And while the vampire had been a little worried, Yoongi had reassured him that you seemed competent enough to seek out help if you need it, and that he shouldn't feel bad for taking the chance of your donation. You'd done what you did because you clearly wanted it- not because you felt obligated to do so.

And today, you've begun to be texting a lot more.

Jungkook is glued to his phone the entire day it seems like, and Yoongi can't say it upsets him too much. Jungkook craves friendships and social contact sometimes- something that doesn't come too easy when in a situation similar to his. People infected with vampirism tend to be avoided, no matter the circumstances of their initial infection.

It's like people stop listening after hearing that yes, it can be infectious- healthy people without the infection simply take that fact without looking into it, and run with it.

It's how the stigma had evolved in the first place- parents telling their children not to believe anything they teach about vampirism in schools, churches call infected people demons, and the elderly refuse to be taken care of by vampire staff at care homes or hospitals. Most companies won't even hire people with the infection, and they don't have to- there's no law protecting vampires, after all.

So, Jungkook has been rather lonely.

Apart from Yoongi and Seokjin, he doesn't really have any friends, and his parents had cut contact the moment he was diagnosed. So Yoongi can understand how excited he must feel at the prospect of making a new friend. And he also can't deny that he himself isn't at least slightly interested in you as well.

"How is she doing?" Yoongi asks as soon as he notices Jungkook's facial expression darken a little. The young vampire scratches the edge of his chin for a second, before he answers.

"I mean, she said 'good', but I don't know." He hums to himself. "I feel like I should like, maybe check? Ah, I don't know, this is so weird.." He mumbles more or less to himself, and Yoongi becomes interested.

It couldn't be that Jungkook and you.. no, could it?

"If you're really that worried, ask her if you can visit." Yoongi shrugs, well aware his partner won't really be able to rest easy unless he's got proof of your wellbeing. He's just compassionate like that- he's awfully empathetic towards everyone around him he cares about. It's something that's used for personal gain left and right- and Yoongi hates it.

Though he hopes you're not one to use him.

"Or.. what if we invite her over so she can eat with us?" Jungkook asks. "I don't want you to be alone." He complains, while Yoongi sighs.

"You know I don't mind being my myself, Jungkook." He reassures the younger vampire. "Go and visit her, it's not that big of a deal.." He mumbles to himself as he puts the last dishes on the side to let them dry.

"I mean, I know you don't mind it." Jungkook offers, hugging his partner from behind. "But that doesn't mean you should be so okay with it. You deserve to have friends too."

Yoongi is quiet for a moment, simply enjoys the close proximity, before he sighs. "Alright. Ask her what she likes to eat, we can order something in." He caves in, making Jungkook smile and eagerly run to grab his phone again so he can text you the new idea for the night. "Ah, and if she wants to drink something she can sleep over on the couch!" He calls to Jungkook, who gives an agreeing reply back as he texts you in the living room, sat on the couch.

Only a few hours later, you're calling Jungkook, who suddenly gets up to look out the window of the apartment the two vampires live in where he can see the bus stop. "Are you wearing the pink coat?" Jungkook asks into his phone, earning Yoongi's attention, as the younger vampire sighs. "You were supposed to tell me when we should pick you up! It's raining so much!" He whines in complaint, rushing to grab his own jacket and an umbrella, before slipping into his shoes to walk out the door, leaving Yoongi to search for the mentioned pink coat- and he finds it, standing beneath the somewhat shielded bus stop. You're stubborn, that's clear- he'd told Jungkook to not give away any hint at their address to you, because you'd surely go out to get here yourself instead of asking for someone to pick you up instead. And it turns out he was right.

Yoongi helps you take off your coat as you step inside, thanking him for the kind gesture before you slip out of your shoes. "Sorry-" you start, somewhat fixing your hair a bit. "-I just didn't want either of you guys to drive in that weather." You laugh, making Yoongi shake his head.

"No worries." He brushes it off, before he leads you into the living room. As you sit on the couch, you look around- noticing how long they both must be living together already for the entire apartment to look this.. alive.

"You have a lot of workout equipment." You notice as the oldest vampire sets a glass of water in front of you before Jungkook enters the room as well, jumping over the back of the couch to sit on it next to you.

"Yeah, that's mine, but Yoongi uses it too sometimes." He shrugs. "Mostly me though. It's like a hobby."

"Oh, that sounds nice." You agree. "You're very conscious about your body?" You wonder, and Yoongi chimes in from the side as he sits down as well, though a bit further away from you.

"He has to be, as a vampire." He says.

It's quiet for a moment, since you don't know what to say to that, really. You've noticed while Yoongi doesn't wear any identification at all, Jungkook still has his ID tag on his wrist, meaning that he's not been infected for long enough, or hasn't been evaluated either. "Oh, don't worry about that." Jungkook suddenly says a bit bashful, having noticed your eyes on the silver bracelet around his wrist. "I'm totally fine to be around. I just.. haven't gotten around to get tested yet." He tries to justify.

"Oh no, don't worry, I didn't mean to stare!" You wave him off. "I was just in thoughts." You laugh.

"Then think about what you want to eat first." Yoongi tells you a bit roughly, making Jungkook sigh as he leads you to sit on the couch together with him to look through the takeout menu on the little tablet he picks up from the coffee table.

"Yoongi just sounds a bit mean." He reassures you. "I promise he's actually a really nice guy."

"Have you been together long?" You wonder, tapping on the items you'd want to eat.

"Uh.. kind of? It's hard to explain, really." Jungkook chuckles. We're.. we have like a platonic, but also romantic kind of relationship. I know it sounds kind of weird." He sighs a bit uneasy, but you shake your head.

"Not at all, don't worry." You shrug him off. "I mean, if some people can have sex but not a relationship, why can't others have it the other way around?" You just say, making Jungkook look at you almost in wonder, before he snaps his attention back to the tablet when Yoongi reaches over his boyfriend's shoulder to tap some items into the order himself, resting his chin on Jungkook's shoulder for a moment.

"Oh, let me get my wallet real quick-" You move to get up to fetch your bag- but a hand grabs at your sweater easily, keeping you on the couch. You look back to spot Yoongis eyes on you, chin still on Jungkook's shoulder, before he shakes his head and stands up properly again, letting go of both of you.

"Don't bother. It's fine." He reassures you, leaving to do something in the kitchen you can't see.

"Alright, next time you come over to my place then, and I'll cook." You tell Jungkook. "Please- or I'll feel bad eternally, and you'll never hear the end of it! I'll haunt you to pay back the food, I swear!" You threaten the vampire, who can't help but laugh at the finger pointing at his chest.

"You're cute." He comments, causing you to laugh as well.

Later on, you're all a little tipsy from the beer, and sluggish from all the food you've eaten. You're nodding off against Jungkook's shoulder as the movie slowly comes to an end, your eyes closed as unbeknownst to you, Yoongi adjusts the blanket over your shoulders to make sure you stay comfortable.

You're very easy to be around, even for him- and he's actually not that social, usually hates anybody visiting at all. But he'd invited you simply to kind of pay you back- but now that you're here, he doesn't actually mind you all that much, if at all.

Jungkook seems very comfortable with you as well- the younger vampire having easily fallen into conversation with you as you two drank and laughed over jokes only you two seemed to understand. But even then, you always remembered and attempted to make Yoongi feel included.

And maybe that's the most unique thing.

It's only one single day, a little more than five hours, and he already has an odd feeling about you. And the weirdest thing about it, is that he feels so good around you it's intimidating to him. He never really felt so drawn to a person before than he does to you- he wants to hear you talk even if it's about nonsense, he wants to know how you feel, what you like, what you hate, what annoys you, and what makes you happy.

For a second, truly so, he thought it was just some.. dumb sexual need. A fantasy almost that his mind, or rather dick, came up with- because you are, absolutely, pretty. He'd never be able to deny that.

But he doesn't actually really think about that- not entirely at least. You get along so well with Jungkook and himself, as if there's nothing different about them compared to you at all. And maybe, just maybe, there's a chance at this already odd relationship he has with Jungkook could become just a bit weirder, because in a way, Yoongi can't help but feel like nothing is impossible when it comes to you.

Though, that creates a new predicament.

How does he propose this idea, without potentially scaring both of you off?

[tunastime]

Restful Dreaming, Mr. Freelancer

hi everyone :3 so um. I may have gotten very much into rvb smiles. and you know what happens when I really love something! and when I really love some guys from a something! yeap. here we go again. I just think caboose could be friends with everyone. I'm a caboose enjoyer what can I say. I love him.

Washington follows the Blue Team back to Valhalla, where he tries to get some much needed rest. Emphasis on tries. (3828 words)

When Tucker and Caboose find the unused, fourth room in the base, it’s Tucker that sweeps his arm out and gestures grandly to the room around them. It’s not very large—bed, closet, table, desk, bathroom. Enough space to walk around in—enough blue-white light to make sure nobody goes insane in somewhere so dark. Caboose goes on about how they’re almost neighbors, listing off what they could do being so close, gossip and sleepovers and the like, and Tucker goes on about how that’s nice, Caboose, and sure thing, buddy, and both speak to a Wash that’s not listening. He’s looking over the room, filtering in through a fine layer of yellow, just enough to change the hue from cool to warm, and something settles in the slope of his shoulders. He turns after a beat, folding his arms.

“You’re certain I can stay here?” he asks. Tucker shrugs.

“Yeah, I mean…” he starts, in the way that Tucker always seemed to do when he was on the edge of a decision that ultimately made him uncomfortable. “Just repaying the favor. Plus you’re the only one who really knows how to get Church outta that thing.”

“Epsilon,” Wash corrects. “And it’s a memory unit, not a thing.”

“Sure,” Tucker shrugs. “Whatever.”

“We still don’t know where that thing is,” Wash says, but it’s without any of the usual bored sting he might’ve normally laid on. He can feel the worry in the room like water around the ankles, like it invaded his boots. He steps side to side for a moment, trying to shake the feeling.

“We’ll find it!” Caboose pipes up, nodding several times. “We’ll find Church. I know we will.”

Wash sighs. 

“Yeah,” he says. “I hope so.”

There’s a beat of silence. Wash feels his lungs work against the tight feeling in his shoulders all the way up until the point where Caboose breaks the silence.

“I’m going to go make lunch,” he says. “I’m starving.”

