#two pastors walk into a bar

[kristangers]

I’m having thoughts, none of which are normal.

#all of them are unhinged #two pastors walk into a bar #jared mccann #seattle kraken #philipp grubauer

[milky-aeons]

'𝐓𝐈𝐋 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇 𝐃𝐎 𝐔𝐒 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓

ᯓ★ starring: dazai osamu, kunikida doppo, atsushi nakajima, chuuya nakahara and fyodor dostoevsky; what they would be like on their wedding day.

warnings: marriage, swearing, alcohol-intake, wife reader, w.c 3.5k

ᯓ★𝐃𝐀𝐙𝐀𝐈 𝐎𝐒𝐀𝐌𝐔

: ̗̀➛ Dazai, who never really acted like a conventional human being, also did not propose like one, either. After dating the enigmatic Armed Detective Agent for, by then, two years, you did not expect him to get down on one knee and produce a beautiful ring, like you had seen in the movies. But you also did not expect him to drop the question like it was a frivolous thing one random Tuesday evening while you both shared a drink at your favourite late-night bar.

Blinking, your glass frozen mid-way to your lips, you turned to him and said, "What did you... just say?" That mischievous smile you were so quick to fall for flashed across his face. "I said, why don't we get married, hmm~?"

: ̗̀➛ There was no other answer in your mind, your heart, than a resounding yes. For he was the thorn in your side as much as he was your other half. Through the whirlwind of months following, you found it hard to discern where one day ended and the next began. Time bled together until you didn't have nearly enough of it, and the day of the ceremony was here. It was a casual affair not bound too tightly by tradition. By the help of the agents, an old, abandoned manor sitting by the riverside had been fashioned into your very own cathedral.

: ̗̀➛ Yosano Akiko fussed over your dress, your hair, your makeup — to a point where you thought she was having way too much fun. And yet, she left no stones unturned, either. As you walked in through the building decorated with bouquets of flowers and rows upon rows of familiar faces, she hooked her arm into yours and walked by your side. Using Thou Shalt Not Die, the doctor instructed fluttering, iridescent butterflies to sit against your dress and your veil, the cornet of your hair, any place she could in order to make you glow.

: ̗̀➛ He stood to his towering height at the alter with his back turned to you in an immaculate suit of white. And when he spun to face you, you fell in love for a second time — with his brunet hair tucked behind his ear, the blue rose pinned to his suit lapel and his eyes; how they watched you. With a type of stunned disbelief that melted into adoration. When you came to stand by his side in front of the pastor, his hand reached down to twine with your fingers, and he whispered;

"You — are absolutely breath-taking."

: ̗̀➛ Kyouka Izumi played the role of ring-bearer, delivering a small white pillow with the two shining bands once it was time to say your vows. Dazai reached out tenderly, slowly, as if to preserve this moment for as long as he could, and lifted the veil from your face. His eyes shuttered. He reached for your hand and slid the smaller band onto your finger, his eyes downcast, his voice low and intimate.

"Through you I have found what it means to love, what it is to feel human, and while I am by your side — I endeavour to protect and earn that title. For as long as I shall live, I am yours. My soul, my name, they are all yours."

: ̗̀➛ As the ceremony reached its closure, when you had both been bound to each other in heart and in soul, Dazai could not wait another moment before he could reach for you. As soon as the words you may kiss the bride left the pastor's lips, Dazai had looped his arms around your waist and bent you back into a dramatic dip. Cheers and claps filled the riverside chapel, you smiled widely against his lips, expecting nothing less of him. Your soulmate. Your husband. Your Osamu, who's name you brandished as your own.

𝐃𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐘 . . .

"Kunikida-kun~!" Dazai's loud voice, a little accentuated with alcohol, swam over the crowd. "Play the thing we talked about!"

Curious, your head turned to the sounds of footsteps shuffling onto the dancefloor illuminated by pale spotlights. The afterparty was in full swing, you had been flanked by a group of well-wishing women when your husband's voice reached your ears. Each of you observed as Dazai, alongside Kunikida, Junichirou, Atsushi and little Kenji took centre stage. Excited murmurs fluttered through the throng.

"What on earth are they doing?" You wondered, and then the starting notes to All The Single Ladies began blaring from the party speakers. Your mouth dropped. Every single one of the Armed Detective Agents began to move in unison to the beat of the music.

And for the third time, you fell in love with him, again. Expecting that there would be many more to come.

ᯓ★𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐈𝐊𝐈𝐃𝐀 𝐃𝐎𝐏𝐏𝐎

: ̗̀➛ Kunikida Doppo, who, at first, had not planned to marry you. After all, you only met twenty out of his proposed fifty-eight requirements that made the perfect wife. That was the thing about your relationship, however — you had come into the agent's life unplanned, uninvited, and turned every one of his rigid ideals up on their heads.

: ̗̀➛ Yet it was only telling of the Idealist and his old habits, how Kunikida went about asking for your hand in marriage. It had been early on a weekday afternoon when he had called you into one of the private meeting rooms of the Agency's office. He'd pushed his glasses up the strong bridge of his nose and laid out his terms. He'd even written a business contract for you to sign. The page had gone flying in the air when you had tackled him from across the table. Smattering a thousand kisses against his blushing, flustered face and breathing the words yes, yes, you silly man, yes!

: ̗̀➛ To concur with both your family's wishes and his own, a traditional wedding was set in motion. Kunikida Doppo was always a man to abide by rules and regulations, but it had occurred to you that perhaps he was taking this affair a little too seriously. For your parents, he gifted them the very traditional shiraga thread. During the sake ceremony, the blond sat ramrod straight, moving mechanically to take sips from the three cups. One for past, one for present, and one for your future. Together.

: ̗̀➛ He was so serious, in fact, that you had become nervous on the morning of your wedding — your most beloved of friends helping you into your garments, trying to soothe your thoughts. What if he doesn't want to marry me? You would whisper as they fashioned your hair up. What if I've forced him into this, what if he's unhappy? To one of your many anxieties, your friend had met your eyes in the mirror, and smiled.

"Oh, honey," She chuckled, leaning down to kiss you on the cheek. "You should see the way that man looks at you."

: ̗̀➛ Her words played in your mind as the traditional music was strung during your procession to meet him. The black colours he donned made his long ponytail appear golden, his body strong, his face even more handsome. As he watched you come down the shrine walkway to be by his side, the blond reached up with one hand to push his glasses away and covered his eyes. It had taken you a few months after to realise that in that moment, Kunikida Doppo had shed a tear.

: ̗̀➛ It was not tradition for vows to be spoken, and yet Kunikida asked to say a few words as the ceremony drew to a close. You watched him carefully as he picked up the microphone, curious at the intentions he had. It was in that moment that your newly wed husband faced the crowd and brought the mic to his lips.

"First, I would like to thank you all for gracing our marriage with both your presence and your blessings. It is something we will see not to squander." "Second, I would like to say some thoughts of mine, if you would all be so inclined. Marriage, to me, was initially an agreement of convenience. I had the perfect woman laid out seamlessly. And in my wife that stands with me today, I say that she is not that perfect woman I so wished to find. But she is everything more. She is my best friend, she is my support, she is the person I go to sleep thinking of and wake up searching for. To me, she is my home, and I will take care of her fiercely."

: ̗̀➛ At your small reception, Kunikida was stolen away from you by some affiliates of the Armed Detective Agency and had his sake cup topped up one too many times. He found you afterwards, and proclaimed both his love and adoration for his newly-betrothed to everyone and anyone that was within a five mile radius.

𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 . . .

"Come here," You whispered to him, now in the comfort of your own apartment walls. A considerably uncoordinated Kunikida was struggling out of his Haorihimo, cursing in drunken slurs and promises of retribution to the small sliver of fabric.

Your fingers eased the cloth out from underneath his arms and you began to loosen the knot. Your husband was staring up at you from behind his crooked glasses. He swayed a little, and you stood in front of him, ready to support him if he went toppling forward off the bed.

But then, two strong, solid arms came up to the small of your back and he crushed you against him. Burying his head into your chest, he murmured;

"From the very first day I met you... I loved you. D'ya know that?"

Your heart grew tiny wings in your chest and began to sore. Smiling, you reached up, carding your fingers through his blond locks and undoing the tight ponytail.

"The first day you met me, you told me I was inefficient and lazy, my dear husband." You mused.

He grunted. "Same... thing."

ᯓ★𝐀𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈 𝐍𝐀𝐊𝐀𝐉𝐈𝐌𝐀

: ̗̀➛ Your relationship with Atsushi was one that blossomed slow and tenderly. It was a natural progression, after three years of happy dating, for the agent to ask you to marry him. Everything Atsushi Nakajima did in regards to showing his affection for you was always timid and reserved — you never expected it; the elaborate surprise he had waiting in store for you that morning you came into the Agency's offices just like you always did.

: ̗̀➛ Well, perhaps he had a little help from the other agents, for the office was barren when you entered. Your eyebrows had creased at the very uncharacteristic quiet of the usually chaotic area you worked in. You had checked the time, wondering if you had showed up a little too early on accident. But then, there was a voice — the voice of agent Dazai Osamu, shouting at you to come to the nearest window and to do so urgently—!

Each of the agents stood at the sidewalk, all holding up a sign with different characters that made up a whole sentence. A question. And Atsushi — your sweet, kind, caring Atsushi, was perched in the middle, the biggest bouquet of roses in his sheepish hands. Will you marry me?

: ̗̀➛ Both you and Atsushi decide to get married somewhere far removed from the city skyline of Yokohama. You wanted somewhere special to remember this day, and perhaps, the great outdoors and stretching greens spoke to Atsushi's beastly side a little more, too. So you chose the heart of a nearby woodland where a great, ancient willow tree served as your alter.

: ̗̀➛ Atsushi wore a suit of sky-blue. You wore a simple slip dress decorated with accents of lace and flowers, Kenji had twined some wildflowers into your hair. The fauna of the forest acted as your choir when you walked down the small trail of brambles to your soon-to-be husband who waited at the base of the winding trunk.

: ̗̀➛ The reception was held in a greenhouse funded by the Agency's private books — you and Atsushi were members, after all, so Kunikida took a little less persuading than usual to move his ledgers around. For lunch, you served chazuke, and when you took the first dance, Atsushi's eyes appeared more gold than they were violet as they looked at you so lovingly the whole time.

𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐍𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐒 . . .

"Atsushi, they'll notice that we're gone." You giggled, bunching your dress up so you could step over the little bush of thickets. When you both reached the winding roots of the willow tree you promised yourselves to each other underneath, Atsushi transformed his arms and legs into their tiger equivalents.

"Dazai-san said he'd keep everyone entertained." He whispered, and then stepped forward to wrap his soft arms around you. "Are you ready?"

"It may be a little late for second thoughts." You teased, but looped your arms around his slender neck and relaxed into his hold. The new golden band on your finger glinted in the moonlight.

And using that tiger-strength, Atsushi dug his claws into the ancient tree bark and began to climb. Higher and higher until you both broke through the canopy cover and could look to the millions of stars winking at you overhead.

"Oh, Atsushi." You breathed in awe, taking in the wonders above. "Oh, it's beautiful."

Your husband nuzzled into your hair and whispered, "Each one represents all the lifetimes I'd still find and fall in love with you in."

ᯓ★𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐔𝐘𝐀 𝐍𝐀𝐊𝐀𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀

: ̗̀➛ It had initially been you and your General lover's plan to keep your engagement quiet and have a small affair away from town. Just the two of you, because Chuuya thought some of his colleagues were insufferable pains in his ass, and all hell would break loose if they were to figure out they had a wedding plan on their hands. It was, however, unfortunate, that you two had been discussing what type of ceremony you'd like to have when Hirotsu was just about to turn one of the corners. It took exactly one hour for the entire Port Mafia to know. Two for it to reach the Armed Detective Agency.

: ̗̀➛ It was no longer a personal affair. This wedding became a spectacle within the Mafia's ranks. From the lowest levels all the way to the boss himself, everyone was abuzz with ideas and anticipation, excited that one of their top brass was getting married and they could all take advantage of the time off to have a grand party. Chuuya threatened to resign several times, you always laughed at how excited the entire criminal organisation became at the prospect of celebration.

: ̗̀➛ True to the boss' word, you and Chuuya's wedding was held in one of the grandest churches Yokohama had to offer — having mysteriously skipped the two year waiting list. The building was laved in gold and stain glass windows. Chuuya wore a fine suit of blood-red and a black tie that contrasted with his wild curls, his hard blue eyes. But when they saw you come down the aisle, they softened, and when he said his vows to you, you never thought anyone would look at you with such adoration ever again.

: ̗̀➛ The main event was held in the bowels of the Port Mafia — one of the largest show-rooms this organisation had to offer, with chandeliers hanging from the ceilings and a private band playing any songs they were requested. Chuuya, for the majority of your reception, could not seem to keep his hands off of you. If you were not by his hip, his eyes would instantly go searching for you within the throng of party-goers. When he did find you, he would place a hand to the small of your back, he'd lean in to kiss you and say;

"There you are, my wife."

: ̗̀➛ There was another reason as to why Chuuya Nakahara was originally so hellbent on taking your wedding somewhere more quiet and peaceful. And it came in the form of a brunet ex-partner waltzing into the organisation's party, a broad simper on his infuriating face. Dazai Osamu took your hand and kissed the back of it, extending his deepest sympathies and that if you ever needed to blow off steam, he could give you his number.

: ̗̀➛ The Port Mafia ballroom had originally started off with three grand chandeliers. After Dazai had purred those taunting words, there was then, only two.

: ̗̀➛ After the many shards had been swept from the floor by a cleaning crew, the private band struck an up-beat quartet. Both you and your newly-wed husband took to the floor for the first dance. Chuuya's hand splayed protectively against your back, his other gloved palm slotting into yours and guiding you to twirl, skip, spin.

𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐄 . . .

"Shit, sorry." He grumbled when your foreheads were touching, the proximity sending his breath fanning across your cheeks. His pointy canines were jutting against his bottom lip. "That motherfucker — he just makes me see red."

"Hey, it's okay." You said, catching his eyes. "Because I love you. You, Nakahara. I am all yours and no one else's."

Those words touched something deep within this man's chest. Of course, the proof that you were his sat in the form of two stacked rings on your left hand, but to hear it. To look into your beautiful eyes and see the amount of love there.

He surprised you by reaching down to your hips and lifting you up, twirling you around, around, around.

"And I'm forever yours, babydoll."

ᯓ★𝐅𝐘𝐎𝐃𝐎𝐑 𝐃𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐄𝐕𝐒𝐊𝐘

: ̗̀➛ The initial letter you received from Fyodor asking for your hand in marriage — originally, you believed it to be fake. A shallow joke from someone who knew of you and the mastermind's occasional on-and-off relationship whenever he returned to your homeland. But as you traced the delicate loops of the handwriting that looked so much like his own, in the intimate moonlight beams of late night — you'd let yourself imagine. Hope. Only for it to swell and dwindle like ashes of a flame. Because there was just no way he would ask to marry you. That he would marry, at all.

: ̗̀➛ It was fitting then; how palpable your shock was when the slender, pale man you had accidentally fallen in love with — like a fool — was standing on the other side of your door that early morning. You had blinked hard, rubbed your eyes, wondered if you were weary from too many sleepless nights. When the stars had cleared from your vision, he was still there. An amused little smile stretched against his lips.

"So? Are you ready to get married?" You stared at him. And stared. And then dropped your morning cup of coffee onto the tiles of your hallway.

: ̗̀➛ At the news of your sudden betrothal, your family were both elated with a healthy dose of scepticism. Who is this man you are intending to marry, they fluttered around you with questions when you broke the news. Fyodor? I've never heard you speak of him, why do you intend to marry this man, girl? At that, you had smiled, not bothering to hide the small heat of blush on your ears, and murmured;

"Because he's a thief, and he stole my heart a very long time ago."

: ̗̀➛ The wedding was held in an old cathedral of gothic architecture. You don't think you've ever seen Fyodor look so refined; standing there in his simple suit of stone-grey with a black shirt. He had his hair tucked behind his ears, his eyebags were a little less pronounced, his skin brighter — but perhaps that was just the early-morning light. When you stood before your husband to-be and handed your heart over to him, for him, there was a shift in his eyes. You could not explain it, but you knew it ran deep. You knew that in his own way, he was also handing himself over to you. And you would accept all of him, just like you accepted his name.

