#fuck i can’t spell remembrence

[damianbugs]

in remembrance of that anon that i tragically lost, here are some recs for THE most underutilised duo in the batfam. i could write ridiculously long essays about the tragedy of these two characters, and how they could become something great, if dc would get a grip a let tim grow up, preferably in the next decade. no complaints about damian. he is perfect.

this is also a cry for HELP. PLEASE write more big brother tim fics i am literally on the verge of collapsing as i ask. he is so unprepared but well meaning big brother so let him carry out his duty towards damian and duke PLEASE.

right then, anyways:

TIM AND DAMIAN FIC RECS ON AO3

miles and miles (in their shoes) by JUBE514

Where is Damian? Why can’t he see anything clearly? Where is the little brat? Damian had been by him in the cave when everything had exploded, they had been arguing like always when the two of them had gotten the punishment to go clean the trophy room, stop yelling at each other, stop being at each other's throat for two minutes and go clean the goddamn trophy room-

They had been cleaning, got into another knock out drag out argument, and it had come so close to blows and they had been screaming more than cleaning and-

The stupid fucking shoe, in the magical section- exploded out-

--

Tim and Damian switch bodies, the two of them realize exactly why the other does the things they do.

MY NOTES: i know body swap aus can be a little worrying, but this is a phenomenal fic on not just the complicated relationship between tim and damian, but also their own individual struggles and how that brings them closer together in an unspoken yet profound way. a must read if you appreciate the characters in their entirety.

Biphasic Reaction by renecdote

People may have allergic reactions all the time and be fine, but they can also die from them. He has a flash of sudden, morbid curiosity about what the exact statistics for fatal allergic reactions are.

MY NOTES: secretly protective big brother tim u mean the world to me. they are so fun in this, even with the medical emergency occurring alongside the sillies.

i only sink deeper (the deeper i think) by call_me_steve

Drake clicks his tongue and tilts his head off to the side. “This really isn’t as fun as I thought it would be.”

Oh, really? Damian starts furiously finger spelling, just to be annoying. You know, I thought the floating platforms would be of the utmost excitement.

“I caught a solid half of that and I think you’re making fun of me.” Drake goes to shift before remembering that he can’t - his face beneath his domino contorts into something unpleasant. “My legs are falling asleep, dude.”

You move, signs Damian, for real this time, and I go under.

“You talk,” Drake shoots back. “And I go under."

MY NOTES: it wouldn't be a real saki fic rec post without at least one kidnapped and almost dying in order to escape fic. i think about the conversation about love and danger at least once a week at random intervals and do not know how to be normal about it. at all.

The Wound Begins to Bleed by audreycritter

Now that Tim’s moved back to the manor, he just wants a few afternoons a week without Damian around.

Funny how getting that was the catalyst for him becoming a better big brother.

MY NOTES: okay so maybe i've read this a billion times and maybe it's my favourite tim and damian fic ever to exist but isn't that just proof you need to read it too? such a real fic. so personal. can't think of anything else but u must read it

picture perfect memories by Fandom_Trash224

“I… require assistance with something. I believe you are best-suited for it.”

Tim raises an eyebrow, but motions for the younger boy to enter his room. As Damian does, he slowly closes the door behind him, and Tim notices a small piece of what Tim assumes to be paper in Damian’s hand. Then, he realizes it’s not just a piece of paper: it’s a photo.

Damian approaches Tim, holding out the photo at arm’s length once he’s close enough to do so, saying, “I would like you to explain this photo to me.”

Tim glances down at it, and to both his surprise and mild horror, he recognizes the photo.

MY NOTES: oh... oh. Oh i am on the ground dead forever. damian and tim bonding over the shared fact that they got a version of bruce they'll never, ever meet. finding a common ground in grieving something they never had. oh.... how marvelous.

The Study of Birds by MaskoftheRay

Tim and Damian have hated one another since the day that the youngest Wayne arrived in Gotham City. A few years later, that hatred has cooled into a mutual disdain and somewhat-wary tolerance. If necessary, they can even work together— though neither likes to. Then Tim discovers that Damian enjoys bird-watching too.

Or: sometimes the difficult things are the most rewarding.

MY NOTES: truly something so special about stories where tim and damian find comfort and something to cherish in animals. a middle ground born from compassion and empathy perhaps. so sweet.

#tim drake #damian wayne #batfamily fic recs #batfam #saki batfam fic recs

[myveryownfanfiction]

Rickmas day 8: rosemary for holly

18+ MINORS AND THOSE WITHOUT AGE IN BIO DNI

tags: @illiana-mystery, @cassieuncaged, @iobsessoverfictionalmen, @deepperplexity

warnings: swearing

warnings: swearing, snape is emotionally stunted

I stood watching Severus dig through the box of Christmas decorations, a scowl etched on his face. He was muttering to himself, occasionally pointing his wand in the box and muttering a summoning spell.

“dammit.” He groaned and pushed the box away from where he was seated. “Where the fuck is it?”

“where is what?” I asked as I fully stepped into the room. Severus looked up at me and frowned.

“The holly. My mother…” he broke off, turning to stare at the box. “She always put holly out. Always. But I can’t find any.” Severus kicked out at the table, watching it move an inch. “I feel like I’m losing my mind. Over a little piece of holly.” He laughed as he looked back at me.

“you aren’t losing your mind.” I assured him as I sat down next to him, a hand on his back. “It’s a family tradition. Something you hold dear. It makes perfect sense.” I rubbed his back as he put his head in his hands.

“what am I going to do? It’s too close to Christmas to try to find it in the shops and I can’t grow any. It takes too long. There’s no way to get back to hogwarts to go through my stores…” Severus trailed off.

“and besides that holly is better used for potion making rather than decoration.” I finished for him. Severus nodded and sat back to lean his head against the couch. I looked at him carefully. “What about rosemary?” I asked. Severus turned to look at me.

“Rosemary?” He asked. I nodded. “Use rosemary? For holly?” I nodded again.

“holly has meaning at Christmas. And rosemary has it own meanings.” I tried to reason. Severus nodded.

“it could work.” He breathed out. “Although…I don’t know where I’d find…”

“I do.” I said with a smile. “Come on.” I held out a hand and Severus took it, letting me pull him up. We walked into the kitchen to the tiny garden I had been cultivating in the window while he was at hogwarts. I grabbed the little planter with rosemary and presented it to Severus.

“you’ve been growing this…” he said, staring at the plant in his hands. “While I’ve been away?” I nodded.

“I needed something to do. And it’s useful in both cooking and potions.” I shrugged. “I…” Severus cut me off, planter clattering on the counter as he grabbed my waist and pulled me into a kiss.

“fuck.” He breathed. “I love you.” I laughed as I ran my fingers through his hair.

“I love you too.” I smiled at him. “What…” Severus kissed me again.

“rosemary means fidelity and remembrance.” He whispered against my lips. “Remembrance of my mother. Me. Those we’ve lost. And fidelity.” He kissed me again.

“What about fidelity has you so worked up?” I giggled as I pushed his hair back.

“loyalty. Faithfulness. To me. Supporting me.” Severus leaned his head against mine. “Everything I wanted as a child but never got in this house. Something I only dreamed of at hogwarts instead of mistaking it for being used. (Y/N) darling, you’ve given me everything I could ever ask for.” I cupped his cheeks as he gazed into my eyes. “I love you more than you could ever imagine.” Severus kissed me deeply again.

“I love you too.” I leaned my head against his shoulder. “Let’s go hang this up.” I grabbed the planter and his hand to pull him back to the living room. “And then we can go test that fidelity.” Severus laughed as he followed my lead.

#alan rickman #alan rickman fanfic #alan rickman fanfiction #alan rickman imagine #alan rickman x reader #severus snape #severus snape fanfiction #severus snape fanfic #severus snape x reader #severus snape imagine #Rickmas #rickmas2023

[tavyliasin]

BG3 FicFeb SFW - Day 14

I have no idea why this one just went "oops all angst" so here is your Content Warning for this prompt: THIS SHORT REFERENCES LOSS, FAMILIAL DEATH, AND DARK THEMES. Also some swearing.

Short Fic below the cut~ ----- -----

Day 14 - Family Reunion

The magic oozed through the graveyard with malevolent tendrils of the Weave. 

“What have you done?” Gale yelled, running towards the group, even as the child scampered backwards, still clutching the spell page.

“What she always does, trying to help!” Astarion called back, not unkindly, but the words still stung. 

“No, no no no…fuck no…” Tav was on the floor, pushing herself backwards with her heels digging into the dirt, shaking hands still gripping her daggers. 

“Darling, whose grave is-” He didn’t even get to finish his question as he saw the hand clawing through the dirt. By some instinct that would have felt distinctly foreign had he a moment to think about it, Astarion pushed the child behind him protectively as he aimed his crossbows at the first two corpses to rise. “Gale, a little help?!” 

“I can’t undo it now! Just keep them alive and send those creatures back to their graves!” The wizard was already casting fire bolts at the nearest risen dead.

Tav, meanwhile, remained on the ground. Her eyes were wide, skin drained of all colour, drenched in cold sweat and shivering.

“Darling please, I can’t-” Astarion reloaded his weapons as fast as he could backing up towards her. “Whoever that is, they are long gone. Love I need you to fight. It doesn’t have to be whoever that is, was, just cover our backs!”

“What in the hells-” Karlach’s voice cut in as she dashed down the alley to see what was going on, quickly leaping at the nearest risen dead. 

Unearthly groans filled the air with fear, the screams of civilians who had come to mourn echoing down the streets. 

“SOLDIER, ON YOUR FEET!” Karlach yelled, slashing down another undead and kicking the re-dead corpse to one side. “I SAID NOW!” 

Tav finally started to hear the words, the firm instruction reaching her with no room for argument, and almost no time to react as one of the shambling dead was almost on top of her. She gritted her teeth and leapt at it with both daggers, ripping through rotting flesh with a howl of pained rage. 

“Fire! That helps keep them down - it’ll get up if you don’t-” Gale’s warning came just at the right moment as the body at Karlach’s feet began to rise. Tav threw a small flask of oil on the ground and dipped her blades in it, just as the puddle - and her daggers in turn - caught light from a nearby candle left out for remembrance. 

“Gods, not a moment too soon.” Astarion was already reloading his crossbows again, taking down another that was trying to crawl up from the filth. “How many left?” 

“Six, I think!” Gale was still throwing magic as carefully as he could, the balance between taking down the undead quickly and avoiding civilian casualties becoming ever harder. 

Fire, arrows, daggers, and axe. The sounds became deafening to Tav, as everything became a blur. She let her muscles carry her, the memory of a hundred fights moving her body without need for thought. She became a weapon, doing what she had to do…

It took another few minutes for the battle to finally come to an end, by then Tav was on her knees, daggers dropped to her sides, tears streaming down her cheeks. Karlach and Gale had taken the child to one side, leaving Astarion to take care of Tav. 

“What happened? Are you…sorry my love that is a ridiculous question, of course you are not alright…” He knelt beside her, hand on her shoulder. “Darling, look at me. Look into my eyes. Do you see me?” 

Tav blinked, blurred vision coming to focus on two points of crimson. “I…” 

“Gods, sorry, I have no idea how to handle this…” He took a brief glance around, hoping to see anyone else coming to his aid, searching for an answer in the blissfully motionless corpses around them. The sudden grip on his arm brought him back to face her again. 

Tav’s voice was barely above a whisper, hoarse and strained. “It was…her.” 

“Her who?” 

“My mother…” 

“Darling no, whatever that thing was, it had no relation to you. Not any more. Do you hear me?” He shook her gently, hoping to wake her from the dazed state she was in, but it was no use.

“She…” Tav’s voice caught again.

“We should go back. You can tell me everything later.” Astarion quickly stashed her dropped weapons in his pack, scooping her up in his arms to carry her as her head fell to his chest, tears falling anew. “I wish I knew what to say, my love… I am here. That will just have to do for now.” 

As he walked back to the Elfsong, the vampire couldn’t help but notice how small she looked cradled in his arms. A far cry from the fierce woman who usually leapt into the middle of whatever trouble happened her way. She looked so…ordinary. It wasn’t a bad thing, of course, but some days it had been easy to forget that her body and mind both bore scars she wouldn’t let show so easily. 

Either way, he hoped there wouldn’t be any other family reunions any time soon…

#bg3ficfeb #astarion #tav #astarion x tav #dark fic #fanfic #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 tav #a tav's guide #angst

[leolaceri]

@matchedrage : We make the rules and we can always change them.

The words seem to flow past, carried by a breeze and thrown from lips he’s so often traced with his own only to be crushed underneath the weight of waves that throw themselves against the shore. For the briefest of moments Jaime longs to follow them, to vault over the walls of their summer prison until the tumult of water and salt steals the breath from tired lungs ... but instead he only offers a scoff in response, a huff of breath meant to offer neither agreement nor a comment to invoke his sweet sister’s wrath. 

“You sound like father.” Fingers tighten on the sun warmed railing, relishing in the burning of metal against palm that reminds him he is alive, that Lannister or no, he can still feel pain. It’s comforting, he thinks, to know you can still bleed. Golden haired and golden son, his father had once spoken of their family being akin to Gods and Jaime had poured over countless tales of Greek deities and hopeful heroes that they had sent to their deaths. Tywin Lannister presumed himself Zeus and Casterly Rock was their Olympus. It would be better, the lion of lannister imagined, to be one of the heroes - welcomed to rest in a crash of war and glory. 

Now, green eyes flick in Cersei’s direction and Jaime shifts his weight, straightening once more as she comes to stand beside him. A spell of ill health, the papers had claimed. An entire column in the city papers devoted to why Robert Baratheon’s wife had disappeared so unexpectedly and a carefully constructed letter of ill intent that had led to the order of her twin being sent to accompany her. Someone they could trust. A laugh bubbles out of his chest at that ridiculous notion, at the imagined expression on that fat oaf’s face if he ever learned the truth of how much his sister trusted him - but that hollow ache soon returns, that remembrance that she would always be Jaime’s sun, while he remained nothing but a shadow in the corner of her painting.

“I met someone.” There. It’s out before he can stop it, and the lannister can all but feel the slide of steel between his ribs, that icy stare of his twin’s gaze. He moves, turns until they’re face to face and green gaze can hold one so alike in color to it’s own, sets his jaw against any insult or curse she might throw at him. “You can’t expect me to stand at your whim forever.” The die is cast, though to what end he can’t begin to hope. Fuck power, he wants to scream. Fuck father, fuck Robert Baratheon, fuck those golden haired brats that will never truly his or mine. But instead he takes a breath, feels that steady beat of the heart beneath his ribs - one, two - and throws her words carelessly back at her.

“We make the rules...and we can always change them.”

#matchedrage #She slept with wolves without fear for the wolves knew a lion was among them // (cersei. matchedrage) #BROOOOO there's angst pain #they're gonna fight i can feel it #jaime: i won't be your little bitch #narrator voice: he said. like the little bitch he was. #anyways i made this modern i love u #i thought maybe casterly rock could be like a summer home somewhere?? idk idk #love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation // (v. cat of a different coat) #your joy is your sorrow unmasked // ( in character)

[theladyofterror]

Rebirth

Cairn gazed at her reflection, eyes on her horns. She had always hated the shape that they took after they grew back. It was eternally a reminder of what had happened, and if there was only one thing she could change about herself, it would be her horns. She hated the texture, the roughness they had and how uneven they felt. She couldn’t smooth them out either, it hurt her to even try. She especially hated how uncomfortable they were to sleep with.

Even their color was dull and lifeless.

“Kai?” Cairn turned to the voice, and saw Eredan. He had told her he was coming by today, but he never told her what for. Just that it was a surprise. “You know we all care about you, very much. We can all see what ails you so.” Eredan said, rubbing his hands against his shirt.

“You’re nervous. Why?” Cairn asked him, tilting her head and walking towards him. “What did you do?”

“Well, nothing yet, technically, but, we found something, and... We know you’ll be interested, but, we don’t want to see you hurt.” He paused, before pulling out a sheet of paper. “We found a spell.”

“Congratulations.” She said, glancing at the paper and crossing her arms.

“I...” Eredan let out a deep exhale through his nose and shook his head. He should’ve known she would react like that without more context. “Kai... It will right the wrong.”

Cairn paused, looking between him and the paper in his hand. “What do you mean by that?” She took a step forward and took the paper from his hand and skimmed over it. It was, indeed, a spell. An old one, but it looked more like a recipe for disaster at first glance.

“That spell is ancient alteration magic. Our resident narcissist had it, and only recently found it. Swearing up and down that it can do anything, with the right ingredients. The right price.” He paused for a moment, “It can change your...” He glanced at her horns for a moment, but it didn’t go unnoticed. Cairn’s lips pursed and her eyes widened. She was about to speak, but Eredan cut her off, 

“Listen to me, before you make the decision to dive in. I have all of the ingredients except for one. And, if I’m being frank, the idea of obtaining it makes me sick to my stomach. I’m sure every single one of us can agree on that.”

“What is it?”

“Kai, please...”

“Eredan, what is it?”

Eredan paused, trying to find a way to say the words. He swallowed the lump in his throat, and he looked at the floor. He didn’t want to see the look in her eyes when he told her, for he feared he wouldn’t have the strength to go through with it if he did. “Cairn, the last ingredient is your horns. The spell uses what you want to change, to make something new.”

