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quoththemaiden · 9 months ago

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@mrghostrat This is now the third time since December that I'm writing about your middle-aged men and their middle-aged-man problems (1, 2). Please come collect them, because they're causing a disturbance.

Or, if you aren't able to wrangle them, then please enjoy this scene inspired by Chapter 10 of Big Name Feelings.

For everyone who hasn't already seen the top portion of this on Discord, know that this is set sometime after the con but before the big bang.

—

"I think your hair might be getting long enough to braid now."

Crowley's eyes snapped over to him. "Braid?"

Aziraphale blinked at the sharp question. "I didn't mean anything by it." He'd still never figured out quite where Crowley's gender identity lay, or if it changed day-by-day. He suspected Crowley's public presentation of his gender was either "whatever's simplest for everyone involved" (around people he didn't know but generally liked, like at the con) or "whatever causes the most problems for everyone involved" (like with a particularly annoying security guard that had left Aziraphale remembering that being middle-aged, white, and extremely stuffy in appearance was its own form of armor). Aziraphale's own perception of Crowley's gender was just "Crowley." What Crowley felt about it was something Aziraphale had never quite managed to parse out. "You can do whatever you like—"

"Do you know how?"

"How...?"

"To braid hair." Crowley's tone was oddly urgent. "Like for your nieces or cousins or—"

"—for crafting, yes. Tassels for bookmarks and such. You want me to—" Crowley practically flinging himself down onto the sofa next to him was answer enough. "Oh."

Crowley's hair really was barely long enough to braid, Aziraphale decided as he gently freed it from its elastic band. He ran his fingers through it slowly and carefully, easing out the light tangles from a day's confinement. Crowley slumped forward in boneless contentment, and Aziraphale had to switch to prickling the top of his scalp with his fingernails to get him to sit up straight enough for Aziraphale to work.

Aziraphale determined his gameplan, then, and gently eased up a few locks of hair at the crown of Crowley's head, smoothing down the top with the flat of his palm. He started working the strands into a French braid, taking it tiny piece by tiny piece to ensure every section was balanced in size. If Crowley were doing it himself, he suspected he'd get it done in just five messy joins, but every strand he brought in gave Aziraphale another excuse to run his fingertips along Crowley's scalp and he luxuriated in each opportunity. "Has anyone ever told you your hair is unreasonably thick?" he murmured, his voice huskier with fond affection than he'd intended. Crowley spared him from a tease by being too utterly sedated to manage more than a vague hum in response. Aziraphale smiled at that and kept his progress blissfully slow and methodical until he had no choice but to tie the braid off at the nape of Crowley's neck — half a French braid, half a ponytail made bushy from having had waves worked into it. He placed a soft kiss to the back of Crowley's head, padded by the thickest part of Crowley's braid and somehow all the more intimate for it. "All done, love."

Crowley leaned back against Aziraphale's chest, tilting back his head to look up at him with eyes made impossibly soft with contentment. "I'm never putting my own hair up again. Just hope you know that."

Aziraphale chuckled softly, just as fond. "I'll manage somehow, I suppose."

—

Crowley's boneless appreciation of the hair braiding had turned into boneless napping, and while Aziraphale enjoyed having Crowley fall asleep against him at certain times of day, he had never been one for naps himself and there was a limit to how long he could stay motionless sans entertainment before even he got antsy. He eased his way out from under Crowley, grateful the other man was a heavy sleeper even during the day, and was left deciding what quiet amusement he could pursue until whenever Crowley woke up and started making noises about dinner. He could always read some fanfics, of course, but his eyes couldn't help but be drawn towards his favorite muse.

His muse who had, he recalled, tempted him into joining a rigged bang and had talked him into getting a digital tablet. Aziraphale still planned to do his official art for it traditionally, because he was sure Crowley's writing would deserve no less... and, if he was allowed to be vain in the privacy of his own mind, because he still remembered the feeling he'd had when Crowley responded to his scans with barely coherent keysmashing. He wasn't in deferential awe of Crowley anymore, although he still loved his writing just as much, but part of him still hoped that Crowley might respond with just as much enthusiasm at getting to see the finished piece in person, textured paper and unprocessed colors and all. Well, assuming he could be gutsy enough to actually give it to him in person instead of just leaving it on the drafting table for him to find, which was really the more statistically likely result. But anyway.

But anyway.

His muse was sleeping in front of him, and a stylus on an iPad would make hardly any noise at all. And if he got good enough at using it, maybe he could draw some extra digital art to celebrate the fic as well.

In any case, sketching Crowley while he slept was one of life's little joys. He didn't think Crowley knew how often he did it, and that was probably for the best. If he did it all in his notebook, it would have been too easy for Crowley to flip through and find the sketches (and removing sheets would have felt damnably like a guilty conscience). With his iPad, however, he was safe to sketch as much as he liked and there was no real way for Crowley to stumble across it. Aziraphale willfully shoved aside the thought that that didn't really sound any less guilty and started setting stylus to screen. It wasn't long until he'd settled into a comfortable rhythm, his eyes flicking back and forth between the screen and where Crowley was lying face-down on the sofa, his new braid highlighted in a beam of afternoon sunlight.

Something Aziraphale did appreciate about digital art was that white could be layered on top of other colors and be shockingly vibrant, which wasn't an effect he could get easily with his beloved watercolors. Something else watercolors didn't give him was the ability to pick out very fine details, and as his sketch started coming together, he found that was exactly what he wanted to do now. While Crowley's hair was a vibrant red in his selfies or on stage, when he'd had the opportunity to run his fingers through every strand, he'd found that Crowley's hair was showing his age just as much as his own was.

The first day Aziraphale had found a grey hair had come as a shock. He'd naively assumed that with his hair being as pale as it was, even if it started greying, he might well never know. Instead, he found that the grey hairs' texture was frustratingly different from the strands that were still blond, and until they reached a critical mass fifteen long years later, they had an unfortunate tendency to stick out unattractively if his cut was anything less than perfect. He had become quite a regular at his barber's.

With Crowley's hair being as long as it was, his grey hairs had worked smoothly into his braid. From even the small distance from couch to armchair, they melded into the red strands perfectly... but Aziraphale had just spent long minutes twining them into neat twists and didn't need to see them now to know they were there. Aziraphale zoomed in close (another marked benefit of the digital display) and set his pen to a thin, sharp line, layering sleek silver strands into the red braid he'd drawn. Following the way they weaved around each other and dipped in and out of view felt delightfully meditative.

Eventually, Crowley made a soft snuffling snort-groan as he roused from his nap, slowly turning to unbury his face from the pillows. "Wha' time'zit?" he mumbled, patting around blindly for his cellphone.

"Coming up on 5:30 now," Aziraphale replied softly, trying not to startle him into full wakefulness too quickly. He rose and fetched Crowley's phone, placing it gently into his fumbling hand. "There you go."

"Mmrrr. Don't need it now." Crowley tucked the phone under his side in what Aziraphale would have guessed would be a very uncomfortable fashion but which Crowley did without even thinking. At least it wouldn't be going anywhere from there, Aziraphale supposed. "What're you doin'?" Crowley made grabby hands at the iPad Aziraphale had brought over with him.

Aziraphale handed over the iPad without even one thought, much less a second. "Oh, I was just waiting for you to wake up, really."

"...Angel." Crowley had zoomed out on the picture (with a completely unsurprising lack of propriety) and was now staring, frozen and much more awake, at the drawing of himself. "You aren't going to post this on Tumblr, are you?"

Aziraphale laughed at the sheer ridiculousness of that, despite the ripple of shock Crowley's tense tone had caused him. "Come, now. When have I ever posted a drawing of you, my dear?"

"When have you ever made a drawing of me?" Crowley retorted. He waved vaguely at the screen, accidentally sparing Aziraphale from having to answer. "I don't mind being old, but I don't want the world knowing my boyfriend thinks I'm old." His frazzled waving turned a little more flaily.

"Crowley..." Aziraphale gently took the tablet back from him and set it down on the floor so he could take Crowley's hand in both of his. "I assure you, I'm not the kind of artist who spends my time drawing things I don't think are beautiful. And that includes every detail I put in."

Aziraphale would have hoped that was obvious, really. The strands of hair he had drawn weren't brittle grey; they were molten silver. They caught the light like a precious metal woven like a ribbon into cinnabar-red hair. Crowley could have been a queen, fallen asleep after a long day in her finery. He could have been a fae whose very essence was beauty, sleeping with no fear that it would be stolen away because it couldn't.

He could have been an ordinary man, who was so deeply, truly loved that even his grey hairs seemed to shine like the soft gleam of a newly-forged star when they caught the last strong beams of afternoon sunlight shining in through the windows.

Aziraphale hoped Crowley could see it, too.

Crowley made a grumpy noise. "I still don't want it on Tumblr. — Not that I can tell you what to do with your art, but—"

Aziraphale interrupted him with a warm smile. "I don't want it on Tumblr, either. I drew this just for me."

"...really? Even though...?"

"Just for me," Aziraphale whispered in confirmation, his eyes seeking out Crowley's and saving him from having to finish that sentence. "I've only ever drawn you for me." I love you to the point of creation, his heart sang. It wasn't quite how that quote went, he knew. It was the only way it had ever gone, for him.

"Hn..." Crowley shifted to look at the iPad where it lay down on the floor. "I suppose... Well. Despite the subject matter, you drew it well, at least."

"Well, thank you for that," Aziraphale jibed back lightly, completely devoid of malice.

"Ngh, you can't blame me for feeling self-conscious about my greys when you haven't got any."

Aziraphale let out a huff of a laugh. "Oh, Crowley."

"What?" Crowley looked defensive, then abruptly switched to looking shrewd. "Wait. Do you dye them??" He leaned forward eagerly, like this was taboo knowledge.

"Oh, where was that compliment two decades ago? No, not at all. Do you know how long I spent getting over feeling self-conscious about them, and now for you to not even realize I have them?"