: ̗̀➛ Much to the dismay of your family, you did not hold a wedding reception after the ceremony, but that was only because Fyodor decided to walk with you through the freezing streets of Moscow. He held your hand, and even though on many nights where you lay together he was stone-cold, today, he felt warm.

𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃 . . .

"Fyodor?"

"Hmm?" He answered, noticing the sheepish tone in your voice. You looked up at him with those big doe eyes.

"Why did you ask to marry me?"

Fyodor held your gaze for a long, pregnant second. It was at that moment that a single flake of snow fluttered down from the grey sky and landed on his immaculate suit. Then another. Each one the same colour as your dress, each one different to the rest.

Fyodor held out his hand to catch them. "Why does the snow fall? Because it is natural. It is meant to be. I married you because it is the way I wish to fall. With you, by my side."

✎ . . . requested by the lovely @cocodrilofeliz!

WRITING REQUESTS

#bungou stray dogs #bsd #bungou stray dogs fanfiction #bungou stray dogs headcanon #dazai osamu #dazai osamu x reader #dazai x reader #kunikida doppo #kunikida doppo x reader #atsushi nakajima #atsushi x reader #atsushi nakajima x reader #chuuya nakahara #chuuya nakahara x reader #chuuya x reader #fyodor dostoyevsky x reader #fyodor dostoevsky #fyodor x reader #bsd x reader #🎋 — writing requests #gorgeous bead dividers by pommecita!!

[itsbackwoodsbby]

His Favorite

Trevante Rhodes x Black Fem Reader

Warning: Religion! Recreational Drinking! Smut! Protected Sex! Stripper!

Summary: Trevante's favorite stripper is out of work for a while and has no one as a replacement. You decide that you want to be his favorite. Not just for the night. His forever replacement.

Sunday, he’s always in the church. In the front row, he is watching his dad preach about how wonderful God is. But even saints need to let loose and be wild. On the weekdays and Saturdays, you can catch him at Pink Paradise, the best strip club in the city. He comes in and gives a few dancers money, and once he gets hungry, he’ll go to the bar and order something. When his army friends come with him, he orders hot lemon pepper wings and Hennesy. He orders a small appetizer and a soft drink when he's by himself. Depending on whether his favorite chef is in the kitchen, which is a rare occasion, he’ll order shrimp and fries with lemon on the side.

Then he’ll come to find his favorite dancer to get a lap dance from. She’ll take him to the back and give him the dance of his life. When he pays extra, she opens her throat for him. It’s not the best, but what is a recently honorable discharged army man with no wife supposed to do?

It’s Sunday, you sit down in the church, running a tad bit late. You had a late shift last night, but you’ll be damned if you missed church. You see him in the front as usual as you listen to the pastor talk about how God will make a way out of no way. Then, it shifts to him congratulating and thanking his son for his time in the service. He then calls him up to stand next to him.

“Trevante, son. I love you. I’m so proud of your accomplishments in the service. God has blessed you and worked on you. Because you know you used to be a handful. Boy, you used to give me hell.” Pastor Rhodes says. Everyone laughs at that comment. “But you grew up an amazing strong-minded, young man. You know how to stir away from temptations because the army gave you a new mindset.”

The statement makes you giggle. Stir away? Please! It’s Praise Pussy Sunday tonight at Pink Paradise and you know you’ll see him tonight. And his favorite dancer is out with the flu, so you’re going to be his replacement tonight. Hopefully, you just be his new favorite forever. 

Around 9 pm, you get ready to go to work. You shower and put on something comfortable and easy to take off so you can put on your work outfit. You pack your work bag with two extra outfits, lotions, perfume, wipes, two mini bottles of Crown Royal, makeup, deodorant, and gum. You head to your pole room, grab your money bag, and empty out the cash from Saturday night. You quickly count it and you see you made $659 that night. 

You go to your car and you head to Pink Paradise. You look in the parking lot to see if you see Trevante’s car. You know he's here when you see that black 2023 Corvette with the top down. You walk inside the club. It’s packed as usual on Praise Pussy Sunday. You see the girls in outfits. Some of them dressed as nuns, priests, and other sexy holy things. You go to the locker room. As you maneuver through semi-naked women and bare-naked women, you can hear that Trevante is the talk of the room. You can hear the other girls murmur amongst themselves. “Yo, Kream is gone. And I saw Trevante in the crowd tonight. I love Kream, but I want Trevante to myself. You don’t say anything, you just get dressed. If you say anything about wanting Trevante, the girls will eat you up. You recently started stripping, so they call you a baby stripper. It’s best to stay silent, but you have to prove that you have more experience than an actual baby stripper. As you do your makeup, you take one of the bottles of Crown Royal to calm your nerves down. The club’s atmosphere usually is laidback, but you have to know what you’re doing. If you don’t, you’ll barely get anything and it’s very hard to come back after making a fool of yourself. One by one, the girls dance and you patiently wait until your turn. You have a special performance under your sleeve. 

You peek out the curtain to observe the room. It is sort of blurry from the haze of people smoking weed. You look around until you spot Trevante. He is talking to his friends in a booth, fucking up those hot lemon pepper wings. You keep that spot in your mind for your performance. As To My Bed by Chris Brown comes on, you feel the crowd's laughing and talking fade in the background as the lights dim. You walk out slowly and sway your hips to the melody. Everyone is focusing on your body, but your main focus is just to get his eyes on you and it is clear he is just as entranced by you. Your movements are slow and sensual, but you feel no shyness on stage. 

You are a natural at this. Your hips grind to the song, slowly making their way towards him, watching him react to each move. You reach the pole, tracing a circle around its base. The beat drops, and you take hold of the pole and begin to slide down it slowly. You swayed your hips in a slow circle, teasing the crowd but keeping the focus on Trevante. As you slide down the pole, you lean forward and let your body rest against it, teasing your body shape just enough to create the desired effect. The crowd yelled out their approval, but you couldn't keep your eyes off the one man in the booth. Everyone is throwing money and your other dancing peers are shocked that you have this talent in you.

After your dance, you go into the locker room and use your baby wipes to get the sweat. The girls are hyping you up as you’re changing into your second outfit for the night. After that, you walk around the club. Customers are giving you tips and complimenting you. You go to the bar to get a drink and you’re about to pay when Trevante stops you and says he will pay instead. He smiles at you and you see he is wearing his grillz. You almost faint as you look at the shine. You would honestly let him take you down right now in front of these people, but you have to have some decorum. You two sit at the bar.

“Can I get what the lady got?” He asks the bartender, who starts making the drink again. You take a baby sip of the drink. “Thank you for paying,” You smile at him. “You’re welcome. You were amazing.” He says to you biting his lips. “I ain’t never seen you before. You must have recently started working here.” He asks you. “Yeah. I started working here a few weeks ago.” You smile. “Thanks, I try when it comes to dancing.” You say, trying not to sound too cocky, but you are proud of yourself. “Say, do you know where Kream is?” He asks you with a curious look on his face. “Oh, she is going to be out for a few. But, I can always help with your Pink Paradise needs.” You smile at him. He smirks, “Oh, a newbie can help me? He laughs at your smile drops from your face when you hear the word, newbie. “I’m just playing. Show me what you got.” 

You take his hand and walk him to the back. As you’re walking back there, some of the bitter girls are mad. They try to stop you from giving him a dance. “Trevante, what about Kream? She wouldn't like that her replacement is a baby stripper.” They say to him, but he doesn’t care. 

When you get in the room, you lock the room. The lights in the room are a low-light purple and the floor has a white fur rug. He sits on the couch and looks at your body some more, loving your curves and that ass behind you. You walk to him and start giving him a lap dance. Sitting on his lap, grinding your hips, teasing him as if you are about to kiss him, and kissing his neck. You stand up and get behind him. You rub up and down his chest. You see he is getting stiff in his pants. You smile and look at him.

“I can’t be doing bad for a newbie.” You smirk at him, as you get back on top of him and rock your hips on him. “Not at all.” He grunts lowly and starts feeling your body. “Do you do more?” He asks you. You eye him as you continue dancing, “As in?” He smiles, “Do you give head? Sex?” You smile at him, “Yeah, but it’s extra.”

Trevante didn’t care. Honestly, he needed something new. Kream is okay, but he needs better. And you are probably letting him fuck you. It is a win-win for him to have a new favorite. 

He pulls his boxers and jeans down and his semi-hard dick is staring at you. You get on your knees and waste no time and take his whole dick in your mouth. You start bobbing your head down his dick and you feel his hand travel to your head. He guides your head down his shaft. You look up and see his mouth is hanging open, licking his grillz. You then begin to feel his grip on your hair tightly and start getting rough hitting the back of your throat. You gag a bit, but you take it like a champ. You come down and start sucking on his balls as you stroke his shaft. 

“Shit, you damn sure can suck dick better Kream, that’s for sure.” He mumbles under his breath, biting his lips as you come back up and resume sucking his dick.”Yeah, suck this dick.” He throws his head back on the couch and places his hand back on your head. He pushes your head down further as he begins to twitch in your mouth. This tempts you to suck him faster. He closes his eyes and he nuts in your mouth. You swallow it and your mouth slowly comes off his dick. 

“Damn.” He tries to catch his breath. You giggle at him. “Did I do okay?” He looks at you, “You did better than okay. Damn.” He repeats making you laugh. “You know, you can always do more.” You smile at him. He looks at you, “You playing?” You shake your head at him, “No, I’m not playing.” You give him a slow strip tease and he looks at your bare naked body. He pulls you to him and smacks your ass. “Damn, your body is so perfect, baby girl.” You smile at the compliment, “Thank you.” He hovers over you, and you look at him, “So where do you want me?” You ask him. “On the floor.”

You lay on the floor and the next thing you know your legs are in the air and he’s eating you out with his grillz on. You feel yourself sinking into the floor, gripping his head. His tongue swirls around with your  clit. He pulls your legs on his shoulders and shakes his head in between. “Trevante, fuck.” You moan out and start caressing your breast.

 Your legs stay on his shoulders, but you feel something teasing your clit. It slides up and down and once it’s at your entrance, he pushes all of his dick inside you. You grip onto the floor as he stretches your pussy out. He is generous enough to let you adjust to his big size. Once you are comfortable, he starts deep stroking inside you. Even though you don't necessarily have to be quiet because of the loud music, you still try not to be loud. You bite your lip and look into his eyes. Mistake. This makes him fuck you even more while looking deep in your eyes. He folds your legs up to your ears and goes deeper inside you, making his curve tease your spot. 

“Deeper! Deeper!” You cry out. He smiles and begins hitting your spot. Your eyes roll to the back of your head. You couldn’t believe that the preacher’s son is fucking you like this. “Aye, mamas, look at it.” He groans out. You bite your lips as you watch his dick go in and out of you. Then he starts pounding and gripping your neck. Your eyes close as your body gets tingling from being close to your climax. 

“Mm, is my new favorite going to cum for me?” He teases you but confirms you’re his new favorite at Pink Paradise. You nod your head yes. He pops your thigh, causing you to gasp and exhale your moan out slowly, “Yes, yes. I’m going to cum for you. Shit.” You cuss under your breath. 

He holds your stomach down and goes deeper. You squeal as you cum on his dick. He keeps going until eventually he slows down and cums. You whine as he pulls out. He falls back on the floor as well. You two lay and stare at the ceiling as his phone goes off multiple times and one of the other girls is banging to get in the room. You sigh and giggle. 

“That was so amazing.” You admit to him. He smiles. “Yeah, it was.” You two catch your breath and he looks at his phone and laughs. You look at him, “What’s funny?” You ask, being curious. He shows you his phone. His homeboys are blowing him up. 

“Yooo, T? Where you at nigga?” 

“Trevante, if your ass is not out here in 3 seconds, you paying this bill.”

“Man, nigga is you getting some pussy? Ain’t no way you still in the back room now.”

You laugh, “Well, we should probably hurry up and get you back to your friends.” He nods as he takes the condom off and the two of you get dressed. He looks at you and bites his lip. “Say, can I get your number? This normally ain’t like me. But … it’s something about you.” You smile and look down, “Yeah, you can.”You put your number in his phone and in return, he pays you for your services. He gives you close to $1,000. You smile and thank him for the money. 

You are pretty exhausted from fucking, so you decide to go home. You go to the locker room and receive a few dirty looks, because you got Trevante all to yourself. The rest of the girls are hyping you up. You smile and thank them. You get dressed, head back to your house, and instantly run in the shower to wash the sex off your body. Afterward, you lotion up, put your pajamas on, and begin counting up your money tonight. You made $1256. You finally made four-digit money. You smile and go to your bed and lie on your silk sheets. Your phone dings. It’s an unknown number. You look at the message. 

“Hope you sleep well tonight. Definitely my new favorite lol.”

With another solid confirmation like that, you smile and sleep like a baby.

#poc writer #celebrities #black fanfiction #itsbackwoodsbby #smut #x black fem reader #black fanfic writer #short story #black tumblr #black writer #trevante rhodes #trevante rhodes x black fem reader #trevante rhodes x black fem reader smut

[storiesofsvu]

For I Have Sinned

AU Pastorswife!Tara Lewis x married!religious!fem!reader warnings: language, smut, minor derogatory talk, pussy spanking, teasing, technically there's cheating lol

Requested by anon. Also dont come for me i know little to nothing about religion & how shit works LOL. This will likely have a follow up or two as well👀

It was wrong, you knew that.

 It was absolutely sinful.

Immoral, indecorous even.

But for some reason that didn’t manage to stop you.

The enticement was too strong, the thought of submitting to a temptation that had long been nipping at you, living in the back of your brain since the first time her fingers had delicately plucked a small leaf from your hair, a soft smile on her cheeks and a warm look in her eyes. She was friendly, welcoming, whisking you away from your husbands with a gentle hand on the small of your back while she guided you inside the church, giving you the tour she gave anyone new to the congregation. By the time you rejoined the main party in the garden, her arm was linked through yours as you were laughing together like you were old friends, not two strangers who had just met.

A handful of children ran up to her in an excited chorus of ‘Mrs. Lewis!’ and you searched through the group, asking which ones were hers. She was quick to shake her head, quietly mentioning that while they’d tried, it hadn’t been part of gods plan, that they were happy the way they were. It was only a second later she was encouraging you to call your own kids over to join the group, introducing them and guiding them into a couple of games to entertain themselves. The children didn’t just know her because she was the pastor’s wife, she also taught Sunday school, enlightening the minds of the younger generation to the religion you’d always loved, the one you’d grown up with and been faithful to your entire life.

Which was very unlike Tara’s experience. She’d married into it. Meeting her husband in her senior year of high school, your typical meet cute studying in the library. Distraction from studying lead to coffee, which lead to lunch, which lead to dinner off campus, first just one date, then another, then a night where neither wanted to say goodnight, talking all night, laughter and pure heart eyes. While Tara was somewhat unfamiliar with the entire religion thing she was completely in support of him, ever the shining light by his side as he made his way through the ladder rungs, educating herself and eventually taking on the role she had now. They married young, thinking that it was going to be forever, that their mindsets wouldn’t change, that true love knew no bounds.

It wasn’t long after saying ‘I do’ and fully immersing herself into the church that Tara realized she was different from most of the congregation, that while she still supported things, believed in God, agreed with their beliefs, there was a lingering thought in her brain. One that sparked up every so often when a beautiful woman walked into the church. She’d always known that about herself, even if she’d never brought it up with her husband, she liked women, she’d just been unaware of how much and now she was in too deep to try and get out. She did love him, and she loved the life that they had together, she wouldn’t deny that, and she never wanted to bring that much shame and attention to him if she was to file for divorce. So she kept her secret life exactly that, secret. A few women here or there over the years, though none of them meant anything. They were hook ups she found in dark bars in neighbouring towns, where no one would know she was the pastor’s wife, where she was a mysterious figure they’d never see again.

That was of course, until the day she met you.

You were an absolute ray of sunshine, bright eyed and eager to be accepted in a new town, a new church, taking on as many volunteer tasks as you could to get involved with the community. She watched carefully as you chaperoned Sunday school trips, organized charity events, and she knew your peanut butter chocolate cupcakes were the most decadent, rich and delicious things at any bake sale you eagerly helped out with. Tara was completely infatuated with you, her eyes lingering on you longer than they should, finding any excuse to talk to you, for you to stay behind, come in early, help with things she didn’t actually need help with. Anything to get you alone, because she had a natural ability to read people, and she knew that you felt the unnatural, immoral draw towards her as well. You lingered in the hallway after sending the kids to the car, timed your grocery trips to intentionally run into her, drove the long way when dropping the kids off at school so you’d be at the same coffee shop. Your eyes often finding hers during sermons before you’d smile softly and duck your gaze, your cheeks would heat when she complimented you, your eyes darkening with arousal, tongue darting out to wet your lips when you glanced back up at her.

