#he can have neil i don't give a fuck about neil

[pinktinselmonstrosity]

WELL

#happy valley 😶 #HE'S OUT I CAN'T BELIEVE IT #please let catherine kill him please it's what he deserves it's what she deserves #i really hope he doesn't get to ryan or anne or catherine or clare #he can have neil i don't give a fuck about neil #AND can we talk about joanna's body.... cannot believe faisal just left her there?? unless he's *trying* to frame the prick husband #in which case it's working #oh my god #🧃

[spilledcoffeeonthefloor]

Andrew getting hurt midgame in an important match and needs to go to hospital

Neil wordlessly and immediately starts taking off his own gear to go with him

Kevin stops him

"what are you doing Neil why are you taking those off? you can't go with him, i care about him too but he'll be fine there. Abby and coach got him."

Neil doesn't answer, in fact, he acts like kevin doesn't even exist. he finishes taking off his gear and goes to grab his duffel

Kevin snatches Neil's duffel before he can grab it

"Neil, don't be stupid, what about exy?"

at this moment, Neil looks at kevin, gives a maniac laugh, and there, kevin sees pure urge to kill

Neil gives him his most murderous look, already angry at who ever jump at Andrew on the court

"Oh poor Kevin, FUCK EXY, FUCK YOU, AND FUCK WHOEVER OPENS THEIR FUCKING MOUTH NEXT. anything happens to Andrew and then you, this whole fucking court with every single fucking person in it is going to fucking burn down to fucking hell"

(Afterwards, Alison wins a bet as someone who insisted Neil cares about Andrew more than exy)

when Andrew was conscious enough Nicky told him what happened 5 times over and over("have u ever heard Neil say fuck exy?? it was awsome. i wish i had it recorder, u could set it as ur ringtone")

#Andrew had different feelings about what happened but i can't write it cause i can't get in Andrew's mind #also kevin cares about Andrew too much but i just like protective Neil #aftg #andrew minyard #neil josten #all for the game #andreil #the foxes #the foxhole court #aftg fanfic #kevin day #the kings men #alison reynolds #nicky hemmick

[ninyard]

Honestly honestly the most romantic moment of the entire series is when Neil talks about how he'd never gotten to travel for fun before and the Foxes are planning to take him to the mountains, and Kevin starts to protest that they can't go on vacation but stops because Andrew is holding a knife on him 😭🥺😩 like I don't know that's just just a sweet little moment to me, Andrew threatening Kevin if he takes this little chance for happiness from Neil

Uhhhh literally Andrew “I-don’t-care” Minyard is the most romantic of ALL the foxes. My line of work revolves around intimacy and from all my training and studying let me tell you that man is a master at his craft.

Andrew’s touch is beautiful and sacred; this thing he does not take easily, or give out kindly whatsoever. Yet with Neil it’s as if he can’t stop himself. We see it in how gently he tapes the garbage bags around Neil’s injuries, wordlessly, without being asked. THAT’S intimacy. How he holds his neck to inspect his eyes when he removes his contacts, how he hands Neil cigarettes without a request, how he doesn’t say a word while touching Kevin with the point of a blade because Neil deserves a fucking break. Sure, by technicalities, the shower scene from TKM is intimate by definition, but really it’s in the kiss he ghosts across Neil’s hip, in how he pats dry his broken skin afterwards. How can you look at him wordlessly dropping keys into Neil’s palms, and think, yeah there’s no way Andrew could be romantic. Is he soft, is he gentle, as a person? No. But his minuscule actions are, his unmentioned gestures are. You just have to look and find them.

TKM just has some of the most subtly beautiful examples of a different flavour of love and intimacy that is so unusual and heartwarming it’s insane. That shower scene drives me crazy when I think about how caring Andrew is in it. He came in with the tape and bags on his own volition, knowing Neil needed a shower and couldn’t do it unattended. How he didn’t take away Neil’s autonomy by assuming he couldn’t undress himself, instead waiting until he paused and couldn’t go any further before he started to help. How he drapes the blanket over Neil’s shoulders, again giving Neil a chance to struggle before wrapping it around him. They practically don’t speak to each other really in that chapter at all apart from a bit of flirting in the shower. Because they don’t need to, because Andrew knows how to love, how to be caring, how to wrap up the boy he almost lost in bubble wrap because if he loses him again, it won’t be pretty. He washes Neil’s hair! He covers his wounds! He treats him gently when that is possibly the last word that could ever be used to describe Andrew. I feel like that scene was in part of course him just looking after Neil who can use approximately two square inches of his entire body, but in another part proving how serious he is about Neil. Everything changes between the two of them then, suddenly their actions more relaxed than hungry, not yet a given but instead now just a want.

I don’t know. I can’t help but see so much intimacy and romance in subtleties and things you’d barely even notice, regardless of the people/the characters and their circumstances. I wouldn’t use the word sweet to describe Andrew at all, but the things he does for Neil? The way that he loves Neil? The absolutely fucking sweetest.

#I could go on for hours #Andrew is so soft while being the further thing possible from soft #sleepy ramble but I love them so much #aftg #Andrew minyard #Neil josten #andreil #ask #tfc

[adamsrcnan]

OKAY OKAY here we goooo an annoyingly long-ish post about all my thoughts on The Sunshine Court

Spoilers Spoilers Spoilersss you've been warned

First things first it is so interesting to see Nora writing from not one but TWO new people's perspective. Jean's perspective is just devastating being inside his head is heartbreaking the constant fear and panic and how much of his energy is used on just pushing down every memory of what was done to him. His coping mechanisms are terrifying and i truly do hope by the end of book 2 he has a healthier way of dealing with it bc baby boy stop hurting yourself :( Every sentence was so painful to read. But also his resilience the entire time to get through it no matter what, god i fucking love him!!! He is a fighter.

Jeremy's perspective is sooooo refreshing. He is such a little sweetheart i could cry. The fact that he sends hand written letters and he's so caring and genuine but he can also be so stern. When he dropped that "i asked you a question" to Lucas fkehdjdfjdh OK SIR. I'M SAT. His relationship with the family butler is so endearing as well i need more background on that for sure! My only one criticism is that he didn't have enough pov chapters and i'm hoping we'll learn more in the second book of course because there's still so much about him and his (dysfunctional? toxic?) family dynamic that we don't know yet but also i'm greedy and i wanna know EVEYTHING about him !!!

Kevin and Jean are so just tragic it actually breaks my fucking heart like "you didn't have to slit my throat on the way out" JEAN??? and "promise me you won't try again. I can't lose you." KEVIN??? And the fact that Jean to this day is still keeping that promise. Also Jean's obvious but secret long term crush on Kevin the way it's subtly dropped every time Jean has to stamp down on his desire's and "temptations" GOD PLEASE I CAN'T STAND IT

SPEAKING OF!!! BISEXUAL JEAN ??? BI JEAN??? BI JEANNNN !!!!

Neil and Jean oh my God like where do i even start?? The guilt Jean feels at what happened to Neil in the Nest and him finally calling him by his name after Riko's death and telling him his game was good. And Neil seriously needs to give himself more credit for how much of a caring person he is because the way he indirectly told Jean that he thinks he is worth saving and didn't even hesitate before asking Stuart to send someone after That Guy after what Jean told him. Neil Josten the man that you are!!!

Jean's little sister Elodie what a beautiful name. Them being so close and him reading to her. The way he found out about her death jolted me differently. It was so awful and i'm so sorry Jean didn't get to see her grow up and meet her again.

Renee and Jean oh my god. Jean thinking she's beautiful (bitch me toooo) And the whole right person wrong time ugh i can't stand it. Him wearing her necklace all the time, enough that Jeremy always notices it. And unabashedly stealing her picture from the foxes lounge. Like he did not give a fuck. He said this one is mine. One good reason to stay alive being rainbows i'm gonna FKSJSKDHDH. Theirs would be such a soft love.

Speaking of soft loves Laila and Cat are EVERYTHINGGGG. God they are so cute with their little domestic life and their rich gay boy son who crashes on their couch with his cardboard cut out dog. That whole friendship dynamic is beautiful. Their fierce protectiveness and care over Jean as well and the patience they have with him even after the little kitchen incident. When Cat took Jean out for a drive on her motorcycle god that was such a heart warming moment and Jean helping them cook as well and becoming the girls' little sous chef it's so cute so endearing !!!

FINALLY FINALLY THE JEREJEAN DYNAMIC

PLEASE I'M GONNA SCREAM

Jeremy being the one who told Jean that Riko was dead i don't even know what to begin with THAT like hhhhhhh. The way they're both stupidly attracted to each other but won't/can't do anything about it. THE WHOLE "say yes Jeremy" SCENE WTF WAS THATTT I WAS GOING INSANEEEE. Both of them having to stop mid sentence when they catch the other looking FINE as hell. Jean being so obvious that even Lucas picks up on the way he looks at Jeremy. Jeremy being there to ground Jean in a Moment and helping him come down from it. Grabbing his face and telling him he's okay. Moving into the room with him to make him feel more comfortable !! The way Jean grabs Jeremy's chin (boiiiii). Jeremy constantly reminding Jean that he is NOT A RAVEN ANYMORE no matter how many times he has to say it. Jeremy saying he'll wait as long as it takes until Jean speaks to him. JEREMY GIVING HIM A HUG AND JEAN CLUTCHING DESPERATELY TO HIS SHIRT FUUCUFHDHSJHSSUHDH and then the "will you help me?" And the "Anything you need" AND THEY'RE GOING TO TAKE A CERAMICS CLASS TOGETHER?!?!?!!!! i can't i can't i can't i caaan'ttt

There's so much more to say but i'm gonna leave it at this for now because i need to go re-read it again and take my time with it this time round but i really could not have asked for anything better Nora truly outdid herself here !!! I'm forever grateful she blessed us with this after so long.

