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cassie48 · 7 months

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• 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘱𝘩𝘦𝘤𝘺 •

Dark!Paul atreides x fem pregnant reader

Pt 4

࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎

It had been almost 2 months since Paul had took over as emperor. Life was great, people treated you like a queen. You lived in a huge temple, with more handmaidens than you can count.

More importantly though, you had Paul. You no longer had to worry about him, as he was the most powerful man in the empire. Paul had been more colder, but in all honesty you didn’t care, because he never was to you.

Last night you and Paul were sat in your shared bedroom, laying together in your bed. Paul was always doting on you, and ordered doctors to check on you every day. Last week a doctor had said you should stay in bed when possible, and that the baby was due anyday.

Your head was on his chest, his hands wrapped around you. You were so tired, your body was overwhelmed with pregnancy. 𝗔𝗻𝘆𝗱𝗮𝘆 𝗻𝗼𝘄, you told yourself.

“Has the doctor been kind to you?” Paul questioned.

“He’s nice, he seems to know what he’s talking about” you say, your eyes closed.

“If he’s ever 𝗡𝗼𝘁 𝗻𝗶𝗰𝗲 to you, tell me” he says placing his hand over your large bump.

You nod into his chest before dozing off to sleep for the second time that day. Paul laughed to himself, he loved seeing you like this. He was excited for his son to come into the world but, in all honesty he is gonna miss you being pregnant.

He was going to miss the sight of you full with his child, your reliance on him, your pouty lips and watery eyes when you didn’t get what you want.

He sighed kissing your head before slipping out of bed, to go back to work. He had been quite busy recently, due to only becoming emperor.

You awoke the next morning, looking to your side only to see no sight of Paul. Although you wished he was there it didn’t come as a surprise, he was so busy lately. You sat up slightly, only for your mouth to drop in shock.

You looked down to see wetness on the bed. Your water had broken.

You called your handmaidens who were in the next room. They immediately came to your side, one running off to find the doctor.

The doctor came and got you comfortable, telling you that you still had at least two hours before the baby would come.

You tried to stay calm as your contractions worsened, after an hour you started crying for Paul, the doctor said it was best to leave him at his work.

You didn’t listen and kept begging for him to be brought here. Finally one of you handmaidens agreed to tell him.

When Paul heard someone walk into his meeting room he was furious, 𝗵𝗼𝘄 𝗱𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝘆 𝗶𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗿𝘂𝗽𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗲𝗺𝗽𝗲𝗿𝗼𝗿, he thought.

“Get out” he said coldly.

“My lord, it’s the empress, the baby is coming” she said quickly and frighteningly.

Paul’s eyes widened in shock, as he quickly left a room, not a word to the men sat all around him.

Once arriving to your room, he noticed the door closed for your privacy.

“My lord, it’s best for you to wait out here, birth is not a nice sight” A guard said.

“Are you telling me the empress is not a beautiful sight?” He growled.

“N-No my lord I simply-“ he started

“Oh I see, you do think she’s beautiful. How dare you be around her, she’s not a sight anyone like you should see. I command you open these doors” Paul yelled full of rage.

The guard quickly yanked open the doors, scared for his life. He had never seen the emperor so angry before.

Paul walked into the room full of power, shoving past people in his way.

“Paul?” A gentle voice cried out

He looked to his right to see you lying on the bed with tears in your eyes. He quickly made his way beside you.

“I’m here my love, why are you crying?” He said kissing your hand

“I thought you wouldn’t come” you said in a sad voice.

“I’d never miss the birth of our son” he said in a stern voice.

“My lady, the time has come for you to start pushing” the doctor said.

You nodded and began to push, this went on for minutes, blood sweat and tears included in the process when suddenly a high pitched cry entered the room, making everything else quiet too.

You began to cry seeing your baby, Paul sitting beside you helping you sit up a little as your baby was handed to you.

“Oh, my baby” you cried leaning on Paul’s side. You kissed your sons head, rocking him gently.

“What shall we name him Paul?” You asked with a smile.

“I think Duncan would suit him just fine” Paul said, smiling down at his little family.

You nodded, sniffling as your tears stopped eventually.

A few hours later, you had been washed and taken care of, and your room was cleaned also.