"No way. You've been holding out on me!" Crowley's eyes had a light in them that Aziraphale had seen sometimes — the look of someone who has been wanting something very much and thinks he's just figured out how to get it. Aziraphale drew back instinctively in trepidation. He had no idea what Crowley could possibly be wanting, though a fluttering feeling in his chest suggested that it was, in some way, him.

Ridiculous. As if they hadn't had sex already.

"I'm going to go get dinner started."

Crowley let out a whine that cut off abruptly enough that Aziraphale suspected he actually hadn't intended to make it.

Aziraphale paused. "What?"

"Ehhh... just envious, s'all."

Aziraphale took a moment to muse about whether Crowley knew the difference between "envious" and "jealous" and decided, firmly, that he had faith that he did. "Of what?" he asked with an incredulous laugh, since he still had no idea what "envious" could possibly apply to here.

"Negghhh, you've gotten to play with my hair enough to know I have greys, and I haven't gotten to touch yours once."

Aziraphale blushed darkly at that, remembering some choice occasions in which Crowley had gripped his hair tightly enough to hurt. He cleared his throat and opted not to mention them. "That feels much more like your fault than mine."

"Just... tryin'a respect your boundaries, angel."

"Why would that be a boundary?" Aziraphale asked, baffled.

"I asked for it and you haven't."

Aziraphale didn't quite remember it that way, but it was a fair enough interpretation from Crowley's point of view, he supposed. "Well, no. It sounds perfectly nice, but I'd hate to bore you with it. I know you're much more fidgety than I am."

"Not bored," Crowley insisted, his eyes urgent. "Never bored when it's you, angel. Siddown."

Aziraphale laughed breathily. "Too late. I'm already up to cook dinner."

"Angel."

"You'll just have to wait," Aziraphale teased in a singsong lilt, casting a smile back at Crowley over his shoulder.

Crowley flung himself back on the couch with an impatient whine, leaving Aziraphale feeling very smug about his attempt at whatever the romantic equivalent of foreplay was. Crowley sounded very much like he was being left with blue balls. "Bastard."

"Only as much as you deserve, my dear," Aziraphale sang back as he went into the kitchen, acutely aware of Crowley's eyes following every step.

—

It wasn't really in question, at all, that Aziraphale would end the evening snuggled on the couch with Crowley's hands in his hair. There was also no question that he'd enjoy it thoroughly, and he also knew it wasn't the kind of thing that was likely to lead to anything more. So, instead, he just relaxed into it and let his thoughts drift.

"...do you really think I'd mind if my red fox turned into a silver fox?" he mused. The thought was languid, easy, relaxed. Crowley spluttered in incoherent surprise anyway, and Aziraphale laughed softly. "Yes, I know. There's a reason I'm not the writer of the pair."

"Y'are, though. Don't think I've forgotten that you are."

Aziraphale blushed a little at that. "Oh."

Crowley's hands resumed their meditative motion through Aziraphale's hair. "But... yeah. I'd rock it, wouldn't I?"

"You would," Aziraphale murmured with a smile. "And I'm quite looking forward to seeing it someday, my dear."

#good omens #ineffable husbands #bnf au #fanfiction of fanfiction #my writing #not actually about asexuality but let's be honest that hair-petting scene was my kind of ace #apologies for any misrepresentation about watercolors #seriously bilvy come get your middle-aged men and their middle-aged-man problems out of my head #and be aware that if you leave time between posting future chapters then i might have to write more and nobody wants that

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bendycxmet · 5 months ago

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Under Your Spell—Vash the Stampede

Summary: You are a top supporter of a trending camboy. What you don't know, is that that camboy is your friend and roommate, Vash.

Word Count: ~3.3k

Pairing: gn!reader x camboy!Vash the Stampede

Content: sexual content, nsfw, 18+ MDNI!, masturbation, edging, voyeurism, whiny vash, teasing reader

a/n: got the brainworms for camboy vash from @biancalattei and @awkwardchick87. my only solution was to put pen to paper.

|masterlist|

sharing an apartment with vash was a blessing. rent prices in the city drove you two to ultimately decide to room with each other. besides, you had known each other for years and decided that living with each other would be a breeze granted how well you two got along.

you and vash had retired to your rooms for the night for quite some time now. its almost like routine. you claimed you wanted to rot in bed, watching your shows for a couple of hours before work the next day, leaving your spot beside him on the couch an hour before he resided to his room way down the hall for the night.

yes, the two of you were impossibly close, practically stuck at the hip now, but how could you ever tell him that you needed to go get off to your favorite camboy? that's a secret that will be carried to the grave.

something about this camboy separated him easily from the rest. he had enough charm and personality that watching his streams never made you feel guilt or shame. the easygoing smile that graced his face like he actually enjoyed interacting with his fans, comments that would stream in faster than your eyes could catch, and his deep, rumbling laugh that almost acted as foreplay itself. it always felt like talking to a close friend. until he of course whipped it out.

he was blessed with a gift, is all you could say. he was the perfect size all around, his cock long enough to only give pleasure without causing pain for your insides but thick enough that you can feel him fill you up. well, at least that's how you envisioned it in your fantasies. he was a pretty pink, the tapered tip a delightful rosy red. the wispy blond happy trail that led down to him was neatly kept. you imagined how it felt to touch him there before pleasuring him, feeling the soft, fine hairs between your fingers.

his body was nothing but lean muscle, a full chest connected to hard, outlined abs, flexed arms and toned, thick thighs always clenching as he neared his climaxes. you never saw his face. or hands, hands that were covered with ruby leather gloves. for whatever reason that may be. you also were 100% certain that he wore some type of wig, a smart move you would say. maybe he had unique hair to match the rarity of the beautiful person he was. he also always sported a bunny mask that obscured his whole face, only leaving his lips for the audience’s viewing pleasure, which only fueled your fantasies more, his lips always pulled into a smirk or cute smile, sharp teeth on display, teeth meant to dig into your flesh-

ok, you were getting sidetracked. you quickly tapped into your phone to play some music through your speaker, faking that you were occupied with something else that was not watching a man touch himself on camera for thousands to see. you plug your headphones into your computer and click on the hidden bookmark saved to immediately take you to his stream.

please wait for the stream to begin.

read the loading screen. the chat was up and alive, discussing what he could possibly be doing for the night. you adjusted yourself on your bed, towel beneath you, toys to your left. you waited with bated breath, ready to hear his deep voice come through your headphones.

“hello hello! how are we all doing tonight? hope your week went well, my lovelies. but not too well. not without me, i hope.” you giggle, blushing slightly as you watch his sweatpant clad form come into frame, adjusting himself in his chair. you could never see anything past him, his room obscured in total darkness. you wish you could though, just to know what he was like. oh well, all that mattered was him.

it was obvious that he had nothing on underneath his sweatpants, the hard outline of himself evident through the thin gray material. he was leaning casually back in his chair, leaning his head to the side onto his raised fist, chatting with his fans for a couple of minutes. it was obvious that everyone was getting antsy to see him pleasure himself. you shoot a quick comment into the void.

his eyes light up instantly.

“hi bonbon721! good to see you’re here. as always.” he adds with a sly wink. you cover your face with your hands. he always says hello to you, but it never fails to fluster you. of course, you were one of his first fans, loyal and supportive even six months later. you had an eye for budding talent. more comments come in, greeting you. other fans also knew of you, mostly since you always commented witty remarks. your comment quickly begins to accrue upvotes. he laughs heartily.

“see what you started bonbon? ok, fine. let’s get started. can’t fault a guy for wanting to get to know you before taking you to dinner.” he quickly drags his pants down, his cock jumping out immediately to slap against his toned stomach. he draws in a quick inhale, the cold air hitting his sensitive length.

always ready for us, huh big boy?

his eyes catch onto your comment, a flush spreading throughout his body, a dribble of precum leaking from him. he averts his eyes for a split second, glad his mask obscures his embarrassed expression. although, nothing escapes your attention to detail. oh, had you pulled that reaction from him? the thought twists the coil in your stomach tighter, squeezing your legs together to quell the ache between them.

he spreads his legs further on the chair, leather-clad fingers coming down to grasp himself. a shuddering sigh leaves him, head thrown back.

“what would you like me to do today, chat?”

>obviously touch yourself.

>do u have a flshlght

>edge yourself until bonbon tells you to cum.

>ooo

>agree ^

>yesss

you choke on your spit, sending yourself into a coughing fit. what? huh?! had the chat been scheming before you clicked in for the night?

wait, why me???

>because you’re the top supporter silly. it’s the stream’s 6th month anniversary too. lets celebrate

>and besides, our boy here has you as his favorite~

before you can type your rejection of their logic, wanting everyone in the chat to receive the same love as you do, a dark chuckle interjects.

“well, we gotta give what the people want bonbon. what do you say? play around with me?” your fingers shake as they hover over the keyboard. you take a deep breath in an attempt to calm yourself, before clicking the keys.

you better hold out until i say so then.

you are so thankful that there is a screen separating the two of you, coming off as a bold and confident fan rather than the flustered, meek supporter that you actually are.

a shaky laugh rings out into your headphones, the abrupt tightening of leather on skin hinting that he enjoyed that comment. well, enjoyed being bossed around, you had gathered from all the streams you have joined in on.

now fuck your fist like you mean it.

his hand comes up to the tip, circling it in tight circles, gathering the precum dribbling from the slit to ease the glide of the leather glove against his shaft. he twists his hand on the upstroke, wrist bending back and forth as he stroked himself. his free hand flew out to grab onto the desk on a particularly good twist of his dick, teeth digging into his bottom lip, preventing his moans from slipping out. a withering whine slips out however, thrashing his head to the side as if he could escape the euphoria thrumming through him, licking up his spine. the dings of the chat bring him somewhat back to reality.

open your eyes, pretty. remember your promise. not until i say so.

stop biting your lip and let us hear you. and keep your eyes on me.

you type out your demands, adding one hand back in your pants. you’re already halfway there, seeing as this camboy always gets you hot and bothered just with his appearance. the chat has gone silent out of respect of you commanding him, the only thing notifying him that he and bonbon aren’t alone is the reactions floating in quick succession at the top of the comments tab. the instant he lets go of his lip, a stuttering moan comes flying out his mouth.