#i will probably be talking about all of this and more when it's safer to do so without spoilers #but yeah i just i cannot stress enough how PERFECT it was #everything i could want and more #god i love nora sm #the sunshine court spoilers #tsc spoilers #the sunshine court #tsc #all for the game #aftg #jean moreau #jeremy knox #renee walker #kevin day #neil josten #laila dermott #catalina alvarez #usc trojans #jerejean #jeanee #kevjean

[ineffable-endearments]

When you (generic, universal) talk about theories about the end of Season 2 and Aziraphale going to Heaven, you often run up against either:

taking everything at face value to the point of ignoring that some details contradict one another

or

accidentally nullifying major emotional, plot, and character beats by implying that they Didn't Really Happen.

A lot of the differences in analyses, especially ones that I like (LOL), can be explained by the fact that we're analyzing a character who is experiencing massive cognitive dissonance and believes a number of contradictory things at once.

Nobody is wrong to point out Aziraphale's need to Belong to a Good Cause, which makes his acceptance of the Supreme Archangel position entirely in-character; nobody is wrong to point out Aziraphale's anxiety around the Metatron, which indicates that he may have been coerced.

Did Aziraphale go back to Heaven because he's afraid of what will happen if he keeps refusing, or because the Metatron made an implicit threat? Did he go back to Heaven because he's vulnerable to flattery and wants to feel important? Did he go back to Heaven because he thought it would be a way to be permanently safe with Crowley? Or did he go back because he missed belonging to something Good, something bigger than himself? All of the above. It's all of them.

Yes, even though it's incredibly dissonant to believe a system that he KNOWS is dangerous and coercive can accomplish true Goodness, that is in fact his belief.

Admittedly, this is no one I follow - just random comments I see around from people I don't know very well - but it seems like some people out there are assuming Aziraphale can't possibly be making any plans to do anything remotely intelligent, because this would mean that he is already aware that Heaven is bad and would therefore leave no room for character growth.

Except no, that's not necessarily what it means. In fact, the cognitive dissonance is the main thing he is going to have to resolve. Having that dissonance - the belief that Heaven's ideals are genuine, along with the understanding that Heaven is dangerous and needs to be carefully manipulated - is what will move his plot forward. Mindless obedience wouldn't progress his story any more than magic brainwashing coffee would, and it would be equally inconsistent with his story and motivations so far.

The dissonance is the point. And part of the dissonance is that he already knows Heaven is dangerous - he just hasn't accepted what that means yet. It would make sense for him to simultaneously try to work within Heaven's system and watch his own back.

Also, only partly related: Neil might write a story about how the worst people exploit the need to belong and to be Good. He might write a story about how we have to become our own greater good. He might write a story about how to rebuild after you discover your greater good is not so great or good after all. He is not going to write a story about how having any faith or trust in something objectively bigger and stronger than yourself makes you a stupid clown who is wrong about literally everything and shouldn't have even tried.

Let Aziraphale fuck up. He needs to and he will. Whatever plans he was making in that elevator won't actually succeed. But give him credit where it's due.

Edited to add: And you know what? When he fucks up, he's going to get through it. And then he's going to do the right thing. And he's going to get it right when it matters the most.

#good omens #good omens 2 spoilers #go s2 spoilers #aziraphale #I am like SO SENSITIVE about Aziraphale because look #during the Final Fifteen he is the one saying the more hurtful things #and he is the one being misled back to an objectively bad place #but he is trying SO SO HARD #and I see myself in how incredibly hard he's trying

[aledethanlast]

I want to clarify something about my Lawyer!Andrew post:

Andrew is not doing this to impress people. In fact he actively doesn't want to impress people. He is done being a superman who holds everyone's lives in his hands. It's not good for his mental health when he's doing it and it's not good for anyone when that he fails, because the law is too big and some of these fuckers are just legitimately dumber and more guilty than his literal murderous mafia husband.

Anyways. Andrew wakes up in the morning, goes to his closet and shoves aside the 15k dollar Armani suits so he can put on the two piece he got at Macy's (then tailored to fit, cause he still has standards), and a matching tie.

He goes to the office. Brad asks him if he heard about the latest draft picks. Andrew stares him down until Brad goes to Andrew's desk and drops a quarter in the "Asking Andrew about Exy" jar. Andrew's coworkers seem to think that he's gonna buy the office a Foosball table with the jar money. They are wrong. It is for a new cat tower. Also, no Andrew hasn't seen it, but he got the rundown from Neil and Kevin, so he knows enough to tell Brad not to bother with a season pass for the Sealions this year.

He has two cases to deal with today. The first is a vehicular manslaughter charge. The client is pleading self defense, and that the victim was a stalker. Andrew likes her because, despite bursting into tears every time they have a trial prep session, she actually listens to instructions and knows when to shut the fuck up. He's confident.

The second is grand larceny. The guy is so super incredibly guilty but Brad gave him this case because he knows Andrew loves police misconduct cases and this one is just so full of protocol breaches that Andrew only had to show Neil the file for him to burst out laughing.

Janet says he has a call waiting. Janet is the highest paid paralegal in the county, because she also filters his celebrity mail. Technically Neil's pr firm still represents him, but Janet knows to turn down the DA's gala invitations without needing to argue with him.

He picks up the phone. It's the DA. The man invites him to the police gala because he knows Andrew ignored the emails. Andrew assumes the man was banking on Andrew giving a polite refusal he can wheedle or harangue into compliance. The man is new to the job, so Andrew will forgive this embarrassing miscalculation.

They spend the next hour discussing court dates for a certain case. Andrew's client for that one is disabled and only has partial aid, and he won't let them set court dates that they know she won't be able to attend. The DA, despite his embarrassing naivate, seems to be on the same page in this regard, so hopefully this will go well when they bring the matter to the judge.

In the span of this phone call, two of Brad's clients come into the office, and within five minutes of walking in are made to contribute to the jar. They don't get their questions answered, because he's on the phone, and they're not Brad.

He has court tomorrow. Court is annoying, because it's a room full of strangers who hear his name and forget why he's there, and he's not allowed to bring the jar. Court is a chore, because he has to walk people through their own idiocy, and then occasionally convince the room of just how stupid or brilliant it actually was.

Court is also, maybe, just a teensy bit fun, because whatever the stereotype of a lawyer is, Andrew really isn't it, and that makes people take him a lot less seriously until he starts quoting their words back to them faster than the stenographer.

(Janet also filters job offers. They tend to crop up every few months.)

(It used to be more fun, back in the early days when Neil would sit in sometimes, until he remembered just how horrifically boring the whole thing is. But that's fine. Andrew is happy having his own thing.)

But really, court is easy. It's a place where your word has weight, where promises are binding, and when everything is going to shit, nobody looks at Andrew like he's the freak for keeping his head.

#the foxhole court #all for the game #aftg #andrew minyard

[half-oz-eddie]

After Max snuck off one day, Steve brings her home right before Neil and Susan return.

Billy gives her and Steve shit about it on the porch, freezing up when Neil's car pulls into the driveway.

He notices the way Neil's normally hard and intimidating stare softens upon seeing Harrington in front of their house.

He greets him, shakes his hand, makes polite small talk with him and invites him in for dinner.

Steve glances over at Billy, noticing how he rolled his eyes and he politely declines.

"I really shouldn't—"

"I insist." Neil goads him, gently pushing him inside and leading him to the table. "Susan's cooking is divine."

Billy groaned. Of course, Steve was the golden boy everyone adored, even his own father. What was so perfect about him anyway?

Billy is imagining he can shoot lasers from his eyes at Steve, and Steve can feel the intention coming from Billy's glares.

He plans to leave early, but Neil offers him dessert, offers him a beer, asks if he wants to stay and watch the game.

Why the fuck's this guy being so nice to Steve?

Because the Harrington name holds so much prestige in Hawkins? Because it can help him get a promotion? What? What the fuck is it? It can't just be because of Steve.

Billy notices that Steve feels really awkward, but he's always been taught to be polite, so he does what any golden boy would do. He stays, he accepts Neil's kindness, he answers questions when asked.

Of course, Neil brings up Mr. Harrington, asking about his company and how it's doing.

His question seems really motivated and Billy's pissed off to the point of no return. He stands, politely excusing himself to his room.

"Don't you wanna watch the game, son?"

Son...?

Who in god's name was he talking to? Not me, Billy assumed.

Why was his voice so soft and his eyes so warm? That wasn't Neil. That wasn't Sir. Billy was afraid of this version of Neil and that warm smile that showed the crow's feet beside his beady, lying eyes.

Billy slowly sat back down next to Steve.

"Billy used to love baseball."

No I didn't.

"He lost interest. He's much better at basketball. Aren't you boys on the same team?"

"Yes, sir, we are." Steve nodded. "He's really good."

Neil laughed. "That's my boy."

What?! Am I in an alternate universe?

When the fever dream of a night ended, Neil told Billy to walk Steve to his car.

"Uh...See you at school?" Steve said uncertainly.