The doctor gathered his things, before turning the the couple.

“The last thing to do is for you to breastfeed my lady, let me show yo-“ the doctor began.

“Her handmaidens may show her, leave” Paul yelled in anger.

The doctor nodded before speed walking out the door. You laughed slightly.

Paul joined you in your bed once more, kissing your sons head, and then pecking your lips, the two of you had never been happier.

Man’s there it was,

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘱𝘩𝘦𝘤𝘺

࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎

I hope you all enjoyed this four part story, I have a feeling I’m not done writing for Paul….

#paul atreides #paul atredies x reader #paul atreides x reader yandere #paul atreides x reader #chani #zendaya #timothee chalamet x reader #timothée chalamet #dune part two #dune 2024 #smut #fanfiction #sci fi and fantasy

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angelnthsnow · 7 months

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The Party & The After Party

pairing: toto wolff x f!driver!reader

summary: after winning your first formula one race in your first year in the category, you don't think the day can get any better. fortunately, your boss has other plans for the night.

word count: 3.9k

warnings: age gap? it's never mentioned but it's there obvi, boss x employee, use of y/n, cursing.

author's note: i must say my friends have gotten me into formula one, but it's kinda hard paying attention to the cars when this man exists. i wrote this nonstop in the middle of the night, it's shorter than usual but i couldn't get the idea out of my head, so enjoy! i promise i'll post smth nfl related soon lol k bye!!

In your first year as the first female F1 driver, you had done the impossible. Standing on the 1st place of the Monaco Grand Prix podium, adrenaline pumping through your veins, you looked down at everyone who had ever doubted you. Years of resisting attacks, sexist remarks and the constant need to prove yourself, you felt like you could finally breathe. By your side, stood two of the greatest drivers the sport had ever seen, Lewis Hamilton, your teammate, in P2, and Max Verstappen, in P3.

Your eyes wandered through the vast crowd that chanted your name from below, searching for the man who had made it all possible, your boss, Torger Wolff, the first person who took you seriously. Being a woman with hopes of getting into Formula One was exhaustingly hard, but everything started to change when you won the F3 Championship, a few years ago.

Paul, your teammate at the time, had told you that a certain team principal would come to the race that day, and although you kept telling yourself to not get your hopes up, every single attempt to do so went downhill when you saw the Mercedes team principal walking through the paddock like he owned the place.

To you, Mercedes was everything. Besides being one of the most modern teams, you also realized soon enough that Toto was probably the most open-minded out of all the other TPs on the grid. It was sad, of course, having such a little percentage of people who would be happy to see a woman in a position that was so dominated by men, but still, it lit up a flame in your chest, a string of hope you clung onto whenever you felt like giving up your dream.

That day, with him on the bleachers as you drove fearlessly around Spa-Francorchamps, you won the F3 championship, putting you on a watchlist of drivers that could get into F2.

Ever since that day, the austrian had kept an eye on you.

He saw how fiercely you fought to have a place, to have a voice and to be heard in a space ever so dominated by the opposite sex, and it didn't scare him, not one bit, he admired it. When you stood on that podium earlier, he didn't even bother hiding a smile, taking pictures and videos and chanting your name with the rest of the team as Lewis and Max sprayed the ridiculously expensive champagne on your back as you laughed.

That's why today, hours after winning your first ever F1 race on your first year in the category, he still couldn't get off the high he was on. He had finally gotten the confirmation he so desperately needed, not because he didn't believe you could do it, but because he was eager to prove everyone else wrong, to rip the smugness out of every single man who told you you didn't belong there.

At least that's what he had told you earlier through the radio before the lights went out, prove them wrong. He just didn't know you fought to reprimand a sob as you tried to concentrate in the lights that stood just above the Albert 1st Boulevard.

Now, Toto's eyes scanned every single corner of Jimmy'z searching for you, only to find you on the dance floor, pornstar martini in hand as you swayed to the beats of Empire of The Sun's We Are The People.

You had a smile on your face that could lit up a whole room, and he couldn't be prouder. Soon enough, your eyes met his and you chuckled, making a peace sign to point at your eyes and then at his as the line got lost in your eyes blasted through the club's speakers.