“Good point, Caboose,” Tucker agrees. He turns to Wash as he adds: “You, uh, let us know if you need anything. You’ve got the tour, now, so…”

Wash nods.

“Right,” he manages. “Thanks.”

“Sure thing.”

The silence leftover is mostly full of the sound of air circulating through the room and pulling into his helmet. Washington stands in the room in that long moment, finding his head spinning just enough to rock his balance. He’s not so sure he should even be standing, but Tucker had handed him enough med-kits to keep him running, and his bones felt mostly in place, despite some nasty bruising up his shoulder and back, all the way down his right hip and thigh and knee. He pulls himself from his stuck spot, finally gathering the strength to unlatch his helmet. Both thumbs hook under his chin until it clicks, and he sets it in the armor stand. 

The thing about the armor is that they’re not necessarily supposed to take it off. It does come off, huge chunks of titanium alloy perfectly compressed to fit each wearer, to sit comfortably against layers of computer arrays and magnetic fasteners, bolts and straps and sealers. As soon as he starts pulling, chest pieces and arm braces come loose, and he sheds the exosuit slowly. Underneath is the cool-black bodysuit. That’s the part that really shouldn’t come off. It did, every once in a while, when there was enough time to spend recalibrating, readjusting, resyncing. The suit and all its layers, down to the skin, down to the channel of his spine, from tailbone to nape of neck, aligned with sensors and biocomponents along a fine, white scar to a thick, but equally healed one at the base of his skull, took time to adjust to. That time was precious.

But it didn’t matter with this suit. There was no connection. The suit would simply communicate without having to know, would respond to forces it knew best, and rely on what he had without a physical, grounding connection. He was free of it. The scar and its components would fade from his body. They’d be nothing but a memory.

Carefully, Wash dissects the titanium bodysuit—kevlar—coming apart at the seam, carefully fastened, skin-tight. It’s uncomfortable at first, adjusting to the air of the base, without the suit’s micro-adjustments for temperature and humidity, but he eventually shirks free and places everything in the armor compartment. 

He feels light. He also feels exposed and a little small. He searches for any sort of replacement, sleeping clothes, uniforms, anything plastered with UNSC across the arm or chest or back. When he does find it, he’s quick to pull it on and over his head. The shirt falls crooked across him, pants similarly too large, and he has to wonder what sort of Spartan these were made for, knowing how he certainly wasn’t the smallest soldier he’d met. It’s something, though, and he doubts he’ll be wearing it for very long. In fact, he finds himself tugging it off as soon as he figures out the shower, and douses himself in hot water long enough to get the plastic smell off his skin. 

Without the shadow of the day, his reflection in the mirror takes on a sunken quality. His eyes are dark and tired, lines stretching out underneath them, and the already-pale, now-bony quality of his face does little to hide it. He’s turned all sharp angles all too quickly. But if he’s got anyone to bitch to it would be himself. Well, maybe Caboose and Tucker would listen. But they probably wouldn’t understand. Epsilon might’ve ratted out his bad sleeping habits to Caboose, were he still around to actually see them. But he very well was half the reason they existed, so, touche. 

Besides, now Wash was looking out on a bed that was impossibly too big for him. He pulls back far too many layers of blankets and pushes aside pillows and makes himself a space between it all.

The lights are dim, casting long, fine shadows in the cool light. They dim further to a blackness as he settles, lying back in the few pillows and pulling still-starchy sheets around him. His tired body all but sinks into the mattress, body aching at every joint from overuse, begging to stay and to be comforted. It's there he lies for a moment, adjusting to weight and pressure, air and texture around him. He sighs. It’s the longest exhale in what feels like a very long time. The back of his throat, up through his nose, starts to burn. 

He squeezes his eyes shut. He takes a sharp breath in.

Washington’s hands come up on instinct, pressing the heels of his hands to his eyes as he fights back a sound from deep in his chest. It’s hard—it feels so stupid to call this hard, because he could just crack, just for a second. Just for a moment of relief, and—he does, shutting his eyes tight still and willing in a breath through his nose as he turns his face into pillows that he hopes were nobody else's and probably never were and never would be again. Nobody knows he’s alive. Not Command, not Project Freelancer, not the Meta—Maine. Not even Epsilon. For now. The weight off his shoulders was so instant it nearly winded him, on a bed seemingly too large. It was simply him, unshackled, and the blue-white armor in its case, and Caboose, and Tucker. And the base around him was quiet. 

Washington lets his body relax. Sleep comes like a heavy blanket.

His second week’s worth of sleep doesn’t go as well. Tonight, Wash is still awake. It’s not of his own choice—if it were he’d already be asleep, curled into the plush pillows and firm mattress. He stares up at the ceiling. His eyes are dry, and it’s not all that comfortable to blink, actually. He’d prefer to focus on sinking into this nice bed, but he’s having a bit of a hard time. What he means by nice bed is that he’s gotten so used to sleeping on the ground or in the back seat of a moving Warthog or the jet or his cot so folded and unfolded that it stopped being comfortable, or the bunk that was just the right size but not nearly deep enough to fit him without moving, that having actual room to move around is really good. It’s really good, actually, and he’s not sure when the last time he had such a nice sleep was. 

He’s not even sure when he woke up that first day, aside from the fact that it was Caboose waking him up and it was still dark out—or had just gotten that way. Maybe he’d slept that whole day. But he wandered around the Valhalla base instead, swallowing down the ache low in his spine. He mapped the rooms in his head, twisting around the circular hallways. Kitchen, armory, five rooms, garage, a small central living quarters that remained barren and empty, aside from bits of broken computers, radios, and robot parts. The floor still smelled like cleaner, remnant from the UNSC’s thorough cleaning.

Anyway—he’s still awake in his own room. His eyes hurt. He’s looking into the dark grey ceiling and wondering if sleep might crawl its way back to him when there’s a knock on the door. There’s a brief pause before it happens again. He frowns, scrubbing at his eyes as his brain fights the fog settling over it.

“Agent Washington,” a voice says, feigning a whisper through the sliding door. 

“Caboose?” he whispers back, furrowing his eyebrows. Isn’t it late? He looks over to the bedside table, reading the dull red numbers on the clock—yeah. Late. “What are you still doing up?”

He hears Caboose sigh. If he thinks hard enough he can imagine him leaning against the metal frame, cheek pressed against the door, looking about as pathetic as he sounds.

“I can’t sleep,” he says, part tired and almost part sad. 

“Why’s that?”

“I—” Caboose lowers his voice even further. “I had a nightmare.”

Wash blinks slowly, sitting up, eyebrows still furrowed as he frowns. He counts himself lucky that his head isn’t spinning from lying down too much. Sighing, he presses his fingers to his eyes, rubbing the sleep from them, trying to make the blurry room come back into focus.

“You—” he tsks as he words jumble in his brain, hazy with sleep. “Why did you come here?”

“Can I come sleep with you?” Caboose asks, completely ignoring the previous question. Heels of the hands to his eye sockets. Alright. Fine. He waves uselessly at the door, knowing full well Caboose can’t see him. Then it clicks in his brain: response. Right.

When Wash goes to give him an answer, it’s replaced by the sound of his bedroom door sliding open and shut and Caboose wandering in. The muddled dark obscures his silhouette more than usual and the normally wide slope of his shoulders was much more drawn in than Wash was expecting. He’s partially shrouded by his own blanket, wrapped around him as he steps in. 

Wash feels something rolling around in his chest as he watches Caboose shuffle over, like his brain isn’t absorbing the situation properly. He mostly just feels lost. He’s still sitting up, slouched forward, mouth a fine line. His arms pool in his lap, head tilted just so as he observes Caboose in front of him. This is weird, right? Not in a bad way. It’s just weird. 

Caboose stands there, frowning just a little bit, enough to almost be a pout, mostly looking at the bedside and not at Washington.

“I—” Wash starts, trying to protest. Caboose looks up at him for a moment with wide, brown eyes, and Wash feels his chest tighten. He shuts his eyes, sighing out of his nose. Then he pulls the covers back, gesturing vaguely to the space next to him as he lies back down. If there was one thing he’d learned from Caboose, it was that there was no arguing a point once he’d made his mind up. He was as stubborn as he was strong, and the man wasn’t slight. 

There’s a beat of silence as Washington gets comfortable again against the mattress again, feeling Caboose move to his left. He worms around a bit, knee bumping the outside of Wash’s leg, elbows knocking together as Caboose makes more of Wash’s bed his own space. With Caboose’s arm now pinning his own, he clears his throat.

“Caboose,” he says firmly.

“Washington,” Caboose says, like his name holds the same weight as it did so long ago. At least someone’s impressed.

He sighs. Caboose is a heavy, warm weight against his side, and although he clings to his left arm like his life might depend on it, Washington couldn’t necessarily call it bad. 

“You can either get comfortable,” he says slowly. “Or I’m going to ask you to leave.”

“Okay,” Caboose says quickly, wriggling further over. As his head lolls, it falls against the bone of the high of Wash’s shoulder. He ends up curled up in the space Wash’s side leaves open, head on his shoulder and arm over his ribcage. He’s heavy, holding himself and Wash to the mattress as he relaxes. Wash’s arm ends up pinned under him, bendable at the elbow, enough to shift around and find a comfortable spot to rest it. Caboose manages to pull the blankets over them both haphazardly, lying part on him and part over Washington’s torso. He squeezes his eyes shut. Caboose cannot be serious. This can’t be his solution, right? He takes a long breath in. Caboose finally says:

“Thank you, Washington,” in a soft and sleepy voice mostly muffled by his shoulder.

Washington sighs.

“Sure, Caboose,” he says, resigned. “Glad I could help.”

Caboose hums, sounding comfortable. In the time it takes for Caboose to finally knock out, how short of a time that was, Wash finally relaxes. He lets the weight around him settle him on the mattress, tired and heavy, and lets his eyes close. He can’t catch the edge of sleep just yet, but he can lay here, quiet and still, so that Caboose can sleep. He matches the slow rise and fall of Caboose’s shoulders, feeling his muscles slacken as he drifts off. Maybe it’s nice, actually. The weight against his side, pressure to the muscles that ache, warmth and heavy comfort. He can’t remember the last time someone shared the same bed space as him—those bunks were too small to really fall asleep next to somebody in, and sleeping in shifts wasn’t the same as someone sleeping against you. 