"Yeah." He watched Steve get into his car and walked back into his house.

Neil's warm, fake smile was gone, along with that soft welcoming voice.

It was all a facade, just as he'd assumed.

Neil ordered him to do the dishes, including Steve's. Nothing disgusted him more than cleaning up after Steve.

To make matters worse, this became a constant. Neil was letting Max's nerdy friends come over and Steve would pick them up, then circle back for dinner or a beer with Neil.

Neil would insist on including Billy, bragging about how strong, or how bright Billy was, bringing up the days in California, the very few good ones.

It pissed Billy off, but the nights Steve would come over, there was no shouting, no beatings and Neil was...nice.

Billy started passing notes to Steve at school, inviting him over, especially on Sundays so he didn't have to deal with Neil's bullshit on his day off.

At first, Steve would keep Neil out of Billy's hair, but then, Steve stopped by Billy's room to ask him why he always invited him over if he didn't wanna hang out.

"I thought maybe Neil'd like hanging out with you."

"So you invited me over to keep your dad company? Why don't you just hang out with him?"

"Because we don't get along. He's...he's not always like that." Billy quietly mumbled, hoping Neil didn't suddenly develop super hearing.

"Oh." Steve slowly shut the door. "So that's why you keep inviting me over?"

Billy shrugged.

"Well, Max told Dustin, and Dustin told me that your dad beats the hell out of you, that true?"

Billy's body tightened up and he went dead silent. "The fuck do you care?" He snapped.

"It's not cool." Steve sat on the floor across from Billy. "I don't wanna come here and keep hanging out with your dad. I kinda thought we were hanging out. That's why I would stay."

"You...wanted to hang out with me?" He skeptically narrowed his eyes.

"Yeah. I've been hoping we could get along for a change. I didn't know you were just using me to keep your dad out of your hair."

"I—I didn't think you'd wanna hang out with me. I thought you liked hanging out with Neil."

Steve laughed. "I don't hang out with old people."

"Yeah, you hang out with little kids instead."

"Shut up, I'm their babysitter. Those little shits are always getting into some kind of trouble."

"Whatever. So...d'you wanna like...hang...now?"

Steve nodded without hesitation. "Yeah. That's why I come here in the first place."

"You like Metallica?"

"No."

"Mötley Crüe?"

"Not really."

"Surfing?"

"Eh. Not really any beaches around."

Billy scoffed, shaking his head in disapproval. "The hell do you like?"

Steve pointed to a deck of cards on Billy's dresser. "Know how to play War?"

"Vaguely." Billy shrugged before grabbing the deck and handing it to Steve.

They played a few rounds of cards before they were laughing and shit-talking into the late hours of the night.

Neil didn't disturb them at all.

Dedicating this to @mangywayway since you're always being so kind when I'm feeling down. Tysm ❤️

#neil hargrove tw #abuse tw #harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington

[weird-an]

Christmas sucks, because the Camaro is cold.

Billy watches his breath form little clouds. That's the only reason. He's got everything he needs right here. A blanket, a book and a bottle of his best friend Jack. Maybe he'd like a cookie, it's the holidays after all, but he's got to stay in shape anyway and can't give Neil a reason to push him around some more.

There's a knock on his window. It's a tall man with a beard and glasses, wearing an ushanka.

"I know what you're doing, boy."

"What the fuck, dude?" Billy frowns. Christmas sucks, because the wrong people won't leave him alone. There's a little kid inside him that's scared. Scared of strangers, scared of men that are even taller than his dad.

"You're plotting something. I know, I know, they build that fancy ass Starcourt mall, the peak of capitalism and you'd just like to take it down, right?"

Billy blinks. Wonders if he's half asleep already, caught in some weird fever dream. "What?"

The guy laughs. "Sorry, that was just a test."

"A test," Billy echoes. Are there any normal people living in Indiana? "For what?"

"To see if you're safe to talk to," the man says if Billy is the biggest idiot missing the most obvious thing in the world.

It doesn't make any sense to him. Billy hasn't ever been safe, how would he know what that means? And why would a stranger care? He's probably crazy, the kid inside him whispers. He's bigger than Neil and crazy.

"You know, your car is really nice and all. But it's Christmas and you've been here for four days and..."

"Have you been watching me?" Billy sits up, clinging onto the little bit of rage lighting up inside him. It's warming him a little.

"The usual observation of unusual occurrences in the area my friends live in." The man shrugs. "I've got a warehouse in Sesser. It's warm."

"A what?" His rages gets overwritten by more confusion.

"There will be pirozhki." The man seems to think a moment. "You can invite Steve! You like Steve, right?"

The man has been watching him. Steve met him here two days ago. Did he seem them? God, Billy is such an idiot. Meeting at the quarry, thinking no one would see. Billy is so dead.

"It's fine," the man says. "You like Steve, I like Alexei."

"Who's that?" Billy asks. His head is dizzy, like he already drank that bottle of whiskey.

"My..." The guy pauses. "My Steve, I guess."

Oh. He never met anyone who was... like that. Like him. It's a comforting thought. Like a blanket. Billy probably shouldn't go to stranger's warehouses, but Christmas sucks - because the Camaro is cold and he'd really like not to be alone.

"I'll talk to Steve first," Billy says. He doesn't want to end up murdered in some place called Sesser.

The man nods. "It's good not to trust easy."

Billy snorts. Yeah, tell him about that. He wonders if he's about to spend Christmas with a crazy guy and his partner. And whatever pirozhki are.

"I don't even know your name."

"Murray."

Murray stretches out his hand.

"Billy."

Billy takes it.

#murray bauman #murray x alexei #harringrove #billy x steve #billy hargrove #harringrove ficlet #steve x billy #billy hargrove deserves better

[spacebarbarianweird]

Hi! Love your writing and I wanted to give you some food for thought, see if it interests you perhaps 🤭 Astarion×Tav is usually about someone smaller in size and maybe a druid or healer, but my character is a tiefling berserk barbarian... with a bigger body size... horns and tail in all their glory... if you are interested I'd love to hear if you'd got some headcanons for a character like this? 💕🙏🏻

Hi! When imagining a bigger f!Tav with Astarion, I can't stop thinking about Gwendolyn Christie (aka Brienne of Tarth) and Nikolaj Coster-Waldau (aka Jaime Lannister). Look at the photos of them, especially when Gwen wears high-heels (and she also has a husband who is much shorter than her but sews all her dresses to make her the most fabulous 6.3 ft tall woman)

Also, Neil Newbon plays a bigger druid, Tav. He was shocked that she picked Astarion in the first sex scene ^-^

NSFW Version

Masterlist

Headcanons

Astarion x F!BulkyTav

When you hug, Astarion's face is right up against your chest, and he can hear your heartbeat.

Which is soothing to him.

The running water problem is solved! You lift Astarion "bridal style" and put him onto your shoulders to cross the river.

Astarion is grumpy about it every time.

But deep inside, he enjoys it.

Need a better view to aim? Well, you are right here in all your barbarian 6.3 ft. glory!

Astarion can't take his eyes off how graciously you walk with a two-handed ax on your shoulders.

And once you both return to the civilized world, he will get you a dress and high heels.

Because with high heels and a dress, you will look like a gods damn goddess of war!

Is he intimidated by the fact you are taller? Never. You are his big and powerful wife, and he's proud of everything you do!

You are a big spoon, of course. And being wrapped in your hands makes Astarion feel warm and safe.

When in rage, you don't feel pain, and it hurts him to see you wounded and with broken bones

He puts your head on his lap and strokes your hair to soothe you after the battle.

Once, Astarion was caught off guard by vampire hunters who beat him and left him helpless in the sunrise.

You managed to get there right in time to crack the hunters' skulls.

And quickly carry Astarion to the safety and darkness.

Unfortunately, the merciless sun burnt him enough to slow vampire regeneration, and it took Astarion a month to fully recover.

All this time, you nurtured and fed him, telling him stories and legends of your people and only leaving him once you needed to fetch some food for yourself.

Seeing him being able to walk again was the happiest moment of your life.

When he drinks your blood, it's him sitting on your lap.

"You are a messy eater, you know that?" you ask, seeing him covered in your blood.

"You are a terribly messy eater, I hope you know that?" he comments, looking at you eating a boar's leg.

He laughs at you being not so discreet in the wilderness and attracting all sorts of enemies in your journey.

"Darling, you are loud like an ork and have the manners of a giant!"

Once you got so drunk in a feast after killing a dragon, you came to Astarion and started talking different sweet nonsense.

"I want to have silver-curled babies with you. Imagine how fierce they will be!"

Indeed, you are strong and fierce, wearing the heavy armor set, but you are still a woman, a woman Astarion loves and takes care of.

"Wear a helmet, Tav! Last time we had a quest, our half-ork companion used your head as a battering ram! Get the fucking helmet!"

Once, the enemy was too strong, and you ended up severely wounded. The most challenging thing for Astarion was to get rid of the heavy armor on your broken body to carry you to a safe place.

The view of you in pain and agony traumatized him so much he didn't dare to leave your side until you fully recovered.

You want to die in a glorious battle and bards to make songs about you.

Astarion promises you not to step into the sun once you die this glorious death but to make sure every bard and storyteller knows about your deeds and adventures.

But until then...

You have plenty of things to kill!

Hope you enjoyed it!