Eredan was right to not meet her gaze. The shock and the remembrance of her own past agony was clear on her face, and she almost shed a tear. Almost. “Oh... I see. So, it’s a fair price. My horns for a new pair.”

“Kai, let’s think this through first.” Eredan spoke softly, wanting to be a comfort, rather than a hindrance. “This process is-”

“What is there to think through? I can’t look at myself without remembering what happened. I can’t touch them without them aching, and I-”

“Kai. I’m not saying we won’t. I’m saying, let’s plan first. You can’t go into this without knowing exactly how you want them to look first.” Eredan offered her a gentle smile, and Cairn hugged him tightly. “That, and I will need to prepare something to at least numb the pain. None of us want our dearest sister to suffer.”

“Us? What are you...” Eredan stopped her sentence, and whistled. Sounds of shuffling, stomping, and grunting came from the stairs and hallway. Before she saw anything, all she could hear was soft “fuck you”s and “Me first!”. Then, she saw the rest of her brothers, fighting with each other to be the first into her room. Cairn started to laugh, and began to cry at the sight of all her brothers wanting to be here for her.

They all filed in and formed a group hug around Cairn and Eredan, and she was happy that her family would be here for her for this process.

~~~

Hours had gone by. The whole family was talking, eating, drinking, and sketching. Eredan had gone through pages upon pages of potential shapes for Cairn’s new horns, but none of them seemed to ‘fit’ her. At least, not according to Dralrok. Dral had insisted upon something aesthetically pleasing for his darling sister, while Eredan was focused on function.

Arzel and Algem were, as usual, at each other's throats, bickering about the flavor profile of the mead Eredan creates. Goliath and Saiinov, on the other hand, were examining every single sketch and discussing how each would look on Cairn. She didn’t seem fond of any of them, and couldn’t even see herself with any of them.

After seeing the most recent sketch Eredan made, she had to step in. The newest version was gaudy to say the least, and it looked like it would fit a bull rather than her. So, she stepped in, and as gently as she could, told them that their ideas were only getting worse.

“Why don’t you two just... Take a minute. These are getting more and more revolting to look at.” She said to her brothers, and only Dralrok took offence. He looked as if someone had given him a pie with no filling. “Why not something similar to what I had before these? But, not exactly like them, more like...” She tried to find the words to describe what she was thinking of, but couldn’t. So, instead, she took the pencil and sketchbook away from Eredan, and drew a simple swirl.

She showed it to them, and after a moment, Eredan took the sketchbook and pencil back, and got to work. He was silent, and didn’t pay any mind to what Dralrok was saying. Occasionally, he would look up at Cairn, squint his eyes, then return his attention to his sketch. 

Nearly half an hour had passed before he showed the finished product to Cairn, and she stared at it, starstruck with the result. It was perfect. Exactly what she wanted put into form. With a nod, she showed it to the rest of her brothers, and they all agreed on the design. Even Torak offered a smile in approval. It was exactly what she needed.

~~~

With all of the preparations complete, they could begin the spell. They had every ingredient, and a first aid kit on hand just in case. Eredan had even brought his homemade pain medicine, just in case Cairn decided she wanted it, or if they all agreed that she needed it.

Cairn had changed into something more comfortable for the ordeal while Eredan began to mix the ingredients according to the spell. As they simmered in his pot, he took the sketch and he placed it into a mortar. Then, began the bit that all of them were dreading. Getting the final ingredient.

Cairn sat on a stool, her oldest brother sitting in front of her, ready to hold her tight. Eredan asked again if she wanted the pain medicine, and she shook her head.

“No. I feel like... I need to feel this again. To come to terms with it? To put it behind me? I don’t know if that makes sense.” She said, trailing off. Saiinov gave her a tight hug and pet the back of her head, trying to soothe her.

“It’s okay, we understand. Whatever you’re comfortable with, alright?” Eredan said, giving her shoulder a squeeze. “But I must insist that you take some after we’re done. Is that fair?” He asked her, and she looked at him and nodded, a small smile on her face.

“Yeah, that’s fair. Now, can we... Get this over with? The waiting is worse, I think.” Cairn said, shifting uncomfortably. Eredan didn’t say anything as Saiinov held Cairn tight. He barely touched her horns and she flinched away from his hand.

“It’s okay, Kai, it’s me.” Eredan said, pulling his hands away, “Would you rather on the count of three?”

“No, I’m sorry, I just... Maybe I should do it.” She said, gently pushing Saiinov to let her go. She turned to face away from all of her brothers, and she slumped over as she mentally prepared herself. After a few deep breaths, she reached up to her horns, and gripped them at the base.

The memories of what had happened long ago flooded her mind. She could still clearly remember the way he had gripped her horns back then, and the way he tore them off. She could remember the blinding pain and the ringing in her ears, and how her body went into shock after. Then the cold of being alone.

Cairn did her best to push the memories away, and she began to pull.  Her breathing became laboured, and her hands shook. She shut her eyes tight, and as she bit her lower lip, she yanked with all of her might.

SNAP

Her left horn snapped off, and she let out a yelp. She dropped it on the floor, then focused all of her attention on her right horn. She pulled and pulled, and eventually, another loud snap rang out through the room, and she dropped that one on the floor next to the other one.

Cairn choked back a scream and began to cry. The stumps where her horns used to be began to bleed and ooze as she held her head, and Saiinov held her tight. Eredan grabbed her horns and got to work, grinding them up in his mortar with the sketch, while Algem covered the bloody stumps with a cold wet cloth to try and ease her pain.

It felt like hours had passed before the potion was ready. Cairn was shaking. sweating,  and sobbing uncontrollably while her brothers did their best to soothe her. They were whispering kind words to her and holding her gently, trying their best to make sure she didn’t feel alone in this. Her pain was their own, and it hurt them to see her in such a state.

Eredan added Cairn’s now powdered horns and drawing to the potion, and he began to recite the spell. The potion began to boil and turn a dark blue as Eredan mixed it, repeating the incantation over and over again until the liquid had turned from blue to black. The boiling stopped, and he sighed. The final step was for Cairn to drink a cup of it.

Eredan prepared a glass of the now foul looking potion, and he crouched down beside his dear sister, holding it to her lips. “This is the last step, we’re almost done. It’s alright, we’re all here.” He said softly. Cairn gave him a small glance, then she downed the glass, making a revolted face at the taste. 

Mere moments passed before she felt the effects of the spell take hold, and she wailed in agony. Her horns began to rapidly grow and what was left of her old horns were shoved out of her head and they dropped to the floor, turning to dust as her new horns began to take form. Saiinov held her tight as she tried to thrash around, trying to claw at her own head.

Eredan grabbed the pain medicine, and he waited for the process to finish, and soon enough it was. Only a minute had passed, and her new horns were finished growing. They curved behind her ears perfectly, just like her original horns had, but at the tips they curved backwards by two inches. They were a beautiful shade of black, with an iridescent green finish at each ridge, and they were more beautiful than the sketch.

A wave of euphoria washed over Cairn, as the pain faded and numbed. She took deep breaths as Eredan handed her his emergency pain medicine. She smiled weakly before she drank it all, then she let herself drop into Saiinov. She whispered ‘thank you’ to her brothers, and she lost consciousness.

Saiinov picked her up, and carried her upstairs to her bedroom. He took a clean wet rag and did his best to clean her up, then he covered her in blankets to let her rest. They would all be there when she woke up again, and be there to hug her tight when she looked at her new horns.

Unknown to them all, Vero felt the echoes of Cairn’s pain, and longed to see her. To know what had caused such agony, and to hold her once more.

#drabble #family dynamic #angst? #Cairn's siblings are himbos

[bessies-girl]

Remembrence of the Daleks part one things that make me cry:

1. Coal Hill School. Just...existing and being there and looking so familiar and Feeling familiar. (Seriously, was this filmed in the same building as The Caretaker or is that just standard british school design?)

2. The Doctor slipping and calling the military group leader ‘brigadier’.

3. The headmaster talking to the doctor about a caretaker position that’s hiring. Foreshadowing? Steven Moffat being a huge nerd? Coincidence? The world may never know!

4. When Ace and the Doctor are at Coal Hill and they walk around the science lab and the Doctor is smiling and looking around the place and maybe it’s the sappy heart of mine but I swore he was thinking about Susan, and how in this same time period, maybe this same classroom, she would be studying and working and showing her teachers the proper way to do science and maths.

#remembrence of the daleks #fuck i can’t spell remembrence #or is it rememberence #ah fuck #classic who #seventh doctor #ace mcshane

[boxofbonesfic]

Hi, yes, umm… can I tell you about this dream I had last night? I was getting tattooed by a soft!dark Bucky. Writhing in pleasure on the table, he held me down with his metal arm across my stomach while simultaneously marking his name in my skin with his other hand and devouring my cunt with his mouth. He kept saying ‘you’re doing so good for me, doll.’ ‘just a little more’ ‘hold still for me sweetheart, that’s my good girl’. 🥵 💀 Can you put me out of my misery and tell me how this ends? 🥺

omfg you absolutely can. i fucking LOVE this. it’s got mob!Bucky all over it 😩

Title: Labeled

pairing: Soft Dark!Bucky x Reader

Rating: EXPLICIT

warnings: dubcon, possessive behavior, obsessive behavior, improper use of tattoos, dead dove; do not eat, MINORS, DNI

“Shh, shh, sweet girl. Almost there.” He’s been at it for hours, and he keeps stopping to dip his tongue back into your cunt, like he can’t help himself. Wet slurping noises and his own groans accompany the feel of his mouth on you, and although your hands are bound, you can’t help but rub against his face anyway.

“Ah, ah, fuck—” you can’t be quiet, though, no matter how many times he gently hushes you. The sting of the needle on your inner thigh as he slowly inks the delicate script that spells out his initials, combined with the torture of your pussy pulsing in time to his strokes is maddening. The feel of the cool metal across your belly, holding you still, makes you clench down around nothing. The vibranium fingers dig into your hip.

“Don’t move, doll. Just a little more. Almost done.” He’s said that too many times to count, and you hear the clatter of the needle against the table as he spreads your legs wider. “Fuck, n’when I’m finished, I’m gonna stretch this pretty pussy round my cock. You’d like that, right, doll?” he murmurs, scrubbing his hand down his face as he admires the sight of you.

You should be ashamed, you know—this man is your kidnapper for chrissakes—but he’s been at it for longer than you can keep track of, and you can’t stop your body from responding to him. “Y-yes.”

“Good.” The needle buzzes again, and you whimper as it bites into your flesh. “Almost done.” He hits a few more spots and then leans back to stare, pleased, at his work. “It’s better this way, sweet,” he says, putting the needle down for the final time.

You sniffle and look away, not meeting his gaze. He cups your chin gently, and when he kisses you, you taste yourself on his lips. “You did this to yourself, sweet girl. You thought you could get away from me.” He kisses you again, deeply. “You thought you could let someone else touch what’s mine.” Bucky slides a finger through your dripping, aching folds.

“Well I wrote my fucking name on you.” The sound of his belt buckle loosening makes your pussy throb in remembrance of his promise. “Let’s see someone else touch you now.”

#bucky barnes imagine #dark!bucky barnes #dark!bucky x reader #dark!bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #darkfic #dark mcu #MCU AU #mob!bucky #mob!AU #boxofbonesfic #bones drabbles #smut #queue bone

[inklore]

talk to my skin.

premise: with the memories of andy’s mouth on yours, his hands eliciting a burning pressure deep within you waiting to be lit aflame again, the two of you spend the next few weeks trying to fight the need. relying on stolen glances and smiles from afar. but when a storm rages in and the two of you are finally alone together, andy finally makes good on his promise spoken in his office.

pairing: andy barber x (f)reader

warnings: third person pov, cheating, babysitter x employer, agegap, dirty talk, unprotected sex, creampie, praising, terms of endearment such as my girl and baby. spelling mistakes because i’m lazy. reminder: you are in control of your reading consumption so if you don’t vibe with any of the above please do not go on. 18+ only.

word count: 5k

etc: i haven’t written sex sex in a while so if this is dry and fast i apologize yall. this chapter still has a lot more of the reader being innocent and just their relationship starting out slow and new to the both of them but i promise with chapters to come the reader will become more of a baddie ok, we just need a little build up first lmao.

♡ ྀ previous chapter / series masterlist / ao3

Two weeks had gone by since the events that took place in Andy’s office: his lips on hers, his tongue promising more, his fingers providing a pleasure she tries to chase each night she’s under the sheets alone. Her fingers buried in her cunt. Andy’s words vibrating throughout her body ‘I can’t stop thinking about you, ‘next time I’m going to fuck you’. The remembrance of it all making several bone shattering orgasms get her through the two weeks spent with Andy only stealing glances; smiles from afar, nods of acknowledgement letting her know that he still means it, he’s still on the same page as her. The page painted with desire and need to have the other close, to feel them again.

But as for either one of them bringing up what happened, it didn’t happen.

Y/N didn’t expect anything more. This situation was fucked as it is, messing around with Andy, a married man, her employer. No matter how many times she tries to paint it in a different light the harsh rigid glow of how wrong this really is always glaring through. But as if the lust within her veins for Andy was her saving grace, it shined out the reality of the situation. Bringing her back to dirty thoughts and her lips buzzing from remembering his kiss.

So, when two weeks went by and her hope for Andy to pull her off into the next room to make good on his words, fell short. Her wanton need to have him show her that his distance was not something to be painted as bad, or a sign that anything had changed. That the feel of her on his fingers still lingers and he’s counting down the days until he can feel her again.

None of that came. And Y/N tries not to let her mind fall into the rhythm of overthinking. The two nights they spent together playing in her head on a loop: a saving grace of convincing her that it wasn’t a false hope, that Andy meant everything, that one could not force things like this. He was married for Christ sakes. They had to be careful. Vigilant. As much as she wanted Andy to show more than just a smile or casual conversation with her at dinner, deep down she knew that it would never be that way. If this were to continue she would have to get used to this being her reality. Stolen glances. The look of sympathy from Andy from across the room as if he wished he could take her right then and there, forget that Laurie and Jacob were in the house.

But things would never be like that. And if she truly desired to be with Andy again, in any way, she knew that her resilience and overthinking would have to decimate. Even if it was hard to see Andy coming home from a hard day at work, looking tired, undoing his tie, his eyes never leaving hers. A flashback of their first night together playing silently between each other. Or the way she catches him staring at her when she’s moving around his house. Or when Jacob or Laurie leave the room for a split second and she can see his jaw clench, as if holding himself back from daring to make a move.

It was muscle memory after two weeks of this happening. The nipping prick of overthinking on the cusps of her brain. The itch to sneak off to Andy’s office again, to feen illness so she could just go home early and touch herself to her thoughts instead of feeling the low ache all night, being in the same room as the man who has very quickly plagued her thoughts and dirtiest desires. Avoid every glance and interaction at all costs, knowing very well that nothing was going to come of them, just so she could go home and take care of her aches herself. To appease her hunger.

So, Y/N doesn’t expect tonight to be any different.

She has helped Jacob with his chemistry homework, all but forcing the boy to let her help him even though they both knew that he was smarter in this subject than she. Y/N had stayed later to help Laurie make dinner: meatloaf that was more lackluster than anything. Lending a hand to do the dishes, seeing the pleading in Laurie’s eyes as if she were begging her to not leave her alone for just a second with her family, because she really didn’t feel like putting in an effort tonight.

And when ten rolls around she doesn’t expect anything to be different either, she expects to gather her things and head for the door. Laurie letting her know if they would need her within the next few days, goodbyes, a smile from Andy that was more of a punch to her core than anything, and then walking home and her nightly routine following suit.

She does not expect to hear the roaring rumble of thunder, or the heavy drops of rain hitting against the house. Or the flash flood alert to pop on her phone. And when she looks outside the kitchen window she knows that it’s going to be a while before she can leave the Barber home. Especially since she conveniently forgot her umbrella at her apartment.

Her finger hovers over the Uber app. A feeling of dread filling her stomach as she see’s the ‘no one available due to storm warning’. Cursing silently at the shock that the human race was actually heading warnings of the weather and not out looking for a quick buck.

It’s not as if she would of minded having to spend more time at the Barber home. But knowing that it was just going to be an autopilot replay between her and Andy the entire time, the thought didn’t really bring excitement within her. She knows if worse comes to worst Laurie would offer their guest bedroom. Or offer to take her home herself. She was kind like that. Really kind to her. So kind that guilt always bubbled up inside of her at the reminder.

Y/N doesn’t expect Laurie to interfere her thoughts with “Andy could drive you home. You don’t live that far and you definitely don’t need to be walking in this.” The suggestion setting her aflame, as if the older woman had poured gasoline on her entire body and the way Andy just stared at her for a few too many seconds before he nodded his head, being the match to alight her.

She goes to protest, insisting that she doesn’t want to trouble either them, that it’s fine, that she’s sure the storm will pass within the hour and she can walk home or at the very least get an Uber. But as the words go to leave her throat, her mouth to catch up with her brain, she knows that it’s no use. The storm doesn’t seem to be passing anytime soon. No one else was going to be able to drive her home. And, this could be her chance to be alone with Andy again. Even if it was for the five minutes it takes to get to her apartment. Even if they didn’t talk and he only sent his hidden-meaning-smiles her direction and she had to squeeze her thighs together.

And when Andy reassures her with an “you really shouldn’t walk home in this.” Him already standing and grabbing for his suit jacket and keys. “It’s the least I can do, please.” She doesn’t argue and she’s running through the rain to his car in the next second and in the passenger seat within another second, the two pulling out of the Barber’s driveway and headed towards her apartment before her mind can think up anything else.