He can faintly feel where Caboose’s cheek is crushed against his shoulder, where his arm rests over his chest, hand tucked against his other side. When he looks over, Caboose’s eyes have shut, face relaxed in sleep. There, he leans, pressing his cheek to the top of Caboose’s head, squeezing his eyes shut. Maybe it is nice. Maybe being needed for something so innocent as comfort could be nice. His chest twists, something as painful as it is warm weaseling up next to his lungs. 

It reminds him of Invention. Nobody really wanted to leave York alone after the accident on the training room floor. He could fall or trip, he could miscalculate and hit into something harder than expected. They spent time crammed into the bunk spaces, shoulders to shoulders, to hips, to legs over knees, trying to catch sleep in between missions, how little time that was. Washington found himself in these moments more often than not, and now more than ever it seemed that touch was a thing not often disseminated. But he had it now, and he let himself have it. He let Caboose snore into the hollow of his shoulder and tuned it out as he tried to rest.

In the morning he’ll ask him what bothered him so much that he couldn’t sleep, or why he thought Wash could help. It wasn’t important now. 

For now, he just tries to sleep.

Wash feels heavy. 

He blinks his eyes open, the world coming to in barely-there light and soft blankets. There’s a weight over him, warm and solid. Caboose still sleeps soundly even as Wash shifts to stretch pins and needles from his left arm. The world stays still, held in a quiet balance. In it, Caboose breathes slowly and evenly against his shoulder, torso still haphazardly thrown across Wash’s chest. He’s curled his hand in a loose fist, snagging part of Wash’s shirt. 

Washington sighs. There lingers a heavy, groggy feeling over his mind that he thinks he’ll have a hard time shaking, remnants of running too hard, too fast without stopping. He fought so hard only to again come up empty handed, aside from the now-bitter taste of his freedom. But for now he focuses on this moment. He rests his cheek against the top of Caboose’s head. 

As he does, Caboose hums, waking enough to tense and relax again.

“Good morning, Caboose,” Wash manages tiredly, lying still. Caboose doesn’t move either, except to shift his cheek to a more comfortable position.

“Hello, Washington,” Caboose says, slow and sleep-thick but cheery. “You let me stay!”

Wash huffs out something, maybe a laugh and maybe a sigh.

“You’re surprised?” Wash asks, staring at the ceiling. It takes a minute for Caboose to answer, and in that time, Wash’s eyes shut, too heavy to hold open. Caboose draws his arm back from his chest.

“Tucker’s not very cuddly,” he says, only partially answering the question. “I can’t really judge if people will like it.”

“I take it not many do?” He asks. Caboose shrugs, somewhat stilted, speaking in that long, sighing way that he does.

“It varies.”

Wash hums.

“Right.”

In a beat of silence, Caboose unravels himself. He sits up, swaying a bit, shuffling around. It leaves a cold hollow where he used to lie, and Wash pulls his arm back from where it used to curl around him. He folds his hands over his sternum as Caboose sits up and shifts back.

“How did you sleep!” He asks, leaning forward, arms resting on his knees. Wash nods, finally blinking his eyes open.

“It was fine,” he says slowly. “How did you sleep?”

Caboose shrugs again.

“I slept okay—” he says. “You scared off all my bad dreams I think.”

Wash snorts, furrowing his eyebrows. Caboose blinks down at him with wide eyes. It’s almost catlike, the way he watches over him, like he’s waiting for Wash to reach out and force him to move out of his space. He’s still slightly blurry, courtesy of the sleep in Wash’s eyes.

“I did?” Wash asks. Caboose nods, looking sincere

“Yep.”

Wash looks away, huffing out. Something turns in his chest, warmly at that.

“Well that’s good,” he says. Caboose nods again. He’s just far enough away that in the dim lighting Washington can’t really read his face, but it seems soft and comfortable and Wash tries to remember if that’s a good thing. There’s only so many times you see someone’s face while being out in the field that you sort of just learn reactions based on tone and less on body language. After a beat, Wash says, haltingly, brain trying to find the words:

“Caboose, what… what is it that you had a nightmare about? What—why did you come to me?”

Caboose shrugs, waving his hands back and forth. He’s not looking at him.

“Oh, you know, just about Church and Epsilon, and Tex, and you, and everyone dying and exploding and dying again,” he sighs, shoulders falling, looking distinctly less bothered than Wash expects him to be. It puts something cold-to-cool in the pit of his stomach. “But it’s okay, you’re still here! And nightmares are afraid of you.”

Wash swallows.

“Oh,” he says lamely. It doesn’t feel right, all of a sudden, to just be sitting here. Caboose tilts his head at him.

“Did you have a nightmare, Agent Washington?” he asks, leaning forward a bit. He squints at him. Wash stares back, eyes wide. “You look kinda pale.”

“Um, no,” he says plainly. “No I don’t… normally dream.”

“Oh,” Caboose says. His face drops. “That sounds sad.”

Wash shakes his head.

“It’s fine.”

Caboose hums, tapping his hands on his knees.

“You can tell me if you ever have a nightmare,” he says, smiling, a pleased look crossing his face. “I can come and scare it away.”

Wash snorts, a smile creeping onto his face. He folds his hands together, tracing out the edge of his thumb with his other thumb. He furrows his eyebrows as he looks up at Caboose.

“Are you looking for an excuse to sleep next to someone?” He asks, a curious lilt to his voice. Caboose blinks, eyes falling to his hands. He shrugs.

“No…” he says. Then, “Maybe.”

“Well it…” Wash sighs, shutting his eyes again. “It was nice. Thank you, Caboose.”

“Mhm,” Caboose says sleepily.

There’s a moment of silence. Wash moves to get more comfortable, shifting back to rest his head properly on the pillows. He can feel his body sag as he does, that tired tug pulling on his shoulders and hips and eyes. He drums his fingers against his sternum, watching Caboose. Caboose’s eyes slip shut for a moment as he leans hand against his hand. 

“I’m uh…going to try to get some more sleep,” he finally manages, clearing his throat. Caboose stays still, as if he’s fallen asleep again, shoulders weakly rising and falling as he breathes. “Caboose?”

There’s no answer. Caboose leans sideways as Wash goes to reach for him, folding like he’d lost all his core stability. As he crumples, he falls forward, half onto Wash in front of him, half into the bed itself.

“Caboose,” Wash tries again. Caboose doesn’t move, sinking further into his side.

Wash sighs. Caboose stays, solid and heavy and thrown over his chest. He feels like a little kid again, sharing a room with his sisters, or he feels like it’s some time back in training, both cats making their home on his chest. Caboose was kind of like a cat. If a cat were a dog, were late to the punch, were the same level as unable to catch the joke as he was. It was kind of sweet. Wash shifts him ever so slightly, until he’s leaning into his side again, head against his shoulder.

Caboose yawns, sighing out against his shoulder, shuffling to get comfortable. Wash curls his arm over his back, hand cupping around his shoulder, smoothing his thumb over the seam of his shirt. Caboose makes a little noise, a little sigh, and falls quiet. The world, too, is warm and quiet. Somewhere in that warmth, a soothing feeling washes over him.

Just a little more sleep, he thinks. Then he’ll get up.

[thebetawolfgirl]

The Chanel Ribbon: The Wedding

Word count: 1,858

Pairing: Timmy x reader

Summary: Timmy finally marries the woman of his dreams.

Warnings: SMUT! And just pure joy, a bit of laughter and a bit of teary eyed sweetness!

The Chanel Ribbon: The Wedding

Timothée had finally proposed to his beloved y/n and they finally engaged from last month. They were sitting at home discussing wedding plans while laying on the sofa. It was proving to be difficult, because both sides of the respective families all had their opinions and suggestions about what kind of wedding they should have. One of y/n’s cousins thought they should have a big lavish wedding, an old aunt thought they should get married in a church, but although Timmy was half Christian on his dad’s side he didn’t practice.

So they had shut the curtains, switched off the phones and laptops and any other form of communication and shut everyone out.

They were currently talking about their all time favourite movie, as a break from the wedding talk.

‘We should’ve just eloped as soon as we got engaged.’ Timmy suddenly joked from his spot behind her.

Y/n chuckled but her head suddenly began to spin with ideas.

‘You’re hilarious Chalamet, but your mother would kill you.’

‘True. And if Pauline would help bury my body’ he got up asking if she wanted anything from the kitchen he shook her head no going back to her magazine.

But when he disappeared she quickly messaged Mark and asked him to do some things for her. It was a long shot but if anyone could help her with this particular thing it was his father. She sent the message and got a response almost instantly. She wrote down the information given and put it away until she perfected her plan.

Timmy came back in with some snacks and cans of soda and she smiled. ‘I said I didn’t need anything’

‘Yes but if I had just came back with snacks for me you would’ve be eating them all’ she rolled his eyes and grabbed a bag of chips.

‘Listen, I was just thinking, let’s go away for a few days. Just us, you’ll be doing SNL soon then we won’t have time. I think a few days off will be good.’

He nodded as he turned on the tv pulling her against him. ‘That’s actually a good idea, where abouts were you thinking?’

‘Hmm… How about France? Just to get away from all this stress and we can just relax.’ She looked at him nodding while watching tv.

‘We could get our own villa, with a swimming pool and I could wear that new bathing suit I bought.’

His head snapped towards her his entire attention on his fiancée now. ‘I haven’t had the chance to wear it for you with all of this going on.’

‘Uh-huh’ He watched crawl closer to him.

‘I could bring it and I could try it on-‘

‘I’ll book the tickets now’ she smiled as he grabbed his phone and started looking for early flights to France. The snacks were forgotten on the coffee table as he concentrated on his phone.

She went to move off him and he looked up frowning and whined like an injured puppy. ‘Heyyy’ he made to drag her back but she moved away. ‘I need to pack and I’ll let your parents and sister know we’re taking a few days off, then I’m all yours.’ She walked past him kissing him on the head as she did and hopped upstairs quickly texting Pauline telling her everything about her idea and for her and her parents to meet them at the exact location. Nicole called in tears saying it was such a kind and beautiful thing to do for Timmy and that he would love it. Mark called just to say ‘Thank you y/n, for doing this for my son.’