Tara was a mystery to you at first, something enticing, intriguing, that you wanted to know more about, explore, figure out why you were feeling the way you were. Why you always had a lovestruck smile on your face when you talked about her, why you were always so excited to see her, the way your heart would nearly beat out of its chest at the mention of her name, the tingles you began to feel pulsing their way through your body. Those were the strangest, you’d thought she was someone you were going to become best friends with, that you’d finally found someone you could double date with, that was of course until you caught yourself thinking about her while your husband’s hands traced your skin.

It was no longer a mystery, you wanted Tara, physically, intimately, in a way that God certainly would never understand or be accepting of. You ached to feel her lips on yours, to have her body pressed against yours, to explore every inch of her skin with your hands, you craved her in a way you’d never craved anyone else before in your life. She was all you could think of, invading your senses the moment you stepped into the church to the moment you went to bed, wishing you could touch yourself and pretend it was her, every fleeting moment you were in her presence drove you wild.

Which was exactly how you ended up propped on her desk, your dress bunched around your waist, her hands keeping your thighs spread wide while her face was buried between your legs.

You could never quite wrap you head around how good she was with her mouth, tongue slipping into your core, quiet groans leaving her lips as she truly tasted you, juices dripping down onto her tongue for her to eagerly lap at. Her lips wrapped around your lower ones, gently sucking them into her mouth, nose nudging at your clit, pulling little gasps and whimpers from you as she continued her motions. Tara could feel you building up, knowing that you were close, that it was almost too much to bare and she pulled away ever so softly, her lips tracing across your inner thigh while she let you catch your breath. Her teeth sunk into your skin and you gasped, a hand flailing to swat at hers when she did it again, sucking in the same spot.

“Don’t be so rough there can’t be any marks.”

“No one will see them down here.” She murmured; her breath hot on your skin.

“He might.” You mumbled, urging her face back between your legs. A quiet moan escaping your lips when she did exactly what you wanted, tongue flicking at your clit before dragging slowly across it and your body shuddered, “oh god…”

Smirk on her lips she sucked your clit into her mouth, a hand sneaking between your legs and two fingers slipped into your aching pussy. She pumped them a few times, slowly twisting and twirling them inside you as you felt the electricity firing through your body, moaning when she crooked them perfectly.

“Right there.”

“Hmm…” She groaned against you, vibrations causing your body to shudder, pussy fluttering around her fingers as she continued to fuck them into you.

Your breathing began to pick up when she curled them again, this time the pads of her fingers pressing harder into the sensitive spot, brushing back and fourth while she sucked harder on your clit. Your hand clamped over your mouth, muffling your cries as you hit your peak, pleasure surging through your body as your back arched off the desk. You could feel your juices dripping out of your cunt, leaking down Tara’s wrist and onto the wood beneath you. With one final flick of her tongue she pulled off your clit, fingers fucking you through your orgasm as she watched your body tremble with a grin on her lips.

“I thought you were a good girl, but here you are getting wet in church.” She murmured, this time gently nipping at your inner thigh before finally pulling her fingers from you, watching with amusement at how much slick smeared across your skin.

You could feel her eyes on you, knowing she was watching you fluttering around nothing, taking joy in just how good she could make you feel, pride from just how wet you were. You’d been ruining your panties since you’d laid eyes on her hours ago and she knew it, that you’d been aching to escape your reality, to have her touch you, lick you, taste you in the way only she could. No longer on cloud nine, the warmth of pleasure vanished, replaced with embarrassment of her staring at your most intimate parts. Your hand covered your face, cheeks burning now as you tried to close your legs.

“Uh.” Tara clicked her tongue, hands splayed on your thighs as she stood from her chair, pushing your legs back open, “sweet girl, you’re not done yet, you know better. You’ve sinned…now you have to be punished.”

You let out a whine in protest, but left yourself on display, legs wide open for her to do with whatever she pleased. The heat was still present in your cheeks, knowing that it was only Tara you could ever do something like this with, that she was the only one who could get you this vulnerable yet this turned on in the same moment. Glancing up you caught her sucking your juices off her fingers, making sure they were wet and ready for whatever punishment she had in mind. Her hands gently gripped your ankles, sliding up your legs and your breath hitched in your throat.

“Well… you really are a naughty girl, aren’t you?” She purred, leaning over your body as she spoke and you whimpered softly, distracted by her being so close to you, you missed when she pulled her hand back, a gasp escaping your lips when she spanked your pussy sharply. “Getting so turned on, so horny and in a house of God.” Another spank, leaving your body jolting, “and this isn’t stopping it, huh?” Spank. “I can feel you getting wetter,” Spank. “thinking about all the dirty things you want me to do to you, hmm?” Spank. “all the different ways I can make you come?” Spank.  Tara leant forward, her lips brushing the column of your neck before she nipped at your earlobe, her breath hot on your skin when she spoke again, “god your little pussy just loves how I fuck you, hmm?” Spank.

You could feel the heat prickling through your body again, your chest heaving as Tara’s hand swatted at your drenched cunt once more and you let out a loud whine. You pulsed around nothing, your clit throbbing at the thought of being touched once again, even if it was a quick spank that she delivered right as you thought about it.

“Everyone thinks you’re such a good girl,” spank, “the perfect little wife. But here you are begging me to do whatever I want to you.” Spank. “like a little whore.”

The final spank hit right where you needed it, Tara’s free hand quickly coming up to cover your mouth as you cried out, your cunt throbbing as your hips rocked up off the desk, juices squirting out of you, dripping down onto the floor below.

“Oh g-god…” You whimpered, your body shivering as Tara chuckled softly above you, pressing a gentle kiss to the side of your neck before righting herself between your legs. Her hands soothed up and down your bare skin, watching your chest heave as you caught your breath.

“You alright?”

“Mhmm.” You nodded, eyes fluttering open as you gazed up at her, “more… please.”

Tara’s lips split into a smirk, a small laugh coming from her as she shook her head, “oh you needy little thing, you still want more?” Her hands shifted to the buckle of her belt, slowly undoing it before her pants, a hungry look in her eye as, of course, this had been her plan all along, “want me to stretch you out with my cock so you can take the lord’s name in vain… again?”

“Yes!” You cried, “oh please yes!” Your body trembled with anticipation, a whimper leaving your lips and Tara practically pouted at you, her hands moving your feet down to the floor as she gently tugged you off the desk. A finger curled under your chin, tilting your face up to hers before she left a kiss on your lips.

“Sssh. It’s okay honey, I know, I know.” She kissed the tip of your nose, “I can make you feel so much better than that pathetic excuse of a man ever could.” She swatted at the side of your hip, “now turn around and bend over.”

You did exactly as she asked, bracing yourself against her desk as you listened to the sound of her undoing her pants, shoving them far enough down to let the toy pop out of the fabric. Her hands trailed up your inner thighs, fingers ghosting through your wetness, pulling a shudder from you. Tara’s hand wrapped around her cock, rubbing it through your folds until you were pushing back toward her.

“Please…” you whined, “need you.”

“Alright.” She chuckled softly, pushing into you until she was fully seated and you let out a low moan at the sensation.

“Fuck…”

“Such obscene language from such an innocent girl.” She teased, her hands gripping your hips as she began to fuck you. “Whoever would have thought?”

Her cock plunged deeper into you with each thrust, your hips gently crashing into the desk as your pussy began to flutter around her, whimpers and whines leaving your lips. Pleasure coursed through you, tingling down your legs, making them shake when the tip of the toy brushed the sensitive spot inside your cunt.

“S-so good.” You mumbled out, your words already airy as you were back amongst the clouds.

“That’s it angel…” Tara soothed, her hand running up your back, “taking me so well.” She thrusted particularly hard, jerking your hips into the side of the desk and you gasped. “You just love being a little cock slut behind closed doors where no one can see you.”

“Mmhmm!” Doing your best to nod, your eyes scrunched shut, your teeth digging into your lip in an attempt to not make too much noise. You knew the worst thing for the both of you was if you were ever caught, not to mention here of all places. “M-close.”

“I know baby.”

Heat coursed through your veins, tingling down to the tip of your fingers and toes, curling tighter and hotter in the pit of your stomach with each thrust of her hips. Your cunt was clenching down so hard around her you were certain if it wasn’t for how drenched you were she would barely be able to move. You could feel your slick leaking down your thighs, all you could hear were the wet sounds echoing from your pussy as Tara continued to thrust into it.

One hand remained braced on your hip while the other snuck around your body between it at the desk, quickly finding your clit and pinching it.

“Fuck!” You whined and she gently spanked it in retaliation of your language, making you shudder. Her fingers began to rub it, slowly at first, building faster and faster until she was in time with her thrusts, pressing harder with each pass of her fingers.

“That’s it angel…” she purred, “let go for me one more time. I know you can.”

She circled her hips and your body tensed, thighs trembling when you hit your peak for a third time in the last hour, nails clawing at the wood of the desk and you bit down on your lip so hard you swore you could taste blood.

“Jesus Christ…”

Tara chuckled darkly, her hands moving back to your hips, soothing across your skin while her hips slowed, softly fucking you through your orgasm. She leant over your back, placing a gentle kiss on the side of your neck before murmuring into your ear,

“Really gotta do something about that mouth of yours.”

“I’m sure you can think of a better way to keep it occupied.” You replied with a sigh, your body relaxing into the desk as she stilled behind you.

“I’m sure I can.” She said, swatting at your ass as she pulled out, watching your juices drip from the tip of the toy with a grin.

She dropped back into the chair behind her, reaching for a couple of tissues, drying her cock before tucking it back into her pants. Fresh tissue gently slid up your thighs, ridding you of the mess before she softly wiped at your pussy. You pushed up off the desk with a groan, turning to face her as she stood and you reached out for your discarded panties but she snatched them first.

“Uh-uh.” She smirked, tucking them into her pocket “you’ll get these back next time.”

“There shouldn’t be a next time.” You stated and her finger curled under your chin, lifting your face up to her before she left a tender kiss on your lips.

“Oh but there will be.” She smoothed out a few pieces of your hair, adjusted your dress before turning to face the mirror so she could fix her lipstick. “Now come on, the bus will be back any minute, we can’t be late to meet the boys.”

And just like that her arm was slid back into yours as you were making your way through the hallways together like nothing ever happened. That whatever you did behind the locked door of her office didn’t exist until you were back in there alone. That you were two women very happily married to their husbands with not a single secret to be kept.

But that’s the thing about life, there’s always someone with a secret.

______________

@mysticfalls01 @evilregal2002 @maybe-a-humanbean @dextur @wchipxchipxp @m00nkn1ghts s @daddy-heather-dunbar @augustvandyne @supercriminalbean @prentiss-theorem @svushots @happenstnces @sapphicprentiss @geekyandgay98 @pagetboobstarcomments @onmykneesformarvel @inlovewithemilyprentiss @akingcalledkris @desperate-gay @amypoehlfey @overtrred28 @kalixxh @s1ut4nat @inlovewithmiddleagewomen @ollysmulti @kmc1989 @irishavengersassemble @louderfortheback @elz-artzzz @rustyzebra @alexusonfire @blackbird-brewster

#tara lewis #tara lewis x reader #tara lewis x reader au #criminal minds #criminal minds au #criminal minds fanfic

[sadslay]

- PRAYER ⋆☆ 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

warnings - very light nswf content

you bare elbows were leant up against the sticky wooden surface with one hand holding onto a clear glass half filled with lemonade and ice while the other played with your cross necklace. music played throughout the bar, but your focus was on the small stage in the corner of the room. the majority of the stage was covered in instruments, a personalised drum kit sitting at the back of the stage with corroded coffin drawn onto the bass drum. you had been going to their shows for a little over six months now, the drummer of the group - gareth - had invited you to their very first show.

you first met gareth in freshmen year at your local church. it was much to your surprise as you had seen him around school and you thought he’d never step foot into a church. and you were right, gareth was there against his will, after days of his mothers incessant begging he had finally caved. admittedly after seeing you in the pews, gareth was glad that he had decided to go. you sat up straight, playing with the fine chain necklace hanging around your neck, your fingers holding onto the silver cross as you slid it back and forth while listening to the pastor. back and forth. back and forth. gareth felt like he could watch you for hours. despite your personality differences, you and gareth became unlikely friends.

now watching gareth setting up his beloved drum almost four years later you couldn’t help but smile. he was just beginning to learn how to play the drums when you had first met him and he was in a band of his own with a few people from school. every second tuesday corroded coffin had their very own spot in the bar downtown. finally the others had walked on stage, their guitars in hand as they joined gareth on stage.

“we’re corroded coffin.” eddie spoke into the microphone, his chunky silver rings reflecting in the light as he held onto the end of the microphone. “we’ve got a couple’a cover songs n’a few originals for you tonight.” he continued, his hand falling away from the microphone to grip onto the neck of the guitar.

looking around the bar to find it almost completely empty with the exception of the town drunks. eddie looked past the lights to find you sitting at the bar, your skirt hiked up as your bare legs were rested on the small bar at the bottom of your stool. you briefly let go of your necklace, the small dainty cross falling to your chest as you waved at gareth. eddie looked back to find gareth eagerly waving back with his drum sticks in his hand.

“lets go.” eddie instructed, his voice muffled as his face was turned away from the microphone.

gareth lifted his hands up in the air, banging his drum sticks together as he cheered, “one! two! three! four!”

eddie began to strum the strings on his guitar while gareth slammed his sticks down onto the drums. almost immediately you recognised the song they had chosen. hotline by black sabbath. your knowledge of heavy metal music was still growing, gareth and eddie suggesting new songs for you to listen to almost every other day. although you could never listen to the music with your parents around as they claimed it was the devils music, you had managed to find time every now and again.

“how’d we do?” gareth asked as he walked towards you, sweat glistening across not only his but all their foreheads.

“great!” you cheered, watching the group pull up chairs to sit around you, gareth sitting to your right while eddie sat to your left. “a lot of black sabbath tonight.” you noted, taking a sip of your drink before placing it on the bar behind you.

“didn’t think you’d show angel.” eddie chuckled, his eyes tracing up and down your figure. “not after daddy caught you.” he teased.

“well daddy thinks i’m at bible study.” you retorted, barely looking eddie in the eye before turning your focus back to others.

“you dress like that for bible study?” jeff chuckled, looking to the other boys as they laughed at his comment.

“bite me.” you retorted, their laughter only growing.

eddie leant closer you, his breath tickling your ears as he leant in to whisper, “i think he’d like that angel, i know i would.” he teased before pulling away.

you playfully nudged into his shoulder before listening to the group as they began to dissect their performance. eddie was the first person gareth had introduced you to. from the moment he had laid eyes on you he knew that one day he’d have you screaming his name. he wanted to make you his. but much to his disappointment after years of mutual flirtation, he had gotten no where, absolutely fucking no where. but tonight he felt lucky.

“i’ve gotta head off.” you mentioned, finishing off the last part of your drink before turning back to the others.

“d’you need a ride home?” eddie asked, momentarily looking around at the others before turning back to you.

“sure, but you are parking at the end of the street.” you bargained, standing up from your seat, the pale pink skirt falling down to cover the majority of your thighs.

“sure thing angel.” he shrugged, watching you as you bent down slightly to give gareth a hug goodbye.

eddie watched as you hugged gareth, slightly wobbling side to side as gareths hands loosely draped around your waist.

“come on, i don’t have all night.” eddie groaned, standing up from his seat.

you scoffed at eddie’s comment before saying the rest of your goodbyes to the others before following eddie out to the car park where his van had been parked all afternoon.

“you really want me to park at the end of your block?” eddie asked, a breathy laugh leaving his lips as he unlocked his car.

“yes!” you insisted. “my dad thinks you’re apart of some cult n’he’d send me to pennhurst if he knew i was hangin’ out with you guys.” you explained, jumping into the front seat of eddies van.

“oh won’t you save a prayer for me angel.” eddie teased, sliding the keys into the ignition before starting the engine.