Neither of them making much conversation as they drive through the rain, Andy’s eyes on the road, Y/N’s hands in her lap her fingers fiddling with each other as she stares out of the passenger side window, the heat from Andy seeming to find hers in the car. Making the care ten times hotter than it really is. Her thighs pressing together. Her breathing coming out slow and shallow. Her mind fighting with her to say something, to reach out, to declare her desire, to move and show him that being this close to him was doing things to her, especially since he wasn’t talking to her or looking her way. She wasnt taking it personally. She was sure he might of been feeling the same way. Especially since when she did sneak a glance towards him his jaw seemed to be clenched. His knuckles whiting and then going back to normal as he gripped and ungripped the steering wheel.

She bites the corner of her mouth her mind racing through different ways she could start conversation: commenting on the weather, dinner, or doing something as simple as asking him if he really did mean what he said that afternoon they spent in his office.

But, like most times, it seemed Andy was on the same wavelength as her.

“Did you enjoy dinner?” he ask casually, she didnt know if it was just something as simple as an icebreaker, or if he really did care about how she felt about the mediocre meatloaf she had helped Laurie prepare.

“It was. . .” she doesnt know how to answer the simplest of questions. She didnt want to insult his wifes cooking but she was sure they were past insulting Laurie in anyway, especially since she all but had her husbands dick in her mouth and fingers on her cunt. They were probably way past being worried about disrespecting his wife. “Decent.” She replies simply, and when Andy chuckles softly she finds herself joining in.

“Yeah, that family recipe isn’t for everyone, thats for sure.” He looks her direction and smiles, lingers a little longer than he should, looks away and squints out at the road. She thinks she should continue this casual conversation, ask him if she cooks great family recipes like this often, when she’s not around. She should take an interest in that part of his life, maybe it would show him that she didnt just care about the secret time they spent together. That she actually did care about more things than just when she could feel him again, taste him again. Because she did. She really did. But her mind just couldnt seem to come up with more responses, more inferences, more anything. All she could think of was the moment of silent spreading between the two, how it painted a picture louder than words ever could. How Andy shifted in his seat, how his chest rose and fell slowly, how the tension in the room was carving what could happen, what was going to happen, within the air like it was a sculpture. Like it had been set in stone from the very beginning. As if fate had taken pity on her and finally got her alone with the man who was plaguing her every desire and whim.

And when they pull into the lot of her apartment building and Andy doesn’t immediately turn to her and say goodbye, thank her, or making any reference to her getting out of his car. Instead turning the car off, his eyes staring straight ahead, his thumb tapping on the steering wheel. His voice coming out in that perfect octave of deep and gentle all at the same time when he finally speaks. “I was hoping that I could get you alone.” He lets out a small puff of a chuckle as he turns to her, “Preferably without the rain having a hand in it.”

Y/N smiles, looks down at her lap, nods. “I guess the weather had other plans.”

“I guess so.”

A minute goes by before either of them speak and she wonders if thats the end of this, if thats all that was going to be said between the two. That Andy wished to get her alone sooner but couldnt find the right moment. That the rain was a silent save and grace as it pounded onto the car, the thump of the drops setting a rhythm and pattern of what they both wanted to happen right now.

She almost jumps when she feels Andy’s finger under her chin lifting her head so her eyes meet his gaze. There were moments when she thought this man could speak the purest, finest, dirtiest words to her that would rip her in two, tear down every wall. Make every fiber of desire and lust set her body in a frenzy for a release or touch of his skin. That he knew the exact things to say, his career making him good with words alone. But as he stared at her, his thumb rubbing circles along her jaw, she knew that this man was better at touches, at saying all that coudlnt be said, that nether knew how to say with words, with touches. That he could deliver a touch so stinging, so full of passion and refurb, want, lust, that no words could compare.

Y/N knew then, just by the soft patterns being drawn into her skin, by Andy’s blown out irises, the glint in his eyes, that all those smiles from afar, all those glances and eye catches was a promise to be with her soon. To just give it time. That they would find a time to sneak away and be alone again, that he had counted on it. Tried to plan it out. Thought about it. Couldnt stop thinking about it.

And when Andy leans forward and presses his lips to hers, both of them letting out a deep sigh, as if their bodies were saying finally, its been so long, I’ve needed you. His hands coming up to cup her cheeks as he kissed her with vigor, passion, need, want. A deeper more meaningful kiss that held lust and want, than their first kiss. His tongue slipping into her mouth with an unspoken confirmation, an unspoken sedation of needing to have her in this way and finally being able to.

“I’ve thought about pulling you into my office all week. Press you against the door,” Andy speaks against her mouth in almost a whisper, out of breath from passion and need. “Can’t stop thinking about fucking you like that.” He pulls back a little, runs his thumb over her bottom lip. “Been thinking about this mouth.” His hand leaves her mouth, runs down her neck, his eyes following its decent, over her chest and down to her breasts where he cups and squeezes one gently in the palm of his hand. “Been thinking about finally being able to see you naked, taste your entire body without restriction.” His thumb rubs across her clothed nipple making her take a sharp inward breath, a moan on the tip of her tongue. “Been thinking about how I can finally have you.” Andy continues playing with her nipple outside the fabric of her shirt, leans in once more and kisses her again, the passion, the need still there, still making her lips buzz and plump from the pressure of his.

“I had hoped we could find a better place, a better time so I could take my time with you. Taste every inch of you, show just how fucking hard it is to be in the same room and not be able to touch you. Or have you on your knees for me.” His breath is warm and coming out of his mouth and onto her lips in heavy puffs, “But, I don’t know how long I can go on. It’s like everytime I’m in the same room with you my body reacts. My cock going hard remebering the way your mouth feels, how wet your cunt gets for me.”

“Andy,” Y/N moans softly, reaches out and presses her hand to his thigh before descending towards his hard length thats more than obvious in his slacks. She rubs her palm along him slowly. “Take me.”

She can feel rather than hear the soft moans Andy let’s slips from his lips. His free hand moves from her cheek to her hair, gripping and pulling her to him, their foreheads pressed together. “Are you sure?” He asks, voice laced with need. “The first time I take you I didn’t imagine it would be here, like this. I wanted to lay you down, run my tongue along your chest, nice and slow. Suck on your-” Andy cuts himself off as he pulls down the swoop of her top, the cup of her bra and exposes her breast to the cool air of the car. Y/N’s nipple prickling with pleasure as the air hits it followed by Andy’s mouth as he leans over the middle dash, as if he can’t take it anymore. His lips wrapping around the erect bud.

Y/N’s breath hitching in a loud moan, “mmm” She breaths out, her eyes falling closed as Andy worships her breast with his tongue, his mouth, his teeth. She loses track of all the ways he moves his tongue around her nipple. Lost in the intense plasure she feels just from this. From his mouth on her sensitive bud, on the deep groans she can feel vibrate from his throat as he moves his attention to her other breast. It’s so good.

“Andy, please.” She moans. “I want you now, I-” She lets out a sharp breath as she feels his teeth scrap against her tender flesh. “I can’t wait. Don’t want to.” Her mind not beng able to form full sentences that make sense more than just moans and whimpers of begging.

She takes it to heart the way Andy described taking her, taking his time with her, laying her down. Maybe in a bed. Maybe in the bed he shares with his wife. Wherever, shes sure he didnt plan on taking her in his car. He planned on stripping her slow, maybe even asking her to strip for him. He planned to kiss down her body, let his tongue explore her skin before he hovered between her legs and took her with his mouth. Maybe make her come that way. Show her just how bad hes craved being between her thighs. Then once shes come down he would waste no time in pushing his cock inside of her. Making her back arch from the bed. Their mouths inches apart, sharing breaths and keening from how good it feels to finally be inside of her.

But that’s not how it was going to play out. No matter how much Andy wanted it. No matter how many times he told her so as they moved to the backseat of his car. As he stripped her from her top, pullng off her jeans in a haste. Always finding her lips after the process, kissing her with the same want as in the office, his hands moving along her body; touching, gripping, massaging, with the same lust she had for him that first night she took him into her mouth. As if this moment was painted and hinted in every kiss and touch and spike of an ache in her cunt that this was always going to happen. That some how some way Andy was always going to take her. To fuck her.

And when she’s laid on in the backseat, her legs wrapped around his waist, Andy hunched over her with his legs dangling at a weird angle off of the seat. The rain and their heavy breaths the only sound vibrating throughout the car. Y/N knows she doesnt care how it would of played out. That it would always end the same way. With Andy looking down at her naked chest with hungry eyes, him shifting to worship her breasts with his mouth. His clothed cock grinding against her wet panties. Her hand’s in Andy’s hair, his moans falling onto her skin and making her stomach drop. Her own moans mixing with the rain fall like a melody.

She knows the way Andy runs his hand down her body to slip it into her underwear, cupping her with his palm, his fingers spreading her and finding her clit. Rubbing soft circles that have her arching up into him. She knows when their eyes meet, the way his jaw is slack, the way he pulls down the rest of her confines to watch his fingers give her pleasure, that he wants nothing more than to replace his hand with his mouth on her wet cunt. The soft moans the man lets out as he slips a finger inside of her, her heat engulfng the digit, her body tightening around him involuntarily in pleasure. She want’s it too. More than anything, to feel Andy’s tongue against her clit, the pressure of his lips moving along her wet cunt in a way that would make her toes curl.

She wants it so bad.

But she can feel Andy’s cock twitching against her thigh with need and decides she wants that more. To finally have this man inside of her. To finally be able to be full of nothing but him. Andy.

Y/N moves her hands down to pull at the top of Andy’s briefs. The man taking the hint and removing her panties fully before he finally removes his own. And as if she’s seeing it for the first time shes still in awe at how beautiful his cock looks. Her jaw aching to make enough room in this backseat so she can slip him into her mouth again and feel the delicious weight of him against her tongue.

The thought quickly dissipating when Andy grinds his cock against her wet folds, the head putting pressure onto her throbbing clit. Her nails digging into the flesh of his forearm, her body arching into his.

“There’s so much I want to do to you right now, Y/N.” Andy moans against her mouth as their lips press together in a hungry kiss. “But, I ache to be inside of you, baby.” Her stomach dropping at the term of endearment. A moaning slipping and falling onto his awaiting lips.

Y/N’s words fall short, she wants to beg him again. Please, please, I need you inside of me. But her body is hot all over and shivering with the same need that all she can do is lift her hips and grind against Andy’s cock more, trying to align him to her enterance.

Andy’s deep chuckle against her lips makes her lose her breath, and when he leans down more, his forearms resting along side her head, “You’re need for me,” He moves his hips slowly dragging his cock down her folds, the head resting at her entrance, where she craves it. Where she can see it in his eyes he feels the same way. “Makes me want to fuck you into this seat. Makes me want to lose myself in you.” He kisses her once more, drags it out, lets his tongue explore her mouth. “I want to go slow with you. Make every second,” He slowly starts to press inside of her, “Moment,” they both moan in unsion as the thickness of his cock pushes into her more, further, slower. Lighting every nerve ending inside of her tight sensitive cunt as it goes. “Count.” Andy finally finishes his sentence as he bottoms out inside of her. Swallowing her moans into his mouth with a passionate kiss, his forearms framing her, his body pressed flush to hers, his cock filling her so well that it almost hurts to be this full. That the weight of his cock inside of her makes her shiver.

Andy is everywhere. She can feel him everywhere.

Fuck.

He doens’t move for a bit, they just lay there connected, devouring each others mouths, moaning at how good just this feels. Until Y/N can’t take it anymore and she needs him to move. Needs to feel the drag of his cock aginst her walls again. Her body instinctly trying to move to get the friction, her body keening.

The first thrust Andy delivers being slow and gentle, his cock moving inside of her in a way that has her stomach dropping and eyes fluttering shut. She had fantasized about Andy fucking her before, her fingers trying to reach that special spot, trying to imitate the feeling of his cock; it could never compare to this. The real thing. The real ache of how good it feels. Of how Andy’s moans feel against her skin as he thrusts inside of her. The way her body arches into him each time he thrusts sharply to be fully inside of her again. Her moans never stopping.

Andy’s praises never seisizing. “I knew you’d feel good, but fuck, baby.” He grips her hair with one of his hands, his eyes never leaving her face, his mouth stealing kisses from hers here and there. His breaths heavy against her mouth, his groans filling her.

Y/N’s legs tighten around Andy’s waist as he moves a little faster. Her nails pressed into his back, edging him on more, needing more more. The drag of his cock inside of her cunt so much, too much. Too good.

“Andy,” She moans against his lips. She doesnt know if its a plea, a beg, a demand, a question waiting to be asked, answered. Her mind hazy from how good he feels inside of her. Of how everytime he whispers dirty words against her lips, “taking me so good”, “I needed this, I needed you, for so long”, “My girl”, she’s riding an euprhocic wave of pleasure and lust and satisfaction that everything else; the rain, the possibility of someone coming out and seeing them fucking, the possible ring of a phone and it being Laurie, the cusp of realty knocking on the door. Its all white noise to her. All Y/N can focus on is Andy. All she can feel is Andy. His mouth. His cock. His moans.

“Next time your cunt is on my cock I want you to ride me.” Andy groans against her neck as he kisses and sucks at the skin there. His thrusts picking up. The heat from the car and assertion of pleasure making them both breathe heavily. “I want to watch you, have a full view of your body letting me take it. Hear you beg for me to grip your hips and fuck up into you. Because I know that’s what you’d want, baby, isnt it?” He presses an open mouthed kiss to her cheek, her chin. “With how needy you are. I know you’d need me to give you more. Fuck you harder.”

Y/N moans loudly, her head pressing more into the seat, eyes closed as she imagines it. Her mind clouding with too many thoughts of pleasure and more of Andy’s cock. Knowing fully that nothing wlll compare to this night, but also knowing that this will not satisfy her hunger. That she needs more. Will always needs more of Andy.

“Please,” She moans.

“What, baby? Is that what you want? Want me to go harder? To really fuck you?” Andy moans when she nods her head, words lost and pleasure once again being her only recipient. “Look at me Y/N, say it. Tell me what you need and Ill give it to you.” He kisses her. “Will always give it to you.”

Y/N opens her eyes, her lids feeling heavy, her mouth feeling swollen, throat raw from moaning. But the way Andy looks right now takes her breath away. His hair misplaced, his lips just as swollen as hers, his cheeks a shade of pink that make his eyes lighter than they really are. His body alight with the same fire of pleasure hers is. He looks completely engulfed in her and it makes her moan. Makes her kiss him roughly, dig her nails harder into his back, part of her mind telling her she shouldnt. What if Laurie see’s? But the part that doesnt care, the part that is here, in this moment with Andy, his cock deep in her cunt the wet noise of him fucking into her fast and deliciously slow all at the same time. As if wanting to feel every inch of her and her feel every inch of him; not letting her care about marks.

“Harder, Andy, please. . .fuck me,” In her mind it comes out more coherntly, more than just a whimper. But all that her mind can care about right now is how his hips thrust into her sharper, harder, faster now. Him giving her exactly what she wanted. What they both wanted. Their needs and pleasure being met with the ache and sting from Andy’s cock hitting her in all of the right places, pounding into her cunt in an unpsoken ownership that no one has ever made her feel this way before and probably never will.

Andy pushes himself up a bit, leaning up on his palms as he pounds into her, his thrusts sharp, the rhythm her body moves with his insync and achingly good. She feels his finger and thumb grip her chin bringing her back to him, their lips meeting in another hungry kiss, teeth and tongue against swollen lips. Moans swallowed, heavy breaths mixed.

“So fucking beautful.” Andy says roughly as his fingers skate down her body, his eyes never leaving hers as they come to stop at her cunt, the pad of his index finger pressing to her clit. Her whole body shivering, shaking, her legs becoming a bit looser as she tries to open up wider for him. Tries to not break eye contact with him but the burning pleasure of his cock inside of her and finger on her clit is too much. “Come on my cock, baby.” Andy groans against your lips, “Be my good girl.”

And it’s as if his words are speaking right to her cunt. As if the thrusts of his thickness insde of her, the circles on her clit have nothing to do with the building pressure in her lower belly. Or her need to pull him closer, the deep shallow breaths her chest is vibrating out, or the sharp push and pull of the snapping of hips or lips on hers; as if those don’t matter. As if all of that is not what sends her over the edge, has her moaning Andy’s name loudly, has her arching into his chest, her legs tightening around him and shaking. As if his words alone brought her to that peek. Made the pleasure be the final match added to the fire inside of her.

“Fuck, Y/N.” the moans coming from Andy at the grip and pulsating of her cunt against his cock mix with her breaths. “Such a good girl for me.” She can tell by the way Andy’s hips stutter and the way he kisses her languid and longing, quick rough lips and tugs on her bottom lip; he’s close.

And by the way Andy moans deep and rough, moves his mouth to hers in a hard kiss as his hips move faster, the slap of their skin making her back rub against in leather of the backseat in a burning way that adds to the pleasure. The regard that people may be able to hear them, see the car rock, hear the way she begs Andy to ‘please come inside of me’, the words tumbling from her mouth without regard. Andy cursing against her lips in hot shallow breaths, praising her ‘so fucking good, just for me’; she knows it’s a dangerous game they are playing.

“Y/N,” Andy curses one last time before he’s coming inside of her. The warmth of his spent coating her wet cunt, the pulsating of his cock making her hips rock and body ache in the best way. Her moans and breaths mixing into a silent sadidated pleasure.