#astarion #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 astarion #astarion romance #astarion bg3 #bg3 #astarion headcanon #baldurs gate 3 #astarion headcanons #astarion x you #astarion x reader #warrior tav #tav barbarian #baldur's gate tav #bg3 tav #astarion x tav #astarion x female tav #astarion x female reader #astarion x f!tav #spacebarbarian headcanon

[pinguwrites]

Dark!Neil refusing to pull out when the reader needs him to due to not being on birth control.

"no please stop, we can't! . . . hehehhehHAHHHAHA "

Drabble: dark!neil refuses to pull out

pairing | dark!neil lewis x girlfriend!reader

Warnings: non-con, smut, dark!neil, forced breeding kink, sexism, implied reader co-owns gumshoe video with neil, PROCEED WITH CAUTION, DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE NOT COMFORTABLE

Disclaimer: Watching The Detectives characters, plots, quotes, etc. do not belong to me and belong to the rightful owner(s). This is only fanfiction and this is just for fun.

A/N: you have @mrkdvidal1989 to thank for this, I took a break from another fic to get this out real quick so I could give you guys some fuel 😘. Writing about neil also reminds me of a dream I recently had where Neil spit in my mouth on a beach sooo yeah

"Fuck, Neil!"

You weren't sure what had gotten into your boyfriend today. Since morning he had been uncharacteristically handsy and needy — not that he wasn't a little pervert most days — only that it was becoming so public and obvious that you had to swat Neil's hand away and give him a warning glare just so he would quit warding of the customers, multiple times since you both arrived at Gumshoe Video.

"I had a dream," he had murmured, wrapping you up in his arms, only for his hands to slide up underneath your skirt and feel the curve of your ass, to which you had snapped at him before frantically looking around the store to see if anyone saw.

"Well," you said in response, "you can tell me about it later — Friday's are one of our busiest times!"

Neil had backed away after that, but you could still feel the longing glances he sent over to you. You almost felt bad, though you knew you had to be professional at work. Besides, you relished in the idea of teasing him.

The moment you two had stepped foot inside your shared apartment he had pinned you against the wall and attacked your lips. He carried you to your bedroom, shoved you down on the mattress, grabbed some lube, and started thrusting like mad dog.

"P-please, slow down," you whimpered, the bed shaking so hard the creaks could be heard through the halls. His cock slid in and out of you at a pace Neil never used before, filling up your walls ungracefully, like you weren't his girlfriend, but a hole.

"Can't," he moaned, burying his face in your breasts. "Can't help myself when I'm around you. Just need you so bad . . . You know that dream I was telling you about?"

"Neil — just a break — "

Neil groaned, his hot breath on your neck. "I know women aren't that smart, but c'mon, it was only this afternoon."

Neil could be sexist sometimes. Your family and friends told you to avoid men like that, which was the specific reason you avoided telling them about your boyfriend's often slips. It was just — you loved Neil. You really loved him. There wasn't much else about the topic to discuss, or at least anything you wanted to admit about how problematic it really was.

"I remember," you said, breathless. "Is this what it was about? Fucking me till I pass out?"

"I bred you."

You froze, though your body was still moving due to Neil's deathly grip and the way he was shoving into you so desperately.

"N-no," you protested. "You can't now, I'm not on birth control. I don't have anymore, I ran out, the store's closed — "

" — It's not just that," Neil hissed, interrupting you. "I want a child."

This was bound to happen soon. You and Neil were well on your way to marriage, but not now, not like this. Not when you knew that you both weren't ready to raise a kid.

"You're just saying that because of the dream." You placed your hands against his chest, halfheartedly pushing him off. You didn't want this to be a struggle. You were hoping that he would understand the message and pull out, but he didn't.

Neil shook his head.

"Yes," you insisted, then you got scared. You didn't want to be the woman who only married her man because she got knocked up. What if Neil and you broke up after this? That would be even worse! These few moments of pleasure weren’t worth all the headache in the future.

Neil took your hands and pinned them above your head, pushing them into the soft, cold pillow.

"You do what I say, understand?" Neil said sternly, looking right into your eyes. "Be a good girlfriend and let me give you a child."

"No," you cried out, turning your head, your fear increasing by the second.

Neil used his free hand to grab your chin and forced you to look at him. He had never been this forceful, this violent before.

"Stop being so goddamn stubborn," he spat. "You're gonna have my child wether you like it or not."

He wiped away your tears and buried his head his head back in your breasts, muttering, "Stupid bitch."

Taglist:

@henrywintersdearestgirl @shroombloom-rry @meetmeatyourworst @nela-cutie @madnessandobsession @slut4thebroken @qqquartz7 @mrkdvidal1989

#neil lewis #neil lewis x reader #neil lewis x you #neil lewis x y/n #watching the detectives #cillian murphy #fanfiction #pinguwrites #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #kinktober masterlist

[ihni]

Billy has learned to make himself seem like a manly-man. It's mostly been for survival, because Neil complained less when he was acting all macho, but he's grown into it. Wears it like armor.

So naturally, he refuses to use chapstick. Lip balm. Whatever. Because that's for girls, not boys. Not men, like Billy.

The thing is, though, that winter in Hawkins, Indiana is ... cold. Cold as fuck. And Billy's lips get chapped. Like, the hurty-flakey kinda chapped. He's pissed about it, too, because no one's gonna wanna kiss him with lips like that (and he's made it this far partly by being desirable).

Most importantly, Steve's not gonna wanna kiss him.

Steve's lips are always soft, and pink. Even in the bitter cold. But then again, Steve uses chapstick. He's shameless about it, too, doesn't hesitate to bring it out and reapply it even when there's other people around who can see. He even smacks his lips a little, after, and then smiles widely as if to test the softness of his lips.

If Billy smiled like that, his lips would crack and bleed.

Steve thinks he's being silly. "Come on," he says, "it's chapstick. It's not gonna kill you."

"It might," Billy murmurs and thinks of what would happen if Neil saw him put it on. Louder, he says (because the kids are close by, and they don't know about him and Steve yet), "Give it up, Harrington, I'm not a pussy. I can stand a little cold."

And it's not a lie. He can. He just wishes he didn't have to.

Steve smiles knowingly (and widely), and waits until the kids are otherwise occupied. Then he reapplies his chapstick again, and then pulls Billy around a corner and kisses him, right on the mouth. Chapped lips and all.

It's not until Steve backs away and smacks his lips, that Billy realizes that a) he'd closed his eyes and b) there is now chapstick on his lips, too. And it doesn't feel all that bad. Feels pretty good, actually.

He looks at Steve. "You sneaky bitch."

Steve just smiles and backs back out in sight of the kids. "Hey, if the mountain won't come to Muhammad" ... He throws something at Billy, who catches it out of instinct.

It's chapstick. Of course.

When Billy looks up, Steve wags his eyebrows and makes a kissy face, a challenging glint in his eyes. "If you don't like it, you can always give it back."

#harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #ihni writes

[avelera]

Sandman Meta: Hob has exactly zero way of figuring out who Dream is (before they reunite)

More than once in a fic I've written from Hob's POV I've had readers note their astonishment that Hob has not yet figured out Dream's identity, even if Dream does not reveal it himself.

Even in fics of mine where Dream reveals his name, like in Giving Sanctuary, I have Hob be slow on the uptake when it comes to the extent of Dream's powers, even things like being able to enter and control dreams, and the reason I do this is carefully considered and based in the fact that Hob would have no way of knowing who Dream is or by extension what he can do.

So I kind of want to take a step back and address in detail just how actually impossible it would be, objectively, for Hob to figure out who Dream is in a world that doesn't have The Sandman comic for him to read to figure it out.

This is, of course, because, from a Doylist angle, Neil's "Dream of the Endless" is not based in any single mythology. Indeed, Dream as we know him is cobbled together from at least three or more different mythological figures, none of which combine to actually form the "Dream of the Endless" we see in the show or read in the comics. The Endless are completely made up for the comic and the Sandman, Morpheus, and Oneiros are all from wildly different mythologies and none of them actually overlap to form the complete picture of who Dream is as an entity in the Sandman show or comic.

So even if someone straight-up told Hob that the person he meets is the Sandman, Morpheus, or Oneiros (btw, there is no singular figure of "Oneiros" in Greek mythology) he would still not be able to put together the full picture of who Dream is. Even if he's given the name "Dream of the Endless" to work with, those words combined don't mean anything on their own if you don't have what an Endless is filled in, because it was made up entirely for the comic. (Of course, a fanfic author absolutely could make up such a book for their fic but it would be a creation for that fic, serving a purpose within that story like to tip Hob off, though I think it's entirely reasonable to make up a book in the Sandman world that goes into detail on who the Endless are. The Magdalene Grimoire, btw, is not that book. It only talks about Death. Death is a figure in many mythologies including the Christian one, but Dream is not. Even Burgess needs the Corinthian to tell him who Dream is in the show, and he's an occultist.)

Couple all of this with Hob's personal experience with Dream, encountering him as part of a wager with Dream's sister Death to see if Hob could bear a life of immortality, you get far more clues that would send him hurtling off into a totally incorrect direction before you'd get anything close to the truth, if we assume only the books available in our world are available to him.

So the reason this is a bit of an irritation for me that there's this idea that Hob has "all the clues" to figure out who Dream is because it smacks of a logical fallacy.