“shut up!” you groaned. your hands immediately drawn the stereo system as you began tried to find the desired tape.

it was a solid twenty minute drive back to your house as you lived on the edge of town. as you got comfortable for the trip, you found yourself looking at eddie’s hands. on of them gripped onto the steering wheel - his finger tapping along to the beat of the song - the viens on the back of his hand, leading down to his forearm were more prominent then usual. you had assumed it was from dehydration as he usually didn’t drink much water to begin with but with practice it meant he drank even less.

you were so focused on watching eddie’s hand in the steering wheel you didn’t notice his other hand inching towards your thigh until it was too late. your eyes ripped from the steering wheel to find his other hand gently resting on your thigh. you looked back up, this time looking at his face to see his eyes focusing on the road. he seemed so tense and worried you’d push away his hand or say some sly comment like you had in the past, but you just let it happen. as he got more comfortable, his thumb drawing idle circles onto your exposed flesh. it was actually kind of nice.

but before you knew it, eddie was pulling over at the end of your block, turning off the engine before turning to face you, his hand still gently resting on your thigh. the silence was comfortable, which was common between you and eddie but there was something about tonight that felt different.

“thanks for inviting me tonight.” you smiled, turning your torso to face eddie a little more, your chest on full display causing eddie’s eyes to quickly dart down before focusing on your eyes.

“no problem angel.” he smirked. “you’re my good luck charm.” eddie added, inching himself closer to you causing a smile to creep onto your lips.

“good luck charm?” you teased, eddie rolling his eyes as he scoffed at your mockery. “good night ed’s.” you smiled.

you moved in closer, eddie’s heart going a millions miles a minute. it was really gonna happen and it wasn’t some stupid dare or party trick.

“okay, i dare you to go pick up one of those losers on the bench and ask ‘em to dance.” your friend teased, lifting her hand to motion towards the bench across the gymnasium where a small cluster of kids sat alone. “i’ll even give you bonus points if you ned a kiss.” she added.

“no way!” you frowned, looking over at the group. “look how sad they all look.” you pouted, folding your arm to cover your chest.

“that exactly why you should go over!” she whined, desperate for any amount of drama.

“i dunno.” you shrugged, pinching your eyebrows together as you began to play with the little cross pendant. “isn’t that kinda mean?”

“it’s totally mean.” she giggled, taking a sip of punch that had been supplied by the school. “okay, you can’t just chicken out.” she groaned.

“fine! fine!” you huffed, letting go of your necklace as your hands fell to their side. “you owe me asshole.” you muttered, parting ways from your friend and walking across the gymnasium approaching the group of boys.

students filled the dance floor what was typically a basketball court. you pushed your way through the crowds of people before stopping a few feet away from the small group of people your friend had pointed to. then you noticed gareth.

“hey gareth.” you chimmed, flashing him a smile before looking at his friends sitting by his sides.

“hey y/n.” he grinned, the others looking at him as if he were crazy. “guys this is y/n.” he introduced.

a mixture of hi and hello came from the other twk boys. the idea of asking gareth to dance was easy enough, you could dance as friends all while getting your other friend off your back about being a prude just because you go to church with your family. but then your eyes landed on someone you had briefly seen throughout the school yard before.

“this is jeff and eddie.” gareth added, pointing to each boy as he said their names.

“we thought you weren’t real.” eddie laughed, a downturned smile creeping onto your lips. “gareth doesn’t shut up about you.” he added.

“shut up!” he hissed, nudging eddie’s side.

“it’s alright gareth. you’re secrets safe with me.” you smirked, flashing him a flirtatious wink. “hey, d’one of you guys wanna dance?“ you asked.

their jaws all fell slack. you stood there, your hands held behind your back as you rocked back and forth on the balls of your feet.

“ya-you wanna danthe with uth?” jeff asked, almost surprising you as you were unaware of his speech impediment.

“yeah sure.” you shrugged, taking one of your hands to begin playing with the little cross on your necklace. “so who’s gonna dance with me?” you asked again.

“i’ll go.” eddie spoke up, his voice almost sound nervous as he stood up.

“sweet.” you grinned, grabbing onto eddies hand before pulling him towards the centre of the basketball court. “see ya gareth!” you cheered before turning your focus back to eddie who was following, his rings cooling your warm skin.

you stopped once you reached the centre of the floor, in view of your pressuring friend who was snickering with a few other girls in your grade. you took eddies second hand and placed his hands on your waist. with the bright colourful lights it was a little hard to see why eddie could feel his cheeks warming.

“i’ve gotta tell ya i can’t dance.” eddie laughed at himself, his eyes never leaving yours.

“neither can i.” you giggled, resting your hands on his shoulders.

“then why ask someone to dance?” eddie teased, following your lead as you swayed to the rhythm of the music.

you let out a sigh, “my friend didn’t think i could.” you admitted. “she think’s i’m a prude.” you frowned.

“a prude?” he scoffed. “she doesn’t sound like a good friend.” eddie noted.

“oh i wouldn’t exactly call her a friend. i just hang out with her to make my parents happy.” you noted. “gareth’s probably my only friend.” you laughed.

“that schmuck?” eddie teased, earning a giggled from you. “well, you can hang out with us any time.”

“thanks eds.” you grinned, eddie smiling at the new nickname.

in a moment of panic, you quickly leant forward giving eddie a kiss on his cheek.

as you inched closer to eddie. you could feel his breath on your lip as the gap between you grew less and less. an almost devilish smirk crept onto eddie’s face seconds you closed the gap between you, pressing your lips against his. just as you went to pull away, planning on keeping it short and sweet, eddie’s hand moved from your thigh to your waist, pulling you closer to him.

finally. it had finally happened and it was better then eddie could have ever imagined. you placed your hand on eddies chest, planning to push away but you couldn’t. instead your fingers clung onto his shirt, pulling him closer. as much as you found eddie painfully annoying, so painfully, gorgeous, annoying. but after what felt like an entire life time you both pulled away completely breathless. your hand was still resting onto his chest, you could feel his heart beat before remembering his hand was tightly gripping onto your waist.

“do you have any idea how long i’ve wanted to do that?” eddie asked, a soft chuckle leaving his lips.

you let out a laugh, your hand sliding down his chest, briefly brushing by his stomach before resting your hand on the top of his thigh.

“my dad’s gonna kill me.” you whispered, letting out s breathy laugh as eddie’s hand connected to the base of your neck, his rings sending goosebumps over your skin.

definitely proof read ;)

jk as if

#ao3 #aot fanfiction #fan fic author #fan fiction #eddie munson #eddie stranger things #stranger things #stranger things 4 #eddie munson x reader #corroded coffin #black sabbath #spotfiy #Spotify #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fluff #stranger things 2 #eddie munson x you #fluff

[proxima-writes]

‘til the sun burns out - part 3

part of the nothing else matters universe

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

Pairing: Eddie Munson/Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+, MDNI)

Read it on AO3

Summary:

Your wedding night to Eddie Munson.

Additional tags: explicit sexual content, p in v, cunnilingus, dirty talk, degradation, fluff and smut, no angst, established relationship

“Edward James Munson, if you are late to our wedding I will personally send you to hell myself,” you hiss into the receiver, leaving your fifth and increasingly threatening voice message to the phone the guys share while they’re on the road.

Your best friend Claire looks at you expectantly as you walk back into your bedroom. She flinches at your murderous expression but cheerily says, “Don’t worry, sugar, I’m sure they’re just…on the road. Speeding down here to make all your dreams come true.”

Rather than respond, you pour yourself another shot of vodka and toss it back. Then, you start pacing again, wringing your hands together to avoid grabbing the phone and leaving your sixth message.

It’s 1991 and a seasonably warm June day in Hawkins. You’ve been engaged to the man of your dreams for over a year, and the wedding planning was what kept you busy and your mind occupied during the months he was away for his latest tour and recording sessions.

Your wedding is scheduled to begin at 2 p.m. at Hawkins Church. You had kicked and screamed your way to this decision, but ultimately your dad telling you it would make your late mama proud tugged hard enough at your heartstrings to make you relent. Eddie had been a pretty quick sell on the idea.

“You mean get married by the very man who called me a radical satanist? It might give him a heart attack. Let’s do it,” he’d said when you called him to tell him your dad’s guilt trips had finally won.

It was now noon, and Eddie was supposed to be home from the tour at 10 a.m., but you haven’t heard from him or any of the other guys. “Claire, I’m going to kill him.”

“So you’ve said. To anyone within a five foot radius.” She sets her wine down and stands, grasping you by your upper arms. “You need to relax. He’ll be here. When has Eddie ever let you down?”

“September 1986 when he admitted that he’s never actually liked Red Vines and only eats them because I like them.”

“That’s not letting you down, that’s having taste. Now ease up on the vodka, I don’t want to have to hold your hair back in church.”

There’s a knock at your bedroom door and a familiar head of luscious hair pokes his head in.

“Harrington!”

“What’s this about vodka?” He asks as he enters the room, giving you a quick hug. “Where’s Munson?”

Claire makes a striking motion across her throat, but it’s too late. “He’s not here. Our wedding is in two hours and he’s not here! ” You shout.

Steve’s eyes go wide as he watches you start your pacing over. He looks at Claire. “She been like this all day?”

“This is…arguably the most calm she’s been.”

“I’m sure he’s got a good reason for running late,” Steve says diplomatically. “And if he doesn’t, then I’m glad I’m not him.”

You glare at Steve. “Thanks, Harrington. You really know how to make a girl feel better.”

“Anytime. I just wanted to stop by and say hi, let you know Nancy and Robin just got back in town. El and Max are at the church decorating. Dustin is…somewhere, being Dustin.” He pauses. “Pastor Mitchell has only been praying for the absolution of your sins for the past hour or so.”

“Huh, that’s not so bad,” Claire murmurs.

“I know, right?” Steve rubs a hand over his chin as he thinks of anything else to tell you. “Oh, Mrs. Wheeler brought the cake over to the bar. Chad put it in the fridge.”

“At this rate, the only thing I’m looking forward to is Mrs. Wheeler’s German chocolate cake,” you grumble. “Thanks, Steve. If you hear anything from Eddie could you let me know?”

He gives a little two finger salute before slipping out the door and disappearing. Claire regards you with concerned eyes. “Come on, honey. Let’s get you dressed.”

—-

It’s 1:45 p.m. and your dad is going to be walking you down the aisle any minute. You’ve had Claire checking whether Eddie’s arrived every five minutes for the past hour, and still no sign of him. The only thing keeping you from crying is the fact that your eyelashes are coated in a layer of mascara so thick that if you cried, you’re almost certain you’d go blind.

Your gown is an off the shoulder white dress that hits you leg at the knee, simple in style but stunning in figure. Your hair is teased and sprayed within an inch of its life. You’ve got a handful of sunflowers mixed with baby’s breath as a bouquet. You’re ready to get married.

The only thing you apparently don’t have is a fucking groom.

Your dad knocks on the door to the room you’re waiting in just off the lobby of the church. He’s dressed in a white button down tucked into black slacks, the same thing he wears to church the three times a year he goes.

“You look beautiful, sweet pea. I only wish your mama could have seen you,” he says, eyes glassy. All the anger leaves you in a rush as he envelopes you in a hug. “Now, come on. Let’s go get you hitched.”

You slide your arm into the crook of his elbow. The wedding march filters through the old wood doors of the nave as your dad stands with you, waiting for the doors to open. It’s Steve who pulls the door open, his face giving away nothing as your dad guides you inside.

The small gathering of people are all standing in the pews, facing you, with huge smiles on their faces but your eyes immediately find a familiar pair of brown ones at the end of the aisle.

Eddie stands next to a surly Pastor Mitchell, lips spread wide in a huge grin. To your surprise, he’s wearing a suit - black on black shirt, vest, and haphazardly done tie topped with his leather jacket instead of the suit jacket. The rest of the guys from the band stand beside him in similar suits, while on your side Claire stands in her baby blue gown, holding a bouquet similar to yours.

Your dad kisses you on the cheek before placing your hand in Eddie’s. Those familiar calloused fingers wrap around your own and just like that, all of the stress of the morning fades away.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he whispers as you stand beside him and Pastor Mitchell begins his wedding sermon.

“You’re late,” you whisper back, though the words are full of far less heat than they would have been a few hours ago.

“Ran into a bit of trouble.”

“What kind of trouble?”

“Would you believe me if I said we stopped a robbery?”

You turn your head to him as you hiss out, “What?!”

Pastor Mitchell clears his throat, the annoyance clear on his face.

“Sorry,” you murmur, turning back to him. Eddie’s shoulders shake in silent laughter.

“The couple has chosen to say their own vow,” Pastor Mitchell says. “Edward?”

“Hey, baby,” Eddie starts, “Remember that time we drove out to watch the meteor shower? And how you watched the stars, but I could only watch you? You’re my favorite star in any galaxy. And I’ll love you until the sun burns out.”

Pastor Mitchell turns to you, and gestures for you to speak. “Eddie, you’re the wordsmith here, not me. But just know, you’re the sun in my galaxy. My best days begin and end with you, my love. I can’t wait for a lifetime of the best days.”

“I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride,” Pastor Mitchell says, closing his sermon book. Eddie reaches out to curl a hand behind your neck, hauling you towards him in a kiss impeded by your bright smile.

“I’m glad you changed your mind,” he murmurs.

“Me, too, Munson. Me, too.”

Hand in hand, you run laughing down the aisle of the church to the cheers of your friends and family.

And the silent prayers of Pastor Mitchell.

___

That night, The Hideout hosts its first ever wedding reception.

Mrs. Wheeler volunteered to take charge of managing the potluck style dinner and the cake. Your bartenders happily volunteered to serve drinks through the night. And the boys of Corroded Coffin provided the entertainment.

You haven’t stopped smiling, and every time your eyes meet Eddie’s, your heart flutters wildly in your chest.

Eddie Munson. Your husband.

Man, what a world.

The man in question slides an arm around your waist, leaning in to kiss your neck. “Dance with me?”

“Eddie Munson, since when do you dance?”

“Since I got the prettiest girl in the room to give me a chance,” he says. He drags you in front of the stage, and the boys start in on a song you haven’t heard before.

It’s slow, the guitar drawn out and the deep bass more pronounced. You slip your arms around Eddie’s neck and sway with him, your bodies pressed tightly together. Gareth is on vocals while Eddie enjoys your first dance.

“It’s called Nothing Else Matters. Metallica’s new song,” Eddie tells you, turning you in a circle. “Thought it fit us pretty well.”

Never cared for what they say

Never cared for games they play

Never cared for what they do

Never cared for what they know

And I know, yeah, yeah

So close, no matter how far

Couldn't be much more from the heart

Forever trusting who we are

No, nothing else matters

“It’s perfect, Eds,” you whisper.

———

Later, after the party has wound down and your friends shoo you and Eddie out of the bar and into the car decorated with a “Just Married” banner, Eddie pulls up to your shared home and rushes around the hood to pull your door open.

You barely get your seatbelt undone before he’s lifting you from the car, making you giggle. When he reaches the door, he sets you down for a brief second to tug his keys out and open the door before scooping you up into his arms again.

“When we cross this threshold, we’ll officially be husband and wife. You ready?” He asks.

“According to the state of Indiana, we’ve been husband and wife for the last twelve hours,” you reply.

Eddie steps into the dark house, kicking the door shut behind him. He makes a beeline for your bedroom, tossing you on the bed and immediately crawling up over your body.

“Have I told you yet how stunning you are?” He asks. “This dress looks amazing on you, but I bet it would look better on the floor,” he says with a wink.

“Oh yeah?” You ask, tone gone sultry. You wrap your fist in the black tie around his neck, pulling him closer to you. “I can think of some places where this tie would look better, too.”

“Later. First, I’m gonna eat my wife’s pretty pussy,” he says, sliding down until he’s situated on his stomach between your spread legs. His rough hands shove your dress up over your hips, exposing the black lace panties and matching garter holding up your stockings. Eddie looks like a kid on Christmas. “Jesus Christ, this is all for me?”

“‘Til the sun burns out, baby,” you tell him. He grins at you, palms sliding up the backs of your thighs as he presses your legs up, exposing more of you to his hungry gaze.

He plants light kisses up the inside of both thighs before his lips gently trace your folds through the silk and lace. The dulled sensation of his mouth on you is maddening, not nearly enough for how tightly wound your body and soul are for this man.