Even at distance, you could see him rolling his eyes and chuckling at your playful gesture, but still, he came closer, until the only thing in his field of vision was the visibly drunk version of you.

"You look happy." he leans down and forward to yell in your ear, making himself heard even if though the loud music made it hard to.

You squirm at the proximity, but brush it off by taking another sip of your drink. "I'm on top of the world, Toto. I don't think I've ever been happier." You yell back and he resists the urge to fight back a smile, presenting you with his pearly whites.

As one of the neon lights hit your face, he's forced to take in all of you. The version of you you'd put up whenever he'd tell you he had an important meeting he needed you to attend, or whenever you were needed to put up a show, like today.

You wore a black strapless dress, the one you'd seen a few weeks prior to the Grand Prix at Elie Saab's display window while you were on your daily night walk through Monaco. It was mesmerizing, with a shimmery type of fabric that would definitely make sparks fly if a bright light shined over it. You had thought of buying it, for days, really, but decided against it because party dresses were never a much needed piece of clothing in your wardrobe. Well, that until you told Lewis about the dress, and when you arrived at your apartment a few hours after the race, there it was, on a hanger hanging on the curtain rods.

As much as your looks prevented Toto from thinking about anything else, he couldn't help but notice how huge your pupils were, so big that it felt like your iris' were long gone. That and the fact that your sclera had shifted from white to a more reddish color.

He shifted on his feet, unaware of how to proceed. Were you.. high? Was that even a thing between sportspersons? Deciding on it being a matter that shouldn't be handled in front of the city's most congested place as of today, he mutters a "come with me" in your ear, putting a hand on your lower back as he guided you away from the crowd.

When he finally stops, you find yourself in a more private, smaller room with a few sofas and armchairs. He then proceeds to ask you "You've taken something. What is it?"

You laugh at his sudden concern. The answer was clearly a big red yes written in all caps, but part of you couldn't help but feel slightly ashamed at yourself. You had done it, yes, but now you felt sort of guilty, because the last thing you wanted was to damage his or the team's image. You shake your head, trying to to keep those thoughts away. It was just a party, a party for you, with only selected people being allowed in, it wasn't like you'd wake up to your name on the news.

"Come ooon.. don't be such a party pooper!" You slurred.

Toto was shocked by your reaction, part of him wanted you to celebrate as you wished, after all, you had just fulfilled a dream, but the other part, the responsible boss part craved an explanation, he didn't want you to cause any harm to your already fragile media image.

"Are you serious? You're the star of the entire team today! We have thrown a party just for you and you're getting off on drugs?" He says, lowering his voice on the last word as he crosses his arm.

"It's just a blunt, Toto. I swear I'm fine." Your laugh echoes throughout the small room as you grab his big arms, uncrossing them. "Don't get so serious on me." You look up at him through your lashes.

Toto gives you a stern look before a smirk creeps up on his face. The anger and seriousness fades away in an instant as he realizes the situation wasn't that serious. He sighs and looks at you with a sly, yet curious look. "How many? One, right?"

"Just one, sir." You say mischievously, holding your pinky finger up before kissing it to symbolize a promise.

Toto is taken aback as you kiss your pinky finger in a sarcastic manner, although he doesn't say anything. He looks at you with the same sly look as before. "I see... and have you done this before?"

"Who hasn't, duh?" You furrow your brows, flashing him a backward smile.

'He hasn't, of course. That's Torger Wolff we're talking about' you think to yourself as you look up at him. The soreness of your muscles and the pain of being on your feet for so long getting to you.

Sometimes it was kind of annoying having a conversation with your boss due to the fact that you had to look up the entire time, and countless were the times you found yourself with neck pain after hours of chatting. This conversation would surely be added to that imaginary countless list of yours, because even today, with high heels that could make you look six feet tall, he still looked way too big.

Toto chuckles before getting a playful look on his face. "Oh, really? I highly doubt the star of my F1 team has ever smoked a blunt before, although you do seem very knowledgeable about this." He moves closer to you, looking down at you as he speaks, his voice low and husky. You wondered if his neck ever went through the same problem yours did when you two talked, causing you to chuckle.