A few days later they arrived in France and it was beautiful weather despite it being August. Timmy was confused as to why y/n asked him to bring a shirt and tie and his good blazer. ‘Because we may go out to a nice restaurant and you can’t go out in your usual jeans and hoodie Timmy’ Timmy agreed reluctantly and reminded himself y/n was rarely wrong about this kind of thing and this would be the first step in obeying everything his wife wanted.

Their time in France was beautiful, they ate amazing food they visited all of the tourist attractions and Timmy even took her to where he spent his summers. They made love in the evening and she did try on that bikini and he ended up taking her right there in the swimming pool.

They ended up staying longer than intended, one day y/n wanted to go to this little village in the French countryside which Timmy found odd because there was hardly anything in it. She had told him to wear his suit and she wore his favourite dress the simple one he had bought her.

They reached the small village and they stopped in front of an old church, Timmy looked at it confused and looked back at y/n who was smiling at him.

‘Y/n, where are we?’

‘I wanted it to be a surprise.’

She spoke softly holding his hand.

‘This is the church your grandmother married your grandfather in.’

Timmy gasped and his eyes widened before filling with tears.

‘I wanted your grandmother to be with us when we got married.’

He looked back at the old church before grabbing y/n by the back of her neck and crashing his lips to hers and kissed her as the tears fell from his eyes. He broke the kiss and whispered ‘Thank you.’

She smiled nodding and took his hand leading him towards the church where his parents and his sister were waiting for them along with y/n’s parents and sister. As soon as Timmy saw his parents he rushed over to them burying his face in his mother’s shoulder sobbing gently. ‘Mama’

Y/n new he missed his grandmother dearly so it felt right to get married in the same church she did.

Timmy moved from his parents embrace and hugged his sister before turning to his future in-laws and hugging them.

After the greetings and preparations Timmy stood at the alter waiting for his bride. This was better than any lavish wedding and the fact y/n did all of this for him, in memory of his beloved grandmother sealed his confidence that this woman, this incredible beautiful woman would be his and only his. He would watch her soar with her music and they would support each other and have that happy ever after.

They exchanged their vows in French and sealed their bond with a kiss and walked up the aisle husband and wife. Equals.

They had a small private meal at their favourite in Paris and then went back to the villa. Timmy asked both families if they wanted to stay with them but they already got somewhere to stay. Y/n’s parents were staying with the Chalamet’s at the family villa.

They all bid their goodbyes and the happy couple went back alone.

Y/n smiled as she knew Timmy just wanted to get her back to the villa to have her to himself.

Her theory was proved right as soon as the front door was locked he shoved her against it and attacked her mouth.

He picked her up in his arms and carried her bridal style upstairs to their bedroom and shut the door with his foot before setting her down.

She reached for him sliding his jacket from his shoulders and letting it fall to the ground, he pulled her against him by her waist and buried his face in her neck and whispered ‘Wife’

Her breath caught in her throat and she whispered back ‘Husband’

A choked gasp escaped his throat and he groaned against her neck nipping her shoulder, they shed their clothes quickly and she pushed him gently to sit on the bed before climbing on to his lap.

The place was in darkness but he could feel her fingers trailing along his chest as she made to push him backwards, but he flipped her over so she was underneath and began kissing and nipping her lips before moving down her throat and all the way down.

She took a deep breath as she felt him at her thigh and heard him gasp and smirked. She had tied around her thigh the Chanel Ribbon instead of the traditional lace garter. She heard him groan and felt the ribbon being pulled off her leg and suddenly see him above her ‘You’re so bad’ he still had the ribbon in his mouth and she took it from between his teeth before wrapping it around his neck and tying it in a bow around his throat

‘Oh’ he breathed out softly at the feel of the satin around his neck and she grinned at his surprise.

‘You can proceed now’

He looked at her through the dark with wide eyes in shock before he dove down and began devouring her holding her legs open as she cried out and gripped his curls.

He began moving his tongue up and down her bundle of nerves before poking his tongue inside of her making her slam her hand against the railing above her head.

She knew she would have bruises where he was holding her hips down as he went down on her and she didn’t care.

She was close to coming and so pulled on his hair to bring him back up and dragged him to her by the ribbon around his throat smirking when he gasped. He groaned as he flipped them onto his back and kissed her hard before letting her sit up and sink down on him, they both groaned and started moving together. She untied the ribbon and pulled on both ends with her hand pulling him slightly and smirked as he grunted in surprise. She leaned down and met his lips and they kissed passionately as they rode each other hard.

Timmy held onto her digging his fingers into the skin of her back leaving scratches and slamming his hips against hers meeting her force before rolling them over and burying his face into her neck. His arms were trapped around her shoulders underneath and he could feel her dragging her nails down his back. He growled out against her neck at the sting of her nails and grabbed the bed railing using it for leverage and slammed into her harder, hearing her small gasps against his shoulder ‘T-Tim- I’m-‘

She cut off and arched into him as he thrust a few more times before coming with her his hand sliding down the headboard as they breathed heavily against each other.

After catching their breathes they lay in bed together and he played with their entwined fingers as she lay her head on his shoulder. He looked at their wedding rings and smiled softly as they glowed in the dim light of the moon shining through the open window.

‘This was just the beginning’ was Timmy’s last thought before he fell asleep in her arms!

@sufferingstarlight

@kteezy997

@lixzey

@gatoenlaciudad

[unholyhelbig]

I’ve always been curious about Kate bishops background and would love to hear a paraphrased version if ur okay with it

[Absolutely I can! Just a little disclaimer, I'm doing this mostly from memory, so I may get a few things wrong. But I promise the gist is there, and this has gotten way too long, so uh... part one? I guess? I didn't even get to the vampires. If people are into this. I'll keep going.]

Okay, let’s start with Kate’s backstory.

The Bishop family has issues. Eleanor, Kate’s mom, is distant but portrayed as a generally good person. She and her husband Derek have an estranged relationship. She travels a lot and is regarded as an activist throughout her life until her untimely death when Kate is still just a kid.

Kate develops admiration for her father. He’s a publishing magnate but it’s soon revealed that he has ties to the crime world. Kate, despite her young age, follows her father to a meeting with El Matador. While there, she gets captured by the crime lord to be held for ransom.

This is where she see’s Clint for the first time, who saves her with the rest of the avengers. She took an instant liking to him because he was the only human on the team without advantages. At this point, she does make Clint her role model and starts to distance herself from her family to focus on activism like Eleanor.

Kate didn’t’ truly start training in combat until she was attacked in Central Park. This kicked off her love of self-defense. She originally felt isolated and in some cannon media, this moment in the park still haunts her beyond belief. (Young Avengers Special #1 [2005]  is a great comic that’s stand alone & shows the mentorship between Jessica Jones and Kate. TW for SA.)

Que the Young Avengers.

(My personal favorite Kate Bishop Design)

Kate has an older sister that’s been completely written out of the MCU adaptation. Her name is Susan, and she doesn’t have the greatest relationship with Kate, they’re not openly hostile, but they don’t enjoy each other either. Still, Kate is in Susan’s wedding party.

During the wedding, the church comes under fire and the Young Avengers swoop in to save the day. But they awkwardly become hostages themselves and Kate uses one of Patriots throwing stars to get them out of the situation before the police show up.

Kate very ungracefully demands to become a part of the Young Avengers (The original team is: Cassie Lang, Eli Bradley, Tommy Shepard, Billy Kaplan, Nate Richards, and Teddy Altman). Kate originally doesn’t have a hero identity, so she raids the Avengers Mansion and dawns Mockingbirds staves and mask, swordsman’s sword and belt and Hawkeyes abandoned bow.

Captain America and Iron man were not happy about the team and demanded that they disband. But eventually gave in after the Young Avengers refused to back down. Kate was the only one to stand up to Steve and demand that they get better training. He agreed and put Jessica Jones in charge of the team. This is when Kate becomes Hawkeye. Steve gives her the title and the bow. She’s the unofficial leader of the Young Avengers.

What about Clint?

Dude is dead in the Young Avengers run. Clint makes his valiant return in the massive Civil War event that Marvel comics created. He was resurrected and is absolutely pissed when he finds out that Steve gave his name and his bow away.

Clint actually attacks Kate while she’s on a date with Eli Bradley in Central Park. He’s officially Ronin at this point and is impressed by Kate’s skills after she breaks into his place to steal her bow back. He unofficially (but also totally officially) allows her to take the mantle.

The Children’s Crusade

I’m skipping a lot of small side quests that Kate takes (even though they’re a lot of fun) because Children’s Crusade is possibly the most important part of her journey, and by the looks of it, is the basis for where the MCU is planning to go in the next few years.

Kate has a really strong friendship with Billy Kaplan, aka Billy Maximoff. He’s the strongest magic being to ever inhabit earth and when his powers become dangerous the Avengers decide to lock him up. That didn’t slide with Kate, and they ended up breaking him out of the tower and entering alternate timelines in search of Billy’s mom- Wanda Maximoff.

This was pure, time-warp chaos. Wanda had forgotten who she was and was about to marry Doctor Doom when the Young Avengers showed up and pulled her out of it. She regained her powers and her memories, coming to terms with Billy and Tommy being her sons.

Once in their original timeline, a massive fight breaks out between the Avengers and the x-men. It’s a whole thing that ends up killing Cassie Lang. Her death ends up disbanding the original Young Avengers who go their separate ways to come to terms with how dangerous being a hero really is.

Matt Fraction? Matt Fraction.

Listen, if you’re looking for the inspiration behind the general vibe of the show Hawkeye, this is the run for you. If you read anything from Kate’s comic journey, let it be this. You don’t need any prior knowledge to Kate or Clint to enjoy this one and the artwork heavily inspired the intro to the show.

In this series, Clint is the owner of an apartment building that’s since been taken over by the tracksuit mafia. Kate and Clint have an established friendship and the dynamic is very much like the show. But grittier. The series leans into Clint’s deafness and Kate’s trauma. It’s a basis for their relationship.

Los Angeles, baby

Kate goes to LA a lot. It’s her home away from New York and her arcs there are some of my favorite (it’s a guilty pleasure, honestly). During her run with Matt Fraction’s Hawkeye, she has a particularly bad fight with Clint. She takes Lucky and jets off to the beach to find her niche.

Kate becomes a very cool, very chill private eye for her first solo run; Hawkeye Private Eye. While she does eventually go back to New York to help out Clint, she starts her own business in Los Angeles where she teams up with Jessica Jones and Laura x23. Very fun, very goofy series.