Basically, it's easy to see that the answer to a complicated math problem is "obvious" if someone just hands the answer to you. But challenging people to actually solve it themselves could be quite a bit more complicated. And in this complex formula solving for "Who the fuck is Hob's mysterious stranger?" there's actually so many blank X's of unanswered questions that I genuinely think there's no way for Hob to solve this equation without someone giving him the answer.

Let's go through this systematically, using just what Hob knows as observed on screen in the show.

1389 - a pale man in all black with a ruby at his throat approaches Hob's table and challenges Hob to meet him there in 100 years. He then smiles enigmatically and leaves.

That's it. That's all Hob has to go off of. He never sees Death, he has no idea about the wager. As far as he knows, Dream gave him immortality. It would be the most logical conclusion given that the day before Hob didn't have immortality and the day after, presumably, he does.

1489 - The only confirmation he has is actually seeing Dream there in 1489 and the first thing he asks is, "How did you know that I'd be here?"

Dream does not answer him. Hob takes a few stabs at guessing his identity which reveals his Christian European context: are you a wizard, or a saint -- to be clear, these are two types of human magic users that make sense to Hob for his context. The only other figure he can think of is The Devil. He doesn't ask if Dream is a pagan god or a faerie, he assumes a man with arcane or divine magic, or the Devil.

Dream says that he's not the Devil, much good that would do if he was a Devil who could just presumably lie to Hob, and says he's interested in Hob's experience and implies that he will grant him another 100 years of life. He is sarcastic and unimpressed about Hob's wonder at the world. He doesn't even actually show much interest in Hob being in the printing business. He only shows a spark of interest in Hob's continued desire to live, and then immediately takes off.

1589 - The only new information Hob gets this year is 1) Dream is supremely uninterested in food or the wealth Hob has earned, or his family, and 2) puny little Will Shaxberd, a crap playwright with no shot at becoming anything more, suddenly becomes a famous playwright. He would eventually become a renowned playwright in his day but keep in mind, Shakespeare didn't actually become mega famous centuries after his death. In his day, many people thought other playwrights like Marlowe were better.

My point is, from this Hob doesn't necessarily get even the pieces to determine that Dream likes art. It might seem obvious to us because Dream is Prince of Stories, but that's not the offer Dream gives Shaxberd. He just asks if it is Will's will to create dreams to spur the minds of men. Yes, we know that Dream wants Will to make dreams for him, but in Hob's context, Dream is just asking what Will would sell his soul for, just like he overheard Hob saying he had no intention of dying. From this perspective the only strong conclusion Hob can draw is that Dream grants wishes.

From this, Hob could conclude that Dream is a djinn/genie, or perhaps a faerie, but there is absolutely nothing to indicate he's associated with dreams or literature directly besides a mention of creating dreams nested in the context of asking Shaxberd what he wants, giving him a supernatural gift much like the one Hob believes Dream gave him.

At this point, the domains of Dream's power are very muddled for Hob because he doesn't know Death gave him immortality. So as far as he knows, Dream can give immortality AND make an amateur playwright into the greatest writer who ever lived. Putting these two things together does not bring you naturally to the domain of dreams by any stretch.

(I will note here, that in Giving Sanctuary, I had Hob learn that "Death" is Dream's sister before he learns Dream's name. There, his initial conclusion is that Dream must therefore be Famine, one of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse and the one known for wearing black (and not eating seems like a clue with Dream too) my point being that having another, small piece of the whole puzzle still would probably send him flying off in the wrong direction given his cultural context.)

1789: The next time Hob gets any hint that Dream has powers is with Lady Johanna. He uses his sand to show her her, "old ghosts". Note, she does not fall asleep but rather begins to hallucinate.

The Sandman myth has its origins of Scandinavia and it is first written down in in "Der Sandmann" a context that Hob might have access to, if he's very well read, in the early 1800s. By the way, the description of the Sandman in that book bears a striking resemblance to the Corinthian, because he eats the eyes of naughty children, and very little to Dream beyond the use of sand in his magic.

There is absolutely nothing to link the Sandman to Morpheus the Roman God of Dreams, who was made up entirely by Ovid in the Metamorphoses and never mentioned anywhere before that. That's because Neil Gaiman was the first to link those two mythological figures.

And on that note, there is no Oneiros attested to in Hesiod. The mention of Oneiros is actually to the "Oneiroi" an entire tribe of dreams and nightmares who are the children of Night (Nix). There's Hypnos (Sleep) who is the brother of Thanatos (Death) but that is about as close as we get to the Endless in any other mythological source besides the comics. And again, Dream does not put Johanna to sleep, he makes her hallucinate.

1889- Again, there is precious little to go off of. Dream is tight-lipped as ever. The only thing he gives away is that Lady Johanna later helped him with a task, a fact Hob is visibly annoyed and I daresay jealous about, and when he lashes out he refers to himself as, "One such as I."

But "One such as I," only reveals something Hob already knew: that Dream thinks highly of himself. That doesn't actually reveal that Dream is even magical, he could just be nobility or a powerful immortal magic user and refer to himself that way. Hob already knows that Dream is magical, and immortal, and probably some sort of high born or aristocrat. He's probably known that since 1389 given how Dream was dressed and given that giant fuck-off ruby (which actually might make Hob, in that day, wonder if Dream was a relation to the Black Prince)

That's it. That is the grand total of everything Hob has seen of Dream.

Hob in the comic will eventually admit, in The Wake, that he figured out who Dream was on his own. But this is after Seasons of Mist when Dream toasts him in Hob's dream and Hob wakes up with the impossible bottle of wine on his bedside. He has another encounter too with Dream where Dream eventually accedes to Hob's request to make the men who killed Audrey, his dead girlfriend, know who she was. Presumably, Dream makes them dream of her.

So Hob in the comics by the time we get to The Wake has more to go off of to make the link to the Lord of Dreams. Hob as we see him in the show, has had much less to go off of.

Even if you give Hob one piece of the puzzle, like one of the names like Morpheus, or The Sandman, or Oneiros, that still doesn't help give him the whole picture. The word "Endless" would be meaningless. He would have to have read at least three pretty obscure books that span a period of 2,000 years (between Hesiod and Der Sandmann) to get the three books that Neil primarily drew from to combine these figures into the Dream of the comic.

Look, my point is, unless someone gives the answer to Hob, and explains the full extent of what the Endless are, he's got little to go off of. Arguably, not enough at all to solve for "X" as to who Dream is, even if he's given more pieces. This would be a tough problem to solve.

#the sandman #sandman meta #hob gadling #dreamling #1689 fic #Giving Sanctuary

[kechiwrites]

meant for each other

toxic baby daddy!ghost x reader

3/?

synopsis: after ruining your very rare date night, ghost has some choice words for you.

wc: 2.3k

cw: afab!reader, a bit of dom!ghost, angst, choking, headlock (the hot kind), language, unprotected sex, creampies, jerking off, threats of a facial (is that a thing?), possessive!ghost, threat of cervix penetration (that is a thing, my friend taught me so). no use of y/n ever.

author’s note: for the anon asking for very toxic ghost (i couldn’t go too hard tho, he still wants redemption after all)

read this first for context or don't! It’s pretty stand-alone friendly. mdni

Cutting your date short had been humiliating to say the least. Neil had been polite, but undeniably angry and uncomfortable, slapping his credit card down to cover both of your drinks and your unfinished appetizers before leaving the restaurant. 

The car ride home is filled with a choking tense silence, one Neil only breaks when he pulls into your driveway, putting his car into park behind Ghost’s giant “fuck-off” SUV.

“Look, I get that the co-parenting thing is difficult, but you may want to decide whether you and your ex are really over or not before you decide to go on a date again.” Your chest burns with embarrassment, you’re grown, this should not be happening to you. This night should’ve ended with this man’s head between your thighs at least, now you’ll be lucky if he doesn’t block you before you get through your front door.

You nod along, if only to have whatever painfully awkward lecture he’s trying to give end as soon as possible. “I know. I’m sorry, Neil. He wasn’t supposed to-” You cut yourself off. Obviously Ghost wasn’t supposed to show up to your first date in years, with your son in tow no less. “He shouldn’t have been there. He has a problem with boundaries.” And keeping his hands off your ass in public, apparently.

“Right. Well, I think maybe there’s some stuff you two need to talk about.” Neil is short and dismissive, and sure, you get where he’s coming from but your contriteness is slowly curdling into anger with every pedantic word. 

“Understatement of the goddamn century.” you speak under your breath, “Thank you Neil.” You grit through your teeth, tossing him a half hearted goodbye before you tear out of his car, bone tired and almost shaking with irritation, into your dimly lit driveway. The cream colour of your front door sings to you like a siren, teasing at the peaceful, uncomplicated oasis that lies behind it, at least until you remember what’s in there waiting for you. Neil pulls his car out of your driveway before you can even fish your keys out and you kiss that avenue of relief goodbye forever. 

Your exhaustion seems to double when you cross your home's threshold to find Ghost sitting on your couch, manspreading like he fucking lived there. Like he belongs there. A headache is already beginning to build in the back of your skull, and you just pray to god he’ll say whatever he wants to say quickly and fucking bail. Your skin feels like it’s weighted down when you drop your bag on the carpet by your door, legs heavy as lead while you toe off your shoes.

“Welcome home.” Beyond the rise and fall of his chest and shoulders he barely moves an inch, keeping his attention glued to your television, more eyeballing the sitcom rerun than actually watching it. You were not going to rise to his provocation. He was going to get the silent treatment from you, you wouldn’t utter a goddamn word-

“You were so out of line tonight.” You stomp all over your own vow before you even finish making it, letting your annoyance and his arrogance win out.