“‘s so good bonbon. please, let me cum. ‘m almost there.” if you could see his face, you would be able to see the blush covering it. for now, all you can see is the flush covering his chest and ears. oh. you can tell he feels good.

got a couple more things i need you to do. cup yourself.

he lets go of the desk to grab his balls, hissing in despair at the onslaught of pleasure that shoots through his body. he arches his back, strengthening the hold he has on himself down there, bating his release. he whines loudly, hand releasing himself to quickly cover his mouth with his arm.

what did i say?

“i know i know im sorry. i just have…neighbors… that i dont want to disturb.” his eyes flit to his bedroom door, checking to see if you turned on the hallway light to check on him for that outburst. nothing. he breathes a sigh of relief. you must be asleep. or the walls are actually thick here. he sends a silent thank you to the construction people who built this building.

dont want them knowing how good you feel? i certainly wouldn't mind hearing how good my hot neighbor is feeling tonight. maybe they’re doing the same thing as you right now. who wouldn’t?

you blush at that thought, imagining vash touching himself. damn the bathroom for separating your rooms. what you would give to hear that.

vash was in the same headspace, sharing similar thoughts. he moaned, imagining you touching yourself to his groans and whimpers. no way. you definitely didn't see him in that light. the movie binging you two indulged in every night could only last so long, you claiming you wanted some time to destress before bed, always leaving for bed before him. he relished whenever you two would touch knees, or when you would lean into his side, getting comfortable for the two-hour movie. recalling how you smelt of your body wash and detergent earlier tonight only serves to make his cock throb harder.

increase the pace.

dont have to tell him twice. he goes back into his rhythm, one hand down below, the other moving up and down his length, the rosy tip turning redder, implying his imminent release. gasps and groans ring out. his thighs shake with each upstroke, tears appearing on his waterline. he tries to blink them back, not wanting the chat, especially, bonbon, to see how easily worked up he is. he heeds your commands from earlier, keeping his eyes forward.

stop

you giggle mischievouly, happy to be in control of such a beautiful man, one that follows every whim you can think of. the whine he lets out is comical, the tears trailing down his cheeks, appearing underneath his mask, hanging off his jawline.

“noooo please have mercy! i don’t know how longer i can hold out for.”

tell us the story of how you tripped on your apartment steps again.

“seriously?? i can’t even think straight bonbon. all i can remember is a friend of mine nearly collapsing on the floor, laughing when they saw how pouty i was when i came to them for help.”

he never mentioned that detail before. funny, you had been in a similar scenario with vash a couple months ago. if you weren’t so horny in the moment, your confusion could have been a revelation..

ok, i kid. chat, is it time?

>god yes

>i dont think i can hold out much longer either

>he looks so hot already

he waits in anticipation, entire body quaking in his chair. his eyes are fixated on the comments section, waiting for your command.

come, my good boy.

a moan that can only be described as pornographic rips from his chest, his leathered hand stroking himself with a vigor you have yet to see so far in his streaming career. a shudder rips through you, your hand flying to your toy to put it to work. you wanted to be right there with him when he came.

he begins to blabber, hinting at his cresting release. “ohh my godd so good baby. so go-” his voice hitches, ending an octave higher. you see his eyes squeeze shut through the slits in the mask, jaw dropping open. his body seizes completely, a rumbling groan echoing into his room as he shoots ropes of cum all over his red gloves, his thighs, and his stomach. he whines as he continues to squeeze out the last remnants of his orgasm, lip quivering over gritted teeth.

it’s almost as if you're there with him, your toy quickly buzzing your release to life, collapsing backward onto your bed, eyes rolling back into your head. you could've sworn that groan rang out closer to you than just in your ears…

you feel the towel beneath you become moist, the cool sensation pulling you back to your dimly lit room. you feel slow, ears ringing from your release, and begrudgingly pull yourself up. it feels as if you’re swimming underwater, floating. the light creeps back into your vision, eyes blinking until it clears enough for you to see the computer screen again.

holy. shit. your eyes widen, hands coming up to cover your mouth. vash is laying back in his chair, still recovering from his release. white is streaked across his thighs, droplets of his release streaming down the thick muscle while pools of his cum stay gathered in the valleys between his defined stomach. he’s panting loudly, small groans interspacing each exhale. you look down at yourself, realizing that you too have made a mess rivaling his own.

>yall seeing this????

>that has to be the most he’s cum in a looong time. maybe ever.

>new kinks discovered??

vash lolls his head back forward, reading the flurry of teasing statements. post-nut clarity hits him full force, and he laughs loudly out of shock and overall astonishment. “you might be right chat. i haven’t felt like that since i was a hormonal teenager. bonbon–you did something to me.”

you scream behind your hands after quickly typing your response.

you did so good for me. for us. thank you

now go shower. you’re gonna be sticky soon enough

he sighs, feeling the ecstasy leak from his body. tonight turned out better than he could of ever hoped. “yeah yeah i know. ok everyone. wow. 20 minutes flew by huh? for me it did at least. but have a good night everyone. happy anniversary! lets chat again next week. love and peace!”

>love and peaceeee

>good night king

>sleep tight my cumlord~

he gets up from his chair, pulling his sweatpants back on. you rub your hands on your face. maybe you'll shower too. usually you didn't make such a mess of yourself, but tonight was definitely an exception. you’re about to close out of the tab when you see he is still streaming. he doesn’t seem to realize though, perhaps still feeling the effects from his orgasm. you watch as he takes his gloves off, teeth pulling at the red material. you lean forward, happy to see a new part of himself. you still.

right as he pulls his right hand from his glove, a glint of silver catches your eye. a ring with engraved flowers sits on his ring finger. a ring…you had given him for his birthday this year.

he glances up, and jumps slightly. “whoops, missed the end call button. alright, night for real guys.” he waves, before the screen goes black.

you sit there in silence, the desk lamp in the corner the only thing illuminating your dark space. you shake your head. maybe it’s a coincidence. it's not like that ring is the only one to exist in its style. even though you found it at your local farmers market. from a local seller. you decide a shower is desperately needed. as you exit your room, you head for the bathroom next door, tip-toeing as to not wake vash-

vash who steps out from his room right as you reach the bathroom. you shriek. he shrieks.

“what are you doing up?! i thought you went to bed an hour ago?!” he questions you. you see he makes a move to cover himself, but not before you catch onto several things that are lit from the LEDs in his room.

he’s shirtless. wearing only gray sweatpants. your ring sits on his right hand, the hand that's moving desperately to clean cum from his stomach. your eyes then catch onto the bunny mask that’s sitting on his bed behind him.

you start screaming. he starts screaming. “WHAT WHAT IS SOMETHING BEHIND ME?!” he whips around, putting himself between you and the potential threat.

“YOU CANT BE HIM NONONO-”

he turns back around and grabs your shoulders. “hey, slow down. what are you talking about?”

“im bonbon721… from your streams-” your eyes are tightly shut but you dare a peek at him. he’s as white as a sheet. or as his cum from earlier.

“i. um. dont knoww. what you’re talking about-” he stutters.

“oh don’t bullshit me vash. i see the mask behind you. i know you cam. and you’re damn good at it too. no wonder you have thousands of subscribers.”

you can feel the heat radiating off of him. he swallows, and drops his hands from your shoulders, down to your hands. “you don't think…it’s gross?”

vash had kept this secret to himself. he really liked you but was afraid you would see him differently for jerking himself off in front of a camera for strangers. you had always shared secrets with each other since you were young, but this was one he hesitated to share.

“what? of course not. i respect the hustle. plus-” you hesitate. if you were to finish your sentence, it would change your relationship with vash. but you see the pleading look in his eyes, and realize how much of a fool you were for him. you already came this far, especially when you admitted you were bonbon, his top supporter. “-it’s kinda hot,” you finish with a whisper.

he’s relieved, all his previous worries off his shoulders. his shoulders sag, and he leans down onto your shoulder. goosebumps break out on your skin from his proximity. he smells like sex and sweat.

“you did a good job. i wasnt lying when i said i’ve never cum like that before in over a decade.” he releases your hands, wrapping his arms around you and bringing you closer. you relax into his touch, massaging the muscles of his back. “wanna know something?” he whispers in your ear. you can only hum. “in all my streams, i always think of you when i touch myself.” he gives your ear a lick as he pushes into you slightly, making you feel how hard he is. again.

you cry out at his confession, pushing his chest back to look at him at arms length. he’s completely smug, head tilted, smirk kept back by the sharp canines digging into his bottom lip. he looks at you from top to bottom, seeing the light sheen on your legs.

“i liked being bossed around, more now knowing it was you doing it. mind if we do it again?”

you feel hot. who would dare refuse an offer like that?

“why not? but let's take a shower. it’ll save us some time, especially once i’m done with you.” you push him backward, kicking the bathroom door shut behind you.

a/n: you have been subjected to me having too much fun with a fic. i got in a silly goofy mood while slutting this man out. thank you everyone! teehee xoxo

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Part 2!

#vash x reader #vash x reader smut #vash #vash the stampede #vash the stampede x reader #vash the stampede x reader smut #trigun x reader #trigun x reader smut #trigun smut #trigun stampede smut #trigun #trigun stampede #tristamp #tristamp smut #bendycxmet writes

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snek-panini · 1 year ago

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Happy Halloween! Have a book:

This is Siren's Song by @kedreeva (Hi! I asked to bind your fic months ago, sorry it took so long XD). It's an incredible Good Omens siren AU, which needs no introduction from me but it gets one anyway. It's one of the most in-character fics I've ever read, tackles a lot of the most resonant themes of the original (love in the context of aromanticism and asexuality, human labels in the context of non-human perspective), and has incredible world-building. Later parts of the fic always make me cry but they're good tears. You'll see. When I first learned that fanbinding was a thing and started looking into how to do it, this was one of the first fics I thought of. It just took me a while to learn the skills I needed before I could do it.