Andy’s hot breath is on her neck as he comes down from his high, her own euphoric high still holding onto every nerve ending in her body that their breaths become matched. His head lifting when hes finally caught his, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead, looking down at her with a soft smile. His face warm and beautiful. And they both know with the way he is looking at her that these times spent together will never be enough. That the next time will never be enough. That whatever this is they will both crave it. Need it. They walked over the threshold and there was no going back.

And with the way Andy kisses her slow, like the first time, silent words and promises on his lips and tongue, she knows he knows it too.

“Beautiful.” Andy repeats the same sentiment as earlier against her lips. It lingering long after he has left. Long after their goodbyes, him helping her dress, low chuckles from the lack of room in the back to do so. The looks of remembrance of words spoken, the ache of being so full of him just moments ago still there. The sting from standing, of Andy kissing her forehead in the rain as he makes sure she gets to her door okay. The reminder of him all over her, lingering deep into the night.

The look of anticipation to see her again as she waves goodbye to him on her porch. It all lingering on her mind all night long.

#andy barber #andy barber smut #andy barber x reader #andy barber one shot #andy barber x reader smut #andy barber fic #andy barber imagine #andy barber x you #andy barber fanfiction #*heat leveled* #**

[hobidreams]

november 1869.

to remember what has been lost; to protect what still remains.

pairing: joseon king!yoongi x reader genre: drama. words: 2.4k contains: descriptions of blood/death, a reckoning.

moonlit throne index. this is drabble 26. start from the beginning?

Before Queen Jeonghui’s tomb, you stand with hands bowed in reverence, mind laden with warm memories as sticks of incense burn above your fingertips.

“We all miss you, daebi-mama. I hope you are resting well,” you murmur, letting the smoke mingle with your breath in the air as you bow, deeply. “Happy birthday.”

A little ways away, the single guard that accompanies you is also offering his thoughts to the raised, grassy mound that the queen lies beneath. You’re glad it’s Myungho to come with you today. He’s a good man, one who allows you as much freedom as possible. He understands your need to escape sometimes. Nearby, the horses you rode here are grazing on the field, quietly snorting as their tails swish from side to side.

As you look upon the tomb, you wonder wistfully if mother has found the queen in the spirit world. If they’re playing the game of janggi they so loved in life, when both could find the rare time to continue their decade-long (friendly) rivalry while indulging in cups of strong, dark tea. The thought brings a smile to your face even as fresh tears fall at the remembrance.

In your peripheral vision, you see a swish of fabric, the sign of someone approaching. You give one last bow and slot your incense in the traditional tray, realizing it must be time to leave before it gets too cold and your limbs begin to freeze even under the layers of clothes. You must go back eventually, you know it, but that doesn’t make it easier.

But when you turn, the man that stands beside you wears royal robes — the scarlet fabric and golden dragons unmistakable.

“Jeonha?”

The king’s face holds only sorrow as he holds matching incense in his hands. Staring straight ahead, he bends into a bow, dipping his head repeatedly low, low, lower until he’s almost on the dying, waterlogged grass with it, the lit grey tips flickering in the wind as they are nearly doused from the force of his movements. He bites his lip hard, so hard he draws blood as he punishes his own legs with the bows but he doesn’t stop.

You watch him with emotion clinging to your throat, but you swallow the questions you want to ask as you swipe at your wet cheeks. Why are you here? Why did you change your mind? How are you? Are you okay? All these impertinent questions are for you, to satisfy your own curiosity, and that’s not what he needs right now.

Quietly, steadily, you wait until he has finally stuck in the incense in the memorial ash. You wait until he opens his eyes, red-rimmed as they are, and finds your gaze.

“I… decided at the last moment,” he murmurs. “You… were right. I had to see her.”

You nod. Think you understand everything else he means as well, even if he’s left it unspoken. “Me too.”

“She would have liked that you’re here.”

That simple sentence threatens another wave of nostalgia and longing. You let it pull you under. Sink yourself into it. The mourning, the grief. And the love. The love that was there. The love that still remains, the traces of it held in you both. Your fingers twitch with a sudden, daring want to take his hand. To meet your palms and find the warmth and the life pulse that beats so closely, so resolutely just beneath the surface despite all this pain and all this loss. If you could just reach out. If you could just take another risk…

“Jeonha, run!”

The scream comes from the hill behind you. You both whirl.

The head of the royal guard comes running over with his sword drawn. His teeth are grit, hair blown from the wind that sweeps through the grass, rippling. His blade is already stained with a color that makes your stomach lurch at the implication.

“Hoseok— What’s going on?” The king yells back.

“Rebels! An ambush. We don’t have enough men!”

These few seconds are all the warning you get.

An incredible roar of voices comes exploding up and then you see them. The thick crowd of men that come surging over the hill, fighting their way towards you. The unforgettable clatter of metal on metal desecrates this once-sacred ground. Your legs go soft as you panic, scrambling. You’re trying not to watch as guards and rebels alike are cut down, but the enemies are steadily advancing still. What should you do? Where should you go?

“Myungho, get the horses!” The king barks out. But one look at the steeds tells you that they’re frightened, rearing back as men descend upon them. They’re off, running away on instinct to preserve their own lives while damning yours.

“Jeonha, what are your orders?” Myungho’s grip on his weapon is tight.

“Go. Help Hoseok.”

“Yes, jeonha!”

But as the battle wears on, the dread in you only grows. The king’s men are skilled, but it seems there were only a few to begin with. They are overwhelmed by sheer numbers, yelling for jeonha to escape but he doesn’t move. You don’t know what to do. You are at a complete loss, standing beside him with fingers growing steadily numb. You have to do something. You— You can’t just let it end here, at the hands of these men bellowing with violence and anger and pain.

“Jeonha, w-we have to run,” you stutter, forcing yourself to move, tugging at the fabric of his robes. But when you look back at the opposite side, your only escape route, a throng of rebels come scattering across the grass. Cutting you off; rendering you helpless.

“Myungho, cover the rear!” Hoseok spits out as he takes down another three by himself, the quick whip of his blade reflecting a beam of sun. But even he, with two other guards in front, cannot hold all of them off, though there are less of the rebels now that remain standing.

Caught in the middle, you can only watch your allies strain and sweat. In your heart, you promise desperately that you heal them in the end, if only they will hold on now.

With an awful cry, one of the guards hits the ground and a rebel uses that chance. Breaks through the line of defense and charges right towards you both.

“Fuck the king!” He yells, his face smeared with dirt, his sword raised as his bare feet trip upon the grass but he just keeps coming somehow and you have no weapons and you have no shields but the very first instinct, the most primal one you have is to throw yourself in front of the king and take his pain for him and—

Hoseok dispatches the rebel from behind just as you move a single step forward.

“You…” The king’s voice is hoarse. His eyes are wide with shock as he stares at you, at what you just did. Then he’s shoving you aside and stooping to pick up the abandoned sword from the ground.

You realize what he means when he sweeps up his sleeves, adjusts his grip on the worn handle. “Wait, no, jeonha, you cannot—”

“Stay behind me.”

“I cannot allow you to—”

“Do not argue with me.”

Again, he leaves you with no choice but to watch his back.

Fear pounds away in your body like a thousand drums, thunder booming through the pulse of your clenched heart in your ears as the king takes a first brutal swing at an enemy. Somewhat out of practice against the towering man, he’s shoved back by the sheer force of the clash, feet skidding across the wet grass but he refuses to yield. Stubborn as he always is, he rushes in again only to be pushed back. Again.

The king tilts his blade, slices it quick only to have one sent right back at him, barely missing his shoulder by an inch. He doesn’t even flinch as he stands firm. Adapts in the moment and tries a new strategy, a new tactic that has him spinning, robes fluttering in the winter air as his shuddering breath comes out in a puff of white and ends in a fury of red. And again. And again until finally, finally, only the strongest of the rebels remain standing with the few allies you left, along with your brutal, bloodied king.

Before you, all the men are panting, open mouthed, every last one of them desperate for a victory that spells the doom of the other.

“Come on then,” the king goads, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand in a show of nonchalance even though he’s obviously fatigued. “Attack.”

“You little shit!”

This man is enormous, easily a head above the king and he’s strong, muscles bulging from his torn tunic as he thrusts the sword ahead with surprising speed. The quick rush of air slices through two layers of robes, splitting the dirtied fabric open as the king narrowly escapes without a new scar. But his return stab doesn’t meet a mark and he’s slow on the rebound, steps lost some of the agility he had at the start.

Please. Please, you beg to whatever god may be listening, don’t let him die. But that rebel seems to have an endless strength as he forces the king back, meets him blow for blow for blow and you are so worried, terrified you’re going to see his last moments like this. Like this you will have been with him until the end just like you once stupidly wished. You’re so caught up you don’t realize what’s going on behind you.

“Su-uinyeo-nim! Watch out!” Myungho’s voice cracks as he cries your name, but you turn too slow. Myungho’s on the ground and the rebel that beat him is sprinting towards you, savagery in his scowl, his crude axe already suspended in mid-swing, just a few more steps, just one more shove to land right across your heart and you, you who has never held a weapon before in her life, you who has lived to heal and mend instead of hurt, what can you do right now but die?

“No!”

The scream is hoarse, a furious sound matched with a rush of robes that whip past your own.

You peel open your eyes in time to watch the king take the axe blow meant for you with his left arm. Despite his bark of pain, he swings with his right in exchange and it’s enough. The rebel falls, his axe plummeting uselessly beside him. Then the king falters too, sword clattering down as he finally drops to his knees.

“Jeonha!” You scramble to him. “Oh god, oh god, jeonha, why did you do that— Jeonha, how could you do such a thing? Jeonha!” You part the stained robes, stomach churning at the raw sight of his sacrifice. “We need to fetch you help. You need medicine, oh god, oh god.” This is panic like you’ve never felt it before as you look around, as if some miracle could occur, as if it hasn’t already occurred by the fact that you’re both still alive.

To one side, Hoseok is alone, gasping hard with the enormous rebel lying prone beside him, evidently having finished him off. Myungho has a gash running down his side, but he’s crawling towards you both still with a hand pressed to his wound for pressure. There is no one else. You have to do this on your own. You have to calm the hell down.

Using the nearby sword, you force yourself to focus and stop shaking as you cut strips of the inner layer of your skirt. You have to save his arm even as nausea swims in your mind, nerves making you want to empty your stomach.

“Hah...” The king’s chest lurches as he struggles for air. His eyes are hazy but he manages to fix them on you, as if to ground himself. “You’re… safe?”

Nodding frantically, you start to wrap the cloth around him, willing your fingers not to slip. “I-It’s deep, jeonha. Your wound is so deep.” You’re quietly sobbing as you tie the makeshift bandage to stop the worst of the bleeding. How could he be thinking of you at a time like this? It must hurt excruciatingly so, yet he is still trying to be strong.

Beside you, Hoseok is carrying Myungho’s weight, using the extra cloth to help his ally with his limited medical training.

“…Hoseok.” The king sucks in another long breath. “They… Those rebels were peasants, weren’t they?”

“Yes, jeonha… I think they were.”

He accepts this knowledge silently as you finish your preliminary treatment, but lack the resources to do anything else. You stare at the fresh red seeping through the flimsy cloth and hope desperately that it will be enough for now, until one of you can return to the palace and gather reinforcements to take you home. Feeling your fingers stop, he immediately tries to move his arm but winces, bites his lip at the sudden jolt.

“Don’t move, please,” you instantly say.

The king huffs a long, exhausted sigh as he sinks into the ground. Lets the tension seep out of him, though likely not by choice. His dark eyes flicker to the tomb briefly before they slide closed, the scar ever slashed startlingly crimson across the right side. Despite his best attempts, he is still winded, depleted. Human, after all. After all of this.

You brush matted strands of light hair away from his forehead, and pat at the drops of sweat that linger and prove how hard he pushed himself to fight. He shifts into your touch like a stray animal, allowing you take care of him for once without argument until his breaths even some, settling only in your arms.

“It seems it’s been a long time,” he says softly after a moment, his eyes remaining shut.

“Since?”

“Since I’ve protected someone.”

Your pulse catches. Blood thrums through you as you whisper, “but you did.” Your voice is viscous with relief, and gratitude. “You did.”

Only now do you dare to reach for his hand, to lend him some of your strength, even though you have seen again just how much of it he already holds in himself.

Wrapped in your warmth, he squeezes back just the once. Lets you know he is here, he is here, he is here with you still.

a/n: because i could never forget the way he wielded that sword in the mv. so... how you feel about our king now?

#ficswithluv #btsghostie #yoongi x reader #min yoongi #bts imagines #bts scenarios #bts angst #yoongi angst #historical au #moonlit throne #rain writes #things only continue to shift don't they?

[tendousthoughts]

Different Type of Love

Y/N or Ship(s): Y/N (Y/N x Kageyama)

Genre: Angst with a fluff ending

Warning(s): Foul language (cursing)

Summary: He gets too personal with his attacks, and I guess I’m just too emotional but I don’t know who wouldn’t be hurt. I get it I am a fucking idiot, to much of a crybaby. I get that I’m not what you want.

A/N: I am not a Kageyama lover, but I can imagine him just getting so mad at me to the point he says something he will regret. This is a huge angst. Serotonin by girl in red is stuck in my head lmao plz help. Please feel free to reblog! Sorry for the grammatical and spelling errors!

Welcome Back

He walks in and his anger is radiating off of him.

“Hey baby I-” He walked right past you. Like you were invisible to him. Without even a word.

I wonder what happened ~ y/n

You take a breath and follow after. Finding him in the room you guys share changing into some comfier clothes. As he finishes and sits on the bed playing with his phone, you slowly walk up sitting next to him. He moves a bit farther from you and you take the queue to move back a bit.

“Y/n, what do you need?” He spoke with annoyance.

“Uh,” You sit there dumbfounded. It was the first time in months that he had called you that. “Are you free for dinner?”

“Maybe. Can you leave me alone now?” He spoke not even sparing you a glance.

“Ya um talk to you later I guess,” you grab your stuff heading to the spare bedroom feeling like shit already. Not having any idea what had got him so annoyed.

Did I do something? Why is he so annoyed? ~ y/n

You cuddle up in the bed wearing his jacket. It smelled just like him, for some weird reason it just made you more uncomfortable. Maybe because it was just a remembrance of how you're just an annoyance to the real person. That you had to go to his things for comfort, not even him could deal with you. You took it off, placing it on the desk next to the bed. You grab your phone and headphones next to it. You plopped them in and tried to relax. He didn’t even say anything mean. It was just the tone, hurt, if that made sense.

You wake up to a presence around you. Turning around you see Kageyama behind you. He has his arms wrapped around you and his face in his hair. You smile a bit. So maybe it wasn’t you, maybe you were at the wrong place in the wrong time. You smile softly as you feel so warm and comfy your blushing. Then you wake up, for real this time. The bed is empty. Just that jacket, and you.

Dinner

You walk into the room he was in. There he was sleeping, like there wasn’t a care in the world. It was five. You had set up a date at six, but he just looked tired. So you decide not to wake him. You smile softly getting ready. Grabbing your keys, you call up Tsukishima, your ex. You don’t know why, but you just want to check up on him. You guys are still close.

Ring...

Ring...

Ring...

“Hey y/n? What’s up?” He states.

“Just wondering if you and Yams want to go for dinner, on me?” You state, hopeful.

“Uh, let me see,” Tsukishima got quiet for a second before returning, “Ya that seems fine send me the location we will be there soon.”

“Oh ya of course!” You smile with excitement. “Thanks..” your voice kinda dies from the excitement.

“You good?” He knows you too well, just like an older brother.

“Kinda, just Kags got kinda annoyed today about something and he doesn’t wanna talk. But, it is all good see you soon!” You smile getting in the car and buckle up.

“Ya. Don’t let him get to you, you're better than that. Bye see you soon,” he chuckles and he hangs up. You sent the location, putting your phone in silent, and went to the restaurant.

You talk to the worker and they switch it to three people. Five minutes later they arrive and you are shown to your seats. “Yamaguchi you’re looking really nice you got to send me that skin care routine,” you laugh a bit.

“Ya I will for sure, it really helped me.” He smiles a bit. Grabbing one of the menus, “You don’t have to pay I’m fine paying.” He smiles a bit.

“Oh um you sure I want to pay,” you smile.

“Oh, I guess you can then but if you don’t feel comfortable with it tell me okay?” He smiles. Tsukishima is lucky he ended up with such a nice guy.

“Ya of course,” you look over at Tsukishima. He is looking through the menu.

He looks up a bit, “thank you for dinner, and inviting us otherwise we would still be in our house basically doing nothing.”

“It is nothing, I just wanted some company and you guys are always fun to hangout with,” you whisper softly looking at the menu. If Kageyama wasn’t so busy maybe you could be with him right now.

You guys order, then get the food, eat, make jokes and just hang out. You feel needed something you haven’t felt in a while, being with Kageyama.

“So Yamaguchi, how is Tsukishima treating you? I’ll beat him up if he is treating you anything worse then as if you are a king!” You joke.

“No need he is treating me perfectly, how about Kageyama?” He is looking at you with a smile.

“Okay I guess,” you mumble trying to avoid the conversation you mention ice cream, you don’t want this to end, you don’t want to have to go home.

“Oh ya that will be on us though!” Yamaguchi smiles softly.