“Eddie, please,” you beg, voice breathy.

“Oh, is my little slut already desperate?” He taunts. His thumb rubs circles over your sensitive clit, still keeping your lingerie as a barrier. “These cute little panties are already soaked, huh?”

You nod, arching your back and trying to shift your hips to chase the friction. He pulls back, making you groan in disappointment.

Eddie’s fingers trace the edges of the lace before finally pulling them aside. He uses his opposite hand to trace a single finger through your wetness before he draws back, landing a light smack to your center that has you fighting against his hold.

“Hold still, or I’m going to make this take way longer than either of us wants,” he warns before his tongue is on your, licking you from your dripping hole to your needy clit.

You cry out in relief, blabbering a litany of thank you and oh my god and please as he tortures you in the best way possible. You do your best to follow his instruction to stay still, but on a hard suck to your sensitive nub your hips chase his mouth and your fingers bury themselves into his curly hair.

He must be in a forgiving mood, because he simply groans against you and increases his pace, winding you tighter and tighter until you come against his lips with a shout of his name like a prayer.

Eddie works you down from your high, until your legs are deadweight over his shoulders. He sits up, grabbing your waist and flipping you to your belly. His fingers find the zipper of your dress and pull it down, shimmying the fabric off your body, and the only help you’re able to provide is in the form of lifting your hips so he can pull it fully off and toss it to the ground.

“Huh, I was right. It does look better on my floor,” he jokes before grabbing a handful of your ass in a rough grip. He smacks one cheek, then the other, making you cry out and rub yourself against the sheets, even as sensitive as you are.

The warmth of his body leaves yours as he stands, and you turn your head to watch him undress. Your mouth goes dry watching him unbutton his shirt, the tattoos you love to trace with your tongue coming into view. You follow the trail of hair beneath his belly button to the bulge in his slacks, watching as his deft fingers undo the fly and shove all the offending fabric out of the way of your appreciative gaze.

He holds the tie in his hand, a familiar mischievous twinkle in his eye as he gets back on the bed. “What do we think we should use this for? A gag? No, I wanna hear all those pretty sounds you make for me. I think maybe we should tie you up, huh?”

You let out a pitiful whine, but nod your consent. Eddie helps you lift your arms above your head, your body now laying in one long line as he winds the silk around your wrists. He gives the bind an experimental tug, seeming pleased with his work.

“Lift those hips, princess. On your knees,” he says. You work your knees beneath you, raising your hips with a deep arch of your back, your chest pressed to the bed.

He runs a hand from your neck to the base of your spine, toying with the band of your underwear. “I think I’ll leave these on,” he tells you, before once again shifting the fabric to the side.

Your breath catches when you feel the blunt head of his cock at your dripping hole. He presses forward slowly, agonizingly, stretching deliciously until his hips sit flush to yours. He groans, hands trailing over all the skin he can reach as he lets you adjust until you give him that tell-tale shift of your hips, asking for more.

And more does he give.

He pulls out until you’re nearly empty before driving back inside, a harsh slap of his hips against yours. The angle brushes the head of him against that maddening spot inside of you, making you cry out and moan with each drag of his cock in and out of your heat.

Eddie winds a hand through your hair, using it along with a hand around your throat to bow your body off the bed, back arched against him as he pounds into you.

“My perfect little wife. So fucking gorgeous for me on her knees, crying out my name,” he growls into your ear. “Want you to come on my cock, sweetheart, want you dripping down my thighs as I fill you up.”

You nod against his hold, your hips moving frantically in time with his thrusts as you chase the second wave of relief he’s gifting you.

It shatters across your nerves a moment later, and Eddie groans, a flood of colorful curses leaving his lips as he chases his own release. He stills, and you moan at the feeling of him pulsing against your walls as he cums.

He gently guided the upper half of your body back to the bed before slipping out of you. He spreads you open with a hand on each cheek, watching with possessive attention as his cum leaks out of you.

Satisfied that you’re well fucked and marked up as his, he flops on the bed beside you, lust drunk hands struggling to undo the bind on your wrists. When you’re finally free, he hauls your body against his, the sweat cooling on your skin as he holds you.

“So, you ever gonna tell me why you were late?” You ask after a moment of catching your breath.

“I wasn’t joking about the robbery. We were pulling forward through a stop sign when some guy that stole a woman’s purse literally smashed into the van. On foot. Knocked him out cold. We had to wait for the police to take their report before we could keep driving.”

“Holy shit.”

“I know. Drove like a bat out of hell the rest of the way to make it on time.” His fingers trail along your arm. “Wouldn’t have missed this for anything.”

“I guess I can forgive you, then,” you tease.

He grins at you, looking just like the teenage boy you’d fallen for all those years ago, and for all the stress this morning caused you, you know you wouldn’t trade this moment for anything in the world.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader smut #rockstar eddie munson #stranger things fic #eddie stranger things #explict #eddie Munson would be late to his own wedding #no use of y/n #eddie munson x y/n

[minefield-of-a-ninja]

BLACK TIE OPTIONAL: PART ONE

Summary: The last time we saw Vanessa, she was swooning over Dean’s lasting impression. Now, we fast-forward a year to see what she’s up to.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x OFC Vanessa Martinelli, (eventual) Sam Winchester x OFC Emma Olsen

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, HBO RomCom bullshit

Author's notes: Follow-up to Plus One.

Joe's Barber Shop is a 55-year-old ship in Chicago's Logan Square neighborhood.

Thanks, as always, to @stunudo and @brrose-apothecary for pre-reading and being my friends.

Black Tie Optional master list

PART ONE

As planned, Dean and Sam leave bright and early on Thursday morning. They make a stop in Lincoln to hit up a priest who was rumored to have intel on Amara. That priest sends them to a rabbi in Omaha, who sends them to a Lutheran pastor in Des Moines. Their last lead is a psychic in Davenport; she tries to stab Sam because she’s still mad about the demon blood thing, and they walk away no better than they were at 5 AM.

Around midnight, Dean pulls into the Naperville Motel 6. He cuts the engine and unfolds from the driver’s seat.

“Grab those burritos, would ya? I’ll get our suits.” He ducks into the back seat to retrieve his duffle and their hanging clothes for the weekend. When he looks up, Sam is giving him a look.

Dean rolls his eyes. “What?” He secures the bags and knees Baby’s backdoor shut.

Sam arches both brows as he shuts his own door. “You like this girl.”

“No, Sam, I’m blowing off my soul-sucking ‘soul mate,’” he pauses, juggling bags and keys to air-quote his point, “and hauled ass halfway across the country for bupkis.”

Dean rounds the trunk, and Sam stifles a snort. “I just can’t believe we’re dressing like this, and it isn’t for a job.”

Dean mutters something as he slots the key into the room lock. “Sam, we just got these suits cleaned-”

“Dude, you don’t need to make excuses.” Sam follows his brother inside the room.

“Plus,” Dean continues as he strides toward the small clothes rack, “we got an all-expenses paid weekend with two beautiful women waitin’ for us at a swank hotel.”

“I’m not complaining-”

“Good.” Dean hangs the garment bags on the bar and separates them before unzipping his bag. As he assesses the colors and reconsiders his shoes, he thinks of another reason. “Besides, we own this shit, might as well get our money’s worth off the clock.”

He swipes a hand down the front of his (brand-new) black button-up before turning to face his brother again, who doesn’t appear impressed.

“What?!”

Sam doesn’t stifle anything this time; he laughs out loud. “How are you the same brother of mine who thinks turning boxers inside out is the same as washing them?”

Dean cocks his jaw and glares at Sam. “First of all, that was a joke I made one time. Second...” His eyes start to glaze over with memories. “Vanessa is one of the Top 5 best nights of my life — like I still have a pair of her panties in my nightstand drawer-”

“OK,” Sam interrupts his brother with one word and a large open palm facing out. “I don’t need the details. I’m taking a shower.” He crosses the room to set his bag on one of the beds before zipping it open to retrieve his Dopp kit. 

“I’m gonna text Vanessa.” Dean drops his duffle on the other bed and pulls out his phone.

“Fine, just get your sexting done before I’m out.” Sam firmly closes the bathroom door behind him.

“Pssh,” Dean brushes Sam off as he taps out a message to his wedding date.

How ya doin, kitten?

Looking forward to seeing you.

Me too... crashing in Naperville tonight, got a couple errands to run, probably get in around 3 tomorrow

Perfect. Em and I are in a double queen lakefront suite. We’ll get the adjoining king room tomorrow for you and me.

Lakefront suite, sounds fancy

It’s not The Peninsula, but it’s a cool old hotel.

We’re at Motel 6 right now and that’s nice compared to what we’re used to

Well, then, I’ll make sure you get the royal treatment

Nessa, honey, you could make a tent in the woods royal

Jesus, I can’t wait to get my hands on you

Same, kitten, fucking same 

Sam peeks around the open bathroom door, letting wet heat spill out around him and foaming at the mouth with Crest. “You done?” he mumbles.

Dean winces at his brother’s indelicacy. “Like I’m gonna start something I only have three minutes to finish, please.”

...can’t wait to get other things on you as well

Believe me when I say that I would love to continue this conversation straight up until and including when I finally lay eyes on you, but Sammy’s outta the shower and being a little bitch, so I better go

😆😆😆

(Sorry about the little bitch comment)

Don’t apologize, he’s your brother, I’m sure you’ve called him worse

Dean doesn’t give that assumption any real recognition, but she’s right.

Goodnight, pretty girl. See you tomorrow afternoon.

Night, Dean 💋

Despite Sam’s grumpiness and the utter lack of even a whiff of Amara, Dean sleeps well. He wakes up Friday morning in plenty of time to shower and find a barber.

“A barber. Dean, when was the last time you went to a barber?”

“About two months ago, Sam. Look at yourself in the mirror and then look at me. Outta the two of us, I’m the one Most Likely To Visit A Barber.”

Sam smirks like he’s got something to smirk about. “You go to a barber for that haircut?”

“Keep it to yourself, Fabio. I’m goin’ for a shave and a haircut. You should consider the same. If they shave faces at the place you go for haircuts, I dunno.”

Sam rolls his eyes so hard Dean thinks he can hear it.

One hour later, Dean’s flipping through a magazine at Joe’s Barber Shop on Fullerton Avenue in Chicago. They don’t take appointments, but he’s heard enough about Joe’s that he doesn’t mind waiting. 

Dean doesn’t usually like unfamiliar environments, but the vintage interiors, and family business, blue-collar vibe make him feel right at home. When his number’s called, he tosses the magazine to the table and walks right up to the barber.

“Welcome in, I’m Joe.”

The man’s neat beard, meticulous high and tight haircut, and detailed tattoo work give Dean a sense of confidence already.

“No way — thee Joe?”

The man chuckles as he spins the freshly cleaned chair in invitation.

“I’m Junior, my pops is Thee Joe. Take a seat.”

Dean settles into the old-fashioned barber chair in awe. 

“What’re you in for today?”

“Well, I got a hot date this weekend. I could go for a real old school shave and one of those high and tights like you got goin’ on there.”

Joe Jr. nods and sets about gathering his tools. “You got it, my friend.”

xoxoxoxoxoxoxox

Dean raps three times on the hotel door before stepping back, squaring his hips and shoulders, and letting the smirk he knows she loves settle onto his lips. The door swings open to reveal Vanessa, barefoot in a bathrobe, face made up, and hair in massive pink hair rollers.

“Dean...” she breathes. Her wide, bright eyes rake over him. “God, you look- I look... ugh, sorry.” 

Dean grins, reaching for her and closing the gap between them. “What’re you sorry about?” 

He slips his free arm around her waist and dips in to kiss her where they stand in the doorway. Vanessa melts against him, one hand on his chest and the other sliding up to brush her fingertips over the freshly shaved sides of his head. Her hand dances around the warm velvet of his skull and down his nape, making Dean groan into her mouth. 

He wants to drag her to a broom closet or bed. Instead, he breaks the kiss without pulling away.  

“We need to do a lot more of that this weekend.” He grins down at her, attempting to kiss her again when a pretty blonde woman appears in their periphery.

“Hey.” She smiles and raises a hand in a half-wave, but the smile doesn’t quite reach her jade eyes.

“Oh, hey.” Vanessa wiggles out of Dean’s embrace, patting her rollers and sliding a hand into one of his. “Em, this Dean, and-” She pauses and peeks around Dean at the man standing in the hall. “Sam, I assume?”

Sam grins and mirrors Emma’s small wave. “That’s me. Thank you both for the invitation. Should be a really nice weekend.”

Emma’s smile floats up to her eyes this time. Dean remembers what Vanessa said about Emma’s ex-boyfriend and thinks the guy must be a real idiot. He doesn’t say that out loud, though.

“It’s gonna be a great weekend.” He winks at Emma before glancing back down at Vanessa. “You look beautiful.”

Vanessa blushes and bites her lip as she rises on her tiptoes to press a quick kiss to his lips. “So do you,” she whispers.

“Well, come on in, you guys.” Emma motions to the living area. “We’ll show you around.”

Vanessa pulls Dean inside, not that he resists, and Sam follows. 

“There’s a kitchen and a little dining table, and we got the adjoining King room today, which Van’s already called dibs on.” She rounds the kitchen island and opens the small fridge. “Anybody want a beer?”

Vanessa and the brothers accept Emma’s offer, so she retrieves four bottles, quickly popping the caps off each as Dean and Sam drape their bags over the back of the couch. She joins them in the living area and hands a beer to each of them before raising her bottle in a toast.

“Thank you, Sam and Dean, for coming this weekend. I know Van told you about my ex-boyfriend,” she pauses and rolls her eyes, “so I appreciate you being such good sports about it as well.” 

Vanessa, Dean, and Sam raise their bottles so the four of them can toast. After a long first sip, Dean speaks up. “Well, we needed a break, the pleasure’s all ours.”

Emma seems to appreciate that sentiment. She turns to Sam with a mischievous smile. “I know we don’t know each other at all, but you are very good-looking, and I already dig your vibe, so... whatever happens, happens. Cool?”

Sam laughs out loud and nods, toasting with Emma again as he turns toward her, practically shutting Dean and Vanessa out. But they don't even notice; .

Behind closed doors, Dean makes quick work of hanging his garment bag and dropping his duffle on the luggage rack. 

“Any special requests for the weekend?” 

When he turns from the closet, he finds Vanessa in the middle of the room — her hair is still in rollers, but the robe is long gone. She’s slipped into a pair of strappy black heels and nothing else. 

“Requests?” she asks as she saunters toward him, bronzed and glowing.

Dean licks his bottom lip in between his teeth and bites down as he slides his hands into the pockets of his oxblood dress pants.

“Last time you wanted me to make a scene,” he says, recalling her succinct proposition.

“I’ll get you drunk and fed... and suck your cock. On one condition.” “And what’s that?” “Give ‘em something to remember me by, and maybe I’ll never be asked back again.”

Vanessa thoughtfully halts when the toes of her Steve Maddens are touching Dean’s shiny, black dress shoes. 

“Ohh, right!” She plays like she forgot. “How could I forget?”

Dean pokes his tongue inside his cheek and nods, narrowing his eyes. “And I seem to remember somethin’ about wantin’ to feel me for days afterward.”

“How many days?”  “Oh, I dunno... Six or seven?”

Vanessa reaches out to brush a hand across one shoulder of his black button-up and then down to hook her fingers in his waistband. “And you didn’t disappoint.”

Dean groans, reaching out to gently grip her hips. “C’mon, kitten, tell me what you want.”

She closes her eyes and lets him press his lips to her throat and collarbone. He slides his hands from her hips up the curve of her waist and grips her ribcage, teasing the soft underside of her breasts with his thumbs.

“Anything you want,” he whispers in her ear before scraping its shell between his teeth.

Vanessa releases a shaking exhale, and her throat convulses as she swallows the saliva pooling in her mouth. 

“We’re supposed to be downstairs in 15 minutes...”

He hums and brushes his lips along her jaw and thumbs up and across her tight nipples.

“But... I only need five to finish my hair.”

“Mhmm.” Dean dips in to capture one nipple between his lips, then the other.

Vanessa cradles the back of his neck and hangs her head back. “What can you do in 10 minutes without getting all wrinkly?”

Dean chuckles. “Honey, I can do a lot in 10 minutes. But, uhh,” he pauses and glances around the room. Then he grins. “C’mere.”