More pics and process talk under the cut!

So the cover up there is black faux leather and momi paper that I bought...about two years ago? And just kept on hand till I was ready to do this project. This is the first time I've worked with it and it was fairly nice, though harder to get a nice crease into than lokta or chiyogami. It felt very fragile when I was handling it but I didn't have any issues with tearing or glue bleed-through like I thought I might. It did bleed some color when I got it damp with the glue, and it took way longer to dry than normal, but once that was done it's been fine. Which is nice because I have a lot left over, so it'll probably be making many future appearances in my binds.

Look! It's rounded! I got a backing setup recently and this is my first time using it. It was Very Hard and I am not very good at it yet. But I think it looks pretty good for a first attempt, and there was really no other way to mitigate the spine swell on this one. I used a thick paper so I've got a thick book. I also tried something new with the case, though it isn't visible. Usually I make the text block and the case separately and then attach them as the last step, but for this one I actually built the case around the text. Like, boards attached to mull/tapes (sandwiched between thinner boards, with grooves cut for them so there are no bulges), then covered with momi, then leather corners and spine, then paste down the endpaper. It's got an oxford hollow, too! The tapes and mull actually wrap around the outside of the boards instead of the inside like I've done before. Endpapers are my favorite feather chiyogami. Combined with the marbled momi they make for a very opulent look, and I had just barely enough to do this. Like, down to the millimeter. I had to trim the edges and then glue the endpapers after to be sure they were right. I'm glad they were, because I didn't have a backup plan. Handmade endbands, colors picked to match the cover. Also, last note, I got the corner bits right for the first time. Measured properly, with no weird pointy bits that come out at funny angles. Very proud.

Title page and bookmark/interior shot. Did you know that some basic fonts in MS Word look different when you use a huge font size? Because I didn't until I made this title page. That's Parchment for the title, and it only gets those swirly bits around the capital letters if you take it to 26pt or higher (I used 72 here). Now I wonder if any of the other fonts have easter eggs in them like that. The ribbon is very fancy, to go along with the rich endpaper/cover combo. I think it's pretty appropriate for a mythological golden age of piracy story, as are the text ornaments:

Chapter header image, chapter end image, and section break image. It was a very image-heavy typeset. I was originally planning to only have a header and a section break, but I couldn't decide whether I liked the ships or the book/shell/feather better, and they both suited the story so well that I just went with both. Again, opulent, but I think it fits. All the images came from rawpixel, all I did was resize them.

There was a small error in the trimming process. Comes of having to calculate so closely the exact amount you can trim off, that you have to trim off so your slightly-too-small endpapers fit. I think something got misaligned when I poked the sewing holes because only the first signature is like this. The rest of the book has a more appropriately-sized margin between the page number and the edge. I got very lucky here, and I know it, and I'm never cutting it this close (lol) again. Next time we just order another sheet of chiyogami.

And that's it! I have one author's copy and one new bind in progress right now (that's taking a while because I'm learning more new stuff for it), and then I have two Christmas gift books to do, so it might be a bit before I have another book to share.

#bookbinding #fanbinding #snek makes books #good omens #fic rec #this one was months in the making #maybe years if you consider i bought the momi in 2021 #long before i started working on the typeset #i love it so much though #when i was done i wanted to carry it around all day and show it to people #like a kid who wants you to put their drawing on the fridge

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juvenillia · 1 year ago

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~ Death of Peace of Mind ~ 03: friends

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x fem!reader

photo credits go to very talented @ave661

a/n: Johnny holds my heart, so of course he will play an important role in this story as well, and as I said before the fic is slow burn but I try to push it a bit further with the next chapters. Gonna try to update every week at least two times | reblogs and comments are highly appreciated, let me hear what you think pls

CW/TW: mentions of loss, rejection, smoking, guilt, ptsd, shutting off due to mental health issues

wordcount: 2.1k

prev | masterlist | next

The rest of the day went on without anymore incidents. You literally tried to avoid Soap and Ghost, not being fond of furthermore discussions or chats. After the rookies were dismissed, you simply asked Price for any other things to accomplish, but he denied the request. Therefore, you went off as fast as possible before the other Seargent could get a grip of you. You decided to make a spontaneous visit at the shooting range. Pulling the trigger with the rest of temper your heart hold, until your stomach told you about some other essential needs.

Afterwards you went quite early to get some dinner, just before you took a cold shower. There you also met the girl next door; her name was Beth. She was way to open, and the bruises at her neck just confirmed a theory about her. It was still pretty chill outside, so you decided to take a book and headed to the patio. The breeze of the wind tangling in your hair, what was still braided together, just a bit looser than usual. Your hair was still a bit dump from the shower, but you didn’t mind.

A cup of tea besides you and the book in your hands. This was kind of therapeutic, shutting your mind blank for a few minutes. A few minutes for your peace of mind. You didn’t know how long you were seated here. From time to time there were other soldiers or recruits passing by, greeting you politely but leaving you alone. Just when it the sun started to set you decided to have your usual evening smoke, before heading in back to your room again.

You put your bookmark in between the pages you stopped. It was a thin piece of cardboard, onto it a colorful drawing of thick grey clouds, just beneath you could find some tiny raindrops, falling down onto a trunk. On top of the wooden piece were placed a black pigeon, a grey dog who would wear a little golden crown. Your thumb brushed carefully over the paper, hardly scared that it would get destroyed if you would touch it too harsh. A lump formed in the back of your throat while you closed the book and put it aside.

Pulling out the box of cigarettes you kept close to you all the time. Opening the box, pulling out the lighter of the box and a fag. You ignited the drug between your fingers and inhaled deeply. Eying the little metallic device in your hand, which had two koi engraved on to it which danced delightful in a circle before pushing it back into the box and back into the pocket you originally found it. You leaned further into the backrest, head falling back while you exhaled a thick cloud of smoke. Let yourself get once more entangled in your own thoughts, but for once you allowed yourself to. Closing you eyes to actually think back to the happy memories replaying.

In the meantime, Soap and Gaz were seated at the canteen, eating their burgers. They tasted like you would never want one ever again, but it was still a welcomed change of food choices. “You’re messing with me!”, Kyle cried out and Soap signaled him to keep his voice low. “Never! I told you, just like that and she was on top of him.”, Johnny explained all over excited again. He grabbed the glass of juice in front of him. “Why didn’t you take a picture?!”, his friend asked him with a hint of disbelief still laying in his voice. “An donas dubh!” [By the devil!] – “English, MacTavish.” – “God dammit, I’m such a roaster. I didn’t think of it!”, Gaz only laughed and ate up to his burger.

“She really stirring up on us, huh?” Johnny let out a chuckle. “True though. I think she’ll just need a bit time to warm up with us. Bonnie is lovely. Just doubting that Lt will…”, his voice a bit falling in the end but remaining as soft as possible. “Find quite a liking in her already? Don't fall for her, mate.”, Gaz teased before going on, “Look, he needed quite some time with us too and he still do, though. Everything will turn out great. Price just knows us too well, for her not to fit in.”, the Brit looking with hopeful eyes at his comrade and Johnny only smiled slightly. “I really hope so.” – “So, I believe we shouldn’t tease Simon about it, huh?”, Gaz stated while pushing the empty plate a bit further on to the table to make space for his arms too lean on. “Defiently not. Even if it’s tempting.” – “Let me guess, your blood was running cold again.” – “Aye, he really dinnea think it’s funny at all.” The two laughed wholehearted before returning their empty dishes and started walking out of the canteen.

Your hand was still clinging around the back of the leathery book from earlier. The taste of the cigarette long forgotten you made your way back to your barrack. Unfortunately, you had to cross ways with the common room, to get back to your own chambers. There were little prayers running through your head, that maybe nobody would be in there, so you could easily spend the rest of the evening alone. To your disgrace they were all seated around. Price placed in a comfy looking armchair holding to a book himself, Gaz all stretched out on a couch scrolling through his phone while chatting with Soap, Ghost simply being present with Soap sitting beside him on the other couch. The Scotsman immediately took notice of your figure and waved you over with a pleasant smile. "Skadi, come sit with us."

Price turned around and gave you his soft smile, an invitation to join them. You really wished to just vanish immediately, but Gaz already shuffled on the couch to make room for you to sit. He patted the place next to him with a smile on his lips. "We won't bite.", he added before you could even deny. With a sigh you entered the room and took the place next to him. "Even if we would, you knew how to handle us. Right, Lieutenant.", Gaz added in a teasing tone what only earned him an annoyed groan from Ghost. Yes Soap warned him before, but that could not stop him from at least a little friendly teasing. Would hurt nobody, right? "What are ya reading?", Soap asked to change the subject abruptly. You bet they talked about it. Of course, they talked about it. You eyes slightly lingering on the stern man, sitting with his arms crossed across from you, before turning your attention back to the Scot.

You held out the book and earned a surprised look from Gaz. "Horror novels?" - "Yeah, I like them.", your tone was soft but still distant. Price looked at the cover as Soap took the book out of your hands and eying the cover. "I dinnea like that genre." The Scot said while handing you the book back. "Cause you're a scared little lad." Gaz teased while putting his phone away. "Nae! We have seen enough horror, eh.", he exclaimed while you were brushing your thumb over the cover yourself, "That's kinda the point.", you started and let your glance wander over to the man across from you, "it's nearly comical what people see as horrifying stories when I think about every bloody hell we walked through."