You’d meant for your accusation to sound more angry, but your fatigue seeps into every word and sucks out all the venom.

“Sure. Come here.” He spreads his thighs wider, until there’s a, frankly miniscule, space on the couch between his fucking tree-trunk legs, assumedly created for you to sit in.

“You want to act like a fucking child, leave my baby out of it.” You stay rooted to the spot, not because you're tempted to follow his command, you’re just worried you’ll attempt to slap the shit out of the soldier. 

“Our baby.” He grunts, folding his arms across his chest. His bandana is back in place, but somehow he still manages to look petulant. 

You’re going to need to see a doctor about your blood pressure for sure.

“You know what, Ghost? I’m here, I assume Thomas is asleep, so you’re done for the night. I suggest you go wherever the fuck it is you go when you aren’t here making my life hell. Oh and next time-”

“Enough.” He thunders, and your jaw snaps shut. It’s a special talent of his to feel so intimidating even when sitting in the midst of a painfully suburban living room. God knows where he learned it or why. “Come here. I won’t ask you again.” The dark tone of his voice shoots up your spine and pushes your body into action, heart thudding in time with your footsteps. Your ex watches you comply, eyes heavily lidded when you stand in front of him, looking down at the exposed half of his face, the twice broken crookedness of his nose bridge, the long lashes rimming his eyes. 

“What? Do you want?” You hiss, hands balling into fists at your sides. 

“Sit.” You start to obey, you figure you know what he wants and it’s hard to deny him when you’d had hopes of riding the guy you’d met at the convenience store into the sunset. You attempt to straddle him, raising your knee to the sofa before he stops you.

“No.” He murmurs, heavy hand on your shoulder. “Like this.” He pushes you down until you’re kneeling between his thighs. Until he eclipses your vision and the warm, off-white light of your living room forms a halo around his head from above. Ghost makes quick work of his fly, fishing his half hard dick out of the open zipper. He pumps a broad, rough hand over the length of it, working himself over until his erection is full, angry red, and leaking precum onto the tip of your nose. Your gaze bounces from his cock to his face and back again. Eventually, he decides his precum isn’t enough. 

“Stick your tongue out.” He groans, circling a hand around the root of his length, and angling it towards you. You do as you're told, palms sweating where they sit uselessly on your lap. You’re sure you make a pretty picture. Soft, obedient, pathetic. Weak when it comes to him. Weak when it comes to getting what you think you need.

Ghost drags the ruddy head of his cock over the slick pad of your tongue, once, twice, three times, until the salt and skin taste addles your brain. The sound of your spit against his heat under the heavy jerks of his hand fills your ears, shaking loose your last little bit of dignity. All of a sudden you couldn’t care less that the lecture you’d planned to deliver is being swallowed down in favour of drooling over the dripping head of Ghost's dick. You couldn’t care less that he’d ruined any chance of a second date with Nicholas or Nate or whatever the fuck his name had been. 

“Do not move.” He spits, teeth clenched, while he works his hand over his length, his free hand keeps you crumpled below him, so he can fill your sight with the heavy, veined curve of his cock, brushing your lips and the tip of your nose with his knuckles while he fists himself.

His cheeks flush the softest shade of pink and his barrel chest heaves as he gets closer to finishing over your face. Satisfied with your position, he removes the hand weighing down your shoulder and lifts your face. 

“Knees.” You almost sob with relief when you turn to face away from him, letting him carelessly tear your jeans and underwear from your body, exposing the soft, slick lips of your cunt to the open air. 

The solid thunk of his knees meeting the hardwood floor of the living room is the only warning that preempts him breaching the warm clutch of your insides. He fucks into you slowly, slower than you ever thought possible, and you wonder whether it’s to stop himself from coming or to punish you further. His hulking frame bends over you, covering your back with his obscene warmth, even through your clothes. His zipper scratches you when he forces your pussy to accommodate his girth, filling you over and over until you're punch-drunk and gasping, hands slipping against the floor with every hard thrust and grind against you. Ghost’s hips rock and stutter when you cry out, bending further down, bringing his mouth to your ear to hiss at you to shut the fuck up, lest you wake your son. 

You’re stuck oscillating between sighing or crying, stuck wanting to surrender and wanting to fight back, screaming and shouting and grasping at straws to get you the fuck out of this because you’re frightened. You are scared of him, of what he can do and has done. To you, to your son. You’re scared that ultimately, deep down, you are meant for each other. Meant to stay locked to one another, holding hands while you inevitably sink into deep black nothing, choking on each other’s frustrations and wants, your shortcomings and would-be’s. 

Empty and unchanged. Fighting the same fights, wishing the same wishes. 

Then, Ghost speaks your fears into reality.

"You're mine," he huffs over you and you are so thankful he can't see how you need to bite your wrist to stop from moaning aloud. When he finally lets up, leaving your back woefully cold, he clamps his palm around the back of your neck and pushes, until your cheek is crushed against the floor and he can mount you properly, fucking you with what feels like all his strength, his leg hitched up to reach deeper, so deep it almost hurts.

"Hate me all you want now, but that kid back there means you will always belong to me. I will always be the man who gave him to you. No matter what poor sod you try to replace me with, I'll be the one who makes you feel like this. Eventually things will go back to how they're supposed to be.”

It’s probably the most words he’s said all week, in your presence anyway. It chokes you, fills your mouth, your lungs until that familiar drowning sensation threatens to pull you under. But not before you hear him mutter to himself;

“They have to.”

You can barely breathe underneath the pressure Ghost seems to bring with him everywhere. When you don’t respond to his claim (as if you could say anything with him taking your mind apart piece by piece), he hooks his arm around your throat, pulling you up against his chest, which of course, doesn’t make breathing any easier. Ghost drags his teeth over the shell of your ear, dropping his free hand low to draw small, deliberate circles against your clit. Air flees from your lungs while your hips twitch to follow along with his hand. The tip of his dick brushes your cervix and you yelp in response, the inevitable throbbing pain sending a lightning bolt right to your brain, and accompanied with the feeling of breathlessness, the sensation forces you to come over the length of his cock, the slick walls of your pussy clenching tight around him. When his arm finally slackens, you slump in his hold, eager to draw in lungfuls of precious air while Ghost batters the inside of your cunt while he continues to hold you upright. You groan loudly and he covers your mouth with his palm, soaked in your arousal. The light overhead feels like it’s blinding you, your skin feels raw and exposed, nerves on nerves that Ghost plucks and brushes to reduce you to rubble, nothing more than ruins underneath his practiced hands. 

You screw your eyes shut, heavy breaths from your nose are the only thing keeping you from blacking out, your pulse pounds in your throat while your mind tries to catch up with your body. 

Ghost lets his forehead fall to your shoulder and he finishes inside you, murmuring something you can’t hear while his hips knock into yours. He’s tense against you, before his limbs go languid and soft, brushing his half-covered nose against the side of your neck. You bat uselessly at the arm circling your midsection with a shaky fist, urging your ex to release you. It’s too much, you can smell him on your skin, feel him drip down the inside of your thigh, and you need it to be over now. He complies and you fall forward, unprepared for the sudden weightlessness. In a flash, his hands are back on you, grasping at your forearms and pulling you against him. It’s a breeze for him to drag your lax body onto the couch and cover you with the flimsy throw blanket you usually just laid over the back of the sofa. Your mind spins with the change of position. You don’t even know when he’d pulled out of you. 

For now, you’re just content to have the heavy curtain of sleep close on the events of the day, the funny little tragedy that your life has become. Content to have Ghost tuck you in and pull his favourite disappearing act. 

You mumble dreamily; “The invisible boyfriend!” Your arm flailing upwards in a mock flourish. You think that maybe, you hear him laugh at you. A quiet huff of air, muffled by a skull themed bandana. You think that maybe, you hear him flick the lights off in the house, like you usually do before bed. You think that maybe, you hear him check on Tommy in his room, cuddled into what is undoubtedly too many stuffed toys for his tiny mattress. You think that maybe, he sits on the floor by the couch and goes back to watching television while you drift off into a dreamless sleep, resting his head against your blanket-covered knee.

But, like always, he’s gone when you wake up. So maybe what you think you heard doesn't really matter.

series masterlist here

#ghost x black reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #ghost smut #ghost mw2 #simon riley smut #simon riley x reader #simon riley #ghost x black!reader #ghost x you #simon riley x you #cod x reader #cod mw2 smut #cod x you #ghost x gn reader #ghost cod #kechiwrites #baby daddy ghost

[zionworkzs]

Okay, but I need to talk about Good Omens and The Sound of Music.

First of all, I’m genuinely obsessed with it being explicitly canon that The Sound of Music exists in the GO universe and is, for some reason, God’s favorite movie. Neil says here that Heaven misses the point of the movie/musical, but I find it incredibly fascinating that Aziraphale outwardly despises it. 

Brief summary of The Sound of Music incoming as well as some really interesting parallels:

So we've got Julie Andrews playing Maria, who is studying to become a nun in an abbey in Salzburg. Problem is, she isn't the best nun, and is often late to chapel and just isn't the shining beacon of holiness that the rest of the nuns expect her to be.

In response to this, the Reverend Mother of the abbey decides to send Maria to live with sexy widower Georg von Trapp, a navy captain who desperately needs help with his seven children. The Captain is a bit of a hard-ass since the death of his wife, and has been treating his kids like little soldiers as well as banning music from the house.