[This took...hours. Literal Hours. But I have access to all the digital archives for Kate so, I'm more than happy to keep going lol]

[even-disco-baby]

LILIENNE, THE NET-PICKER — “You’re pretty good with that boy, Cuno.” She says it thoughtfully, as though she’s turning this fact over in her mind as she works at the tangled net in her lap. The sea is a soft roar over the horizon, and the world is tinged a dusky blue.

“Really? It doesn’t feel like I am. He still calls me anything but my name. Usually a slur.”

“It’s tough love, Lilienne, that’s all. A kid like that needs discipline.”

“He’s not that hard to deal with. He just wants somebody to play along with him. That’s all any kid wants.”

“He was good to me first.”

LILIENNE, THE NET-PICKER — She arches an eyebrow. “Really now…”

DRAMA — She isn’t doubtful, sire. Just surprised.

LILIENNE, THE NET-PICKER — “Well, I hope you’ll keep on being good to each other, then. The kid certainly needs it.”

EMPATHY — And so do you, she thinks.

LILIENNE, THE NET-PICKER — “You seem good with the young people around here in general,” she muses. “Cuno, those kids at the church, Lily and the boys… You said you used to be a teacher, didn’t you? Maybe that’s why.”

PAIN THRESHOLD — A familiar ache squeezes your lungs. The same ache that drove you to become a teacher in the first place. An incalculable and long forgotten loss.

INLAND EMPIRE — Don’t follow this thread any further. Let it unravel.

“Yeah, that’s probably it.”

“No, there’s something else… Lost children, a lost Indotribe…” [Follow the thread.]

“I think I wanted to be a father, once.” [Change the subject.]

LILIENNE, THE NET-PICKER — She pauses her work, strands of the net wrapped loosely around her fingers, but does not look up. “…Oh?”

ELECTROCHEMISTRY — Hey, it’s never too late! Now’s your chance to give fatherhood a shot!

“Any chance *we* could make it happen?” [Give her the finger guns.]

“I wonder why I did…”

“It was a stupid thing to want.”

“I still do.”

“I guess it never worked out.”

LILIENNE, THE NET-PICKER — “Hm…” She goes back to her work, slowly and carefully. “Why not?”

“I don’t know. Can’t remember.”

“In *this* economy?”

“Things never lined up right, I guess.”

“I bet it was *her* fault. She ruined my chances forever.”

“Too poor and drunk and sad.”

“I’d never want to inflict myself on a child.”

“Just look at me.”

LILIENNE, THE NET-PICKER — She does look at you. There is no pity or disgust or whatever other terrible thing you expected in her gaze. Just a quiet acknowledgment.

EMPATHY — To her, you look just like a father she once knew. This only makes her more inclined to agree with you.

LILIENNE, THE NET-PICKER — “…When I first got pregnant with the boys,” she says quietly, returning to her work, “I was uneasy. Wondered if it was… right to bring them into this world. Into *our* arms…”

PAIN THRESHOLD — A rare pang wracks her. She does not like to think about these things.

LILIENNE, THE NET-PICKER — “I never did decide one way or another. I just knew what I wanted, and so I went ahead with it. *We* went ahead with it. And then again with Lily, even though…”

EMPATHY — Even though at heart she knew, by then, how it would all end.

SHIVERS — Five years ago, a man stands on the boardwalk where the corpse of a different drunken husband will one day be discovered. Bottle still clutched tightly in his hand, he fights the urge to throw himself into the dark water. He wins the battle today, but he will ultimately lose the war.

LILIENNE, THE NET-PICKER — “However things turned out for you, I’m sure you had your reasons.” She sighs, and cuts a strand of the net with the tip of her knife, then ties it back together. “Though that probably sounds shallow, coming from me.”

“A little, yeah.”

“Not at all.”

“Can I ask you something?”

LILIENNE, THE NET-PICKER — “Go ahead.”

“Do you regret having kids?”

“Uh… never mind.”

LILIENNE, THE NET-PICKER — She smiles, and there’s an uncharacteristic sadness in the lines around her eyes.

“No,” she says softly. “Never once.”

EMPATHY — She wonders if this is proof of her own selfishness.

It isn’t the children she regrets. It’s the world that she brought them into.

LILIENNE, THE NET-PICKER — “Now that they’re here, all we can do is love them. And you’ve got plenty of love in you for the children, it seems. That’s more than a lot of fathers could say…” She sighs, her eyes shadowed and sunken. “Oh, I don’t know what I’m trying to say anymore.”

DRAMA — But you know what *you* would like to say, sire. Go ahead. Now’s your moment!

REACTION SPEED — No, it really isn’t. Please don’t push your luck.

“Lilienne…”

Don’t push your luck.

LILIENNE, THE NET-PICKER — She turns to you, expression inscrutable with the light of the setting sun behind her. “Yes?”

“Do you think *we* could ever… try again?”

“Do you think you could ever see *me* as… a father?”

“Do you think there’s any hope in this world for any of us?”

“Do you think the children will ever forgive us?”

“Do you think I’m… a good man?”

LILIENNE, THE NET-PICKER — She looks at you, her chin no longer held high, a tired slump in her shoulders and something searching in her eye. Her hands are all tangled in webs of fragile knots.

“I think…” she says slowly, evenly, “you’re looking for something that I can’t give you.”

-1 MORALE

“Okay. Well. Khm. Right.”

“What the hell does *that* mean?”

“That’s not really what I asked…”

Say nothing.

LILIENNE, THE NET-PICKER — “I know what you’re asking,” Lilienne says frankly. “I’m just not so sure that *you* do…”

EMPATHY — For love.

RHETORIC — For vindication.

INLAND EMPIRE — For a lifeline.

VOLITION — For a future.

LILIENNE, THE NET-PICKER — Lilienne sighs, watching the twins in the distance, starting the long march home from the beach before dark. “At some point, Harry, you’re going to have to be okay with your life.”

SHIVERS — You have twenty two years left to reach that point.

[ereardon]

Golden Hour || Ch. 8

[Bob Floyd x Bradley Bradshaw x OC]

A Bob Floyd & Bradley Bradshaw AU [Hart of Dixie inspired]

Synopsis: Willow, Georgia. Barely even a town, just a speck on a map that you tried to wipe off, mistaking it for a crumb. You’re the outsider: a fancy New York doctor, fresh out of a failed engagement, with zero primary care experience. You’re also the new town doctor, taking over for a recent retiree who was beloved. His son, Bob Floyd, is the other physician at the practice, and takes an immediate dislike to you. But you were looking for a fresh start, and Willow doesn’t seem all that bad if you can get past the fact that there's only one restaurant in town. It helps that you've caught the eye of Bradley Bradshaw, the town attorney, despite the fact that you vowed to take a break from dating. How long until you start to make friends in a town where social circles have been set in stone since elementary school? And what will it take to make Bob Floyd see you’re not as bad as he wants to believe you are?

Pairing: Bob Floyd x OC; Bradley Bradshaw x OC

Tropes: Love triangle, enemies to lovers

Warnings: Angst, cursing, death

Chapter summary: Bob deals with the death of his father; Olive is surprised when Bob shows up at her doorstep in the middle of the night

WC: 2.3K

Masterlist here; previous chapter here; next chapter here

“Dr. Floyd, I need a consult.” You stepped out into the hallway and turned left. Bob’s door was closed and you knocked once, twice, before pushing it open. “Floyd?”

The room was empty. Molly hurried out of her seat. “The doctor isn’t in.” 

You frowned. “It’s Tuesday. He’s always here on Tuesdays.” 

She shook her head. “It’s his father.” 

You turned to the patient on the examination table. “Mr. Johnson, I’m so sorry. I’m going to have to have you come back tomorrow.” 

He barely had his shirt rebuttoned from where you had been checking his lungs before you were out the front door of the office, jogging down the steps in your Jimmy Choos. 

***

It rained. One woman in the church said she thought the sky was crying for Dr. Floyd. And despite the fact that you hadn’t grown up with a lick of God in your life, you agreed with her. 

It rained on the roof of the small church so loud that the pastor had to practically yell into the congregation. 

It rained so hard during the burial that most people stayed back at the church potluck. Only a few people watched as they lowered the casket into the ground. 

Bob stood at the front, hair dripping wet into his face. You watched as Caroline approached him, reached for his hand, and he stepped away, brushing her aside. 

You stood in the back, near a large oak tree, and at some point it was hard to distinguish what was rain and what were tears as water streamed down your face. A part of you ached for a man you had only met once. 

Perhaps it wasn’t sadness for Robert. Perhaps it was the fact that you knew you were watching Bob lose himself as he lost his father. That was something he would never be able to get back. 

On the way to your car, a hand touched your shoulder. You turned, eyes wide. Bradley held out an umbrella and covered the two of you, your bodies close, almost touching. “Olive,” he said softly. It was the first time you had seen him since Thanksgiving. The office had gone into a frenzy with Bob out for two weeks, mourning his father’s death and preparing for the funeral. You had called, once, and it went to voicemail. You hung up before the beep. 

“Bradley,” you replied. “Hi. I didn’t see you.” 

“I didn’t expect to see you here.” He frowned. “Are you alright?” 

“I hate funerals, is all.” 

“Don’t we all?” 

You nodded. “I guess so. Would be odd to like one.” 

“Are you going to the potluck at the church?” he asked. 

You shook your head. “I uh, I have a lot of work to catch up on. Charting that I haven’t gotten around to doing.” You looked out over his shoulder where Bob stood with the pastor and a few others. “Besides, I only met Dr. Floyd once. I don’t want to impose.” 

Bradley nodded. He leaned down and kissed your cheek. “I’ll call you, OK? I have a trial, out near Savannah, so I’ll be gone for the next few days. But I’ll call you when I’m back.” 

“I’d like that.” 

He handed you the umbrella. “Here, take this.” 

“Oh, no I couldn’t.” 

“Olive,” he said and his voice scratched at an inner part of your stomach. “Take the umbrella.” 

“Alright.” You watched as Bradley turned and walked back toward where Bob was standing. And just as you were about to get into the car, Bob pivoted toward where you stood in the parking lot. You held up one hand in a motionless wave. 

He turned away without reciprocating. You sighed and ducked into the driver’s seat. 