A little sting in your chest. Completely unintentionally you used the term we, not I. Of course, you assumed that it because everyone of you would have seen things you rather like to erase from your memories, but still, you couldn't speak for them. You didn’t know them. You noticed as you investigated the face from the men across of you. Ghost kept his stern expression, but you could've sworn his brows moved again. It would really take you some time till you could read him properly. Another challenge you gladly accepted. Maybe he was still angry at you. "Makes sense.", Price stated quiet, looking up from his book.

Soap only looked at you with the same expression you saw earlier when you pinned his - well now also your - Lieutenant down the mat. Your brows raised at him. "Bloody hell, stop looking at me so gobsmacked!", you exhaled your accent a bit thicker than usual and with ending your sentence you could only see that his eyes widened even more. Gaz couldn't suppress a laugh and placed his hand on his chest while leaning further into the couch. Price chuckled low and you thought that even Ghost shoulders loosen even the tiniest bit.

"Yer are a Brit?!", Soap exhaled still in shock. You blinked in confusion and Gaz laughter only rise. "What did you thought I am?", you asked him a bit amused about the whole situation. "I dinnea, but not expecting you to be one of them.", he gestured with his hands rushed over the other people in the room in a circular movement. "Especially when you understood me quite well, all day." He added still in disbelief. "He's only mad that the first person that doesn’t insult him for his Scottish is just another Brit.", Gaz breathed out between his laughs. "I told ya, I'm good with languages, Soap.", you stated with a soft smile on your lips. This whole thing felt way to familiar, dangerously familiar.

Ghost watched the scene in front of him and wasn’t so fond of it. Everyone accepted you with no second thoughts, but even worse they already trusted you. He had to remind the two Sergeants later, that this trust could be their doom and that they needed to be a bit more careful. Keeping a save distant and letting you earn their trust. Yes, you deserved the place in the team when Price invited you already, but still you felt to him like an intruder. He had no relatives to care for besides this team. Even if he hated Price for his ongoing 'team is family' speeches, but deep-down Simon knew he was right and he would never let someone risk their wellbeing. He would rather be being hated, than seeing someone of those three men next to him get hurt. No matter if it was mentally or physically. He would take care of every threat coming their way. That's what he saw in you at the moment the most, a threat. A threat to the only thing he holds dear to him.

"A c'mon lassie, just call me Johnny.", Soaps sudden words cut through the air like a sharp knife. If the Lieutenant was a bit loose before, he was all tensed up again. Price gave an approval nod, but you could feel something breaking inside of you. Johnny, oh sweet pure Johnny. His so expecting blue eyes searching for yours. You couldn't hold his gaze and looked down to your hands on the book still resting in your lap. There was a reason everyone introduced them with their callsign. A reason you knew too well. You could compare it to a pig you needed to slaughter one day. Give it a name and you weren't able to do it anymore.

You exhaled with a sigh; your eyes still pinned onto the book. "Look...", you started, and you could already feel how his face faltered. "Don't wanna be rude, really, but I'm not here to make friends.", you explained quickly. If you would have looked up you could see his sunken brows, his head slowly started hanging and a little "Oh, sure...", escaped his lips. There was one rule you were not allowed to break: Do not grow attached. Do not let emotions deceive your point of view. Don’t let history repeat itself.

"Sorry... gonna call it a night and we have to head out early anyways" You added quickly while pushing yourself up and walking back to your room. You didn't even bother to wait for another response. At this point you wished Johnny could've been more like the stern and distant Lieutenant. Ghost wouldn't let you in, he would work with you and at a minimum tolerate you around and that's it. It wasn't difficult that way. Something you'd preferred rather than looking in those hopeful eyes just to see them losing their shine. Just like you saw too many times before. You threw yourself onto your bed and just hoped, that you could be able to sleep tonight. You needed the rest before heading out early tomorrow.

taglist: open just lmk

@yyiikes @saffronimagines @originaldeerhottub

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f1crecs · 8 months ago

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'Megaverse Monday - Week five

if your fic is on this list and you don’t want it to be, please let us know and we will remove it immediately, no questions asked. we have contacted most of the authors on this list, but sometimes people fall through the gaps - just pop us a message🤍

have a pairing you want us to do next? please read the faqs and then head to the inbox.

don’t forget to give the authors featured on this list some love in the form of kudos, bookmarks, and comments

did you know that this fandom has one of the highest percentages of a/b/o content? join us as we celebrate the fandom’s incredible omegaverse works every ’megaverse monday. 🤍

Logan/Oscar

nsfw: this is your life, don't play hard to get by @nothingelsematterswrites | E | 79.8k

Regency AU in which Oscar is the adopted omega son of alpha Mark Webber (who is in a closeted relationship with alpha David Coulthard). Oscar must marry and produce an heir in order to secure his future. Mark arranges a match with Logan, the second son of an American family.

What I liked about it: This fic is delightful, leaning into a number of my favourite tropes, especially arranged marriage and found family. Oscar is less than enthused about Logan to begin with. Poor Logan is head over heels for Oscar almost immediately. I also love the Webber household dynamics. Mark is a wonderful father (as is David, behind the scenes) and Logan, who is from a far less loving family, gains the affection and parental support he didn’t even know he was missing.

“And that will mean,” Mark’s tone was warm and teasing, “that there must be no more late-night visits, at least for now.” Oscar sat up, all trace of sleepiness evaporating in panic. “What?” His heart was pounding. His father knew? If his father knew, others might know. He could not have word getting out, he could not afford rumours to start – “Calm yourself, Oscar,” Mark soothed. “I am not upset.” “How - ” Oscar could barely speak through his panic. “How did you - ” Mark’s expression was amused. “You say you have known since you were twelve the truth of what lies between David and I, and yet you have never seen me go to my bedchamber with him; how do you think he comes to my room? He saw Logan the very first night. He is the only other who knows.”

Pierre/Yuki

baby, baby, can you hear me calling out your name? by yukierres | M | 7.6k

This fic is set a few years into the future. Pierre is an omega, a fact he conceals from almost everyone other than Charles, Esteban and his doctors. Yuki is an alpha, now well established at Mercedes, and Pierre has been attracted to him for years. Pierre is caught unawares by an early, intense heat and in confusion and distress he instinctively calls Yuki.

What I liked about it: I just love the relationship here. Yuki is calm and kind in the face of Pierre’s distress and anxiety, and Pierre finds support where he didn’t expect to find it. Pierre is very much in his own head about his omega status and he’s overdue to let someone in.

Fuck, his secret is out too. He can feel the anxiety and panic rising up through him, his body shutting down as he starts hyperventilating at the thought. What does he do now? He has kept it hidden for so long, and he has one moment of weakness and it was all for nothing. What if Yuki says something? He could lose his seat, his career - merde! The tears flow thick and fast, the sobs hiccuping out of his system as he starts to mourn the loss of everything already, too stressed out to notice the figure entering the room and sitting down at the end of the bed, a strong hand reaching out and resting on his ankles, a comforting weight that wakes him up to reality. “Yuki!,” he exclaims with a strangled cry, crawling up to the pillows, dragging the duvet with him to cover his modesty, or whatever is left of it. God, Yuki came and saw him like that. Did Yuki – ? His clothes from before are still all on and sweat-damp, it doesn’t feel like someone removed them at any point. He wouldn’t, would he? Yuki would never do that, he has always been so respectful to everyone around him, omega or not. He instinctively knows he never would touch him without consent, and trusts him wholeheartedly. “Yuki, please - please -, I am so sorry, merde! Mon Dieu! Please, you have to forgive - please don’t say anything -” he stumbles out, a wrangled confused mess of speech falling from his lips in panic. "Pierre," he says and it's so full of kindness that Pierre is bewildered by it, silencing him momentarily to stare back at him “I made you some tea? Do you feel well enough to drink it?”

Charles/Pierre

blueprint by ions | M | 1.9k

Charles has always thought he's a beta, but then he suddenly presents as an omega, and there's only one alpha he wants. The "thought I was a beta, until..." trope is one of my personal favourites for omegaverse, and it's captured perfectly for Piarles in this fic. I love the way this fic paints such a vivid picture of the omegaverse F1 world, and the detail it builds into the characterisation and worldbuilding. The writing style is toned-down but so very effective, and this author captures the nuances of Pierre and Charles' relationship in a way that's truly beautiful. I still think of some of the lines in this fic as cornerstones for characterisation of the Piarles dynamic!

Pierre looks surprised for a split-second, like Charles isn't spread out beneath him. Like he hasn't just needed to ask this whole time. Pierre nods, brow furrowed like it always does when he's bothered with something, whether it was an issue with the karts as kids or more political in-fighting from inside Red Bull. Charles can't help but reach out and gently touch the skin there, Pierre's face finally relaxing. "Please," Charles says again. He hates how whiny it comes out, like a little kid tugging his big brother's sleeve again. When Pierre had jumped to single-seaters early, Charles hated being just Pierre's little friend when he went to the races. Charles doesn't know why. He has always been Pierre's.

thanks to @lydia-petze and @singsweetmelodies for compiling this weeks list! 🤍

#driver:logan #driver:oscar #driver:pierre #driver:yuki #driver:charles #pairing:logan/oscar #pairing:pierre/yuki #pairing:charles/pierre #'megaverse monday #trope:a/b/o

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eiightysixbaby · 1 year ago

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please leah, jonathan comforting reader who is having trouble sleeping?

this is such a soft prompt for my soft boy. 🥺

you’re sitting up in bed, knees tucked as close to your chest as you can get them. your feet are tucked under the covers still, gathering warmth from the thick fabric as you sit in silence. you were supposed to have gone to sleep an hour and a half ago, having kissed your boyfriend goodnight and curled up in bed. you can hear the soft murmurs from the television in the other room, jonathan probably watching whatever late night show or movie he could find that would hold his interest. he was a night owl, as were you usually, but you had to be up early the following morning.

you had to be up early, and yet. here you were, wide awake in your shared bed, staring blankly into the dark room surrounding you. you should have gotten jonathan right away. you should have, and yet you didn’t. you’ve allowed yourself to sit here alone for the past hour, body unwilling to slink into slumber. you hear him try and fail to stifle a laugh at something on tv, and your heart aches suddenly.

you need him.

pitifully, you slip out of the bed, bare feet shuffling across carpet. you grab the door handle, pulling it open. light from the living room seeps down the hallway and into the bedroom now, casting whatever it can reach in a soft glow. you trudge down the hall, arms wrapped around yourself.