The 7 kids are rambunctious and make things difficult for Maria at first. But one night, a thunderstorm scares them, and they run to Maria for comfort. The kids realize that Maria is really fun, and then later, when their dad is off to Vienna, the kids and Maria end up running around Salzburg singing, dancing, climbing trees, and having a blast.

When the Captain comes home and hears about this, he sends Maria away. But then he overhears the children singing a song Maria taught them and he gets all emo and remembers how much music meant to him and his late wife. He asks Maria to stay after hearing the song, telling her she's brought joy back to their house.

And oops, Maria and the Captain are falling for each other, but the Captain is sort of kind of dating this blonde bombshell.

There's a big fuck-off party, and the Captain and Maria dance together.

But, oh, no, Blondie saw them and can clearly tell they're in love. She tells Maria what she's seen and Maria is freaking out cause she's just realized she's in love.

Mentally, my girl Maria is going through a lot. She thinks she’s disappointed God by falling in love when she was supposed to be doing a job. She feels scared by the depth of her feelings and because of all these emotions, she runs away. Back to the Abbey. Back to presumed safety.

Mother Superior figures out what happened real quick and tells Maria that she isn’t wrong for falling in love. She sends her back to the Von Trapps, and it's such a great scene. If you wanna watch, I included a link below.

Maria goes back, and the kids are elated and she and the Captain confess their feelings (and oh my god, don't even get me started on the lyrics to the song they sing to each other while confessing, Something Good).

(I’m unwell.)

So that's the Sound of Music. There's a subplot going on with WW2 and the Captain being pressured to join the Nazi regime (which he is very against). King, we love him.

I pointed out some obvious parallels, but I'd also like to pull some random thoughts together here:

Mother Superior (God) is the one that sends Maria (Aziraphale) to help the Von Trapps (humans) in the first place.

Maria (Aziraphale) extends grace and patience with the children (humans) and refuses to give up on them, even going so far as to disobey their father by letting them fuck around and be kids (going against God's wishes and giving humans the flaming sword).

Mother Superior (God) also sends Maria (Aziraphale) back to the Von Trapps after realizing that Maria (Aziraphale) is in love with the Captain (Crowley).

Here's to hoping we see God telling Azi that loving a demon is chill and he should go back to earth in S3.

Overall, it's incredibly amusing to me that Aziraphale, our Aziraphale, doesn't like The Sound of Music, with the main plot being about a woman who choses love over religious obligations and a man who rejects an authoritarian regime so that he might make his own way in the world.

Maybe Aziraphale recognizes the parallels and is in denial. Or maybe he just prefers Sondheim...

#can you tell i watched the sound of music too much as a child #fuckin love this movie #ineffable husbands #aziracrow #crowley #aziraphale #good omens #aziraphale x crowley #good omens season 3 #good omens meta #good omens season 2 #the sound of music #Youtube

[vacationship]

Claire got fake numbered and she’s brutal af

I'm sorry, someone anyone tell me this scene is not BRUTAL just on the page. To anyone that says Claire is just being playful or assertive or not limited by gender rules (Molly Gordon included though generally I like her take on things) ... I want to say just read the scene without the pretty girl to look at and see what's right here. She is alternately coy and aggressive because she's probably a mean girl, and she can't stand that he fake numbered her and she won't let him get away with it because she's entitled to his attention and help? It's not cute. She acts like she really wants his consent to have his number in the middle somewhere but honestly that is like perfunctory and performative at that point. And she goes right back to tease-bullying him.

I hold my breath and wince the whole way through this scene, every time. It is blow after blow, under the guise of being what? Empowered and direct? Or she just doesn't know the impact she's having? Has her teenage brain taken over? Because she doesn't really know Carmy, or care what being Carmy is actually like for Carmy. Maybe some other asshole would handle her BS differently. No but it's sooooooo uncomfortable for Carmy and for ME. WHAT IS THIS?!

I know there have been many very nuanced reads on this scene, but honestly it's so uncomfortable for me that I can't even think, it's just stuns me how actually brutal this scene is. Like did she treat him this way in High School? Anyway I fucking typed it out…

Hello

Did you really give me a fake number?

Claire?

Should my feelings be hurt? I think they're hurt.

No. No, no, no. Sorry, no. That must have, uh, been a mistake.

You know I know your entire family and all the Faks, right?

You know all the Faks?

Yeah, I know all the fuckin' Faks. And they're gonna beat you up.

There are, um, there are a lot of Faks. Yeah.

Why, just walk me through, giving me a fake number. Why?

No, no. 'Cause I, um I didn't mean, I didn't mean for that to happen.

I'm-I'm-I'm sorry. It was a mistake, okay?

Thank you. I really appreciate that. Well, I was originally calling before I found out I got fake numbered and had to ask Neil for your real number to ask if you were busy today. So now I have two questions.

Shoot, yeah.

Okay. One, is it okay that I have your number, or did you really not want me to have your number?

No, no, no, not. It's a-- I want you, I want you to have my number.

Okay, say that one more time.

I want you to have my number.

Okay. Cool. Are you busy today?

Um. So, I'm, I um.

Okay, can you just not make this weird? Like, I just need a favor. My cousin bailed on me.

....

Do you still have that van?

Yes. No, we do. We still have that van. Um, I am... in.

Really?

Yeah. Yeah, really.

Okay, I'll text you the address.

No, no, I know where it is.

Are you sure? 'Cause I'm worried about your number issue.

I know where it is.

You know what? I'll give my address to Fak. And then he can give it to you. Does that sound good? And then punch you in the face. Does that sound good?

No, no, I don't need Fak.

You know, he, um, he told me that you guys are really close and that he's your best friend.

Fak said that?

Mh-hmm.

No, no, no. Fak's not my best friend.

Really?

No, no, he is. He's probably my best friend.

That's interesting. To sit with. For you. Um, okay. I, uh, I will see you soon then?

Yeah, I'll see you soon.

Okay.

Okay.

Okay, bye.

Bye. (hangs up)

Fuck.

#sydcarmy #anti Claire bear #whatever I’m not protecting clairecarmys but don’t actually want anyone coming at me

[sadhours]

God I neeeed this written. It's been in my head after I re-watched season 2 🥹🙏🏼 Angsty and ends maybe smutty? Idk

Imagine:

Billy is a bully because of his dad. The abused becomes the abuser, right?

He hates how he lashes out but he can't handle everyone else's perfect little lives.

He meets you and everything changes. You're not stuck up. You get it, you get him.

One night the beautiful family facade fails. You witness it, you see his dad throw a punch in Billy's direction.

You don't think, you just lash out. Teach HIM a lesson. If Neil gives it, he can take it, right?

When you aren't fed love with silver spoons, you learn to lick it off knives.

I have been sitting on this too long, I apologize. I hope this is kinda what you were looking for!

warnings: Neil, obviously, violence, loss of virginity, p in v, unprotected (billys the pull out king)

He’s rough around the edges, but he’s dastardly handsome. You see him getting in peoples faces in hallways, chest puffed up and a look in his eyes like he can't believe he has to share air with such scum. He talks back in class, rolls his eyes when they send him to the principals office and you witness the cycle repeat day after day. When you notice a busted lip and bruised eye, you chalk it up to another fight at first.

You’re quiet, keeping to yourself everyday. At lunch, you shove headphones over your ears and turn the Walkman up so loud, you can’t hear your own thoughts. Walking through the hall, your tape skips and you pull it up to inspect if it split. Not watching where you’re going, you walk right into Billy Hargrove’s chest and stumble back onto your ass, the hard linoleum stinging as it makes contact. At first he looks furious, boring down at you with fire in his eyes and you stutter out an apology, rambling on about how your tape skipped and you weren’t looking ahead of you. Surprisingly, he softens, almost immediately and reaches out to grab your hand.

You take it graciously, allowing his strength to lift you up and he grabs your Walkman, popping it open and inspecting the cassette. As he pulls it out, the tape unravels and you curse.

“Hold on,” he soothes, “Not a lost cause yet.”

He walks over to a club table, ignoring the glares he gets from the Chess club. You follow curiously, watching as he swipes a pencil from the sign up sheets and ravels the tape back into the cassette with it. He hands it back with a smile.

“See? Easy fix.”

He makes you feel all dreamy with his attention focused on you. You might actually float away if you don’t rush off immediately. “Thanks!” you yell back, hurrying off and sliding the headphones over your ears again.

Slowly, Billy keeps popping up wherever you go. He even shows up at the record store you work at, weekly. You’re not even sure how it exactly happens, no words are spoken about it but you’re pretty sure you’re Billy Hargrove’s girlfriend. He’s taking you out on dates that end in heavy petting and eager kisses in the backseat of his Camaro.

He’s so incredibly sweet to you but not to anyone else he crosses paths with. You’ve even witnessed heated arguments with his friends. You don’t understand why until one night you’re hanging out in his bedroom and Neil comes barreling into his room and screaming about how he wasn’t supposed to park in the driveway.

It funnels into an argument about everything. Billy doesn’t do anything right, apparently. You’re sitting there, stunned all the while fuming at this asshole. His complaints of his son are laughable at best, none of them really a problem.

Then, it happens and you jump up off the bed. A hard sucker punch to Billy’s cheek, a thundering sound clapping through the room.