***

The knock on the door startled you out of a haphazard nap on the couch. You shot up and grimaced, back aching, as the sound continued. 

“Fuck, I’m coming!” you shouted. If it was Phoenix, she would have just barged in. You didn’t lock the door anymore. 

Swinging open the door, you gasped. 

Bob stood on your doorstep, his eyes wide, one hand on his chest, his face shiny with sweat. “I think I’m having a heart attack.” 

“What?” You looked around but he was alone. “What, I, come in.” You practically yanked him inside. “Go, sit.” He collapsed into the plush chair you had in the living room, head tipped back, breathing laboriously. 

You ran for your medical bag, pulling out the stethoscope and standing at Bob’s side. 

“Are you having chest pain?” He nodded. “Is it tightness and squeezing or sharp stabbing?” 

“Shooting pain.” 

“Is your arm tingling?” you asked and he shook his head. You bent down. “Keep breathing for me, OK?” You took his wrist in yours, flipping it upside down and feeling for his pulse. Bob’s forearms were strong with prominent veins and you felt for a moment, eyes closed, for his pulse. Tachycardic for sure, but not insanely elevated. 

“Take a deep breath,” you said, putting the earpieces into your ears and pressing the cold end of the stethoscope against Bob’s bare back, your fingertips sliding beneath his thin t-shirt. “In and out.” It was even. Slightly ragged, but not like he was struggling. “Are you nauseous?” Head shake. “Any pain in your jaw or shoulder blade?” Another shake. 

You pulled the stethoscope away and put it in your bag gently. 

“You’re not having a heart attack.” 

Bob looked up, blue eyes wide. “What?” 

“It’s a panic attack.” 

For a moment, Bob was silent. Then he shook his head furiously before grimacing. You put one hand on his knee instinctively and his blue eyes zeroed in on your fingertips on his thigh. “No.” His voice was thin, wobbly. “It’s a heart attack.” 

“Bob,” you said quietly. “We both know the symptoms of a heart attack and a panic attack overlap quite a bit. Feeling out of breath, sweating, racing pulse. Without an EKG or blood work I can’t be one hundred percent positive.” You paused. “But I’m pretty sure that an anxiety attack isn’t out of the question, given what you’re going through.” 

Bob was quiet. His eyes fluttered closed for a minute, his leg bouncing erratically. 

“If you want, I’ll drive you to the county hospital. We’ll get testing done, just to be safe.” 

“It’s a heart attack,” he repeated, standing up, accidently kicking your medical bag over. “What do you know?” Bob stomped out of the room and you rocked back onto your heels, shocked, before standing up and trailing behind him. 

The door was flung open wide, the rain still pummeling down. “Bob!” you cried out. “Bob, please!” 

He stopped walking. You sighed and stepped out from the porch, bare feet slapping against the wood steps as you made your way down the walk toward him. You circled where Bob stood. 

“He’s gone,” you said, voice rising above the sound of the rain and his blue eyes found yours. “He’s gone and that’s terrible and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. And I might have only met him once. But he loved you, with everything he had. And he wouldn’t want you to feel like this. Your world isn’t ending. I promise.” 

Bob looked up at the sky before returning his gaze to you. “Then why does it feel like I’m dying?” 

“A part of you died with him,” you said. “Just a part. A fraction. It’ll get better.” 

“What if it doesn’t?” 

“It will.” 

“How do you know?” 

“Because it did for me,” you said and his eyes widened. “I was twenty. And sometimes I still pick up the phone to call him. But he’s gone and he’s been gone. And I’m still here.” You reached out and took his hand in yours. “Come inside,” you pleaded. “I’m tired of the rain.” 

“I should go.” 

“Get your ass inside,” you said and Bob’s eyebrows shot up. “I’m sorry,” you added quickly. “But you came here for a reason. So get inside, please.” 

The two of you were soaking. Bob’s shoes trailed water into the entryway of the guest house as you wiped down your muddy bare feet. 

“Wait here,” you said, rushing off to the back of the house, stripping off your wet clothes and throwing them in the bathtub and tossing on a robe before flinging open the back closet, coughing as a plume of dust slid from the top shelf. The first week you had moved in you’d discovered that Phoenix’s brother-in-law had left some clothes in the guest house at some point. He must have been banished there more than once. 

You returned to the entryway, holding them out to Bob. “Here,” you said as he took them. “I don’t know if they’ll fit. But they’re dry.” You hesitated. “I, uh, I’ll be in there.” 

Pacing in a circle, you rushed to put things away. Living without Peter meant you could be a slob. You were still figuring out who you were without him. And that meant empty food containers and unopened boxes littered every surface. 

The door opened slowly. “Can, I, um, can I come in?” 

“Of course.” You sat down and Bob took the spot next to you on the couch. Bob Floyd had been in your living room exactly one time before. And somehow, everything since then had changed. 

“He liked you,” Bob said quietly. “My father.” 

“Really?” 

He nodded. “Said you were exactly what this town needed.” He paused. “He said you were what I needed.” 

“Bob, I—”

“I’m sorry,” he interrupted. 

You frowned. “Sorry for what?” 

“Being an ass. When you first got here.” 

You shrugged. “That’s how it goes, right?” 

“You’re good,” Bob replied. “You’re smart. Too smart to be here.” 

“You’re just as smart.” 

“You don’t fit in, Olive,” he replied and you opened your mouth to respond but he filled the gap. “I don’t mean that in a bad way. You’re doing just fine. But you’re better than this. You’re bigger than this.” 

“I’ve done big and better,” you said quietly. “It didn’t work out for me.” 

“Do you miss him?” he asked. 

“No.” You ran your fingers through your hair, pulling your legs up beneath your body on the couch cushion. “That sounds strange, right? The man I was going to spend the rest of my life with, and I don’t even miss him. But the further I am from Peter the more I realized that we were never each other’s soulmates. We were just two people who occupied the same space at the same time.” 

“You believe in soulmates.” It wasn’t a question, just a statement. 

“Don’t you?” 

Bob shook his head. “I don’t know. Maybe. It’s not very scientific of you, Dr. James.” 

“I’m not the one who misdiagnosed my own panic attack as a cardiovascular emergency.” Bob paused and your face dropped. “Shit, sorry. Too soon?” 

His blue eyes lingered on yours. “No. I was just thinking that if I hadn’t come here tonight thinking I might be dying, I’d never know that you sleep with a stuffed animal.” He pointed across the room and through the open doorway to the queen bed where a stuffed walrus sat. 

You hung your head in your hands. “Oh my God.” 

Bob laughed. The sound sparkled in the confines of the guest house. Outside, rain pelted the siding. You looked up at him. He was beautiful when he wasn’t scowling. There was something gentle in his demeanor that often got overlooked. 

You watched as his face, lit up in a grin, fall. He stood up. “I should go,” he said. “I just kind of barged in. I’m sorry.” 

“Stay.” It surprised you, even as you were saying it. It surprised Bob as well. You could tell by the way his eyebrows raised, practically touching his hairline. 

“What?” 

You stood, the edge of your robe catching on your foot as you untangled your limbs, a flash of upper thigh. “It’s raining like crazy out there. And I would feel like shit if I let you leave and you actually did have a heart attack.” 

Bob smirked. “OK Dr. James. I’ll stay.” 

Bob stood awkwardly near the door as you gathered a few pillows and blankets, setting them out on the couch. As you went to spread out the blankets, he stepped closer. “I’ve got it, Olive,” he whispered. 

You straightened and turned. Bob was only a foot or so away. He looked older, if that was possible. Blue eyes duller than normal. Exhaustion ran across every crevice of his face. You knew that face all too well. The feeling of not knowing what was next when your life was upside down. 

Before you could stop yourself, you leaned forward, wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him into a hug. Bob hesitated for a moment before his hands reached around your waist, laying flat against the silk of your robe. And just as you were about to pull away, Bob tugged you in tighter, dropping his head low so it rested against yours. The two of you stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, for a moment before his grip loosened and he backed away, cheeks pink. 

“Goodnight, Olive,” he said softly. 

“Goodnight, Bob.” You walked over to the bedroom doorway and pulled the double doors shut, pressing your back against the wood, heart beating erratically. 

How had you gone from hating Bob Floyd to this in a matter of months? 

On the other side of the solid wood door, Bob sat down on the couch, his eyes trained on the closed door. He flexed his hands at his side, the memory of the way you felt beneath his fingertips unrelenting in his mind. 

You fell asleep almost instantly, the sound of the rain beating against the windows and knowing that Bob wasn’t more than twenty feet away making it the best sleep you’d had since you arrived in Willow. 

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[blackdollette]

hi! lil req for clyde and f!reader high sex expect it’s their first time both doing it under the influence so it’s super intimate and new . love ur work and i feel like u could do this so so well ! Tysm <3

ughh my sweet, precious clyde. 😫🫶🏽 thank you so much for the kind words, it truly means the world to me. 💋

"he gets so high and i dream i'm flying." | clyde

me & my boyfriend. - lana del rey

high!female!reader x high!clyde

contents: marijuana usage, public sex, unprotected sex, missionary, creampie

you and clyde had been fooling around in the back of his van ever since the two of you got kicked out of the bar for being "too intoxicated." even though you both knew that wasn't possible.

you were sitting in the backseat, your legs stretched over his lap, sharing a blunt and playing a messy little game of never have I ever. you both had 6 fingers down, only having 4 remaining. the loser would have to attempt a backflip on clyde's skateboard, obviously his idea. and with your brain completely fried, you agreed.

clyde was resorting to playing dirty, asking the most stupid question. he took a hit of the blunt before passing it to you, laughing. "alright... never have I ever masturbated in a church restroom while the choir was singing amazing grace." you blew a cloud of smoke into his face, putting one of your fingers down.

"you are such an asshole." you said as you started thinking of one to get back at him. "since you wanna play that way, never have I ever gotten kicked out of school for vaping during assembly." you laughed, passing him the blunt. he rolled his eyes and put a finger down. from a stranger's perspective, it may have been concerning seeing how much dirt you two had on each other, but it was all in good fun.

it was clyde's turn, and he had a genuine question that he was dying to hear the answer to. "never have i ever had my v-card swiped..." he seemed a little giddy as he spoke, expecting you to say yes. he wanted to hear all about it, but when you kept your finger up, it sent a million questions running through him. "wait... you're a virgin?" you nodded shyly.

i big smile crept up onto his face as he took another hit of the blunt. "well, I guess that's something else we have in common, angel." your eyebrows raised as you heard this. clyde had always been a little needy, but I guess this explained why.