He leads her across the room, walking backward as his eyes roam every inch of bare, silky skin. When he reaches their destination, he pats her hip. “Hop up.”

She giggles, and he helps her to sit on the desk. 

“Now, stay right there.” He leans in and kisses her mouth as he sinks into the desk chair. He cups her calves in his hands to tuck her knees and heeled feet at his sides. 

Once he’s in position, he peeks at his watch. “Eight minutes,” he mutters, then kisses and nips his way down her body. He sighs at the apex of her thighs and barely suppresses a little groan before pressing a kiss to her glistening pussy lips. 

Vanessa gasps at the sight and grips the top tuft of his hair. “I’m such a mess... all I could think about the last two days was this.” Her breath hitches.

“Me too,” Dean murmurs, wrapping an arm around her hips and bringing his other hand in to spread her lips open. He gently sucks her clit, blows it a kiss, and lightly massages it in a light circular motion.

“Nessa, honey, you taste so good.” He dips his tongue inside her and sucks her smooth lips. “So sweet and tangy.”

He slips his long middle finger inside her, then purposefully anchors it with her g-spot. He presses against it and rotates the position of the wide pad of his finger right there — no slide, just manipulation and gentle pressure. 

“You look so hot, Dean…” She peers down at him, his mouth and hand shining with her slick juices and his spit.

Dean grins and licks her. He sucks the fleshiest parts of her between his lips as his thumb swipes across and back, hovering, barely kissing her clit, and she bucks against his face, twisting his hair in her hand.

“This fucking haircut… and your hands and mouth on me… I’m gonna come right now.”

Dean moans against her, thumbing the side of her clit as she starts to throb around his finger. As she catches her breath, he kisses the insides of her thighs until she tugs him up to stand. 

“Inside, Dean, please.” She yanks at his belt and pants, and Dean wipes his mouth, letting her have her way. 

“God, your dick is beautiful.” Vanessa wraps her hand around him as Dean tilts her head back to kiss her neck and breasts. He swears and plants a fist on the desk beside her hip when she gets him notched inside. 

“Oh, fucking…” Vanessa braces her hands behind her and lifts her feet to position her heels on the edge of the desk. “Fuck me.”

Dean braces one hand on the mirror behind her and wraps a arm around her waist, grits his teeth, and does exactly as she requested. 

xoxoxoxoxox

“Part of me’s disappointed you’re not in jeans and a henley,” Vanessa speculates as she puts the finishing touches on her hair. 

Dean arches a brow at her in the mirror as he dries his face with a hand towel. “If I’d known that”-

“But,” she pauses, pointedly reapplying her lipstick. “This is even better. You and your brother are gonna be the hottest guys there.”

Dean smirks back at her. “Wait’ll you see me in a suit.”

Vanessa turns to face him, capping her lipstick. “Thank you again for coming.” 

There’s something in her eyes that Dean can’t quite define, and it makes his heart skip. He holds her gaze as he offers her his elbow. 

“Wouldn’t miss it for anything, kitten.”  

Vanessa accepts his offer, and they exit the bedroom to join Emma and Sam before heading down to the rehearsal.

Part Two

Tell me what you liked the best about this or ask me a question!

Dean Winchester Masterlist | SPN Masterlist | All Fic Masterlist

#dean winchester smut #dean winchester x ofc

[kadegravy]

Pastor X reader part 4. Y/N drinks with husk. Wowza.

The title says it all, hoes.

TW: YN being a sad bitch, Al being an ass, just val

You were sad, very sad, so tired of Al. You were sitting at Husk's bar. He poured you vodka, you sigh, "down the hatch," you pour it all down your throat. It burns, "fuck." Youd only drink terrible 'voodoo ranger' beer at a friend's house.

"Ya like it?" Husk adds, you were growing on him.

"Eh. The only booze I've drunk is some shitty beer at a friend's place at age 14." I smirk

"Wow... that's an interesting booze story. That must have been fun..?"

"Not really. I was the youngest, and smallest but somehow a heavy weight?"

"Really? Damn. Thats... commendable."

"I was kinda made to drink by a friend's friend. She was a bitch."

Husk chuckles, "huh? Seems like you definitely had experiences growing up?"

You shrug. You keep drinking, thinking over your life. You didn't really regret that much... maybe that one time you let your dads cats escape and they disappeared, poor Clyde.

Maybe you should have picked better friends... Maybe not druggies, criminals, all the bad kids. Fuck, your going for a walk. You excuse yourself from the bar and step out of the hotel.

The hellish air smells like... cum and regrets.. ew... You keep walking. You see some... distasteful things... there is an overlord... Valentino... is that the one Angel always hates on? Fuck. The demon is a moth, with pimp attire. Run bitch, run. He sees you. Damn, run faster. Your shoe falls off, keep running, hoe.

He catches up to you, grabs your shoulder.

He has a Spanish accent, "Oh mi amor, what's your name?"

"It's Y/n." You say, for once praying Al would find you.

"Your Angel's little friend, hm? We could use you at the studio."

"No thanks.." You try to dash off.

He grabs you. You scream. Alastor travels through the radio and finds you.

"Oh deer, are you alright?" Al asks.

"Val... Valentino's here.."

Al rubs your head, "it'll be okay, my dear."

He starts attacking Val using his radio waves, keeping Val far enough for me to escape.

You return to the Hazbin Hotel, so tired you almost fall asleep. Angel-Dust sees you. Your laying on the couch, back scrunched up.

"Wake up tits! Al and Val got into a fight! Alastor fucking won!"

"Oh. Cool, he won? The fight was kinda over me... Val saw me, tried to make me work for him." I frown.

"Oh. Really, you had TWO men fighting over you? Wow.." Angel chuckles.

"Hey Angel?"

"Yesh, suga' tits?" He replies, a new York and slight Italian accent.

"Is Angel Dust your real name?"

"Can I tell you the truth?" He asks hesitantly.

"Of course, dude."

"Angel Dust is not my name, imagine actually being named after a drug," he chuckles, "its Anthony, don't tell anyone."

You chuckle.

You go to sleep. You wake up in the middle of the night. Yoi go to the bathroom. Ugh your stomach hurts from that booze. Shit.

After puking your guts out, you go to Husk.

"Husk, is there snacks at the bar? I'm hungover."

He hands you Chilli cheese fries. You eat them. You explain your day. He gives you a reassuring smile.

"Have you ever read No Longer Human?"

"Nah, why ya askin?" He asks gruffly.

"I've been thinking about it. It's really dark."

"Well... with a name like that, no shit tits."

You start to fall asleep at the bar. He places you on the couch.

(Another chappie done. Fuck breaks)

#fanfiction #hazbin hotel #slow burn #alastor #valentino #valentino being a bitch #angst #fluff #alcohol #husk being a bartender #Alastor being helpful

[kristangers]

🦑🦑🦑🦑

#two pastors walk into a bar #jared mccann #philip grubauer #seattle kraken

[topguncortez]

Day 10: Poor Unfortunate Souls ➢prompt: ALT stabbed ➢character: Rhett Abbott ➢warnings: stabbing, death, bleeding out ➢word count: 2.3k ➢song inspo: Keep Breathing by Ingrid Michelson

|| masterlist || whumptober || whumptober masterlist || library page ||

Rhett was a fighter. It was obvious for anyone who knew him or even looked at him. Rhett Abbott loved a good fight. When he was sober, he held in a lot of anger stemming from issues with his parents failing ranch, to issues with his brother, to being in a constant state of pain due to bull riding. But when he was drunk, Rhett let all that anger bubble over. There was only one person that could help reel the angry bull that was Rhett Abbott, and that was Y/N. 

No one could quite understand why a girl like Y/N, the pastor's daughter and a local school teacher could be with someone like Rhett Abbott. But that was one of life’s greatest mysteries. Y/N liked to tell people that Rhett was misunderstood, which was correct. He spent years in the shadows of his older brother Perry. Anything that Perry did wrong, was somehow Rhett’s fault. Overtime, after being blamed for being such a bad person, he slowly adapted to that new title. But it had changed when he met Y/N. 

Cecelia liked to call her ‘Saint Y/N’ because she turned Rhett into a different person. He quit drinking, which was a big thing. Instead of drowning himself in alcohol after a competition, he went home with Y/N, where she’d properly patch him up, give him a massage, and give him the correct dosage of pain medicine. Rhett started working harder on the ranch, helping to turn it into something profitable. He also swallowed his pride, and asked to be a ranch hand for the Tillersons when they needed it. Rhett had saved up enough money to buy a diamond ring for Y/N, which he planned to give her tonight.  

Even though Rhett seemed to turn his life around, there was still that part of him, that old angry Rhett, that never quite left. It took more to get him angry when he was sober, but tonight was different. He had just won the county bull riding circuit, and was set to go compete at a state level next. Y/N was proud of him, and beamed with pride as they walked into the Pit Bar together. Perry was trailing behind, deciding to not grovel in his misery, and celebrate. Rhett placed his hat on Y/N’s head, and pulled her onto the dance floor. She giggled as he twirled her around, dancing to a couple songs before retreating to a booth that Perry had gotten. 

“Didn’t know you could dance like that, Rhett,” Perry said, pushing a drink over to him. 

“Well, it pays to have a pretty teacher,” Rhett said, looking down at her. 

“I got you a vodka tonic,” Perry said, sliding the drink over to her. 

“Oh, I’m not-” 

“She can’t drink,” Rhett said, taking a sip of his beer. Perry looked between the two of them, his eyebrows furrowed before he came to the realization of what was going on. 

“No shit?” Perry said with a smile on his face, “Really? How far along?” 

“Ten weeks today,” Y/N said, and Rhett put his arm around her, puffing his chest out slightly. It was the most exciting and terrifying moment of his life when she told him. He was terrified that her daddy was going to come at him with a shotgun for getting her pregnant before marrying her. But that night they told her parents, Rhett had asked her father for her hand in marriage. 

“Well, congrats you two,” Perry said, and raised his beer up to clink with Rhett’s, “You tell Mom and Dad yet?” 

“Not yet,” Rhett sighed. That was a whole other conversation they were waiting to have. As much as Cecelia and Royal loved Y/N, they also didn’t like the idea of her taking their hardest working son away. When Rhett announced he was moving out and in with Y/N, Royal had lost it. Him and Rhett got into a yelling match right in front of Y/N, and it had her in tears. She had never seen Rhett so angry in her life, and it scared her. He almost lost her that night, her fear of the past getting the best of her, and Rhett understood. 

As much of a troubled soul that Rhett was, Y/N was too. The dark secrets that she hid under a pretty smile, were enough to make a grown man cry. When she opened up to Rhett after the fight, hitting his chest and cursing at him for making her so scared and putting her back into the never ending nightmare, Rhett promised to never do anything like that again. And true to his word, he never did. 

“We are going to,” Y/N said, and put her hand on his thigh, “We just wanted to wait a little bit longer. Make sure everything is okay before we start telling people.” 

“I get it,” Perry said, “Secrets safe with me.” 

The three of them fell into comfortable conversation, beers being shared between Perry and Rhett. Y/N happily sipped on her water as she sat against Rhett’s side. Perry was telling stories of how Rhett was as a child, and Y/N was near tears in laughter. Rhett was trying to correct the errors in Perry’s story which made Y/N laugh even harder. 

“Okay, I’ll be right back,” Y/N said, wiping a tear from her eye as she stood up, “I’m gonna use the restroom, I’ll bring back drinks.” 

“Budweiser!” Perry said, holding up his beer bottle. 

“Same for me, sweets,” Rhett said, giving her a smile. She nodded and walked off towards the bathroom. Rhett’s blue eyes followed her frame, his stetson still on her head, as she smiled and greeted people along the way. She was just nice like that. Rhett had gotten a bit annoyed the first time they went out, and everyone on the sidewalk in Wabang said hi to her and asked about her parents, but he knew that she wasn’t going to be rude and ignore them like he would. 

“She’s good for you,” Perry said, sipping the last of his beer, “I always knew you two would get together. When she ran off with that one jackass.” 

“Colby,” Rhett said, looking down at his drink, “He fucked her up badly. She still has nightmares about him. She doesn’t say much about him, other than what she said the night of the fight I got in with dad.” 

“Listen to me,” Perry said, and leaned across the table, “You marry her, and get the fuck away from here. You don’t want your kid growing up in this mess and being stuck here. She makes good money, you make good money, get out while you can.” 

“I’m trying,” Rhett dug into his pocket, and pulled out the diamond ring, “I’m gonna do it tonight.” 

Perry smiled with pride at his baby brother. He was proud that he managed to figure shit out, and leave. Perry once had that opportunity with Rebecca, to leave and be away from all this, but he never did. And everyday since she disappeared he regretted it. 

Y/N hummed along to the song that was playing as she walked towards the bar. She smiled at a couple more friendly faces before the bartender came over to her. She placed the order and turned around, watching the couples on the dance floor. 

“Do my eyes fucking decieve me?” She froze, hearing that voice. It was like a knife running down her spine, and it felt like his hands were once again on her throat constricting her air, “Y/N.” 

“Colby,” Y/N said, softly, “What are you-” 

“Saw your little boy toy ride,” Colby knocked the brim of her hat slightly. She trembled as he walked towards her. It was like a lion stalking his prey, “You look good.” He looked down at the sight of her breasts peeking out of her shirt. Her boobs had grown slightly since becoming pregnant, “Looking like a whore. That’s how he likes ‘em, right? Slutty and stupid?” 

“I’m not stupid,” Y/N said, “What do you want?” 

“You, baby. I want you. You’re still my girl.” 

“I am not your girl,” She said, and stepped on his white cowboy boots. He groaned and grabbed her arm. 

“You listen to me-” 

“Hey, let her go,” The bartender said, and placed the drinks down in front of her. Colby clenched his jaw, not wanting to get into a fight, and let her go. 

“Sorry, baby,” Colby said, and winked at her, before going back into the crowded bar. 

Y/N felt frozen in fear, tears in her eyes as she watched him leave. Her hand flew to her mouth, as her body pushed through the crowd to the front door of the bar. Rhett looked up from his conversation with Perry to see her beelining it for the door. 

“Shit,” Rhett said, and got up from his seat, and quickly followed her. Perry was up on his feet as well, following in the same direction as his younger brother. 

Y/N paced the gravel in front of the bar, taking deep breaths and shaking her hands out, trying to calm herself down. She knew that she couldn’t get worked up, that it wasn’t good for her or for the baby, but she couldn’t help it. She stopped pacing, and put her hand on the wall to brace herself as she vomited. Rhett had just gotten outside, and ran to her, holding her hair back as she got sick. 

“I’ll go get her some water,” Perry said, and went back into the bar. 

“You’re okay, darlin’,” Rhett said, and rubbed her back, “You’re okay. What happened? Get too hot?” 

“Colby,” She whimpered out, as she stood up and wiped her mouth. 

“He’s here?” Rhett asked, feeling the anger course through his veins. It was like he had heard his name, Colby walked out of the bar, placing his stetson on his head with a smirk, and a girl on his arm. 

“Rhett, no-” Y/N tried grabbing Rhett’s arm, but he was already moving towards the other man. 

“Jackass!” Rhett yelled, and punched Colby in the jaw. The girl next to him shrieked and jumped back, as Rhett grabbed the collar of Colby’s shirt and pushed him up against the wall, “You think you can try shit on my girl and get away with it?” 

“You’re girl, now huh, Abbott?” Colby smirked, “She’s a fucking whore! Always has been. She tell you that she’s the reason I got on the pills? It was her that did it. That fucking bitch-” 

His words were cut off again, as Rhett threw him to the ground, and started fighting him. Colby was a bit bigger than Rhett, but when he was drunk he was like gumby. Rhett was quick, and was able to get the upper hand, delivering punches to him. Y/N was frozen, watching as Rhett fought him while the other girl was yelling at her to stop them. Y/N finally pulled out of her reprieve when the girl pushed her slightly. 

“Stop your fucking boyfriend!” She yelled, as Rhett was beating Colby’s face into a bloody pulp. 

“Rhett, stop!” Y/N said, and stepped forward to grab his arm, “Please, stop! You’re scaring me!” 

That was all Rhett needed to hear to stop beating in Colby’s teeth. He sighed and felt guilt course through his veins as he looked at Y/N’s face. He stood up from Colby, who was on the ground groaning. Rhett tucked his shirt in, and gently cupped her face, brushing a tear from her cheek. 