“Okay I guess, you guys pick the place and I will pay up in the front,” you walk up and a good looking male is at the register.

“Um, can I please pay for the dinner now?” You smile softly.

“Sure, um by any chance can I get your phone number?” He smiles a bit as he rings up the price. You blush, not thinking you automatically say no.

“He’s cute,” Yamaguchi chuckles as he sees you blushing.

“Yams..” Tsukishima mumbles softly.

“Oh but my Tsuki is the cutest isn’t he?” Yamaguchi smiles at Tsukishima’s blush.

You smile, getting ice cream with them and then heading back.

Wishes

Here we go, brace yourself ~ y/n

As you unlock the door there he is as soon as you walk in. You have your headphones ready, you can’t handle screaming today.

“Where the hell have you been?” Kageyama takes note of your outfit.

You do what he did to you this morning, walk right past him.

“HEY! I AM TALKING TO YOU!” He follows. You start to change and get into comfy clothes then head to the spare room not ready for his bull shit.

“AYE STUPID,” He screams clearly pissed and you can’t tell why. He did the same thing and now he wants to be annoyed. “FUCKING IDIOT OVER HERE! CAN YOU STOP BEING SO IMMATURE. JUST TELL ME WHERE YOU WENT!” You stay silent. “GOD FUCKING DAMN IT, I WISH I GOT A BETTER PARTNER!”

“What?” You mutter out playing with your phone.

“What do you mean what?” He looks at you with pure disgust.

“What do you want from me?” You mutter, “J-just leave me then” you voice cracks as tears flood your eyes. “You come home and you're pissed for god knows what reason then you take it out on me. YOU tell me to leave you alone and I do. I was hungry, so I asked some people if they wanted to go for dinner. UNLIKE YOU they actually want my company,” you can’t even look at him. “You push me away and when I do the same thing to you, I messed up huh? YOU asked for space. FUCKING 50 calls! YOU called me 50 times! YOU asked for space!”

It finally hit him how much he has been hurting you. He runs up to you and just doesn’t know what to do. “I didn’t me-”

“You think I don’t think you didn’t mean to? I know you, unlike how you don’t know anything about me. You always like to pretend to be the best boyfriend when anyone is around. Whenever I need you, that just switches.” You can’t help the words spilling out. “I feel so lonely...”

He looks at you and tears are slipping. “Y/n, I really love you please I am sorry. Please don’t break up with me. I am sorry. Today was tough and I shouldn’t have done that. I know, I suck I know but please... I will be better.” You look at him, he looks like a mess. “I was worried, got up and you weren’t there. Then you weren’t answering and I thought you left and then I saw you all dressed up when you came home and I just flipped out. I shouldn’t have.” He began to panic and you could tell. He began breathing heavy. This only happened one other time, he was having a panic attack and it seemed like he might have had one earlier due to what he was saying. “It’s hard to breath.”

“Babe..” You pulled him to the bed and held him tight. “It is going to be okay, take a deep breath with me on the count of three, one, two three, breath,” you repeat till he is calm.

He is still crying holding on to you tight just repeating, “I’m sorry” uncontrollably. You hold him till he falls asleep. Maybe he wasn’t the best but he does truly love you it seems. Maybe he is just bad at showing it. You could work with that. No. You guys could work with that.

#haikyuu #haikyuu!! #sports anime #anime #tendousthoughts #fanfic #haikyuu fanfiction #hq fanfic #tsukishima x yamaguchi #hq #tsukishima kei #hq tsukishima #haikyuu tsukishima #tsukishima #yamaguchi tadashi #Yamaguchi #haikyuu yamaguchi #angst #hq yamaguchi #hq characters #hq x y/n #hq kageyama #tobio kageyama #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu kageyama #kageyama #fluff #kageyama x y/n #hq ships #xics.fics

[leapyearkisses]

Orbs Are Bad News Part 1/2 - (m/m) Gerrit/Llewellyn

I ran out of Eliseo/Padgett stories, so I’ll post the rest of what I’ve got. Thank you to everyone who has liked, reblogged, and/or left nice comments. This community is truly so kind!

Anyway, I love these characters, so much. :)

MESS, sorta NSFW probably, sneezing on person (who likes it) - Elven sorcerer Llewellyn gets his hands stuck to a magic orb while he has a cold and has to be taken care of by his FWB(?) half-elf fighter Gerrit Truestride who gets off on that sort of thing. 

I fricking forgot Gerrit’s last name. This might be it??

---

"Okay, we don't know what we're dealing with here, so let's be careful." Gerrit pushed open the heavy wooden door and lifted his torch to illuminate the room inside. The firelight played over several tables covered in intriguing objects and glinted teasingly off of more than one hint of gold. Gerrit himself spotted a stolid wooden chest in the corner and his heart rate quickened. "Jackpot," breathed Remembrance, the party's resident ne'er-do-well. She rubbed her hands together, sharp nails clicking. Gerrit was sure she was assigning price tags to the lot of it, except for whatever she hid in her bags for herself, of course. "I know a guy in the capitol who'll pay through the nose for that pervy little statue there." "That is a religious object," chastised Cordes with a haughty tsk. "It's used in rituals of worship for the goddess Fortuna." "Oh, I'm sure he'll be worshipping," cackled Remembrance, and she slipped past Gerrit into the vault. "Few hundred gold and he'll be rubbing out a grand ol' prayer." Her pointed tail waved with greedy delight. "Hey! The proper course of action would be to bring it back to a temple!" Cordes went after her, pushing Gerrit aside. The half-elf grumbled but wasn't surprised. "At least TRY not to touch anything cursed," he called. He'd been the one to organize this little band, but although he was the one who reported to their patron, he had precious little influence over what they did. They were happy to point to him when some upstart had a problem with the party, though. Ingrates. He turned to the last member of the group. "What about you, Llewellyn? I thought I saw some books on the far table."

"Lead the way," replied the sorcerer, and his usually mellifluous voice sounded strained. Purple shadowed the hollows under his faintly luminous silver eyes, and he had his nose tucked into his handkerchief again. Gerrit hadn't spent much time around full elves, but he'd always believed they couldn't get sick, at least not like a human or dwarf. Llewellyn had been dragging since Saints' Day, though, and seemed to have come down with a flu. His skin, where visible under his fitted robes, was wan. "Sure," said Gerrit, and he stepped into the room, holding the door out so that Llewellyn could join him. "You, uh, you don't look like you're feeling any better." "Oh," said the sorcerer, "I'm not. I ran out of tonics." He entered the vault and walked over to one of the tables, investigating a strangely shaped glass bowl. "But as we were already down here, I'm not sure what you want me to say. There's no inn at which I might rest my weary bones."  "Cordes could make you an herbal remedy," Gerrit grumped. He went over to the chest he'd seen earlier and smashed the lock off with the pommel of his dagger. He didn't need any fancy lockpicking tools like Remembrance's. And hitting something felt good when his companions were all intent to be annoying, acerbic, or both. "I suppose," Llewellyn replied, sounding uncertain as his voice wavered. Gerrit tried to ignore the way his ears heated at that. That was the tone that overtook the elf when he was preparing to sneeze. It wasn't any of Gerrit's concern. His occasional roll in the hay (literal and figurative) with Llewellyn did not make it easier or more appropriate to acknowledge his odd attractions, especially since they were currently ransacking a dungeon with a priest and a psychopath. He focused his attention on searching the chest, and he was rewarded with a heavy coin purse, a stack of calfskin-bound journals, and a ruby the size of a robin's egg. He whistled. Llewellyn gasped. "Hah- hahttsch-ow!" "'Ow'?" Cordes appeared from behind a bookshelf, one arm wrapped tightly around a thick rug, the other reaching for his pack of salves. "What is it? Cut? Burn?" When Gerrit looked, their sorcerer was rubbing his nose with his left hand. "Bruise," Llewellyn said. He lifted his right hand, in which he held a blue crystal orb that was knotted inside a thin lattice of gold chain. "I got my hand caught." He'd apparently run the thing into his nose when trying to cover his sneeze. Llewellyn's thin face was already dusted pink from the embarrassment. Gerrit couldn't help but laugh. "Very graceful," he chuckled. "I will thank you for keeping it to yourself," Llewellyn replied, and that was elvish dialect for "fuck you." Gerrit laughed again.  Cordes had leaned over to see the orb better in the firelight. He was the only one among them whose vision was hindered by the dim light. "What kind of artifact is this?" he asked. "It doesn't resemble anything I've studied." "I'm not sure." Llewellyn held it up to the torch. The orb lit up like a lamp, but otherwise nothing happened. "Whatever this chain is, though, it's very prone to tangling." He tried to shake it off his wrist and failed. This was a task for both hands, and he set to freeing himself. And kept trying. And trying. Gerrit frowned. "What are you doing? Cordes, would you get that off of him?" "Sure." The priest reached out to help, but Llewellyn suddenly backed away out of reach. "Uh... I'm not trying to steal it, elf." "Oh, I would let you take it," Llewellyn said, scowling. "But I have a feeling we would be in for some trouble if you touch it now." He held up both hands. His palms were wrapped around the crystal and bound with the ball in that thin gold chain. "I am... I'm stuck."

---

"STUCK," hooted Remembrance again. She was crouched at the entrance to the dungeon - a root-cellar-like set of doors they'd found in a small bandit settlement - and hauling out a heavy pack stuffed with loot. In the daylight, she looked menacing and out of place, her horns, dusky maroon skin tone, and black eyes setting her apart from this land's primarily human residents. "And you even said not to touch any curses!" "I recall you said so as well," said Cordes, who looked exactly like a run-of-the-mill human resident except for the star-like scar on his left temple. He reached down and grabbed Gerrit's hand, steadying the half-elf as he climbed out of the hole. Llewellyn was hanging uncomfortably on Gerrit's back, arms looped around the other man's neck. They'd tried to find a more dignified way to get him out of the dungeon, but he couldn't manage the ladder well enough without the use of his hands. "The artifact didn't react to my detection spell," sniffed Llewellyn disdainfully, and Gerrit was quick to set him down before that sniffing could become another sneeze. He didn't want to blush in front of the others. "There must be someone in Veigh who can help you," Gerrit said. "We'll just swing by on our way to the capitol." The city was three days out of their way, but they couldn't have Llewellyn stuck this way for the two week trip back to their patron. With his hands bound, he couldn't cast any spells that required him to gesture, and that was almost all of them. He'd effectively rendered himself completely useless in combat. Veigh had a chapter of the Mages Guild in residence, though, and if no one there could help, they might at least be able to send Llewellyn on ahead via a transportation spell.  "I will hope there is." Llewellyn looked pale and worn, though his fine features still exuded the otherworldly beauty of the high elves. His hair was a silky black, although mostly covered by his hood, and the contrast made his silver eyes look even more curious. He fumbled for a minute at his waist before scowling heavily. "I can't get into any of my bags, of course..." "What do you need?" asked Gerrit. Remembrance had started off through the trees, humming, her bulging pack swaying with her sinuous movements. Gerrit really didn't want to let her get too far ahead, not least because she was scary good at concealing herself in the foliage and might slip the party completely. However, Cordes was with her, and Llewellyn couldn't exactly fend for himself right now. "My handkerchief..." The elf's voice had gone wavery again, and Gerrit watched as his nostrils flared. Fuck. Gerrit hurriedly patted his pockets until he produced his own handkerchief, or what he bothered with when necessary. It was a large square of flannel, rough around the edges. It wasn't embroidered or monogrammed like Llewellyn's, but he figured by now the flannel was a hell of a lot cleaner, and it was soft for an irritated nose. "Here, take mine." Llewellyn held out his hands plus the orb for it, breath hitching, but no matter how Gerrit tried to drape the cloth, it kept slipping off of the artifact. He supposed he could try to tie it around the- Llewellyn made a desperate sound and tipped his head back, exposing the long line of his throat. His breath was coming in soft pants now. And he was raising the orb reflexively.  Gerrit couldn't let him whack himself in the face again, so he did the only other thing he could think of. With one hand he reached out and took Llewellyn by the shoulder. With the other, he lifted the handkerchief and pressed it over the elf's nose. His fingers settled firmly on either side of Llewellyn's nostrils, and none too soon. After another half-hitch, Llewellyn ducked forward again with a quiet but insistent sneeze. "Happtsch! Gerrit was sure he was beet red. “Bless you,” he mumbled. Through the cloth, Llewelyn’s nose felt hot, and any gentle pressure resulted in a bit of a squish. “Let me just…” "Whh- wait-" Llewellyn leaned into the handkerchief. "I'm nh- I'm not done hhH-" His eyes slipped shut and he gasped again. Gerrit swallowed and tried to ignore the tenting of his breeches. "R-roger that." He could feel Llewellyn's nostrils twitching against his fingers. "Hh...Haah- Hapttschuh! Snrk... Aptschiu!" His body rocked, and he took a half-step forward. Gerrit could hear the thick sound of congestion in the elf's nose as he tried to stave off another sneeze. "Blow your nose," he said. "It will help." Llewellyn hesitated, but in the end, he had to comply. There was nowhere for the mucus to go except out. He started to blow with a gurgle. Gerrit moved the hand from his shoulder to start rubbing Llewellyn's back. The handkerchief and his fingers were rapidly growing damp, but he really didn't mind. "There you go."  He held the handkerchief to Llewellyn's nose until the elf moved back on his own. His nose was red and tender looking, and his cheeks were flushed rosy. He didn't seem to want to meet Gerrit's eyes. Gerrit didn't mention it. He didn't really want to look at Llewellyn either right now. It had been a while since the elf had looked so very fuckable.  He put the handkerchief in an easily-accessible outside pocket of his vest.  "Ready to go?"  Llewellyn coughed lightly. "Yes." "Excellent." Gerrit gestured for Llewellyn to precede him, and the two of them headed out through the trees, following the sounds of Cordes negotiating the underbrush and swearing about it. --- Travel proved easy enough once they made it to the road. They were fortunate not to meet anyone else along the way. The party could handle a group of bandits without their sorcerer, but they had their treasure to worry about, and Remembrance always drew stares, and sometimes aggression, even from normal travelers. Gerrit thought her skills more than made up for the extra negative attention they drew. And anyway, Remembrance was crazy but she wasn't evil. She did better out on the road than in town, but that was probably true of all of them. Llewellyn kept up with her pace, but it was clearly a struggle. He was usually fairly quiet, but he didn't speak at all as they walked, focusing on breathing and not devolving into coughing or more sneezing. There were a few times when Gerrit hastily reached into his pocket, at the ready, but Llewellyn fought back the itch with admirable determination. He kept his nose from running by sniffling heavily, which sounded somewhere between awful and revolting. Cordes commented on it multiple times with disgust, but nothing could be done. Llewellyn held his tongue, and Gerrit was reluctant in this case to offer the handkerchief without being asked. They found a place to camp about half an hour outside the small village of Tewks. Remembrance cleared out some brush to make a flat area for the bedrolls and then promptly decided she'd rather sleep in a tree with everything she owned. She found a good, solid oak a few yards from the camp and ensconced herself in the crux of its branches. She had a good view of the road in either direction and volunteered to take the second watch in the middle of the night, which was her favorite time. Gerrit agreed to take the first watch as Cordes started to set up his tent. The priest refused to sleep on the ground and always took an extra fifteen minutes to erect a curious one-person canvas canopy. It wasn't even large enough to sit up inside, but whatever. The priest never asked anyone else to haul it along, so Gerrit wouldn't complain. These arrangements left him and Llewellyn alone together on one side of the fire, and he supposed that was preferable during the orb situation anyway. Llewellyn couldn't handle his own bedroll, help with the fire, or unpack any of their supplies. Gerrit realized he would probably have to help the elf eat, too. And... Well, when he noticed Llewellyn fidgeting uncomfortably, Gerrit took him out into a thicker copse to see to his other needs. They didn't talk about it... Llewellyn could hardly undo his own buttons, though, and it wasn't the first time Gerrit had taken over. By the time the fire was hot enough to cook over, Llewellyn had tucked himself up to sit on a tree stump, exuding an aura of furious self-reproach. Cordes took some jerky into his tiny tent with him - for some reason. Gerrit made up two bowls of pottage and sat himself on the ground at the roots of the stump. He put one bowl on the ground for himself and then held up the other. "Hungry?" "Not particularly," Llewellyn replied, voice blunted with congestion. He coughed. "But you're going to make me eat something, aren't you." "I'd prefer you do it willingly." Gerrit tapped the spoon on the side of the bowl. "Come on. It's hot. You'll feel better." Llewellyn growled in a manner more suited to orcs than elves. "I feel like an invalid." Gerrit sighed. "Well, if it makes you feel better, we can pretend you lost your arms in an owlbear attack very tragically." He could feel Llewellyn's fiery glare on him and smiled a little. "Look, we've all done stupid things while adventuring. I'm sure you remember when I tripped and knocked myself out on that knight's shield during the tournament." "I remember," replied the elf, begrudgingly. "Besides, you're sick on top of the whole orb thing. Maybe your detection spell wasn't sensitive enough. Maybe the thing's not even cursed! Maybe it's supposed to do this, and we just don't know why." "I have a hard time believing that. What possible purpose could this serve?"  Gerrit shrugged. "Don't ask me. Dad says my mother was a druid, but I haven't got a magical bone in my body." He tilted his head. "We could always try smashing it?" Llewellyn's rejection was forceful. "Do you want to explode?!" Gerrit chuckled. "Not really." Llewellyn sighed. Gerrit held out a spoonful of pottage. Feeding both Llewellyn and himself was a bit difficult, but Gerrit did well enough when he could alternate. It would be better if he could use both hands equally like Cordes, but he couldn't, and so he didn't. He just thought about it wistfully as he worked. Llewellyn ended up eating most of his bowl, then went back to sitting quietly and sniffling. Gerrit finished the rest and put the utensils aside to deal with later. And... Even though Llewellyn hadn't asked, he drew out his handkerchief again. "Hey," he began, trying not to sound awkward. "You wanna blow your nose?" No one else was paying attention and Llewellyn didn't need to inhale any more of that crap. The elf gave him a shitty side-eye. "Come on," said Gerrit. "Don't be like this." He patted the ground in front of him encouragingly as if Llewellyn was a recalcitrant cat. "I'm fine," said Llewellyn, and then betrayed himself with a quick breath. "Hah--" "Come on," Gerrit repeated, "before you make a mess." Llewellyn came down off the stump to sit in front of him, legs tucked underneath, and rested the orb on Gerrit's thigh to balance himself. His eyes were pinched with reluctance, but Gerrit could see that the elf's nostrils were already damp. "Hah- hh- hurry," Llewellyn gasped. Again, Gerrit reached out with the handkerchief, enfolding his companion's nose. He could feel Llewellyn's breath fluttering against his hand through the fabric and hear quite clearly how it kept catching on congestion.  "Hah-hngk- Hahgkttscht!" Llewellyn ducked forward with the force of it and Gerrit steadied him with a hand on his hip. "Ngkttsch! Hnggktxch!!" Gerrit bit his lip sharply to keep from saying anything, but his body was singing with arousal. Llewellyn hiccuped a short gasp and Gerrit pulled the handkerchief away to present a clean corner. The current spot had become soaked and silvery. "Bless," he managed after a moment, and he carefully readjusted the cloth. "Are you going to sneeze again?" Llewellyn nodded, eyes teary with the effort of the first bunch. Gerrit wasn't surprised; the elf had been holding back since they left the dungeon. He couldn't imagine it had been comfortable, but Llewellyn had his pride. He never would let Gerrit give him love bites either. Annnd Gerrit was going to have to stop thinking about that. "Haptsch!" Easier said than done. Really. But Llewellyn's comfort came first. "Hahkptsch!" The sorcerer groaned softly. "Hah- hh- Hgnaptscxhx!"  Gerrit did his best to assist Llewellyn through the fit. He kept the handkerchief secure, moving it when necessary to keep it dry enough. He steadied the elf when the sneezes bent his body or when he felt faint from lack of breath. He even massaged Llewellyn's nose for him when he was trying to blow it and the congestion was stubbornly refusing to move. By the time he felt finished enough to lean back, Llewellyn was flushed and light-headed, swaying where he sat. Gerrit was sweating and needed a towel. "........Thanks," murmured Lleyellyn, eventually. "Yeah," said Gerrit. "Sure." He swallowed. "Let's wash up." He helped Llewellyn to his feet and they went a little way to a creek (generously; it was little more than a ditch through the woods). Gerrit gently washed Llewellyn's face, careful of his tender eyes and nose, and sent him back to camp to lay down for the night. He lingered at the water's edge to wash the handkerchief and, well, to take other matters in hand. Llewellyn was completely out when he returned, and Gerrit was grateful. He smoothed the elf's bangs back and then settled beside the fire to take watch. The woods in the dark were full of the sounds of insects and small animals moving in the undergrowth. And Llewellyn snoring and sniffling in his sleep. Safe sounds. Gerrit rested his chin on his hand and looked toward the road. Damn orb. It was going to be a long way to Veigh.