“baby?” you murmur, impossibly quiet. jonathan heard you anyways.

“hey, what are you doing up?” he asks, concern evident in his tone.

“dunno, I couldn’t sleep…” you say softly, barely meeting his gaze.

“c’mere,” he beckons, opening his arms just for you. you walk over to where he sits on the couch and settle onto his lap, curling in on yourself.

safe, strong arms wrap around you, fingers soothing your skin. a kiss is pressed to the top of your head, and your muscles relax.

“you okay? what’s keeping you up, angel?” your boyfriend asks, calm and sweet.

“I just couldn’t relax. my thoughts are racing, I kept tossing and turning. I don’t even know, it’s just frustrating,” you huff, your voice is still so quiet, so pitiful. you want to be doted on, want to be coddled. like a child who wakes their parents up after a nightmare.

“oh, sweet thing,” he coos, rubbing your back softly. “want me to come lay down with you? I can hold you, or read to you if you want.”

your heart swells, your fingers clutching onto the soft fabric of his shirt instinctively. you want to keep him close to you forever.

“mhm, that sounds nice,” you admit, looking up at him shyly.

“want me to make you some tea, too?”

you nod, giving him a tiny smile. he presses his forehead to yours, reassuring.

“okay. go get comfy in bed, alright? I’ll be in soon,” he says, urging you off of him so he can stand.

you do as he says, trailing back to your room, curling up under your fluffy comforter. he joins you not long after, a steaming mug of tea in his hands. he picks up your book from the bedside table, shuffling into bed beside you. you lean against him, sitting up enough to sip your tea safely but leaning back enough to be able to get tired.

“why don’t you reschedule your plans for tomorrow morning,” jonathan suggests, noticing the way you glance at the clock anxiously. “you know robin and nance will be okay with it.”

you nod a little, it’s not a horrible idea. your friends won’t be mad if you tell them you’re just having a difficult night - hell, they wouldn’t be truly mad even if you blew them off without reason.

“I guess I can reschedule,” you say, taking another sip of your tea and snuggling further into your boy’s body.

jonathan gives a small smile down at you, before flipping your book to its bookmarked page. he starts reading, his gentle voice soothing you. he reads at the perfect pace, gives feeling to his narration while still being quiet and comforting. your tea gets long forgotten on your nightstand, your eyes growing heavy by the minute. your limbs begin to feel as if they’re weighted down, your head too heavy to hold up so you slump against jonathan’s shoulder.

he’s barely finished reading one chapter by the time you’re asleep on him. he slides you off of him, so so slowly, laying you down on your pillows and tucking you in properly. he gets up only for a moment - to go in the other room and give robin a call (she’s always awake at ungodly hours). he lets her know you’ll need a little extra time tomorrow morning, she doesn’t press or pry, just understands.

and then he’s back in bed with you, pulling you right to his side, smiling to himself when you subconsciously cling to him. he’s always there, always your safety, always your comfort.

#leah’s got mail 💌#jonathan byers #jonathan byers x reader #jonathan byers fluff #jonathan byers blurb

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something-tofightfor · 2 years ago

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The Colors I See

Pairing: Joel Miller x female reader (Just Too Good To Be Gone pairing)

Word count: 3,760

Rating: NSFW / E - almost straight smut here, friends.

Warnings: This alludes to things that happen / are covered in TLOU 2, but doesn’t spoil anything at all.

Summary: An afternoon on your porch - and a casual comment to Joel - lead to much more.

Author’s Note: I (like everyone else) saw the character poster for Joel today and was immediately fixated on the GRAY IN HIS HAIR AND BEARD. *also the look in his eyes but that’s another story* ... and I had to take a break from Christmas Din and type this out because it was important.

This takes place in the JTGtBG universe - and is FAR past where I left them in Make This Old Heart Give In ... But it can be read as a standalone, too - and just as an afternoon in an established relationship.

To get alerted when I post new chapters/stories, follow @somethingtofightfor-shares and turn on post notifications - you can also ask to be added to my tag list (link in bio or at the top of my taglist reblog)

Just Too Good To Be Gone Masterlist

Song Suggestion: “Shades of Grey” by Billy Joel

“The gray looks good on you, Joel.”

It was afternoon on a rare day off for both you and Joel, and you were making the most of it - sitting out on the porch, feet up on the railing to read while life went on around you. “What gray?”

He set the book he’d been reading down, turning his head in your direction. “You know what I’m talking about.”

His new position let you see it more clearly - the muted sunlight shining through the leaves on the trees and bathing his skin in gold tones. It also highlighted the changes you’d noticed in his hair and beard over time - something that you knew he was a little self-conscious about, though it never seemed to bother him when it was you that mentioned it. “Do I?”

Joel’s eyebrow shot up - disappearing beneath the shaggy strands of hair hanging over his eye and you nodded solemnly, slipping your bookmark - a tattered $50 bill - between the pages you’d been reading before that book joined his on the weather-worn wooden boards of the porch. “You do.”

Uncrossing your legs, you sat up straight as you settled your feet onto the ground, twisting your body and reaching for him with one hand.

He didn’t flinch when you reached for him anymore, and even though it had been that way for years, it still made you smile. In more ways than just physical appearance, Joel Miller was a changed man from the person he’d been when he and Ellie had arrived at the gates of Jackson. He knew it and you knew it - even Tommy and Maria knew it - but he kept it hidden whenever possible. Not from me, though.

Knuckles grazing against the hair on his cheeks - hickory brown tinged with varied shades of gray and silver - even a little red in the sunlight on some occasions - you felt him reach over and grasp the arm of your chair, tugging you closer. You helped, using both feet for leverage, and when you were close enough for his liking, he spoke again, voice low enough that you could just hear him but loud enough that you didn’t miss the way it pitched and caught in the back of his throat. “Remind me.”

“The gray here,” you continued, nosing along his cheek and pressing a kiss to the bare patch of skin there, lips lingering on one of your favorite spots on Joel’s body. “And here,” you went on, one hand rising to tug on the ends of his hair, the locks soft and thick against your skin. You didn’t pull away from his cheek, though, tilting your head so that you could speak into his ear. “And I wasn’t going to mention it, but since you asked, there’s gray in a couple other places too, and -”

He groaned, the sound turning into a laugh as he wound his arms around you, lowering his head so that he could press his face into the curve of your neck.

You continued to stroke his hair, your other hand resting on his arm as you breathed in the scent of him - sawdust and cedar, the faint scent of peppermint - and when Joel finally pulled away, there was still amusement in his eyes but it was coupled with something else that you knew well. “I said remind me, but what I really meant was show me.”

“Not here.” Rising to your feet, you held out both hands. “Maye if it was dark out.”

“What, you don’t want to show off all my gray hair to the entire neighborhood?” He stood, too, and pulled you close again, his lips pressed against the top of your head. “Alright. Let’s go inside, then.”

After leaving the porch and closing the front door securely behind the two of you, you headed for the stairs but Joel caught your hand, stopping you. “What are -”

“Down here.” He kept hold of your hand as he backed into the dining room, cocking his head to the right. “Take a seat.” This is a test.

When he let go of your hand to pull the drapes shut, you only hesitated for seconds before pushing up and settling atop the dining room table with the doorway to your back, settling one hand on the top of the high-backed chair next to you. “Now what?” Drawing your lower lip between your teeth, you watched as Joel turned back to face you, one large hand reaching up to undo the buttons on his shirt. “Oh, that isn’t even fair.”

He winked at you but didn’t stop, keeping enough distance between you that you couldn’t reach out and touch him. And when he got to the bottom of the shirt, the let it hang there on his body - a green flannel that you’d told him once was one of your favorites, the fabric threadbare and faded over his broad shoulders and at the elbows.

“It’s about to be real fair.” He wet his lips, inching forward. “I guarantee it.” He pushed the chair to the side and stepped in front of you, using both hands to urge your crossed legs apart, leaving space for himself between them. “Well? Go on then.”

He didn’t need to tell you twice. You immediately reached for the lapels of his shirt and pushed them back over his shoulders, the man only releasing your legs when necessary for you to remove it completely.

Bringing it up to your nose you inhaled, closing your eyes before you set it on the table next to you. “It’s going to be really hard to show you what you asked when you closed the blinds, Joel. It’s kind of dark in here, and the light really -”

“If I open those blinds again, there was no point in us comin’ inside.” He ran his hands over your shoulders and then down, squeezing your biceps before lifting them back to your face, the man’s roughened fingertips tracing over your skin. “Don’t you agree?”

“I guess so.” Pushing your fingers through his belt loops, you tugged him even closer by the waist, Joel’s hands dropping back to your shoulders. “But I still can’t see much in the dark, and neither can you.”

“It ain’t that dark.” Joel said your name, waiting until you’d tilted your head back to say anything more. “And I’m pretty sure you don’t really need to see much of anything anyway.” He wasn’t wrong - and even though you did like looking at him at every opportunity, the two of you knew each other so well that you didn’t need to see what you were doing to be efficient about it.

You eased his t-shirt up and over his arms, Joel leaning in to make it easier to pull it over his head. He reached for the hem of your shirt, freeing your body of it in only seconds, it joining the steadily growing pile of fabric next to you on the tabletop.