"huh, what do you know? i never knew a boy as pretty you could be all pure and fresh." you winked after you said that, which earned a laugh out of him. he shifted a little bit closer to you, looking you in the eye. your brain was completely incapable of processing any thoughts. "u-uh... what were we talking about before?"

clyde giggled as he shrugged. "you tell me, pretty lady." you leaned into him, running your hands through his long hair as you always did. clyde looked at you lovingly through his bloodshot eyes, like you were the most beautiful thing in the world at that moment, though that's how you always looked through his lens.

the magnetic tension between you two was growing stronger by the second, and you both could feel it coursing through your veins. finally, clyde pulled you into him, kissing you like he had been craving you his whole life. your hands remained in his hair, pulling him closer.

he grabbed your hips and pulled you onto his lap, his hands running up and down your body. time felt like it was going elastic. it felt like you'd been trapped in this moment for hours, but you never wanted it to come to an end.

you pull away from the kiss, panting. clyde's eyes roam down your body, stopping at where you two were connected. he looked at your thighs in your little skirt, his mind racing with thoughts of you. you could've sworn he was drooling. "god. i need you so bad, angel."

you look down at his pants, and you saw that he was already fighting an erection. you carefully put your hand on it, palming him gently. he hissed at the feeling. he ran his hands down your arms, his body beginning to shake with desire. "p-please... can we?" you nodded your head, wanting it just as badly as him.

you started kissing him again, with even more passion than before. his hands travelled down to your ass, giving it a gently squeeze and lifting up your skirt just a little. every touch that he placed on your body felt like a touch of heaven. your hand slipped into his pants, getting straight to his cock since clyde felt that underwear was a form of oppression. you pulled it out, stroking it gently as your tongues danced together.

clydes kisses travelled down your neck, going past your collarbone and stopping right at your cleavage. you used one hand to take off the skimpy little top that you were wearing, putting your tits on full display for him. he immediately started sucking on one of them, swirling his tongue around your sensitive nipple.

you started pumping his cock even faster, the tip already bubbling with precum as clyde started making sweet, quiet little noises against your breasts. clyde was whimpering out mindless little compliments. "s-so pretty... so perfect..." you felt your desire for him growing to an unbearable amount.

you tried your best to get words out of your mouth. "c-clyde... i wanna feel you in me..." hearing you say this pushed clyde into a different state. he lifted up your skirt and slipped your panties a little to the side.

without warning, he flipped the two of you so that he was ontop with your legs wrapped around his waist. no words had to be said for the message to be loud and clear. clyde lined himself up with your aching pussy, pushing his swollen red cock inside of you.

you both let out loud moans at the feeling of each other being fully connected in the moment. your lips found his once more as you started sloppily making out, his hips making messy thrusts into you. you were the only thing on his mind right then. he could only think about how good you were making him feel, and how good he wanted to make you feel.

you both were breathing heavily onto each other, fully drinking in this moment. clyde got more vocal as every brain cell in his mind disappeared. "f-fuck... you're so perfect... s-so beautiful... just feels so good.." his thrusts started getting harder, his cock getting even deeper into your tight little cunt.

your hands were in his hair again, running your finger through every strand as you were getting fucked senseless. you both were super sensitive because of all the substances you had taken in the past couple of hours.

"c-clyde... m'gonna cum... w-wanna be filled up so bad..!" was all you managed to get out before clyde started rubbing your clit. you cried out as he toyed with your sore little pussy. his hair fell into his face as his thrusts started to lose all of their structure, him trying his hardest to make you cum before he did.

"m-mh... s-so fucking perfect... c-can... can you cum with me..? p-please, baby..." he was trying so hard to keep himself together for you. you nodded frantically as you felt your orgasm flooding through you. you tightened your legs around his waist as you came all over his cock.

clyde felt you tighten up around him, signalling that he could finally release his cum. a loud moan emerged from clyde as he felt his orgasm rush through him, stronger than anything he had ever felt before. he continued thrusting in and out of you, fucking you through your orgasms.

after you both came, he pulled out of you, his abused cock softening quickly and your sore little pussy still throbbing from the powerful orgasm you just had. you sat up, sitting properly in the seat of the van as you searched for your top. clyde zipped his dick back into his pants. he pouted as he saw you put your top back on. "can't you leave 'em out for just a little longer." you rolled your eyes, throwing it to the side.

you snuggled up to him before putting your hands up and putting 8 of your fingers down. "guess i'm losing." you said with a little grin. "looks like someone's gonna have to do a backflip." he said as he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead.

author's note: this request was literally so cute, I had too much fun writing this one. i hope you all liked this one!

[girls-alias]

Have A Little Faith - Dean Winchester P10

Title: Have A Little Faith - Dean Winchester Part 10

Words: 1,621

Relations: Dean Winchester X Reader

TW: SPOILERS S1E12

Taglist: @deans-baby-momma , @qinnroki @moldyorange @creative-writing92 @lokischickadee , @take-it-on-the-run @daisy-the-quake @ilikw @selfdestructionandrhum

Part 9

Dean smiled at me as he approached the seats beside me. "Hey, baby," He groaned as he sat down.

"Hi baby," I mocked as I rolled my eyes and looked away. Dean chuckled so I turned to glare at him.

"You're cute when you're jealous, you know that?" He asked so I rolled my eyes again looking away. He grabbed my chin to turn me to look at him. I looked at him with puppy dog eyes. When he's better he's going to leave with some stupid blonde. "Is she looking?" He whispered so I looked at him confused but indeed saw Layla sitting in the row in front of us and was looking at us. I looked at Dean confused as I nodded softly. He just smiled and grabbed the back of my neck. We sat making out in a church tent for a good couple of minutes, everyone there must have had their thoughts on us. Dean pulled away to whisper in my ear. "I'm yours," He whispered, his breath fanning my neck and sending a shiver down my spine. I practically melted in my seat. Dean smirked seeing the effect he had on me. He continued to smirk as he paid attention to the blind man on the stage.

"Each morning, my wife, Sue Ann, reads me the news. Never seems good, does it?" He asked rhetorically making me smile as I held my laughter. What would he know about the bad things going on in the world? "Seems like there's always someone committing some immoral, unspeakable act." He continued, Dean looked at me before rolling his eyes. He also thought this guy was ridiculous. "But I say to you, God is watching." Everyone seemed to murmur an agreement.

These people are so easily persuaded to believe anything. I bet if I stood up right now and claimed God was talking to me they'd all believe me. "God rewards the good, and he punishes the corrupt," He added and I scoffed. The only noise that wasn't a laugh that I could make. Dean smirked at me finding me as his entertainment. "It is a lord who does the healing here friends, the Lord who guides me in choosing who to heal by helping me see into people's hearts." Everyone seemed to agree with him but Dean leaned in to whisper to me.

"Or into their wallets," He commented making me laugh. I pretended I was coughing when everyone looked at my sudden outburst.

"You think so, young man?" The preacher asked, I slid down in my chair a little hiding my mouth with my hand so no one could see me trying not to laugh. Everyone went silent, and even the pianist stopped playing, only making me want to laugh even more.

"Sorry," Dean announced so everyone could hear him. I saw Layla smiling to herself which only pissed me off. Who does she think she is? I should lean over and pull on her scraggly blonde hair.

"No, don't be," The preacher replied grabbing my attention again. "Just watch what you say about a blind man. We have real sharp ears," He joked and there was a stale laugh like everyone was trying to please him. Idiots! "What's your name, son?" He asked and Dean seemed confused, he looked at me like he was afraid to say.

"His name is Dean," I answered for him and the preacher smiled.

"You must be his girlfriend," The preacher smiled before nodding. "Dean, I want you to come up here with me," The preacher announced and suddenly I smiled. Dean looked uneasy and looked at me for guidance. I nodded showing him to go. Everyone clapped for him. He looked around for a second before shaking his head.

"No, it's okay," He commented so I looked at him concerned. What's he thinking about?

"What are you doing?" Sam asked thinking he had lost his mind.

"You've come here to be healed, haven't you?" The preacher asked and everyone was silent as they waited for Dean to speak.

"Well, yeah, but, uh," Dean stammered looking at me for guidance, I smiled at him. Everyone clapped for him again. "You should heal Y/N, she was struck by lightning, she's clearly in pain but she doesn't want to say anything," He commented wincing slightly like he was afraid of how I would react. I smiled knowing he cared for me. He's dying and worrying about the scars and pain that I will live through.

"Oh-ho, no. I didn't pick you, Dean. The Lord did," The preacher explained and everyone cheered a little louder.

"Get up there," Sam exclaimed but once again Dean looked at me for the answer, I smirked with an idea. I leaned in to whisper in his ear.

"If you go up there I'll take a shower with you when we get to a motel," I whispered seductively. Dean smiled as he pulled away and gestured for Sam to get out of his way. I chuckled knowing exactly what he wanted. He climbed onto the stage and looked back at me with a smile. I smiled back but it instantly faded when Layla straightened up and fixed her hair probably thinking Dean was looking at her, I was going to bite her. Dean and the preacher seemed to have a mumbled conversation.

"Pray with me, friends," The preacher announced. Everyone bowed their heads and raised their hands but when Dean looked at me like a deer in headlights I knew he needed me. I nodded with a smile. Sam and I watched intently as the preacher placed a hand on Dean's head. Dean looked like he was in pain, his eyes rolling around his head. I jumped up instantly but Sam stopped me. He only let me through when Dean fell to his knees. I wrapped my arm around his back holding him steady, His eyes rolled again before his body went limp and I held all of his weight.

I wasn't as strong as I used to be so struggled a little, the wounds on my back instantly stinging and feeling tight. I tried breathing through the pain but struggled.

"Sam," I called out and he was instantly at my side helping me hold Dean up. Everyone cheered and I looked at them like they were crazy.

"Are you okay?" Sam asked shaking Dean trying to wake him. I placed a hand on his cheek instantly worried. "Say something," Sam almost shouted as Dean gasped for air and held himself up a little. Dean's eyes widened as he looked at the preacher. I quickly looked but saw he was just smiling. I focused on Dean.