#lyk writes #snz #llewellyn mistwalker #gerrit truestride #gerwellyn

[voidsaber]

swanto - downfall (nightclub)??? ;👀👀👀

ALRIGHT SO. (i’m grinning just thinking about this stupid au). This all started like nearly 2 years ago when my coworker invited me to go to a club with them. I’d never been to a club before (not my scene and with experience still isn’t). So I go home at a reasonable morning hour but I can’t get to sleep cause on the way back my brain is full of Eli/Cygni brainrot with the silliest idea that basically. what if Eli was undercover in a nightclub (because fanfic plot reasons). And Cygni was there. and then they flirt and hook up. and that was meant to be it. that was the plot. i just wanted random cute one-shot swantos.

and then my brain made angst happen by giving thrawn a bigger role and slapping in some one-sided thranto. so then the fic kept going and we have thrawn meeting eli in the hotel the next morning and being Concerned but also jealous and hurt. and so thrawn confesses he’s got feelings for Eli but eli basically has none of it cause he’s kinda fed up with the manipulation schtick. in this au Pryce and Thrawn never meet and thus never help one another and so eli is stuck as an ensign and we get a lot of thranto angst and possibly some very vindictive space cowboy. it was initally titled “nightclub au” for ages before I gave it the temp. name of “downfall”. I have a playlist for this au also. i just checked and there are 18k words i don’t remember writing all of :’) it’s really fun writing eli/cygni interactions with cygni being a lil snarky and eli getting riled up but also getting snarky right back at him. and also being soft n cute. and also thrawn just pining really hard. and also eli’s frustration at a stagnated career path.

uhhh select snippets under the cut?

- - -

Cygni shrugged. "Spice, Dust, people... not my modus operandi."

"And I'm to believe you?"

"I told you - I'm in no position to lie. Besides, why would I? Is it that difficult to believe I'm not keen on those who profit off of the stuff? I've seen what it does to people. And I'm just me tonight."

"Just 'you'?" A flat statement more than a question. He didn't understand Cygni's words.

"Yes." The damn smirk was equal parts infuriating and attractive and infuriatingly attractive. Clearly there was a punchline he wasn't getting. Whatever. Eli pushed it aside, not caring for games. He cleared his throat.

"So," Eli ventured. "Whatever you're doing, it's not some kind of play. Or trap."

"Of course not. How would I even know you were to be here tonight?" Cygni smiled wryly. "You think if I knew I would show up, considering our previous encounter?"

"No. I don't think you'd be that bold. Or that stupid."

Cygni snorted from across the table. "Well, I'm glad you think so, at least. I'd say we're getting along just fine, wouldn't you?"

-

(at the hotel)

He watched as Cygni shuffled backwards to sit cross-legged on the wide bed. He followed suit and made himself comfortable facing him. The way he leant back and propped himself on his hands was very appealing. Eli let his gaze wander, down along the scrunched creases of his shirt at the shoulder, his arms, a little more muscular than he'd first thought, pale scars catching on his dark skin that gave Eli a twinge of cold uneasy recognition, of remembrance, and to those solid hands that had felt so good on his scalp. He dropped lower down to the drape of his shirt - really if he'd wanted to blend in at the venue he could have worn something a little more... exciting - past the strained fabric of his trousers, nicely fitting, quite tight, actually, and a strange blue-green colour that Eli wasn't sure blended well whatsoever with the pale shirt or dark skin but really he was just focussed on the want for their absence; and then with rising heat down elsewhere, to Cygni's feet. Eli suddenly felt very strange for wearing his shoes whilst on the bed. He gulped, getting back to the matter at hand - that being the growing desire inside of him for the man before him. He raked his eyes back up to Cygni's wry grin, though not entirely free of tension.

He must've had a strange expression on his face because Cygni spoke up in a jovial tone. "Not going to try and weasel some information out of me are you, Vanto?"

Eli huffed quietly, tension lifting. "As if you'd fall for that. And it's Eli," he said, and leant forward to kiss him again. "You can call me Eli."

-

(thrawn confronting eli the morning after. which is very rude of him)

"You are well aware it is against protocol--"

"I know, sir," Eli muttered, pained.

"--and more so it was unwise. There is conduct to follow, Ensign."

Eli flinched. He knew better than to try answering that.

"However, I do not expect any individual to solely rid themselves of any desires they have. As you said, the path of duty can oft impede or interrupt chances at proper rest or indeed.. indulgence. What I wish to understand is that it seems there are those on the Thunder Wasp who would respond positively from such an advance from yourself, and despite regulations I see no reason why you could not engage in sexual activity with those you wish to, whoever they may be,//such colleagues albeit within appropriate timeframes, provided it does not impact your work. Yet you have chosen to ignore this in favour of a different party. I do, of course, notice these things."

Gods what the fucking weirdest thing Thrawn was saying.

"Oh yeah," Eli replied sarcastically, unable to help it now. "I'm sure the Empire’s finest are dying to get a shot at screwing a Wild Space hick who barely made the cut at the Royal Academy and is getting such special treatment – all for being bilingual. Care to name a few?”

"I myself, am one such example."

"What."

-

(after thrawn and eli’s fallout)

Oh right - Thrawn was talking to him. Of course he was. And didn't seem to care that Eli wasn't listening. It's not like he wouldn't notice. He just expected Eli to pay attention to him. Like usual, he expected Eli to give him every waking moment. No time to think for himself, about himself, lest it lead to foolishness.

"Sir?" Eli said bitterly. All of this clamouring in his head was driving him mad. He felt sick. He couldn't remember half of what he'd been driving round and round in his skull, and from the rest of it he couldn't tell if it was his own spiteful hyperbole or if it was truthful. He didn't know which was worse.

A small flicker of something crossed Thrawn's impeccable features. Eli didn't know and didn't care what. He supposed he should. He paid attention. "I was suggesting, Ensign, that you be taken as ill. I have noticed your demeanour becoming--" he paused. muttered something, or maybe just mouthed it. Eli was frowning at him, hardly trying to stop himself, and could see the word was Sy Bisti. Still on translation duty after all these years. Only useful because it wasn't worth the hour programming a droid. Eli's existence could be quantified in a measly number of credits in that regard. And yet he hadn't even bothered to say the word, to ask Eli for that translation. Was he trying to be nice, or polite? What a first. Or maybe he wasn't even worth that anymore.

-

tldr: what if... we hooked up in a nightclub while i was undercover on a mission... and the encounter really gets to some hidden emotional part of me for reasons unknown... and then it turned out my commanding officer has been madly in love with me the whole time but my head’s too busy with whatever spell you put on me when we had sex that one time to even look his way... haha jk.... unless..?

#confuzing #swanto #thranto #listen.... nightclub au is good.... i just need to write it #thank u for asking about it... #i need to express my feelings for this ship somehow #mine #voidfic

[canumoveurseatup-no]

Oh Lord

summary: cast the devil away.

pairing: angel!steve x black!demon!reader

wc: 1.4k (something slight)

warnings: demon shit, smutty shit, rough shit

a/n: inspired by ‘oh lord’ by in this moment. please comment and reblog :)

—————

“I can smell it on you, halo boy,”

He didn’t want to work with you. An angel and a demon in kahoots just to stop a bigger force... and of course he had to be paired with you, a mortal meat suit, in which his body was in love with in a past life.

“Your mortal’s cock still pulses for me,” you swirled the rim of your wine glass before setting it on the table.

“What’s his name? Steve right?”

He hated talking to you, he hated how sinfully sultry your voice was. He hated it all, but he couldn’t help but pray to the Lord in his head to fight mortal needs.

Oh Lord won't you save me. Save me from myself. Oh Lord won't you forgive me, for I have lost control.

“All I have to do is touch the body and it bends at my will,” you go to touch him until he scoots away, looking entirely too terrified.

“Don’t do that. I will not be damned because of your sinful spells!,”

“Oh but don’t you miss me, Stevie?,”

He whimpered at the nickname. The mortal body reacting faster than the angel within could intervene.

“I need a new one! This one is broken,” speaking of his current body.

“Oh poor halo boy. It’s not broken... it just wants me. C’mon give in, get yourself some sinfully sweet pussy, just look at it,” with a simple snap of your fingers you’re naked and your legs are spread wide.

“My mortal body is craving for you.. might as well do something about it,”

Oh Lord won't you tell me, am I the righteous or the damned? Oh Lord won't you please hear me, do I obey or do I command?

Steve was praying but heard nothing from his superior. Holy Spirit guidance is supposed to be stronger than mortal wants but he was in the presence of you, a powerful demon that had a way with words.

“I can not betray my father in such a way. I would lose my wings and it would take 5 forevers to earn them back,”

“But once you get a little taste it will be so worth it,”

Steve hates how feeble these bodies were. He found himself on his knees like he was about to pray but no, his human body was about to worship yours.

Your fingers thread through his hair and smile at him, dark red lips framing your beautiful smile.

“Exorcise the demon, cast the devil away,”

————

Oh Lord can't you save me from my twisted little mind. Oh Lord won't you please show me how to turn the water to wine. Oh Lord won't you show me, am I the sinner or the saint. Oh Lord won't you please tell me was all my suffering in vain.

You lit a candle with a match. Steve felt his human body’s cock twitch when you put the match out by wrapping your lips around the flame.

The once water filled glass was turned to wine and you drank it down with ease before getting down on your knees in front of him.

“You’re gonna enjoy this,” your eyes flashed a venomous black and his back arched as he felt his cock become heavy. He couldn’t describe the feeling but it felt like all of the nerves in his cock were being electrocuted in the best way possible. His thighs clenched and he grunted loudly. Praying for forgiveness as he fell subject to the needs of the mundane.

Oh God have mercy on me. Oh God have mercy on me. Hold me down under holy water. I fear I been laying with the devil, I been laying with the devil, I been laying with the devil, I been laying with the devil

You didn’t even have to touch him to make him feel good and that’s what made his stomach stir.

“Jeez, Y/N,” the name fell off his tongue as if he’s been saying it forever. It was familiar, wanton and needed. He blamed it on the mortal mind and its need for affection and remembrance.

“Gonna blow already, halo boy?,” you licked the head of his cock and he hissed. It made his heart skip a beat but he couldn’t stop. This was too good. Maybe he understood why so many mortals sinned. He couldn’t stop it. It sure didn’t help when you swallowed the cock whole and purposely choked on it, making him place a hand on the back of your head and fuck himself into your mouth.

He felt disgusting... and it was exhilarating.

You pulled back, feeling him close already, “Not yet,”

You climb on his lap and place your lips on his pulse, leaving a dark brown lip print from your lipstick.

Oh Lord please forgive me for what I'm about to do. Oh Lord won't you believe me I burn in hell for you

Steve still prayed every single time your walls wrapped around him. He felt the muscles in his back ache, his wings trying to be the better judgement, trying to get him to stop now while he’s ahead but he just couldn’t. He was a weak angel or maybe you... were just too strong for him to be around. He was a good angel... it was your evil spirit, tainting his holy one and fuck, he should hate it.

Your head is thrown back with a moan when you begin swirling your hips in circles up and down on him.

“No wonder my mortal’s body is so needy for this cock. It’s too good,” your finger wrap around his throat as you ride him harder, ready to feel absolute pleasure course through your veins.

“Oh Lord won't you teach me, teach me how to see,” you whine, feeling some of Steve’s holier than thou essence flow through you, knowing he’s feeling some of your greater evil flow through him, “Oh Lord tell me you love me, am I Lillith or am I Eve?”

Steve knew those words were meant for him. You were like Eve and Lilith built into one and that’s what created the internal conflict.

He wrapped his hand around your throat all the same, giving into the mortal instinct and thrusting up into you, chasing what he was trying to deprive the body of.

“Just like that, Steve. Give into sin, fuck me just like that. Don’t you like the way my pussy feels?,”

He should hate the vulgar words dancing on your tongue but he can’t help but be hypnotized by it.

“Love it so much, cum around my cock. Show me a demon like you can be a good girl and listen,”

He growled as you gripped his throat harder, riding him harder to cum for him. Your moans filled the hotel room as you felt sweat bead on your forehead.

“Gonna cum, Stevie,”

He about made your human body pass out with the strength of his hold on your throat, but your body loved it. It loved the way stars danced on the edges of its vision.

You both saw the past lives of your human bodies as you orgasmed. Seeing all the dates they had together, seeing all the plans they had, the love they made.

It sent chills through both of you that it felt all too familiar as the words filled the air from the both of you.

“I love you,”

————

“Oh God have mercy on me,” he pleaded, “Oh God have mercy on me. Hold me down under holy water. I fear I been laying with the devil, save my soul,”

The initial task was done and you two went both of your ways, Steve dreaded leaving you to go back. But he knew he had to while you got to roam Earth at your own will and probably sleep with whoever you want, it made his blood boil at the temperatures of the hottest flames in hell.

“You can not pray for mercy for something at this magnitude, my child. You must pay for your sins and maybe you will have learned,”

Steve was on his knees as his wings were ripped from his back and he let out a scream, all the angels heard it, all the demons heard it. You heard it.

“You will live amongst the feeble until you’ve learned from your mishaps,”

Before Steve can continue to beg, the ground beneath him opened up and he fell to Earth. His first instinct should be to go to a church and repent, repent, repent.

But no.

His first thought was to find you.

Hold me down under holy water. I fear I been laying with the devil.

——————

Just a little something slight.

PLEASE COMMENT AND REBLOG!!

tags- @blackreaders-assemble @mbaku-babygirl @retroxvailles @yournonlocalpoc @dumbchick @warmchick @valkyriesnymph @valynsia @veryhellshdia @disaster-rose @here-for-your-bullshit @valentinevirgo @spideys-wife @xye-weirdo @hisxblackxqueen @chonisberonica @crawlingnightmares @kamahriii @vozit @alyssaj23

#black!reader #avengers x reader #mcu imagines #mcu x reader #black mcu imagines #marvel imagine #marvel one shot #marvel x reader #poc!reader #poc reader #mcu au #marvel au #steve rogers au #steve rogers smut #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers one shot #steve rogers blurb #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x black!reader

[justjessame]

Dr. Tali Sullivan

The first time I met the Winchesters, I was far too young for them to make an impression. I was around two years old, and if I struggled and pressed my memory that far back, I could ALMOST make out the couple’s only son, Dean, keeping me occupied with my set of wooden blocks. Almost.