But neither of you were just removing clothes - every touch was purposeful, no matter how small. Goosebumps riddled the bare skin of your back when he trailed his fingertips over it, you heard his intake of breath when you swiped your thumb over his ribs - the motion slow and methodical. He groaned when you leaned in, still holding him at the waist, and kissed the skin of his chest, your eyes closed as you rested your cheek over his heart briefly.

And Joel knew how to pull sounds out of you that you didn’t even recognize when he touched you, his breath fanning over your collarbone before he took the strap of your bra between his teeth and tugged, a low whimper escaping from between your lips as your hold on him tightened. You whined at the feeling of his tongue dipping into the hollow of your throat, the heat of it dampening your chilled skin at the same time he nosed along the column of your neck, mouth rising so that it could finally meet yours.

When it did, it was immediately too much, your eyes squeezing shut as his teeth grazed the fullest part of your lower lip, your own darting out to soothe the sting when he released it. He laughed - the sound quiet, and didn’t pull away from you, parting his lips slightly to kiss you, the man’s head angled perfectly to match yours.

It was you that deepened it, though, Joel giving you an opportunity when he pulled back enough to take a quick breath. He didn’t try and stop you, instead leaning in even closer. The amount of moments that the two of you had like that one had grown steadily throughout the years you’d known him, and though you were more comfortable with them as they happened, you didn’t take a single one for granted. And I never will.

The man claimed your mouth and your body each time he could, despite the fact that you gave him unlimited access to it. That night, Joel’s hands pressed flat against your back as you wrapped your legs around his waist, the denim of his jeans stretched tightly over what was concealed beneath it. “Gonna have to get these pants off, aren’t we?”

Finally breaking the kiss and straightening up, Joel looked down at you while he spoke, his bare chest heaving. “We are. Both of us need to -” Lowering your hands to his waist, you undid the button there, glancing down and then back at him. “Fuck Joel, let me touch you.”

Instead of answering verbally, he stepped backwards, giving you room to stand, too. You knew what he wanted - to watch you undress yourself, but you didn’t give in, instead reaching out with both hands and taking his in yours, your fingers linking briefly. “What are you doin’?”

“You want them off, you can take them off of me.” He stroked over the skin of your belly with one thumb and then moved, Joel undoing your button and zipper and easing the denim - and the cotton beneath it - down and over your legs. You shuddered under his touch - the man’s fingers tracing over the skin of your thighs, and when he lowered himself onto both knees in front of you, looking up at you with wide, lust-blown eyes, you cried out, reaching forward to bury your fingers in his already tousled hair, his lips twitching into a brief smile.

“Sit back down.” He wrinkled his nose but didn’t stand. “Please.” The single word making it a request and not a command forced you into motion, and you tore your eyes away from his to look over your shoulder and back up the few steps necessary, once again taking a seat on the tabletop. Good thing we never eat in here, because…

The wood was cool against the backs of your legs, and when Joel shuffled forward, his hands going to the bottoms of each pant leg and tugging, you saw a genuine smile on his face, even though it was brief. “I saw that, Miller. You can’t hide from -”

“I aint tryin’ to hide from you.” Looking up again, Joel took a deep breath. “Done with that shit.”

And it was true - he hadn’t kept any part of himself from you since the moment he and Ellie had returned from Salt Lake City the previous summer. But I don’t want him to think about that right now, it’s… not the time. “I know.” Releasing his hair, you traced the curve of his brow and then down, the tips of your fingers only stopping when they reached his lips. “C’mere, Joel.”

He took a breath and then shifted onto one knee, his other foot flat on the ground, but he didn’t stand. Instead, he scooted closer and blinked slowly, the sly smile that spread across his lips another expression that you were familiar with. He kissed your left calf, his palms curled around the backs of your legs and then began to work his way up, the man’s lips soft and warm as they caressed your skin.

You whined at the feel of his beard, too, the hair soft thanks to the sunflower oil he used in it, and when his mouth bypassed your knee and he switched to the other side of your body, you couldn’t do anything but sigh, your hand firmly settled against the nape of his neck. I fucking love this man. “You gettin’ impatient yet?” He glanced up, not giving you a chance to reply before he kissed the inside of your thigh again, sucking the skin between his lips.

“No.” And it was the truth, no matter how strained your voice was when you said it. “No, because you’re gonna make it worth it.”

He would - because he always did - and so you did what anyone would have done in your situation and spread your legs wider, making more room for him between them. “You’re makin’ a mess on my kitchen table.” He nearly growled your name, the man’s breath hot on your damp skin. “A real damn -

“Our table.” Clearing your throat, your reply was little more than an exhale, the words not carrying a single ounce of the snap that you’d hoped for. “And it’s the dining room table, not the -”

He didn’t let you finish, urging your knees over his shoulders and then pulling you forward by the hips, the smile on his face erased by the way he dove between your parted legs. He mouthed at you with no hesitation, gentle suction with his lips followed by quick swipes of his tongue, his fingertips digging into the skin of your thighs, even though it wasn’t like you were attempting to go anywhere.

Your back arched when he slowed the motion of his tongue down, licking a longer path over you, and you cried out his name when he curled it into you, the flat of it teasing at your entrance. He wasn’t trying to get you off - he was just enjoying the taste and feel of you, and so when he pulled away only a few moments later, you weren’t surprised, Joel pressing one final kiss on the inside of your thigh before he stood up, swiping over the lower half of his face with the back of one hand. “Couldn’t help myself.”

“I’m not complaining.” You took a steadying breath, rubbing at your own face. “Nobody would about that.” That got another smile from him, but it was brief, Joel stepping right up to the edge of the table. “So.” You eyed him, gaze dropping from his face to his chest and lingering, one finger trailing down to rest at the center of it. “This is another place you’ve got some gray.”

“Yeah? Well you’re the only one seein’ that, so…” He settled his hands on your hips. “Don’t count.” You moved your hand lower, fingers finding the coarse hair at his navel and then dragging through it, the edges of your nails making him hiss. “Shit, that feels -”

“I’m the only one seeing this, too, and…” You sighed, breaking eye contact to follow the path of your hand, fingertips disappearing beneath the waistband of his jeans. “It definitely counts.”

The gray and silver was much more sparse in the places that didn’t see regular sunlight, but you’d noticed it early one morning, sunlight streaming through the bedroom windows while you and Joel woke up in your favorite way. You’d seen it again under the artificial bathroom light as you showered together, your hands and mouth exploring Joel’s slippery, clean skin while you perched on the edge of the tub. And when the two of you were laying in bed some nights, you saw it then, too - one cheek pressed against his bare chest while you traced his scars with your fingertips, some of them well-hidden by time, others more prominent because they were fresh.

“If you say so.” He grunted when your fingers closed around him, his eyes squeezed shut as he focused on your touch. “Fuck, you keep doin’ that, and you can say whatever you damn well please.”

“That’s what I was going for.” Your smile was soft, the hand you weren’t stroking him with moving back up to his hair, fingers combing through it. “But I meant it, Joel.” Tightening your grip on him, you wet your lips. “It looks good on you.”

There was a reply on the tip of his tongue but he kept it to himself, reaching between your bodies and pressing two fingers into you, the thickness of them a shock after the use of his mouth - but it was still more than welcome, your lower body responding to his touch and chasing after it each time he flexed his wrist and withdrew his fingers. Joel leaned in, pressing his forehead against yours as you continued to touch each other, the man’s jaw locked as he breathed through his nose.

“If you’re sayin’ it it’s gotta be true.”

That made you laugh and you nodded in reply, another breath audible when he removed his hand from you and encircled your wrist with his fingers. “What are -”

“Just gettin’ you ready for me, and I…” He hummed, the pad of your thumb circling over the tip of him. “You ready? Because I’m ready, and …” Joel swore. “Need to feel you.”

“Yeah.” There was nothing more to say, and in only a few seconds, you’d released him, Joel tugging his pants and underwear down before kicking them off. “Please, Joel.”

“Arms around my neck.” You did as he asked, resting your forehead on his shoulder so that you could look down, eyes locked on where he was holding himself, his fingers coated in your slick as he stroked his length lazily. “Fuck I’ve been waiting all day for this.”

Steadying himself with his free hand on your thigh, Joel lined up with your core, groaning out your name as he slid into you in one slow push.

It was a stretch - like always - even though he’d taken time to open you up, but you didn’t mind at all, giving him a few thrusts before you even moved and then you wrapped your legs back around his waist, changing the angle of your hips and allowing him to sink in deeper. “Right there.”

You cried the words out as he shifted his hips too, your arms locked around his neck - but that position didn’t last after Joel found his rhythm, hips snapping forward to meet yours.

You dropped your hands and leaned back onto your elbows, palms flat on the table as you watched him move.

You weren’t going to last long, and you knew that it would push him over the edge, too. So you you didn’t fight it, memorizing the way the flex of his abdominal muscles looked and the set of his jaw. You stared at the man you loved with wide eyes and parted lips, fingers flexing and the edges of your nails digging into the scarred wooden tabletop. He let his chin drop, grunting as he focused on where your bodies were connected, but you immediately missed the sight of his face, calling out his name.

“Look at me, Joel.” It took a second but he raised his head, brown eyes searching your face until he saw you smiling. “Slow. We’re not in a rush.” Pressing the heels of your feet into the backs of his thighs, you forced yourself upright, Joel’s hips slowing, though he didn’t stop moving.

He backed up a half step, pulling you with him, and you used the opportunity to encircle him with your arms again, mouth seeking his.

The kiss started out slow, languid like the way he was thrusting into you, but as you lost yourself in it, a heat growing in your belly and spreading like wildfire, he sped up again - the kiss turning messy. He slipped a hand between your bodies again, two fingertips zeroing in on your swollen flesh and circling. He knew the right amount of pressure that would make you fall apart, and you did - only moments after he’d started.

“So much better when you touch me.” You broke the kiss with a gasp, the muscles in your thighs shaking with the effort of holding him close while you came. “So much… fuck.” You felt your muscles clench, pulling him deeper and holding him there as he paused, your name tumbling from his lips as you stroked the back of his neck with one hand. “Let me feel you.”