Before you realize what’s happening, you’re throwing punches left and right at Neil. As your lifted off the ground, Billy’s arms wrapped tightly around your waist, you see the absolutely dumbfounded look on his fathers face.

“Get the fuck out of my house,” he says behind clenched teeth, his eyes dark and terrifying.

Billy grabs onto your wrist, pulling you out of the house and to his car. He’s peeling out of there, the house getting tinier and tinier in the rearview mirror and you look down at your bloodied knuckles. You don’t know how it happened, you saw red in the moment. You’re silent. You feel as if you should apologize but you don’t regret what you’ve done, even if your punches didn’t hurt him like his hurt Billy.

“I…” you open your mouth and close it.

“I know.”

Billy drives out to a field, at least an hour from town. He turns the car off and sits there for a moment, staring out the windshield. Then he’s grabbing his hand and intertwining your fingers.

“Thank you,” he mumbles and you know it’s difficult for him to say those words.

And everything makes sense, now. Why he’s so broken, why he’s such a tough guy at school. But what doesn’t make sense is why he’s so nice to you. Maybe because you’re the only person who reacted to Neil that way. He brings your hand up to his lips and kisses your bloody knuckles.

“I’m ready,” you tell him, not sure why now is the time you want to lose your virginity.

Billy laughs and you fear it’s out of cruelty. Your panic subsides when you see the sparkles in his eyes. He leans his head back against the seat and peers over to you, “You try to beat my dad up and now you want to have sex for the first time. What has gotten into you?”

“That makes it sound weird,” you point out, “I guess I just realized I love you.”

“Took ya long enough,” he snorts and you glare up at him. “C’mere,” he scoots his seat back and pulls you into his lap.

You straddle him, though it’s a tight space. He kisses you tenderly, fingertips barely holding your jaw, “I love you too.”

Your stomach does a flip, deepening the kiss once he mumbled the words against your lips. Billy reaches his hands up into your top, pushing your bra up so he can get a handful of your breast. He licks into your mouth as he squeezes you in his palm, making you squirm in his lap. You can feel as he smiles into the kiss before he pulls back.

“I can’t take your virginity in my car,” he admits and you whine, looking down at him with disappointment etching your features. He’s got you all worked up just to shut it down so quickly and he looks amused as he stares back up at you.

“Yeah, you can,” you retort, matter-of-factly.

He laughs, moving your hair behind your shoulders, “I want it to be special. It’ll be a hell of a struggle in this small space.”

“It is special,” you argue, “I want it.”

Billy bites his lip and looks at you under his thick lashes, “Would it be too seedy to take you to a motel?”

You shake your head, smiling at him hopefully, “I’d do it anywhere with you.”

“Get your ass over,” he smirks, “Let’s go.”

You scramble over the center console, squealing when Billy plants a hefty smack to your ass as you do so. You swear he’s never driven faster.

The motel room is seedy but you don’t blame Billy, he pulled into the first one he’d seen and you were more eager than ever. You stand awkwardly beside him as he purchases the room, trying not to look the clerk in the eyes but you can feel the older woman looking you up and down. Billy doesn’t seem to notice or care, grabbing your hand and leading you to the room. Once he unlocks the door and gets you inside, he’s pushing you against it and presses sloppy kisses all along your neck and collarbone. You feel electric, your body tingles all over but especially between your legs. Billy’s hands are firm on your hips where he’s pinning you against the door and his lips and teeth brand you with bruises descending from your jaw to your collarbone.

You guys have messed around a lot, almost any chance you got you would touch each other eagerly but it never got very far. Billy knew he was the first guy you’d done anything with so he never pressured you to do anything more than hand stuff. You’d always been sure you wanted him to be your first, though. It was just a matter of when, neither of you imagined it would be after you’d punched his dad. Perhaps Billy feared this would be his only chance, since there was no way in hell Neil would let you around again. He usually didn’t go against Neil’s word too drastically.

“Bed?” you pant out, pushing on Billy’s chest slightly. You felt like you were going to melt into a puddle on the floor, light headed from the way he mouthed at your sensitive skin.

“Yeah,” Billy nods and lifts you up, hands on your ass. Wrapping your legs around his waist, you let out a little squeal. He squeezes your bum before walking you towards the bed and laying you down before hovering above you.

“You’re sure?” he asks, grabbing a hold of your hand and his breath smells uniquely him, you’ve got no other way to describe it. It’s pleasant, almost sweet but unlike anything else. You want to taste it so your hand grabs onto the back of his neck to pull his plump lips to your own, slipping your tongue in between them. Billy moans into it, hands snaking up into your blouse and pushing your bra up like before so he can squeeze your tits. His hands are warm and a bit rough, contrasted to the soft, supple skin they’re flush with. His thumbs and forefingers pinch your nipples hard, pulling on them while he licks sloppily into your mouth. It sends electricity straight to your clit causing your hips to roll up at him uncontrollably. You’ve never felt so starved for something in your whole life, so instinctually needy for him to ravish you.

“Billy,” you plead, squirming under his touch, “Need you so bad.”

“I’m right here,” he mouths against your jaw still kneading at your breasts.

You lower your hands to the hem of his t-shirt and lift it up and over his head, tossing it aside before grabbing his torso every way you can. He laughs softly, pulling back so he can rip your top and bra off but his hands quickly return to your tits.

“I really, really need you,” you repeat, scratching at his tanned skin.

He stares down at you in awe, never in his life has he seen a woman so desperate under him. They usually played it cool, if they’d felt this horny for him they would usually try to hide it. You can’t though, it’s so evident on your face how turned on you are. Your wide-eyed, pupils dilated and your cheeks are flushed pink. It’s captivating. He grabs a hold of your cheeks, squeezing them together and slaps your tit with his other hand. You cry out, arching your back to feel some kind of relief.

“You want my cock so bad,” he pouts down at you, “poor baby.”

“Need it,” you whimper, voice distorted by the way he’s gripping your face.

“Aw,” he teases, “are you begging for me to fuck you?”

You nod frantically, his words only making you wetter, “Please!”

He lets go of your face and starts unbuckling his belt, pulling it through the loops before he kicks his boots off. He inches to the edge of the bed, unlacing your shoes as quick as he can. You prop yourself up on your elbows to watch him, the firm grip he has on your ankle makes you whimper. Once he’s got your shoes off, he roughly pulls your jeans off. He positions himself closer and presses his palm hard against your pussy, the barrier of your soaking panties frustrating you.

“Fuck me, Billy,” you mewl, “Pretty please.”

His eyes go dark, mouth opening slightly as he exhales hard. You switched something in him, he’s pushing his jeans and briefs off quickly, freeing his hard cock. The sight of it makes you drool, the tip angry red and leaking which lets you know he’s in the same boat you are. He tugs your underwear down your legs, spreading your legs and scooting himself up between them.

“You wanna feel my cock, baby?” he pants, fingers circling around his length.

You nod eagerly, “Please, Billy.”

He strokes himself, biting his lower lip as he brings his free hand down to feel through your glistening folds. Billy’s touched you there hundreds of times, seen your pussy plenty but never with the promise of being able to stick his dick inside. He presses his tip your entrance and then slides it up through your folds, rubbing your clit with it.

“Oh God,” you moan out, toes curling as you anticipate what’s next.

“Fuck,” he grunts out, “I’m not gonna last long. You’re too fucking perfect.”

The compliments sends you spinning.

“Just want to feel you,” you whisper, “have been since I first saw you.”

Billy leans down to kiss you, hard. He brings his tip back down to your hole, pushes inside slowly. You feel no pain like you’ve been told. It’s electric, actually, makes you feel all kinds of warm and wonderful. Until he pushes in deeper, then you tense, hands grabbing into his waist. Billy kisses your jaw tenderly, tells you to breathe with him. His voice soothes you. It’s the most decadent sound you’ve ever heard.

“Keep going,” you choke out through clenched teeth, “I can handle it.”

You know the more he moves, the easier it will be. You’ve been told. But Billy moves slowly, holds you like he’s scared to break you. You’d happily let him. He sinks in deeper and it’s like he’s pushed passed a barrier, the pain subsiding completely and instead you’re flooded with a rush of pleasure.

“Oh, god,” you pant out, face etched in shock.

“Too much?” he asks, panicked as he looks down at you.

You shake your head from side to side, “Feels so… nice. And warm.”

He chuckles at that bending lower to pepper your face in kisses and he starts to pick up a steady rhythm with his hips. Your legs shake slightly as you try to spread them wider, wrapping your arms around his middle. It’s tender in a way you’ve never seen Billy, he’s delicate and reserved. Then he exhales sharply, his cheeks turning red.

“I’m gonna fucking cum, already,” he mumbles, pressing his forehead against your shoulder.

“Is that bad?” you wonder aloud, wiggling your hips slightly and he’s pulling out of you and spilling onto your stomach with a hiss.

He collapses onto the bed next to you and covers his face with his hands. You look down at the mess he’s made on you, feeling as it starts to cool. You’re tempted to touch it, smooth it over your skin but you fear that would be weird. After heaving a sigh, he sits up and looks down at you.

“Not bad, you were so tight it just felt too good. Give me a break and we can try again,” he whispers, standing from the bed and disappearing into the bathroom. He returns with a towel and cleans you up, pulling you into his lap when he’s done. You’re already eager at the promise of doing it again so soon.

#billy hargrove fic #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove x female reader #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove angst #billy hargrove smut