The second time I met the Winchesters, I was four. This time I do remember, because my dad was helping John, the father cope with his overwhelming grief at losing his wife. I heard the words I would be destined to hear over and over from the entirety of my life. ‘Demon’, ‘vengeance’, and of course ‘hunter’.

My mom and dad both came from prestigious hunting families. And I’m not talking about big game or seasonal hunters. No, Mom and Dad were hunters of a completely different sort. They hunted all the terrors that regular people would think were tall tales or ghost stories. I was their only child, and while they expected me to learn to defend myself against the forces of evil, they didn’t press me to take up their cause. Since their families were so important, I had plenty of aunts and uncles that could take up any slack my leaving the ‘family business’ could possibly cause. Then there were the latecomers to the cause, men like John Winchester who lost a loved one to the terrors and vowed to end them.

And so, after a few more visits from the Winchesters- when I was seven, Dean had teased me for being so boring with my nose in a book the entire time. At twelve, when Sam kept asking me to borrow one book or another, vowing to adhere to all my rules about their care. At sixteen, when John blinked at me wondering out loud how could I possibly have gotten so big. Memories of the three Winchesters were scarce, but memorable.

Now here I was, twenty nine and had finally achieved my goal. Dr. Tali Sullivan, Professor of Lore and the Occult, with a side of Ancient Dialects and Historical Significance. I was shocked, when in the second week of my second year of teaching, I looked up and saw the eldest Winchester man looking down from a top row seat. I nearly lost my place in the lecture. Nearly, but not quite. I swallowed my reaction and went back to explaining how, even within various different cultures and countries, the myths shared and circulated, all seemed to have a single thread back to one story. And that one story, branching out and circling the globe, would mean what?

“Your assignment, which is laid out in your syllabus, is to explain how that one thread untangling and branching out, would do what?” I smiled at the faces that proved they’d all been listening, almost hearing the gears churning in their heads. “Impress me, prove you’ve done not only the reading, but the deductive reasoning. Now go enjoy the long weekend!” I dismissed the class and walked to the desk provided beside my lectern. I was shuffling my notes and speaking to a few students when John approached.

“Wow, Tali,” he breathed, looking me over in my comfy and casual clothes. Skinny jeans, dark band t-shirt, and a loose button down with a pair of knee high boots. My dark red hair piled up on my head in a loose knot, with my much needed glasses covering my strangely light green eyes.

Since he was openly assessing my appearance, I felt free to do the same. John was aging like a fine wine. Salt and pepper hair, rugged scruff hiding a jaw that I knew from the years was this side of chiseled. His hazel eyes crinkling at the corners with amusement, that damn dimple deep in his cheek. And flannel covered henley paired with well worn jeans and a pair of lived in boots. Damn, when did John become so fucking sexy?

“John,” I answered, leaning back in my desk chair. “What brings you around for a visit?” I was smiling, but I had to wonder.

He leaned his hip on the side of my desk. “I’m having some issues with a case, it’s not far away, and I called your dad. He mentioned you wrote your thesis on what I think I’m after-”

“I wrote my thesis on the Barghest,” I said, staring at him. “What would be hard to understand about a huge ass dog who eats people in the dark?” I was testing him, of course, making sure he was certain that was what his case entailed.

“I think we both know there’s more to them than that.” He sighed and ran his left hand through his hair. His wedding ring flashed in the overhead light and I lost the rush of lust had felt when I first saw him. “This thing, it’s searching out a particular type of victim, and it’s attacking-”

“Acts as an death omen first, marking the victim, daring it’s victim to come out and play, and when they do.” I made a chewing motion with my mouth. “The fun things left out of Harry Potter.” I sighed, and closed my eyes, blocking John from my sight. “What do you need to know? Or better yet, what did Dad say I could offer?”

I heard him chuckle. “For one, is there a way to stop it, without being given the omen of death?” I nodded, and he went on. “What is it? And your dad said you are a font of information on all kinds of rare shit, darlin’.”

I rolled my closed eyes. “You stop it by hunting it without actually crossing its path.” I heard him writing my words down, so apparently he had a journal with him. Good student. “Don’t cross its path by getting behind it, of course. Killing it? That’s a little more difficult. Here’s the ingredients, and how to put it together, don’t fuck it up, John. I’d hate for the boys to end up without you.” I rattled off the weapon and the ingredients that it had to be soaked in, the order, the time frame. “So take that, get behind it, and aim for the back of the neck. Not the heart, not the head, the back of the neck.” I opened my eyes to him watching me. “What?”

He shook his head, but when he spoke his voice was deeper and huskier. If I didn’t know any better- “Nothin’.” He put the tattered journal in a pocket of his jacket that I hadn’t noticed before, that was laying on the top of my desk. “What do I owe you for the information, Tali?” I smiled. “Free of charge. It’s something I can give even if I turned my back on the ‘family business’.” I leaned forward to finish packing my notes away in my leather messenger back. “Be safe, John.” I was dismissing him, just like I did my students.

“Let me take you out to dinner.” His offer startled me. “Least I could do, and I do have to soak the weapon at least overnight.” He stood silent, waiting for my answer.

And a stalemate ensued. I contemplated all the reasons I could give to not accept. How could I explain that dinner would be a terrible idea, since apparently he was sex on a stick and still hooked on his dead wife, or remarried for all I knew? “I think that’s a bad idea.” I said instead, the pregnant pause finally killing me. “Papers to grade.” Netflix to watch, food to nuke I included silently.

“Thought you said there’s a long weekend?” He replied, raising his eyebrow in challenge.

Well, fuck, Tali. He actually paid attention to the end of class. Shit. “Yeah, it is, but I have other classes, other papers. Can’t get behind, you know.”

He chuckled. “Still gotta eat, right?” I shrugged. “So eat with me. I promise to get you home as quickly as possible.” He put his left hand over his heart in pledge, and that ring flashed again.

I swallowed. It was dinner. Nothing more. And I was a grown ass woman, with a fucking PhD after all. It wasn’t like he was flirting. He just wanted to have company for dinner. “Sure.” I answered, pushing the last of my notes in my bag. I scribbled my cell number on a Post-It note and handed it to him. “Call me when you’ve gotten the weapon ready for its marinade, I’ll give you my address then.” I stood and yanked my bag across my body. “See you later, John.” I tossed my parting over my shoulder, hoping I wouldn’t regret agreeing.

 HOURS LATER~ COMING HOME FROM DINNER

We were both laughing. I had told John about a really strange spell a witch had cast on my parents when I was a teenager, and while mortified at the time, found it funnier later on.

“So I walk into my house after school, and there they are, tearing their clothes off on our dining room table.” I closed my eyes and tried to calm my giggles to finish. “Like fucking teenagers, horny, gross parent aged teenagers.” His laughter was contagious. “I couldn’t eat in the dining room until I came back last Thanksgiving.” I gave a dramatic shudder.

John was walking me to the door of my house, and his chuckles were more free than they’d been when we first saw one another in my class. His hand rested on the small of my back, like a gentleman seeing a lady home. “God, I’m gonna have to riff him about that the next time I see him.” We reached my door and I pulled my keys free from my pocket. “Guess I should-”

I shook my head as I opened the door. “By my estimation that blade needs another twelve hours to soak.” I said, squinting in remembrance of the instruction I gave him. “Come in and have a cup of something-” He chuckled again, “I don’t drink coffee, but I have some instant, just in case.” I shrugged, and he nodded his agreement.

Over the threshold, I moved further into the house, listening as John shut and locked my door. I made my way to the kitchen, yelling back for him to make himself at home. I tossed my jacket and keys on the counter in the kitchen and made peace with John checking over the house. He’s a hunter, so I knew he was looking around with curiosity. He’d be checking entrances, exits, and probably just looking around to see what kind of research material I had on hand. I made a cup of instant coffee, heating the water in the microwave as I grabbed a glass and filled it with ice for a glass of soda.

When I walked out to the living room, John was sitting on the sofa. He’d tossed his jacket onto the wingback chair, and he looked comfortable. It was almost unnerving how comfortable he looked in my space. “I hope I made this right,” I offered him the coffee cup and sat down with my feet tucked under me on the other side of the sofa. Taking a sip of my soda, I sat it down on the coffee table and sat back. “Why aren’t Dean and Sam with you?” I asked, burning with interest since I saw him all alone in my classroom, but waiting until we were in a more private setting than the college or dinner afforded.

John took an appreciative sip of his own drink. “Not bad, Tali.” He mirrored my move and sat his own cup on the table in front of us and looked over at me. “Dean’s on his own hunt, with Bobby. Sam, well Sam’s away at Stanford.” I raised an eyebrow, surprised not by Sam’s aspirations, but because John entertained them. “It wasn’t pretty when he asked to go, not by a long shot, but I guess seeing you, here, outside of the business makes it more understandable.”

I nodded and asked the next obvious question. “What’s he studying?” I sank into the cushions of my sofa and studied him as he answered.

“Law,” he chuckled. “Might come in handy, especially where Dean’s concerned.”

I gave my own muffled laugh. “Guessing Dean hasn’t gotten his crap together yet?” I reached for my soda and felt John’s eyes on my every movement. Taking another sip, I chose to keep the glass in my hands. “I got lucky, I guess. Studying lore and history, that made it simple to move on from the family business, but still be able to help.” I sighed, and leaned back. “Keeps me from feeling too guilty for taking my parents up on the offer to choose myself over the greater good.”

John’s gaze hadn’t left me. “You shouldn’t feel guilty at all. Even if you’d chosen some other path.” He offered his own sigh and reached for his coffee cup. “The longer I do this, the more I realize that I’ve been an asshole for making the boys follow me.”

I scoffed. “Dean idolizes you, John. He has since the first time I can remember your visits fully.” I thought back to the golden haired boy and how his green eyes were always watching his Dad, mimicking his posture, his gestures. “In fact, I bet I could tell you what he’s wearing just by what you are.”

John raised an eyebrow. “Paid a lot of attention to my boy, did you?” I bit my lip and laughed at his expression.

“We’re the same age,” I shrugged. “Since you and Mom and Dad insisted that we socialize, it was hard NOT to pay attention to Dean.” I thought back to Dean’s not so subtle attempt, when I was sixteen, to try to get in my panties. “He was a bit much, if you know what I mean?”

It was his turn to laugh. “That’s Dean, alright.” He glanced over at me as he took another drink of coffee. “So did you two-”

I nearly spit out the drink I had just taken of my soda. Coughing, and trying to swallow around the shock of that implied thought, I took a moment to calm my shock. “NO.” I answered, loud enough that he knew how wrong the very idea of Dean and me was. “We didn’t have ANYTHING, John.”

His laughter shook my end of the sofa. I glared over at him, daring him to make me choke on the sip I was taking. “Sorry, honey, it’s just your face when I asked. It’s one of the few times I’ve seen a girl your age act like Dean was the plague.”

Girl my age? I snorted, having swallowed my drink. “Girl?” I raised an eyebrow at the older man. “I’m nearly thirty. Then again, a man YOUR age, isn’t that when the memory goes?”

It was his turn to choke on his drink. He sputtered and I giggled, watching him glare at me. “You insinuating that I’m old, little girl?” The tone he was using was dangerously low, but instead of frightening me, I felt a twist of lust building.

I shrugged. “You’re insisting I’m a little girl, aren’t you?” I smirked at him as he put his cup carefully on the coffee table.

“I might have to prove just how good my memory is,” he took my glass from me and sat it carefully down too. “Like,” he moved closer so I could feel the heat from his body. “The last time I saw you, you’d just turned sixteen. You came down the stairs wearing that little sundress with cherry blossoms all over it.” He leaned in, his nose sliding along my jaw. “And your perfume smelled like vanilla and cherry mixed together.” I felt his lips ghosting over my neck, not touching, not yet. “I remember that scent, because you hugged me and told me how happy you were to see me again. Not Dean, not Sam, but me.” His lips brushed against my pulse. “I knew at that moment, you’d be the ruin of me, Tali.”

I turned, and his lips found mine. I moaned into his kiss, feeling like I was on fire. His hands gripped my hips and pulled me from my seat and over onto his lap. Straddling him, I let my fingers slide through his hair. The stubble on his face was gloriously rough and burning against my skin. One of his hands gripped my waist the other pressed into my back, pressing me tight against his chest. My hips rocked against him, feeling his arousal grow.

Breaking the kiss, our faces inches apart, breath mingling, I could see how dark his eyes were. His chuckle rocked through me, and I smiled. “My ruin,” he muttered, standing up with me locked in his arms. Before I could point in the direction of my bedroom, he’d pressed me against the nearest bare wall. My legs wrapped around his hips as his lips found my neck. His body was hard against mine, and I moaned as he nipped the curve where my neck met my shoulder. “Fuck, Tali, we’re not even naked and I swear you feel like fire.” I rocked into his hardness and he groaned.

“It’s not that I,” I had to stop when he sucked at my pulsepoint to gather my wits to continue my thought. “Not that I don’t love how this feels.” Another roll of my hips and he growled into my skin again. “But my bed is right there.” I tilted my head toward the hallway next to us. I felt the curve of his lips against my flushed skin.

“I’ve held back for so fuckin’ long, baby girl,” his mouth was hot against the skin he could taste. His hips thrust into my covered need. “If you insist on a bed, though,” he sighed, “then my princess gets what she wants.” He carried me down the hallway and through the open door of my bedroom.

My fingers reached out and flicked on the lightswitch that controlled my side table lamps. Soft light filled the room as John’s mouth claimed mine again. I felt him lower me to my feet, but then it was a rush of clothes falling, mouths, tongues, and teeth tasting and kissing exposed skin. Fingers brushing against skin, mine teasing the muscles roped through his body, his the softness of my curves.

My eyes drunk him in as he lowered me onto my bed. He was gorgeous, sexy and being far more sensual than the wall fuck he’d been going for earlier. As his lips met my breast, I gasped and arched upward toward his mouth. His tongue flicked against my nipple and my fingers gripped his head. “You taste so fucking good, darlin’.” His breath fanned against my skin, and I felt a tightening in my stomach. “God, there’s so much I want with you. So much I want to do-”

I pulled his hair, drawing him up so he was hovering over me, face to face. “Kiss me, John.” And he did as my legs wrapped around his hips and forced him to lower further into me. “I can’t wait. Don’t make me wait,” I pleaded, and he took the demand in stride. He nodded, his forehead against mine. “Later, then,” he promised, himself and me. Then his hips lurched against me, our bodies joining FINALLY as though I were made for him. “Oh, Tali,” he moaned as I rolled my hips against him. “That feels-” And then words stopped, everything stopped except for him and me. Our bodies took over. Clutching one another, as though there shouldn’t even be air between us. His thrusts, my rocking hips, sweat and moans. Everything crashing over us all at once. Not overwhelming, not splintering our focus, just keeping us going and going.

It could have been seconds, minutes, or even hours, but we both felt the climb begin. The feeling that started when he whispered his memory of me, the feeling of our lips touching for the first time, the feeling of everything coming together exactly how it was supposed to. And then fire and stars and explosions. I’d always thought that was ridiculous writers imagining what sex and love were, but then I had it. And all I could think, as we held each other in the aftermath was how much I wanted it over and over.

We had the entire night, and John and I made sure we took advantage of the hours. We tasted one another, dipping back to foreplay once we’d recovered from our first round, then more and more and more. We finally fell exhausted in a tangle of limbs and kisses mere hours before dawn.

I didn’t expect him to be beside me when I woke. He had a job to do, after all, but I was surprised by the note. The promise of his return after the hunt. And when he followed through I nearly exploded by the mere sight of him at the front door. We had the entire weekend. Two full days, and three explosive nights before he had to go. This time I saw him off, kissed him goodbye and had another promise from him. That he’d be back. He had to, he swore, because having the nights we’d stolen weren’t enough. For him or for me.

 Months passed. He’d text or call. And then nothing. No texts, no calls. His voicemail, when I bothered to call, advised to contact Dean if there was a problem. I didn’t worry. I understood how hunters lived. I knew that they lived hard and on the go. I knew that he’d come back, call again, text again when he could.

I was in my classroom giving another lecture when I looked up and saw Dean sitting with Sam in almost the exact same place their father had sat. My heart clenched. They wouldn’t be here, Sam wouldn’t be here if it were good news. I managed, through sheer force of will and the fact that my lectures were practically memorized by now, to finish the class. I barely noticed the other students file out, I had eyes only on the two Winchesters.

“Tali,” Sam greeted me, smiling the same awkward smile I remembered from our youth. “You look right at home at that lectern.” Dean's eyes were burning into me. “Have you heard from Dad?” That was Dean, not an ounce of tact in his entire body.

“Not for a couple of months,” I answered, smiling and moving back to my desk. Feelings of deja vu washed over me as I pulled my notes into a tidy pile. “Why? What’s wrong?”

Sam sighed, running a hand through his hair, so reminiscent of his dad. “He’s missing in action, Tal.” He looked down at me. “We found the last hotel room he was staying in and you were mentioned in his journal.”