"Are you okay, baby?" I asked grabbing his attention, he looked at me a little dazed. It seemed like magic, colour sprung to his cheeks, the bags under his eyes faded and his lips looked plumper. I shook myself thinking I imagined it but there he was, a colourful man in a dull world. I smiled when I noticed him smiling at me. "Are you okay?" I asked softly. His answer must have been on the tip of his tongue as he grabbed me roughly and kissed me. I was shocked but happily accepted it. This kiss was different, it was like he was the happiest man in the world. He kissed me so rough and passionately that I wondered if he was only so gentle in the past because he was in pain. He didn't want to pull away from the kiss even as everyone was watching us and he just kept pulling me back for more.

I giggled as I pulled away, Dean's eyes searching mine, the smile plastered across his face never faltering. Dean's eyes seemed to be brighter, the once subtle but beautiful green eyes now vibrant and piercing. I chuckled realising that Dean did what I always seem to do with him, and answered a question with my actions. I chuckled just thinking.

"Come on," I added as I helped to pull him up. He stood and grabbed the sides of my face to kiss me again, I giggled as I pulled away. Dean took my hand and helped me climb off the stage, I started leading us to the back to exit the tent. Dean looked at me confused. "I want a doctor to check you over," I explained as we exited the tent.

"Baby, I feel great," He cheered but I smiled as I rolled my eyes.

"I just want to check," I explained but Dean grabbed my hand to stop me. I looked at him confused. "He might heal you next," He said hopefully.

"He only heals one a day," A random person close to us added. I smiled triumphantly continuing on my way and approaching the impala. I turned to face Dean when we got to the car and was pleasantly surprised to feel his lips on mine again. I giggled into the kiss but pulled away. "What happened to the rule of no PDA in front of Sam?" I asked rhetorically but Dean scoffed.

"He doesn't mind, do you, Sammy?" He asked looking at Sam over the car. Sam just chuckled as he climbed in. Dean smiled thinking that would make me reconsider.

"I just don't think it's something he wants to see every day, we can kiss but PG when Sam's around, okay?" I explained not asking a question. Dean sighed as he nodded making me laugh. I kissed him, and his hands instantly roamed me wanting more I laughed pulling away again.

"What he's in the car," Dean joked making me laugh. He gave me a wink before climbing into the car.

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[ramblingoak]

how about being caught kissing with the cardinal?

Ooo yes, wouldn't that be nice! I wouldn't mind getting caught doing worse with him to be honest... Prompt is from this list of Kiss Prompts!

Yay Satan Day

Cardinal Copia x Female Reader ~ Copia does his best to distract you from your job

Warnings: Copia being a smug shit, vaginal fingering, nsfw, 18+ only, MDNI, 1600 words

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He was doing that stupid thing with his eyebrows again.

You and Cardinal Copia had been stuck in a meeting with Terzo for close to an hour now.  Sister Imperator had instructed you all to create an event to try to bring the local community closer to the church.  ‘Something to show them we don’t spend our days sacrificing babies and having orgies’ were her exact words.  At least the baby part wasn’t true, but you knew of at least four orgies that had taken place in the last week alone.

“We should call it ‘Yay Satan Day’.”

“Can we focus on actually creating the event before we name it?”  You pretended you didn’t see Terzo rolling his eyes.  “And for the last time we’re not calling it that.”

Copia sighed and his chair creaked as he leaned back in it.  You gave him a quick glance but then forced your eyes away.  Most days you had a hard time keeping your eyes off of him, but it was always harder when he wore the white suit.  The bastard had to have worn it on purpose today judging by how he waggled his eyebrows every time he caught you looking at him.  You had no idea how this man had become a Cardinal, let alone win all those stupid employee of the month awards.  He wasn’t listening to a damn thing Papa was saying.

Terzo himself didn’t seem to be focusing that much either.  You really didn’t blame him, you were the one technically in charge of all the event and party planning at the abbey.  Usually Terzo’s main job at these things was to show up and look pretty.  The only thing he seemed interested in helping with today was naming the event, but he kept pouting after you shot down all of his ideas.  You weren’t naming the damn thing ‘Yay Satan Day’ no matter how many times he’d suggested it.

“Sorella?  Do you agree?” 

Fuck.  You focused back on Terzo who was looking at you expectantly.

“Yes sorella, I would like your input as well.  On his idea.”  

That son of a bitch.  You looked down at your notes to buy yourself some more time.  All you had on there was a small doodle of one of Copia’s rats.  You looked over at him, narrowing your eyes at the stupid smirk on his face.  When he raised an eyebrow you gritted your teeth and glanced away.  You were going to shave both of his eyebrows off when he fell asleep tonight.

“I think that as long as we uh, well as long as we stay under budget that should be feasible.”  

You wrote a quick note down like the responsible event planner that you were and smiled up at Papa.  Now he was raising one of his eyebrows at you, but you kept the smile on your face, refusing to back down.  Terzo chuckled and then popped up from his chair, straightening his clothes as he made his way around his desk.

“Well this has been great fun, but I’m afraid I’m needed elsewhere.”  You hid your notes when he stopped by you and tried to give him an innocent look.  “I’m sure you two can handle everything else, si?  Cardinal make sure my banner gets ordered.”

“Of course, Papa.”

When you spun in your chair to glare at Copia he was ignoring you and picking imaginary lint off his suit.  What the fuck had you agreed to?

“Ok, you two have fun, but not in my office.  Ciao!”

“Okie dokie, Papa.”

Copia caught your eyes as he called out to Terzo before the door shut behind him.  

“Copia, what does this banner say?”

“Nothing special.”  He bit his lip for a moment before continuing,  “Have you kissed me today?”

“Yes, several times this morning.”  You threw your pen at him, laughing when he squawked as it hit his suit.  “Have you forgotten already?”

“Ah well, you know.  Silly me.”

He held out your pen but as soon as you reached out to grab it he took your hand and tugged you out of your chair.

“Copia, no, I don’t have time.”  You sighed in exasperation when he successfully pulled you into his lap, not that you had put up much of a fight.  He wrapped an arm around your waist and held you tightly against him, smiling smugly at you the whole time.  “Are you happy now?”

“Mmm, si.  Very happy.  But…”  He stuck his bottom lip out a bit and you sighed.  “I wish we were kissing.”

“Oh, do you?”

“Very much so.  I think I deserve at least one for helping during the meeting.  Maybe two.”

“I’m sorry, how did you help?  All you did was make stupid faces at me!”

“I said I’d order this banner, didn’t I?  That’s very helpful.”

You wiggled around in his lap so you faced him, ignoring the little pleased grunt he made.

“You’re not ordering anything, Copia, what does this banner s–mmph!”

A hand in your hair and his mouth on yours stopped your question.  Normally you’d be annoyed at this tactic, but it had been a while since you’d kissed him last.  You settled against his chest, deciding to just let him win this time.  He made a pleased sound in the back of his throat and deepened the kiss, his tongue slipping in to tease yours.  After a few minutes he pulled away, sucking your bottom lip between his teeth for a moment before leaning back to give you a lazy smile.

“We should put you in a kissing booth for this thing.”  You groaned and tried to get up, but his arms stayed firm around you.  “No, no I’m serious!  You’re very good.”

“Copia, come on.  I’ve gotta go.”

He sighed and loosened his arms.  You immediately got up before he changed his mind, spinning and stepping back to lean against Terzo’s desk.  You watched as he rose from his chair, grunting a bit as he straightened up.  He reached down to tug at the crotch of his pants to give himself more room.  You felt endlessly pleased that he was already half hard just from a kiss, but when he noticed your smug look he raised that damned eyebrow again.

“Something to say, sorella?”  When you shook your head he stepped closer, resting a hand on either side of you against the desk.  “Do you like getting me all riled up?”

“Yes, I do.  It’s great fun.”

Copia muttered ‘brat’ under his breath before moving in to take your lips again.  This kiss was much more intense, your mouth opening under his immediately.  You buried your hands in his hair while his came down to your hips, his hands squeezing your flesh and urging you up.  Without breaking away from his mouth you let him help you onto Terzo’s desk, ignoring the sound of things clattering around as Copia shoved them out of the way.  Once you were settled he placed a hand on your knee, slipping it under your habit and up your leg.  The leather of his glove was warm against the skin of your thigh and you moaned into his mouth when he reached the hem of your panties. He broke the kiss and rested his forehead against yours.

“Are you wet for me?”  You gasped into his mouth when he ran a finger over the silk covering your cunt.  “If I take my glove off will I feel how much you want me?”

“Only one way to find out.”

Copia growled, bringing his hand up to his mouth and tugging the glove off with his teeth.  Another growl rumbled in his chest when he tasted you on the leather.  When he was done he tossed it behind you onto the desk and leaned in to kiss you again.  His bare hand quickly found its way back under your skirt and you gasped when his fingers slid under your panties.  He rested one right at your wet entrance and you both broke away again, panting into each other's mouths when it easily slipped inside.  A smug grin broke out on his face, but before you could snap at him the door opened and Terzo waltzed back in.

“What are you two still do–ai!  No!  What did I say?!”

You shoved Copia away and jumped down from the desk, frantically straightening your skirt.  Terzo had switched to Italian as he and Copia began to snap back and forth at each other.  You grabbed your pen and notebook from the floor, freezing when Terzo turned with a finger pointed at you.

“Sorry Papa!”  He waved a hand at you and then stomped over to his desk.  Muttering under his breath as he straightened up the things you and Copia had knocked over.  You glared at Copia when he snickered as he walked towards you.  “Stop that!  You got me in trouble.”

Copia grabbed your hand, grinning as he tugged you towards the door.

“Far worse things have been done on that desk.  He’ll get over it.”  

“Hey!”  Both of you turned at the sound of Terzo’s voice, you watched warily as he glared at you with his hands on his hips.  “We’re calling it ‘Yay Satan Day’.”

“Ugh, fine!”  You ignored Terzo’s triumphant grin and turned back towards the door.  “I hate you both.”

“Si, I know.”  Copia opened the door for you and squeezed your hand when you went into the hall.  “Let’s uh head back to your room to clean up a bit, okie dokie?”  

More shouts from Terzo stole your attention away and you peered around Copia to see Papa poking something on top of his desk.

“Cardinal!  Come get your glove!  Satan, where has this thing been?!”

You looked at Copia and smiled before squeezing his hand back.

“Okie dokie.”

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