You spoke into his ear, teeth closing around the lobe and tugging, and even though you were still riding out the aftershocks of your own orgasm, you were thankful when he started moving with purpose again, Joel’s mouth latching onto the place your neck met your shoulder to muffle his groans.

You loved hearing him - but loved feeling the vibrations travel across your skin more, and when he thrust forward in a devastatingly smooth motion, you moaned, fingers tightening in his hair and causing his hips to stutter. That’s it. That’s right, Joel.

He came with no warning only a few seconds later, Joel biting down on your skin and slapping one hand down on the table, his other still locked on your hip. And when you felt him filling you - your own warmth joined by his in spurts, you pulled on the ends of his hair, forcing him to release you and lift his head, the man’s pupils so wide his eyes looked black. “Come h-”

You cut yourself off though, closing the distance between you and kissing him. Though it was little more than a press of your lips together, it didn’t matter - Joel’s posture changed, the motion of his hips slowing as he came down, the hand on your hip loosening so that he was holding you and not gripping you, yours wandering down and over his shoulders and broad back.

He pulled out of you soon after, ending the kiss at the same time, and when both of you looked down, you were unsurprised to see that you’d made even more of a mess, the sight of him leaking out of you and onto the curved edge of the wood making you chuckle. “What’s so funny?”

“You made more of a mess than I did.” Wrinkling your nose, you shrugged as you met his eyes again. “Of me and the table, and -”

“Yeah, well…” With one hand, he gripped your jaw, gently tweaking it between his fingers. “It looks real good on you.”

---

Tag list coming soon!

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #pedro pascal #pedrostories #pedro pascal character #pedro pascal character fic #pedro pascal is joel miller #the last of us #the last of us fic #tlou #tlou fic #the last of us au #joel miller au #just too good to be gone #joel miller masterlist #pedro pascal masterlist #the colors i see #jtgtbg

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ngkiscool · 1 year ago

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Another Day In Paradise

My @flashfictionfridayofficial contribution for the prompt On The Edge.

The doorbell dinged, followed by heavy footsteps that purposely approached the comfortable chair Aziraphale was sitting on. He kept on reading, too engulfed in his book.

The man coughed meaningfully, but when Aziraphale ignored him still, he decided to take a more direct approach. "Are you the owner of this establishment?"

After he tucked a bookmark in the right place, Aziraphale closed the book and laid it gently on the table. Only then did he lift his eyes to look at the person who dared to disturb his reading. People had requested his attention from time to time; it was one of the disadvantages of having a bookshop. This time, he felt, would be different.

"Yes, I am. And you are?"

The man laughed, a high-pitched sound that hadn't helped to lighten the mood. "My name is not important, Mr. Fell. The only thing that matters is the contract you are about to sign."

"And what contract would that be?"

A briefcase landed on the table, a bit too close to the precious book Aziraphale read (but, luckily, not on it). The man opened it and drew out a thick bundle of pages. "This one."

Aziraphale scanned quickly through the pages and handed them back over to the man in front of him (who still hadn't bothered to introduce himself, how rude). "And why would I agree to sell my bookshop?"

"A lovely place you got here, Mr. Fell. Full of old books."

That was true, the bookshop was full of books. That was the whole point of it. What else would he sell in it, water pipes? "Thank you, my dear. That is very kind of you to say."

Obviously, this was not the response the man was waiting for, judging by his coughing fit.

"Are you well? Perhaps you should seek medical help."

The man's face took on an interesting shade of purple. "It is not my health that is on the line here, Mr. Fell, but yours!"

Aziraphale was on the edge of his patience by now. "My health is as tickety boo as always, mister. I suggest that if you want yours to be the same way, you will take the contract and leave my bookshop immediately."

"Or else?" The man leaned on the table, showing no intention of leaving the premises.

"That is quite enough, young man. You have been warned and decided to ignore it; now you will face the consequences. You will go to the nearest police station to confess all your crimes, and you will never harass innocent people again. Is that clear?"

As if possessed by a demon, the man did as he was told. As his footsteps echoed in the quiet street, Aziraphale returned to his chair and opened the book again.

"Really," he muttered to himself. "Can't an angel read in peace?"

#good omens #good omens fanfiction #fff209 #my fanfiction #aziraphale #bamf aziraphale #aziraphale's bookshop

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bluejadedragon · 8 months ago

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More Sneak Peaks to WIPS (because I haven't finished any and I really need to)

1. Mermay? Sharpagne? More likely than you'd think.

His eyes snapped up, his first thought being another employee had found him and was going to start harassing him. Nobody was running up the beach though, instead a frothing disturbance a few hundred metres away drew his gaze. With a furrowed brow, he fixed his bookmark before leaving his book on the rock, standing to approach the racket.

An angry snarl threatened to escape as his closer inspection revealed something trapped in a discarded fishing net. It was large, and shimmering bluish scales shone as a thick tail smacked against the bank, distressed trills filling the air above the splashing. Champagne sighed quietly, approaching slowly as he called out.

“Easy there, buddy, you’re gonna get hurt if you keep thrashing like that.”

To his disappointment, that only seemed to make the creature more distressed, the trills cutting off as the tail slammed painfully against the sand and rope. Champagne winced as he noted a small trickle of red spilling between iridescent scales. If they kept this up, they could get seriously hurt- a severed fin or worse.

“Easy there, easy, let’s get that off you, ey?”

He reached forward, grabbing the net and pulling slightly to get the creature fully onto the wet sand dividing the beach and ocean. He tugged a tattered cover off the old net with a wrinkled nose, turning back to continue freeing the creature before freezing.

Blue-green eyes that matched the shimmering tail stared back at him.

Champagne swallowed thickly. A mer. He was freeing a- a mer. Okay. Wow.

“Hi there.” He said softly, reaching to slowly start untangling the rope from around the large blue-green tail. The mer didn’t respond, watching him intently with wide, wide eyes, hands curling into sand, body tense.

2. Losing Ourselves on the Interstate

The kid fell asleep sometime before the border cross into Pennsylvania. Benny didn’t mind, happy to let the kid rest as long as they needed. The dark bags under their eyes certainly suggested they needed it. They blinked awake as Benny turned off to a pit stop. He didn’t plan to stay long, a few hours of sleep maybe, but the look in the kid’s eyes as they stopped at a slightly shabby carpark made him hesitate.

“Hey, Astra? Do you want to keep moving? We don’t have to stay.” Look, don’t judge, he tries, okay? He never claimed to be the best when it came to people, but even he could tell something was off with the kid.

“No.” They breathed. Their eyes were fixed on the wildflowers growing by the toilet block.

“You sure?”

“Yes.” The bite is back, but it has no real heat to it. “Bathroom.”

And then they’re gone, disappeared into the dark. Benny let out a soft sigh, then grabbed his favoured green blanket, climbed into the back and curled up to catch a few hours of shut eye. With the van off, the sounds of wildlife drifted through the metal plating to reach his ears. Tiredly, he rolled over, pillowed his head on his arm, and sunk into the depth of sleep.

A door opening caused him to stir in his sleep, but a quiet, “you can keep sleeping” stopped him from waking completely.

It was only when the sun began to rise nearly six hours after he initially fell asleep that Benny properly woke. With a grunt, he pushed himself up and into the front seat. He kicked the door open, stepped out and stretched, watching the sky transform as he leaned against the van’s front. He glanced over as Astra rounded the bonnet to sit above the number plate. In their hand was a thermos that they offered Benny.

“Coffee.” They said by way of explanation at Benny’s odd look. It was decent coffee. Once he was feeling more awake, Benny hopped back into his seat and warmed up the engine.

“Come on kid. Let's go get some real breakfast.”

Astra nodded.

“Can we pick up some crickets from a pet store too?”

Benny frowned and turned to ask before pausing. His gaze flicked from the creature on his dash to the kid next to him.

“Where did you get that.” He asked flatly. Astra scooped the critter up and placed it in a small container.

“Behind the toilets. I don’t know how long they were there for. I don’t know if they’ll live, but they were an abandoned pet. Have to be. Leachie’s aren’t native here. And this one’s just a baby.”

Benny elected not to question the seemingly random reptile trivia, instead sighing and not trying too hard to hide his smirk. “Alright kid. Let’s get all three of us fed up, ‘ey?” Astra looked up at him with something like hope in their eyes, before looking down at the critter -leachie- with a small smile.

“Yeah.”

3. Sneak Peak to Chapter 11 of LttS

Jake muttered his goodbyes, mind a mess he was trying to clean as he kicked off the side of the building. The other’s had gotten used to his odd form of travel, only offering calls to be careful now instead of the shocked gasps he’d heard the first time they’d seen him fly. The wind whipped his hair about his face and he closed his eyes, imagining his worries being blown off his back. Unfortunately, it was this relaxation that allowed him to pick up on the sounds of yelping.

His eyes snapped open and he was diving before he could think, goop covering his eyes to protect against the wind. He barely had time to process where he was going before he found his target.

He felt his blood boil.

“HEY!” He yelled, dust flicking around him and condensing in his goo as he landed, skin pricking with anger. The group jumped before turning on him.The ringmaster glared at him, but Jake wasn’t looking at him. Instead, he was staring daggers into the teen a few steps behind the leader. A very familiar teen who he’d seen only a few weeks ago in a dark alley.

“What do you think you’re-” “Two options.” Jake cut off, voice pitched low and dangerous. “Either you can step away from that fine woman there, or I can make you.”

He grinned at that, all teeth and no spark, before flicking a small orb to land straight between the leader’s eyes. “So, what’ll it be?”

The group charged.

- - - - - - -

Annie was beginning to wonder if her new friend was the cause of her series of unfortunate events.

#fanfic #writers on tumblr #writing wips #current wips #popcross studios #multiverse tales #mersharp

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