Ah, yeah, the work I helped him with. “Yeah, he came to me about a Barghest. I helped him with the right weapon and the right place to shove it in to kill it.” Shrugging, hoping that was all that John put in his journal, I glanced at Dean.

“He mentioned that, and also,” he pulled the battered journal I’d watched John tuck into his jacket in this very room. I saw a sticky note with my phone number on it in my writing. “Her eyes are still so light that they look straight through me, and those lips-”

I stopped them with a raised hand and felt my face blush. “Yeah, about that.” I swallowed hard and looked up to two far too interested Winchesters. “Look, John and I, we had a-” World changing connection that I hoped would turn into something, but he’s a hunter and I’m a professor. We settled for a weekend of passion and love, and now he’s gone? Yeah, try harder. “We made the most of a long weekend.” That damn blush was so hot I felt like I was on fire. “I haven’t heard from him in a month or so.”

Dean was looking at me like I’d grown fangs, or another head. “Our DAD?” He also looked a tad green around his gills. “You and Dad?” He tried to wrap his head around it, but shook it off. “And he stayed in touch?”

“Yeah, we’d text and call almost daily.” I said, putting my papers away, feeling my shame die out. What the hell? I loved John, there wasn’t anything wrong with that. “Unless he was in the middle of a hunt. That was the last text I got, actually.” I pulled my phone out of my pocket and opened up my messages. Clicking on John’s number I pulled it up. Handing it over to Sam, I finished gathering my stuff together.

Sam read the last message, respecting my privacy, but Dean took a turn and I saw a swipe. “Hey!” I admonished. “You never swipe another person’s phone,” I yanked it from his hand, and put it back in my pocket. “The last message was the only one you needed to see.”

Dean was licking his lips, fuck, I knew exacty which text he saw. “Well, we need to be thorough. Dad’s missing after all.”

I glared up at him. “Sure.” I brushed past them, and shook my head again. “Well, now what you’ve been THOROUGH, you know I don’t know where he is.” I waved a hand to show them I was finished with the conversation.

Of course they weren’t. I’d barely gotten comfortable at home when I heard the knock. Fuck. Opening the door, there they stood. “What now?” I asked, exasperated. “You saw what you saw. I don’t know anything else.”

Dean pushed past me into the house, Sam waited to be invited. Rolling my eyes I gestured for him to come in too. We stood awkwardly in my entryway. I waited for one of them to break the silence. Sam was the first.

“Look, Tali, we get that you don’t think you know anything, but you might.” He was trying to calm my irritation down. Irritation and worry. Worry that John was hurt or worse. “Can we sit?”

I nodded and walked them into my living room. I took the chair and they sat on the sofa. A sofa that months ago John and I had started on. Shaking the image away, I considered all the talks and texts we’d shared. Nothing strange or concerning came to mind. “I’m sorry, John and I, we were talking normal hunting research, when we discussed it.” I refused to blush again. “He mentioned only that he might be out of touch for a while, but not where he was going. And then when I felt that too much time had passed, I tried to call, but-”

“You were told to call me,” Dean finished. “Why didn’t you?” He sounded almost accusatory.

“Because,” I sighed. “I figured that maybe John started to regret it. Us. Me.” I looked up and saw that he was uncomfortable. “If there’s one thing I’m not, Dean, it’s a clingy ex.”

“You said you talked about normal hunting research,” Sam picked up the conversation. “Do you remember what cases?”

I nodded and went to the desk in the corner of the room. “I keep records of all of those types of things. I help a lot of hunters with the more obscure demons and do bads.” I grabbed my planner. Flipping back to the first day we’d met at the college, I handed it over to Sam. “It starts there,” I used my finger to point out the shorthand I used for John, “and if you flip through it, you’ll see when and where he called from, and what hunt he’d discussed.” I sat back down as they flipped through it. “Not every contact is in there, since not all of them were work related.”

Sam nodded, but Dean’s mood seemed to grow worse. “Do you have a calendar to keep track of those too?” He snarked. I glared at him and shook my head. “Isn’t that disappointing.”

I snorted at his demeanor. “It wouldn’t help you find him. They overlapped. Usually it was a call before he got the next case, and a call after to make sure I knew he was safe.” I raised an eyebrow to match the one he had, daring him to make another comment. “Can I keep this?” Sam asked, drawing my attention back to him. “Or copy it?”

“You can copy it, but I have to keep it. John isn’t the only hunter that I help with research. That’s the record I use to keep track of it.” He nodded. “If you follow me back to campus, I can get you one, or if you want me to, I guess I could scan it here and give you those copies?”

“Email it,” Sam offered, and I took the planner back and moved back to my desk to start. I hadn’t realized he’d followed me until I felt him sit in my chair. “Was he happy?” His voice was quiet, and I knew that Dean was still on the sofa.

“Yeah, he was.” I smiled, remembering how playful John had been when I’d said goodbye on my porch. “He was also coming to terms with your future, though it would seem that’s on hold now?”

He swallowed and I finally realized how tired he looked. “Something like that.” He glanced up at me and I saw such pain. “I just really need to find him, Tali. We both do.”

“I hope this helps then,” I said, as the last page scanned. “Here,” I unlocked my desktop and opened my email. “Just type in your email, and the pages are there,” I pointed at the icon. I turned back to see that Dean was still watching us, me. I sighed. Then I went back to the chair I’d taken when we got to the room. “What happened to him?” I asked, almost whispering, and gesturing with my head at Sam.

“The same thing that happened to Mom.” He barely moved his lips and I closed my eyes. “I don’t understand you and Dad, but we have to find him, Tali.”

I nodded. “You’ll have the pages, and I’ll make some calls.” I offered, knowing that the Winchesters would always be surrounded by pain and death. I just hoped that John wasn’t a fatality already. “I’ll let you know if I learn anything.”

Sam was back and they finally left after I assured them one more time that I’d try to learn something for them. My back was pressed to the closed front door as I listened to them walk down the steps. I felt the tears that I had been feeling build since I saw the two of them at the top of my classroom finally break free. Sobbing, I had to hope that John was alright, that he would be found. That he’d come back to me.

#john winchester x ofc #supernatural fanfiction #Smut

[f4liveblogarchives]

Fantastic Four Vol. 1 Annual 1979

Thu Sep 12 2019 [09:09 PM] Wack'd: That's right, 1979, even though it's 1980 [09:09 PM] Umbramatic: THE 80S [09:09 PM] Wack'd: Marvel Wiki kinda has to cram these things back into canon whenever there's a break in the action [09:10 PM] maxwellelvis: Which there wasn't really for any of 1979, it seems [09:10 PM] Wack'd: Yeah [09:10 PM] Umbramatic: i would make an 80s joke but that was before my time [09:10 PM] maxwellelvis: Was that the longest arc they've had so far? The space adventure [09:11 PM] Wack'd: I don't know why this couldn't have happened before that but whatever. The alternative is that I create my own timeline and the team is excruciating [09:11 PM] Wack'd: The space adventure was pretty hecking long, yeah [09:12 PM] Wack'd: So we open in media res, with a Sandman fight. Resolved by Sue force-fielding him and Johnny using his fire to freeze him into crystal [09:12 PM] Wack'd: Which I'm pretty sure should kill him but whatever [09:13 PM] Wack'd: He'll be fine [09:13 PM] Umbramatic: sandman: "this is fine" [09:13 PM] maxwellelvis: Really shows the differing level of threat Sandman provokes between Spider-Man and the Fantastic Four [09:14 PM] Wack'd: The president of the bank Sandman was robbing gives the Four a reward: [09:14 PM] Wack'd: A cat calendar [09:14 PM] Umbramatic: cats [09:15 PM] Wack'd: This is canon forever now

[09:15 PM] Umbramatic: AWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW [09:15 PM] maxwellelvis: It's priceless! Literally worthless! [09:15 PM] maxwellelvis: Oh, Ben likes it. I can't make fun of it anymore. [09:16 PM] Umbramatic: i love ben [09:16 PM] Wack'd: Also: Franklin wants to join the Four! Reed says maybe when he's older, as though that's a real thing that will someday really happens [09:16 PM] maxwellelvis: lmao [09:17 PM] Umbramatic: don't worry it'll happen once ash ketchum turns 11 [09:17 PM] Wack'd: Agatha has come up from Whisper Hill to invite the Four and Franklin to vacation with her to New Salem! I'm sure this can only go well [09:18 PM] maxwellelvis: We're only going on vacation to the haunted town we barely got out of last time with our skins, in a double-length issue. [09:18 PM] maxwellelvis: What could possibly go wrong? [09:19 PM] Wack'd: An interesting device that's been happening over the past four pages is that at the bottom of each page there's been a horizontal-one-panel cutaway to an occult ritual happening. [09:19 PM] Wack'd: I can't really screenshot that but it's really neat [09:20 PM] Umbramatic: oooooh [09:20 PM] Wack'd: Hahahhaahaa

[09:21 PM] Umbramatic: rip ben [09:21 PM] Umbramatic: he just wants to go to disney world [09:22 PM] Wack'd: So they land at the airport, rent a car, and drive to New Salem. But Ben has trouble finding it, naturally [09:23 PM] Wack'd: Oh look, I found Waldo

[09:23 PM] Umbramatic: but did you find his girlfriend carmen sandiego [09:25 PM] maxwellelvis: Dear lord, we've stumbled into a Renaissance faire! Everyone run! [09:25 PM] Wack'd: Some real good layouts here. George Pérez: great at his job

[09:25 PM] Wack'd: Also: Johnny nearly gets his soul sucked out [09:26 PM] Bocaj: It Happens [09:26 PM] maxwellelvis: Gordon and Susan from Sesame Street have joined Agatha's coven, apparently. [09:26 PM] Wack'd: Well, they're the baddies [09:26 PM] Wack'd: So that stinks [09:26 PM] maxwellelvis: Never trust people who hang out with puppets. [09:27 PM] maxwellelvis: Who know what all the people in your neighborhood do. [09:27 PM] Wack'd: Also if you notice from the two-page spread, apparently the only black people in town 😬 [09:28 PM] Umbramatic: oh [09:28 PM] Bocaj: Bad show, comic [09:29 PM] Wack'd: So the Ceremony of Renewal happens. And what is supposed to be a remembrance ceremony for people killed in the witch hunts and a way to re-energize all of the townsfolks gets hijacked by those guys from the blue panels, who steal all the magical energies to bring back...this dingus.

[09:30 PM] Wack'd: Of all of the things you could've possibly done with unlimited magic energy, really? This guy? [09:30 PM] Umbramatic: dingus [09:30 PM] Wack'd: Oh right the blue panel guys were his henchmen. His impossibly dumb-looking henchmen

[09:31 PM] Wack'd: Was the one third from the right always so...Marge Simpson? [09:31 PM] maxwellelvis: FEED ME EGGS, HOMER [09:32 PM] Bocaj: oh hey i recognize some of these dinguses from the scarlet witch vision miniseries [09:32 PM] Bocaj: When Vision dryhumped babies into Wanda [09:32 PM] maxwellelvis: Somebody brought them back again?! [09:32 PM] Bocaj: 'pparently [09:33 PM] Wack'd: Fight fight fight [09:34 PM] Wack'd: Marv Wolfman: A Man Who Knows A Lot About Gazelles

[09:37 PM] Wack'd: Reed, shattering or otherwise bypassing force fields is a fucking gimme power for your villains. You say you want to fight the Fantastic Four and you get "ignoring force fields" in your complimentary gift bag

[09:37 PM] Bocaj: Reed is dumb [09:38 PM] Wack'd: So the Four get their asses thoroughly kicked [09:39 PM] Wack'd: Normally this would be the part where we cut away, and they all wake up in a prison cell which they break out of, and the plot proceeds [09:39 PM] Wack'd: But this time is different [09:39 PM] Wack'd: And Marv Wolfman is not going to just ignore the fact that this small child has just seen his entire family get beat unconscious [09:40 PM] Wack'd:

[09:42 PM] Wack'd: Franklin uses the power of inconsolable sadness and fear [09:42 PM] Wack'd: It's...*sniff*...it's super-effective [09:43 PM] Bocaj: huh [09:43 PM] Wack'd: Seriously. I like this scene a lot [09:43 PM] Umbramatic: awwwwww [09:44 PM] Wack'd: I like that we're being forced to reckon with the danger Franklin is regularly in. And the fact that he's just a kid. And that for him to use powers he doesn't know he has--for him to be the deus ex machina we routinely mock--he has to be in a real dark place [09:44 PM] Wack'd: And I like Agatha acknowledging that this is hard for him and comforting him [09:46 PM] Wack'd: So uh. Meanwhile. The Salem Seven are conducting a ritual on the roof of the Baxter Building to destroy the Four and give Nick Scratch corporeal form [09:47 PM] Wack'd: This for some reason involves generating a massive force field, gradually pushing all the people of Manhattan back as it encompasses the city [09:48 PM] Wack'd: Spider-Man, the Avengers, and the Defenders all try to break through, but fail [09:49 PM] Wack'd: Only Agatha and Franklin can break through--after all, Agatha's more powerful than her son. (The comic takes this as a given, despite Franklin's existence. Maybe it's a magic thing) [09:49 PM] maxwellelvis: It's gotta be the combined power of the entire Salem Seven that's locked Dr. Strange and Silver Surfer out of the bubble. [09:50 PM] maxwellelvis: Fewer than that and either of them could have broken through no prob, assuming that's the Defenders line-up we're talking about [09:50 PM] maxwellelvis: the Dr. Strange, Silver Surfer, Hulk, and Namor team [09:50 PM] Wack'd: It's not. [09:50 PM] maxwellelvis: Oh [09:51 PM] Wack'd: There's whoever the fuck this is

[09:52 PM] maxwellelvis: I know that guy but I can't remember his name. [09:52 PM] maxwellelvis: Oh, it says right there, Nighthawk [09:52 PM] Wack'd: So forgettable I forgot his name moments after reading it [09:53 PM] Wack'd: Anyway, the Salem Seven's spells are easily deflected. So are the ghostly Nick's attempts to stop her with hail, fire, and lightning [09:53 PM] Bocaj: Nighthawk: strong as two strong guys at night. Owns a jetpack. Is Batman but Somehow Worse. [09:54 PM] Wack'd:

Nick: Why won't you die, blast you?! Agatha: Because I am your mother, Nicholas.

[09:54 PM] Bocaj: Hah [09:54 PM] Mousa The 14: Damn [09:55 PM] Mousa The 14: Someone call the cops, I’d like to report a familicide [09:55 PM] Umbramatic: ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh [09:55 PM] Mousa The 14: This woman completely obliterated her son [09:55 PM] maxwellelvis: Oh snap [09:55 PM] Mousa The 14: Yes he deserved it, just figured you’d all wanna know [09:55 PM] Wack'd: Agatha and Franklin make their way into the Baxter Building where a brainwashed Fantastic Four are waiting. [09:56 PM] Wack'd: Franklin 🥺

[09:57 PM] Mousa The 14: This is legitimately genuinely terrifying [09:57 PM] Mousa The 14: Like, jesus christ that's horrifying [09:57 PM] Umbramatic: y i p e [09:57 PM] Mousa The 14: Like this big friendly ol' teddy bear unle Ben Grimm crushing a child to death [09:57 PM] maxwellelvis: "Thank you, Nicholas Scratch, I feel much better now" [09:57 PM] Mousa The 14: has to be one of the most horryfing ideas in my mind right now [09:58 PM] Wack'd: Fortunately, Franklin manages to break their mind control with the power of love. Also being a god [09:58 PM] Umbramatic: Jesus Christ, how horrifying! [09:58 PM] Bocaj: Unleash your annihilation of love [09:59 PM] Wack'd: And Agatha sets right what has once gone wrong

[10:01 PM] Wack'd: And so the story ends with...Ben complaining there's no reward? I guess?

[10:02 PM] Wack'd: Probably should've ended on a more Franklin centered note [10:02 PM] Wack'd: But overall I like this one a lot [10:02 PM] maxwellelvis: Agatha erased the cat poster from his memory, I assume [10:02 PM] Mousa The 14: I can’t believe we let this woman fall into lost history, she should be in every F4 adaptation [10:03 PM] Wack'd: She's great, yeah

#1980 #Marv Wolfman #George Pérez #The Main Book

[the-eldritch-it-gay]

wait since we’re talking about people fucking up my name it’s time for the annual remembrance that my English professor freshmen year the entire semester swore my name was “Korean” or “Quran” and every time I mentioned how it’s pronounced he went off about “This is why you can’t trust [some minority group, sometimes one I’m not even part of], because they’ll say their name is pronounced [proper pronuciation] but then it’s spelled [exagerated misspelling of my name]”

Honestly, Ciarán isn’t such a hard name to pronounce, but people go off about how they can’t learn it all the time. But when the other name I go by is Salamatullah, they always end up just calling me a mispronunciation/misspelling of Ciarán. Ciarán’s hard because it’s not phonetically spelled in English? Well Salamatullah is much more phonetically spelled, but people are less likely to try with that one lmao.

I even give acceptable nicknames for people to use, Ciar, Cia, Salam, Salamat, but nah they still gotta go with butchering my full name or giving me their own name.

#Eldritch IT Speaks #apologies for any salt im v tired #also tbt the driver of the handicap van who said to me ''so ciarán is't a white name--'' #think she got fired #she hasn't been around the last month or so #not fired for what she said 2 me lmao I didn't file any complaint