“I’m so sor-” 

“Rhett!” She screamed as she watched Colby drive a knife into Rhett’s back. He sagged against her at the pain hitting him, “No!” Colby dropped his knife quickly, and ran towards his truck. The other girl looked at the scene in shock. Y/N somehow managed to get Rhett’s body down to the ground, and placed her hands on the bleeding stab wound, “Go get Perry!” She yelled at the girl, who nodded and ran into the bar. 

“Darlin-” Rhett choked out. 

“No, it’s okay. Don’t talk, okay. Perry is coming, and we’ll get you to county,” Y/N said, and Rhett’s hands went down to where the blood seeped through his white shirt. 

“I bought a ring,” Rhett said, as he looked into her eyes, “I was gonna do this right.” 

“You always did, Rhett,” Y/N cried, feeling as his pulse was starting to slow. Rhett’s eyes got heavier as his face paled, “Do not fall asleep on me, Rhett Abbott. You keep your eyes open.” 

“Okay. . .” Rhett nodded, “I love you, Y/N.” 

“Don’t talk, Rhett, save your strength.” 

“I can’t. . .” He said, and looked up at her. She could see it in his eyes, he had accepted his fate. He had accepted that he was never going to get to marry her. He accepted that he was never going to see his son or daughter grow up. He had accepted that he was going to die in the arms of the person he loved

“You can’t do this, Rhett. You can not leave me here,” Y/N said, and watched as Rhett’s chest stilled. She pulled his body in close and sobbed. Perry had run out of the bar, breathlessly as he heard Y/N let out an earth shattering sob. Perry walked over to her, and fell to his knees next to her and his brother. 

“He bought a ring,” Y/N whispered against Rhett’s forehead.

#outer range #outer range fan fic #outer range fan fiction #outer range imagine #Rhett abbott #Rhett abbott fan fic #Rhett abbott fan fiction #Rhett abbott imagine #Rhett abbott x reader #Rhett abbott x y/n #Rhett abbott x you #outer range Rhett abbott

[silvokrent]

Ennui - 3

ennui /ɒnˈwiː/ n. a gripping listlessness or melancholy caused by boredom; depression.

Anger did a lot to deaden a person to their surroundings. At least, that was Flint’s impression when he finally noticed where his pacing had taken him.

It said more about his current emotional state than he’d care to admit, that he’d wandered this way on reflex. His first impulse was to keep walking, let the fatigue gradually creep in until he no longer had the energy to feel.

Does this conversation have a point?

What are you doing here?

“The hell if I know,” Flint sighed, as he pushed open the door, and let himself in.

But he needed answers.

Personally, Flint had always liked the café, if for no other reason than how obnoxiously its rustic vibe clashed with the rest of Sunyshore’s aesthetic. The barrels and weathered floorboards wouldn’t have looked out of place somewhere pastoral—Solaceon came to mind—but the effect was jarring. He suspected the dissonance had been somewhat intentional.

The Houndoom lounging below the window barely reacted to Flint’s presence, beyond a cursory glance in his direction. Not all that surprising, given the gray streaks on his muzzle.

“It’s been a while, Dante.” The Houndoom dropped his chin back onto his paws, a cracked eye tracking Flint’s movements without any particular sense of urgency. “I don’t suppose your owner’s around?”

Dante yawned, and flicked his barbed tail in the direction of the kitchen.

Right on cue. The mahogany door swung on its hinges as a familiar figure stepped past, a stack of plates balanced (a bit precariously) in his arms. “We’re still eighty-six on the half-and-half,” he shouted over his shoulder. “Just toss the heavy cream and milk in a pitcher for now. We can update the inventory later—”

“I’ll take a coffee, when you have a second,” Flint said.

The Proprietor’s head whipped around.

Flint leaned against the bar counter. “Glad to see the hairline’s still receding, old man.”

“‘Old man.’” The Proprietor let out a huff, as he strode behind the bar and began shelving the dishes. “I’m sixty-two, not dead, you insolent punk. They haven’t buried me yet.”

“Give it time.”

They held each other’s gaze.

The Proprietor was the first to cave. His lip twitched, before widening into a grin. “It’s good to see you, Flint.”

“Same.”

“What was it you said, a coffee?” He ducked below the counter. The telltale clink of ceramic was followed by him resurfacing a moment later, a mug in hand. “I’ve got a pot brewing in the back. Let me guess, the usual?” He didn’t bother waiting for a response as he retreated toward the kitchen. “Give me a second. Sit, pull up a chair. You know the drill.”

Flint waited until he disappeared into the back, before his smile wavered. The stool creaked as he sank onto it. Without the fear of an audience, Flint capitulated, and buried his face in his arms.

He was almost tempted to ask that he substitute the coffee for something stronger. Almost.

“Sorry for the wait.” Only when the sandwich and chips were slid across the counter did Flint grudgingly resurface. A carafe was unceremoniously plunked next to it, before the Proprietor wove around the counter.

“I didn’t forget about you.” Dante hauled himself up onto his haunches as a plate was set in front of him. “The brisket’s already seared, so don’t get any ideas. I’m not wasting another fire extinguisher because you like your meat charred.”

The Houndoom made a low, gravelly noise of assent, as he pulled the plate closer with his paws. The second the Proprietor had his back turned, he dipped his head, and exhaled a small jet of flame.

“Now, since you’re here”—he circled back behind the bar, and retrieved the carafe—“I’d appreciate a favor.” Thick wisps of steam curled above the mug as he poured. “If you’re going to be loitering in my establishment, then you’re volunteering as a test subject. I need a second opinion before I add it to the menu.”

“Not sure if I should be flattered, or offended.” In spite of himself, Flint peered at the foam with some interest. “What’s this poison called?”

“Komala roast,” he said. His glasses were starting to fog. “It’s an Alolan import, though for the life of me I can’t remember which island it was harvested from.”

“Maybe it’s the one with the Komalas on it.”

He slid the drink in front of him. “Less talking, more drinking.”

Flint picked up the mug, and squinted at its contents. “Do you think they roast the Komalas while they’re still alive, or do they—”

“Drink, or I’m throwing you out.”

He decided not to call his bluff. With a shrug, Flint lifted it to his face, and cautiously took a sip.

The Proprietor watched him with connoisseurial scrutiny. “And?” he prompted.

“Mellow, but not in a bad way,” said Flint. “There’s a lingering sweetness to it, if that makes any sense.” He went to take another sip.

“That would be the low acidity.” The Proprietor relocated the carafe to the back shelf. “The coffee beans lose some of the bitterness when they’re fermented in their intestines.”

Flint spat the drink back into his cup.

He could hear the Proprietor still laughing as he coughed over the edge of the counter. “Why’d you think they call it Komala coffee?”

It took a few seconds to compose himself, before Flint pushed the offending beverage out of his vicinity. “You know, I think I would have preferred if you actually poisoned me.” He glowered. “You’re going to lose customers if you add that to the menu.”

“Never underestimate the consumer’s love for novelty.” From somewhere on his person, he’d produced a rag, and begun polishing a glass. “Besides, I have your personal testimony. Mellow with a lingering sweetness. Sounds like a good sales pitch, don’t you think?”

“Please don’t quote me on that.”

“Fine, fine. Rob me of business.” He exchanged the glass for a tumbler. “Speaking of which, what brings you to Sunyshore?”

Did the League send you? Or did you volunteer?

The basket liner crinkled as Flint picked at a chip. “Why is it,” he asked, without looking up, “that I’m only just now hearing about these blackouts?”

“Ah.” The tumbler let out a dull thud as it was placed on the counter, and set aside. “I wondered when you would catch wind of them.”

The Proprietor cleared his throat.

“The first outage was pretty minor, all things considered. It only knocked out the Gym and a couple of nearby buildings. No one complained since the damage was negligible, and we figured it was an accident. Second one was a bit more inconvenient—everything within sixteen blocks of the Gym lost power. Annoying, sure, but the engineers had it fixed in two hours, so why fuss?” He snorted. “You know what people around here are like—they worship Volkner.”

It wasn’t as if Volkner had his reputation for nothing, although Flint kept that comment to himself. “What about now?”

“Now I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s pissed off half the city. Their tolerance is evaporating, and I can’t say I blame them.” His lips thinned. “The last outage caused some of the perishables in my walk-in to go bad. The only reason I didn’t lose more is because I triaged what was left, and cooked it before it could spoil.”

Flint opened his mouth to—what, apologize on his friend’s behalf?—only to stop, when he began to toy with that loose strand of logic. “How the hell did you cook if you had no power?”

To which the Proprietor jerked a thumb toward the corner, where his Houndoom was still demolishing the (now burnt) brisket. “Dante’s fire easily tops six hundred and fifty degrees. He’s a furnace with legs.”

Dante snorted, as he tore off another strip.

“None of this is adding up,” Flint muttered, half to himself. “This isn’t like Volkner.” His brow furrowed, as he studied the wood grains in the counter. Looking for a pattern that wasn't there. “Has he said anything when he comes by? Anything that seemed off?”

“Flint.” The Proprietor braced his arms against the counter, and leaned forward. “Volkner hasn’t been here in weeks.”

Flint jerked up. “What?”

“You heard me.” There was an unmistakable frustration permeating his movements, as he returned to polishing the glassware. “Trying to get a hold of him has been like pulling teeth. I can’t just demand an audience with him at the Gym, and I work late hours as it is. I’ve tried calling, but—”

“He’s ignoring your calls,” Flint finished. If he’d had an appetite before, it was long gone.

The Proprietor’s cleaning lost some of its intensity. “Were you able to talk to him?”

“Briefly.” One of the privileges of his title, as a member of the Elite Four. One which Flint despised having to invoke. “Not that it was a productive conversation. He pretty much kicked me out.”

“Figures,” he said under his breath. “He’s avoiding us, you realize.”

He did. But it didn’t exactly assuage his concerns.

“This is ridiculous,” Flint said, when the gap in conversation began to stretch uncomfortably long. “First the blackouts, and now this? And his staff are on edge. If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear that I walked in as they were about to stage a mutiny.”

To his surprise, the Proprietor scoffed. “Well, what did you expect? I’d be on edge too if my boss’s boss showed up at my job to inspect my workplace. Like it or not, you represent the League. They probably thought you were there to shut the place down for non-compliance, since the Gym hasn’t handed out a badge in over a month.”

A chill crept down his spine.

The stool protested as Flint sat back. “What do you mean,” he repeated, slowly, “that the Gym hasn’t been handing out badges?”

The Proprietor registered the shift in tone, and set the rag down, with a look of renewed consideration. “You didn’t hear?”

Flint shook his head.

“I don’t know all the details,” he began. “But word is, Volkner’s been destroying anyone that comes to fight him. I’ve had a few trainers swing by after their matches. It’s the same story, over and over.”

It was expected that some challengers wouldn’t succeed on their first try. But none?

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Flint said. “Is he not adjusting team line-ups between matches? He’s not pitting low-tier trainers against the roster he reserves for seventh- and eighth-badge fights, is he? Why would—”

The Proprietor held up his hands. “Like I said, I don’t know the details. That’s just what I’ve heard from gossip.”

Flint was quiet for a moment. “What else have you heard?”

“Well, I haven’t been able to verify it,” the Proprietor said, “but some folks have said that Volkner’s been hanging out at the lighthouse in his downtime. Apparently, he’s been going there to brood.”

Flint scowled. “Volkner doesn’t brood.”

The Proprietor silently peered over the rim of his shades, and Flint fought the impulse to shift under his stare. He wondered, a little distantly, if he hadn’t made that comment specifically to gauge how he would react.

The chair legs scraped over the floorboards, as Flint stood. “Thanks for lunch.”

While unsurprised, the Proprietor did frown in disapproval. “You didn’t even touch your food.”

“I’m not hungry,” he said. “Just give it to Dante or something.”

At the sound of his name, Dante looked up from the bone he’d been gnawing on. He didn’t appear to object to the idea.

“What do I owe you for lunch?” he asked.

At that, the Proprietor barked a laugh. “Flint, you haven’t paid for so much as a ketchup packet in fifteen years. Don’t insult me by asking now.” He waved the question aside. “It’s on the house.”

Flint smiled, a bit humorlessly. “Thanks.”

The bell above the door chimed as it closed behind him.

Late afternoon sunlight gilded the boats and rocky spurs that jutted from the harbor. The view from the elevator had always been impressive, regardless of the time of day.

As the lift ascended, Flint found himself wishing he could have enjoyed it.

When he dismounted, he was relieved to find the gallery room empty. At least he wouldn’t have an audience for what was about to come.

The door slid on its tracks as Flint pushed it aside, and stepped out onto the deck.

The Proprietor’s sources weren’t mistaken, as much as Flint would have preferred otherwise. Volkner was leaning into the railing, his back turned. Either he didn’t notice—or more likely, didn’t care about—the intrusion. Flint cycled through several false starts as he approached, debating which would be the most effective—

Until he caught Volkner’s face.

“Since when do you smoke?” Volkner tilted his head at the question, enough to watch him out of his periphery. He didn’t answer, though. The smoke that billowed up around his face didn’t have time to linger, before the wind dispersed it.

Flint frowned. “I thought you hated those things.”

The tip glowed, and Volkner exhaled.

He folded his arms over his chest. “How did the two o’clock match go?” he asked instead.

Volkner shrugged. “Dull.”

“Out of curiosity”—the metal bar dug into his shoulder as Flint reclined against it, one hand loosely braced for support—“did you deny this trainer a badge, too?”

“I can’t deny a person something that they didn’t earn.” He tapped the cigarette against the railing. “They lost.”

“To you?” Flint asked. “Or to your Electivire?”

It was subtle, but Flint didn’t miss the way his shoulders tensed. “To my mid-level team,” he answered. “I’m not gatekeeping my Gym badge, if that’s what you’re implying.”

“But you expect me to believe that every challenger, regardless of their badge count, keeps losing to you?”

The cigarette was becoming pinched in the middle where Volkner was holding it. “There’s nothing I can do about mediocre trainers. If you’re disappointed by the prospect of no League challengers next season, then get used to it.” He took a drag, and sighed. “I did.”

The stunned silence didn’t last long. His knuckles began to ache as Flint’s grip on the railing tightened. “I’m not disappointed by inadequate trainers.” He pushed away from it—and this time, Volkner watched. “I’m disappointed by you.”

Volkner’s eyes narrowed.

“Do you have any idea what kind of damage you could’ve caused?” Flint jabbed a finger at the harbor. “This lighthouse we’re standing in? It’s the only thing that keeps ships from hitting those rocks down there, and because of you, it didn’t work. You don’t get the right to endanger people just because you’re bored and don’t want to do your job!”

“I am doing my job!” The venom caught Flint off-guard. “I’ve been doing it. For years, in fact, meeting every fucking expectation the League ever had for me. If you have an issue with how I run my Gym, Flint—”

Volkner closed the distance between them.

“—then do something about it.”

He blew a cloud of smoke in his face.

The adrenaline hit a second before Flint’s thoughts caught up to him. Volkner grunted as Flint slammed him against the lighthouse wall, a hand fisted in his shirt collar.

The other man didn’t struggle. If anything, the hand that had reflexively grabbed his own wrist slackened. Volkner winced, but managed to meet Flint’s eyes. The anger in them was gone, as if it had never been there.

“If you’re going to hit me,” he said, quietly, “then get it over with.”

Volkner dropped like a dead weight as Flint released him.

He didn’t stop to check if he was okay. Flint spun on his heel, and left, not once looking back.

#pokemon #pokemon fics #ennui #volkner #flint #ignitionshipping #my posts #i speak #pokemon thought dump #i highly encourage everyone to go check out the wikipedia page on kopi luwak after reading this

[r-rook-studio]

Roseville Beach Character Creation

I'm home from a long holiday road trip and ready to do anything but drive, so here's a little walk-through of Roseville Beach (or use DriveThru) character creation.

In Roseville Beach, you and your housemates (the other PCs) are spending your summer on Rose Island working in the town of Roseville Beach. There are five steps in character creation, three are individual while the other two involve the whole group.

For this walk-through, I'll develop two characters: one named Trent (he/they) and another named Vic (she/her).

Step 1: Origin Story

The quickstart and demo kit included everything you needed to know for four of the origin stories, but the full game adds even more:

The fresh face: a newcomer to Rose Island, Roseville Beach, and queer communities.

The scandalous: having survived a career-destroying scandal before your career could really take off, you've come to Rose Island to lick your wounds and keep your head down.

The shifter: What it says on the tin. You can change (and sometimes have to change) between your human form and your animal form.

The witch: Also what it says on the tin. You know the secrets of spellcraft.

The familiar: You're an animal. That's not a metaphor. You have limited ability to communicate with your housemates, but you can also pass as a mostly inconspicuous animal.

The stranger: You're from another planet, dimension, plane, or reality. How you ended up in a queer little Rose Island town living with this collection of strangers is up to you, but here is where you are.

You can't mess up the balance of Roseville Beach, so pick the origin story that speaks to you.

Once you pick your origin story, it will tell you how to determine your broad backgrounds and your specialized skills. You can roll for them or choose, depending on what appeals most to you.

Vic is a fresh faced 18 year old (17+1d3). She grew up as a pastor mom and a farmer dad somewhere in the Midwest, so she has "Clergy Kid" and "Back on the Farm" as backgrounds. Her origin story skills are Driving, Oratory, and Tracking.

Trent (Vic's housemate) is a 26-year old (4d6 + 16) crow shifter who grew up in Metropolitan City (the nearest large city to Rose Island). His backgrounds are Crow and Metropolitan City. They were probably getting in a few scraps there since his skills are ambushing, running, and brawling.

Step 2: Jobs

Now that you're here on Rose Island, you're having to pay your way. Your job gives you an extra background and specialized skill. I added it in partially to ensure that no player ever feels like their PC has no useful skills and partially because the game is about spending the summer working on Rose Island. They include: bartender, backup dancer, opening act, clinic assistant, piano player, and gardener.

In Roseville Beach, Trent works as a clinic assistant at Roseville Care Center, the town clinic. He adds the background Roseville Care Center and the skill Driving (from having to cart injured people around on the clinic's golf carts).

Vic, on the other hand, is a bartender at Rosie's, the big bar on the harbor side of Roseville Beach (it's 1979, so there were such people as 18-year-old bartenders). She adds the background bartender and the skill intimidating.

Step 3: Strange Events

This is the first step that involves other characters, and since we have just two right now, they'll work together on this.

Every character has had at least one thing happen that revealed to them that the island was filled with strange, supernatural mysteries, some of which were hostile. They always happen when the PC was with one of their housemates, so they have someone to verify what happened and what they saw.

For Vic, she was walking with Trent on the Roseville Beach boardwalks when they saw a strange monolith that was always right behind them (even though they never saw it move). Both of them kept it together during the event and each takes the skill stubborn.

For Trent, they and Vic were together on a different night and were approached by a shadowy figure who hissed their names and ran away. Vic gains the skill intimidating, having tried to scare the hissing figure off, while Trent starts the game with a Trouble: he's looking out for someone who the fleeing figure injured.

Step 4: Troubles, Allies, and Comforts

Speaking of Troubles (Trent already has one), each character starts the game with a few connections in Roseville Beach, for good or for ill. Each origin story gives the character a Trouble, and they also choose an ally and comforts.

Trent's trouble is a federal agent who's looking for them because the agent knows Trent is a shifter. For now, we'll call the agent Clifton Robey. His ally (selected by him) is his boss at the clinic. There's not a designated town doctor in the game text, but we'll call her Dr. Grace Shelton. Normally, each character gets three comforts: for Trent, that's an item (a feather he has from their missing sister), a place (the highest branch of an old cedar tree near the bungalow), and a person (a piano player named Troy who he's got a crush on).

Vic's trouble is her older sister Ellen, who's dating a guy who lives in a town near Rosevile Beach, which means she comes to Roseville Beach for shows and events. Her ally is her boss Judy, a fellow butch who has taken Vic under her wing. Her comforts are two items (a picture of her late dad and a charm that Ellen gave her a few birthdays ago) and a person (Chuck, a local gardener, and her best friend on the island).

Step 5: The Bungalow

The last step is the bungalow (and its supply rating). Each group of housemates has a bungalow they live in. The simpler the bungalow, the less privacy and amenities they have (and the less likely they are to have a phone) but the easier it is for them to find equipment like camping gear or beach supplies.

Vic and Trent decide to go with the simplest bungalow. It gives them very little privacy (good luck having a nice, quiet date with Troy), and no phone (it's the 70s, so no cell phones either), but means they have a good chance of turning up flashlights, lockpicks, or other useful equipment.

#ttrpgs #rpgs are gay #tabletops implies tablebottoms #tabletop rpgs #tabletop roleplaying #there's a mystery to solve! #roseville beach

[twst-beam]

To be wed (and the events that follow)

Happy marriage, Irene!! and happy birthdayy!! <333

I want you to picture this: a bright blue sky, devoid of any clouds; imagine the sounds of a grand, lively party.

That is what was happening on the day of the wedding, and it was a lovely wedding; strings of flowers adorned the lines between the poles leading up to the altar, people lounged on the chairs and blankets that were brought and provided, and they chatted merrily as they waited for the ceremony to start.

A clang of a bell, two, the lively chatter died down as music started playing from all around; the wedding had begun.

The Leech twins, dressed in splendor and meaning, Jade in a white suit and mushroom mini-veil, and Floyd in a shark onesie and wedding skirt, made their way to the two sides of the altar as Pastor @siren-serenity Siren readied the papers to be read.

The guests, @ryker-writes, @dove-da-birb, and all others who were sat on either side of the aisle, guided to their places by the usher, @honkai-freak, sat in joy and silence as Cater, the flowerboy, spread petais on the carpeted sand.

Blue, lilac, white; the petals adorned the aisle floor as bridesmaids @shinysparklesapphires Sapph and @valerie-leech Valerie strode down the aisle, elegant in their gowns before sitting in the front row.

The Best Women, @harper-lemonorange and @azulashengrottospiano Auburn, walked down the aisle next, Auburn accompanied by her husband, the Best Man, Azul Ashengrotto.

The music swelled as the other two newlyweds-to-be entered the aisle, @officialdaydreamer00 Irene Lovejoy in a stunning outfit, bouquet in hand, and @identity-theft-101 Identity, holding an identical bouquet and in a glorious shrimp onesie, smiling as they walked down the aisle.

The wedding went on without a hitch, bar Dove restraining a weeping Rook from disrupting the occasion, and the crowd erupted into cheers as Pastor Siren announced the fateful words:

"You may now kiss the tweels."

Music once again swelled as the newlyweds went through the aisle, to the reception area, where a beautiful cake awaited them, courtesy of @cecilebutcher, and the reception party officially began.

Floyd, ever the excited one, unbuckled his skirt with a grin, unveiling the bottom half of the shark onesie and fabulous shoes, and he and Identity snuck out to feast on the grand buffet.

As for Jade and Irene? They danced, and it was a wonderful day.

#my stuff #calira's writing #the I-tweel-I wedding #happy wedding you madlads! (affectionate) #and thank you to everyone for attending! :DD #now back to our daily twst brain rot <3

[iliektehhaxs]

Hello! (๑ᴖ◡ᴖ๑)ノ I really love your writing and ideas so I don’t know how this works it’s my first time using this feature

may I request for anything for gav with reader I’ve been waiting on ao3 for even a small lil sentence. But non to be seen (´°̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥ω°̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥｀). If you don’t want it’s totally fine (＞人＜;) just wanted to ask if you could.

Thank you for listening have a good day ∩^ω^∩♡

Hi anon, sorry this took me a hot minute! My inbox is bugged on mobile for some reason, but I hope you enjoy! Pairing: Kyle "Gaz" Garrick/Reader Rating: PG Warnings: None

The first time it’s said is under the dull overhead lights between drinks. The bar is fairly empty, save for the two of you pressed beside each other. A tender look in his eye, he says it without a shadow of a doubt, a confident smile following after. It’s a surprise to you, makes you stop mid-drink as he waits for your reaction. You embrace the warm sound, fingers curling against his own under the table as you return the gesture, and his smile grows. It’s said every morning since, a kiss to the cheek as he steps foot out of the door. You had forgotten to say it once, a lesson learned after he dragged you towards him in a bear hug. Between the assault of kisses he made you promise never to forget again, a promise you've kept ever since.

You both say it at the altar, surrounded by your closest friends and family. Flowers adorn the venue, the same flowers you had insisted on much to his confusion. When you walk down the altar, the flowers on your veil matching the same ones you walk past, he understands why. The pastor asks for your vows. He’s practiced for months now, but reality sets in, has him stumbling over his words nervously. You’re equally shaky, until he holds your hands in his and you feel his own tremble, the gold ring heavy on your finger. You both promised no tears, and yet neither of you can bring yourself to stop. The pastor speaks, a heartfelt smile on his face.

“You may kiss the bride.”

It’s Gaz who lifts you in the air with a twirl, kissing you with all the passion he can muster and then some. Wistful, you hold onto him and never let go, even when your feet hit the floor and his lips leave yours. He says it breathless, a promise that he's now vowed to keep.

Three different memories, close to your heart, all with one common phrase.

“I love you.”

#kyle gaz garrick #gaz x reader #fluff #cod fluff #robo writes #ask #I was messing around with a new writing style so tell me if it's good or not!

[thepastisalreadywritten]

-------o0o--------

She was demure and elegant in a flowing gown – he looked dapper and debonair in a tailored navy suit.

So pity the poor bride and groom whose lavish Caribbean nuptials were overshadowed by such glamorous guests.

Then again, if you will invite Prince Harry and his actress girlfriend Meghan Markle to your wedding, what do you expect?

All eyes were on the young lovers as the prince attended the wedding of friend Tom ‘Skippy’ Inskip at the weekend in Montego Bay, Jamaica. 

Not having seen each other for a fortnight, Harry, 32, and 35-year-old Meghan used the trip as an excuse for a romantic reunion – and their affectionate behaviour set tongues wagging that it might not be long before they, too, are walking up the aisle.

For Meghan, the surroundings are not entirely unfamiliar.

In 2011, she married her first husband – film producer Trevor Engleson – at a resort just 60 miles along the coast. So, is she feeling the love second time around? 

We reveal exactly what the young couple got up to on their romantic West Indian weekend...

He flies in economy, while she takes a private jet

Harry arrived in Jamaica on Wednesday to join the groom’s party ahead of the big day – he was one of 14 ushers.

The royals don’t use private planes for personal engagements, so he took a Virgin Atlantic flight from Gatwick to Sangster International Airport in Montego Bay.

The prince did splash out on a premium economy seat, costing upwards of £2,000 return.

Meghan flew in the following day from Toronto, where she’s filming US legal drama Suits, in a private jet that belongs to a friend.

Ever the gentleman, Harry picked her up from the airport, greeting her with a kiss before they drove back to the hotel together.

The luxury resort where JFK stayed

With 110 acres of lush tropical gardens, suites designed by Ralph Lauren and its own private bay, the wedding reception venue is the perfect backdrop for royal romance. 

The Round Hill Resort was built in the 1950s as a series of luxurious cottages for rich and famous visitors. Guests have included JFK and Jackie Kennedy, who spent their honeymoon here.

Grace Kelly, Fred Astaire, Clark Gable, Sir Paul McCartney, and Emma Watson have also stayed.

A hotel worker revealed that Meghan and Harry stayed in a £5,000-a-night premium luxury villa, the resort’s most exclusive accommodation away from prying eyes, which comes with its own housekeeper, two pools and a games room with a bar and pool table.

Ever watchful of their safety, security guards were stationed in rooms nearby.

Guests have breakfast served on their balcony, and options include Jamaican delicacies such as ackee (a fruit like a lychee), saltfish with fried dumplings and callaloo (a leafy green vegetable).

It’s quite a change from Meghan’s first trip to the island during her low-key wedding in 2011.

She and her husband-to-be stayed at the four-star Jamaica Inn in Ocho Rios, where they indulged in drinking games and wheelbarrow races before saying their vows.

The (other) very happy couple 

It takes a brave bride to invite glamorous, leggy Meghan to your wedding. But flame-haired Lara Hughes-Young didn’t seem bothered about being outshone.

Lara, 30, a software developer at global technology company ThoughtWorks, knows Harry through her new husband ‘Skippy’, who went to Eton with the prince.

She’s the granddaughter of late Conservative MP Michael Hughes-Young.

Her father holds the title Lord St Helens – making her official title the Honourable Lara Inskip.

She is said to have been ‘singing Meghan’s praises’ since meeting her last year.

They may have been the focus of attention on the day, but Megan and Harry were far from the only notable guests at the wedding.

Harry’s aunt Sarah Ferguson, the Duchess of York, was on the list, accompanied, insiders say, by her daughter Eugenie.

After the ceremony, a smiling Fergie, wearing a black minidress with a jewelled neck, was seen posing for photographs with Pastor Conrad Thomas, who officiated the ceremony.

Archie Soames, one of the ushers, is the great-grandson of Winston Churchill. Maid of honour Alice St Clair Erskine is an actress who portrayed the Duchess of Cambridge in the 2011 American TV show William and Catherine: A Royal Romance.

Olympic sprinter Usain Bolt is rumoured to have popped in for the party.

Trying not to upstage the bride

For the ceremony, Meghan chose a £1,200 floral print maxi dress by Canadian designer Erdem. 

Harry opted for a bespoke navy suit, believed to be from his favourite Savile Row tailor Gieves & Hawkes, and teamed with a yellow rose. 

Meghan accessorised her elegant attire with a nude clutch bag and a pair of £249 gold-rimmed sunglasses by Dior to shield her eyes from the hot Jamaican sun.

The bride did her best to stay in the spotlight in a breathtakingly simple white satin gown with a plunging neckline and full, flowing skirt – a direct contrast to Meghan’s high-necked style.

Meghan's tender touch for her prince 

Meghan placed a protective arm on Harry’s back as she steered him out of the church and guests say the pair were very tactile throughout the reception as she was introduced to his old friends. 

At one point they were seen deep in conversation, as a jacketless Harry drank a beer and Meghan an Aperol spritz cocktail as she continued to rub his back.

Minutes later, she moved even closer, gazing into his eyes and putting her arms around his neck.

‘They are both head over heels and don’t care who sees it,’ said an onlooker.

xxx

#Megxit

[thecryingprophet]

Chapter 7

A few days later Kevin laid on the couch with his ankle bandaged. He was playing with a yo-yo, when it slipped from his hand and rolled out of reach.

He had to get up to get it, he still had a little trouble walking from the pain.

But, stumbling and limping, he managed to get it.

Jonah, who had his second beer of the day already, was amused by the sight "we got two wounded of war here it seems"

Kevin lifted his head "you went to war?".

Jonah smiled "yes...when i was exactly your age i got drafted...got sent back home six months later, with a bullet wound in my leg..."

"Thats why you walk with a limp?"

Jonah nodded.

"And you don't ever miss waking normally?" Kevin asked, not knowing what to say.

"I miss everything about before the war, trust me..."

Kevin now noticed how distant the mans gaze was starting to get.

He sat back down on the couch "that must be rough..."

The man didn't reply and went to the kitchen, probably to get another beer.

Kevin sat back on the couch, shortly after he heard the pastor softly say: "fuck".

"What's wrong?" Kevin asked, concerned.

"Nothing..." Jonah replied.

He then walked out of the kitchen, as fast as his leg let him and left the house, without telling Kevin where he was headed.

He eventually came back, late in the evening, stumbling over his feet and reaking of alchohol.

"What happened to you?!" Kevin asked, concerned.

"I went out to get some beers, since i had ran out, but i got sidetracked and ended up at the bar...but don't worry...i will be fine" the pastor said, trying to be reassuring.

"Man... you need help" slipped from Kevins mouth, as he immediately regretted it.

Jonah looked up with a look of pure shock, Kevin was waiting to be slapped.

But the man just looked to the side

"yes...you're right...but can we not talk about it...please?" He admitted, ashamed.

"Jonah...why do drink so much?" Kevin dared to ask.

"I don't want to talk about it...please, my head is pounding, can i go to sleep?"

Kevin felt like the biggest piece of shit alive in that moment, it was clear the man was struggling and needed help, but if he didn't want to be helped there was nothing he could do.

Jonah waddled to his room and locked himself inside, without saying another word.

Through the night, as he tried to sleep, Kevin could hear the man going back and forth between the bathroom and his room, vomiting loudly each time.

He eventually fell asleep, but the next morning an unpleasant surprise was waiting for him.

#oc #ocs #oc lore #writing