"I do?" You lift one eyebrow, narrowing your eyes. "Well, I must say.. the star of your precious F1 Team has done a lot, Mr. Wolff." It comes off more flirtatious than you intended, but you pay no mind to it. You try to take a step back, but end up slipping on the hem of your gown, the high getting to you later than ever.

Toto immediately rushes to you and catches you mid-air, wrapping his arms around your torso.

"Is that so?" Toto says, his voice now raspy and face close to yours.

You exhale deeply, relief from not having made an absolute mess out of yourself filling your body. If you had fallen, your dress would probably be completely torn apart and headlines would have a field trip with it.

He is still holding you, his hands burning on your back.

"Yeah.." You close your eyes, getting away from Toto's embrace as you regain balance and straighten yourself.

Toto steps back as you do so, although he does want to reach out to hold you again. Instead, he settles for engaging on more double entendre conversations with you.

His eyes are full of admiration, your body is more visible in this dress than it has ever been, and he makes a mental note to thank Lewis for the gift. He recalls the moment you two shared a few minutes ago, the way you swayed and jumped with the music like you were the only person in that dance floor would never fail to amaze him.

"You truly do look like a notorious celebrity in this dress, don't you?" He finally says, a hint of shyness in his tone, although the look in his face is stern.

"You could thank your other driver for that." You joke, trying to hide the butterflies that swarmed in your stomach.

"I certainly will." he smiles, his gaze softening as his eyes meet yours. They're still red, but it starts to grow on him.

Looking at you like this, completely wasted, happy and carefree, he couldn't help but remember the afternoon you two had met, when he started to be so sure you'd be by his and Lewis' side on a race weekend one day.

Now, there you were, in front of him, with a trophy standing somewhere back in your apartment. "I'm so proud of you." he finally says, not because he thinks you should hear it, but because it's all he wants to say to you after today's events.

You look away from him shyly. You had heard it before, specially from him, but every single time felt like fireworks in your belly. Him being proud of you was capable of putting you on a whole another level, it was just another signal that you had made it, that you had proved you were capable, even to those who were always so sure you definitely were.

You try to hide a smile as you mutter a simple thank you, because in this state, visibly high and drunk, staring at the man who had made it all possible, it's all you manage to say.

He smiles back at you, and your mind almost short circuits when he steps closer, not stopping even when you can feel his breath close to your face. That's when you realize he's about to hug you, and you just let him.

It's genuine, simple yet abnormally meaningful. His big hands rest crossed on your lower back as he pulls you closer, making your cheeks rest on his suit covered chest. You almost feel like crying, because how could you not? You had it all now, a place in the sport you so desperately craved to have since you were a kid, a win, an amazing teammate and an even more amazing boss, who believed in you through your entire career.

"You've done it." He says quietly as if you're a wild animal that would run away at any abrupt movement or sound. "I can't even imagine how you feel."

On cloud nine, that was the most appropriate answer.

"It's like nothing I've ever felt." you say, arms hugging his chest. "Thank you for always believing in me, you have no idea how much you've done for me." you sniff, clearly on the verge of tears.

"It's nothing compared to what you deserve. You're one of the greats, Y/N. The whole world's gonna know you name." he says, causing the tears you so eagerly fought to keep off to fall rapidly on your cheeks. You sniff, opening your eyes to see that a small wet circle had formed on Toto's shirt.

"Shit, sorry." You laugh awkwardly as you take a step back, desperately trying to dry your tears with your fingers before they ruined your makeup too.

"Hey, it's fine." He steps closer again, bringing his thumb to your face as he continues your job of drying the tears you had shed. Once he's done, his hands linger there for a bit longer than they needed to, stroking your cheeks. You thank the Gods for whatever the hell he was on today. "You do look pretty when you cry, though I must say I prefer the way you look on top of a podium, with champagne drenched hair and a first place trophy in hand."

You roll your eyes, as if it was possible to fall even more in love with him. It had become stupid at this point, really. Clearly the two of you had something special, to say the least, going on, but none of you were courageous enough to come clean about this.

"You aren't a bad view from up there as well." You shoot back, earning a smile in return.

The shameless and obvious flirtation to whoever watched from outside continued for a few minutes, until Toto insisted that you should go back to your party, and although at this point you had decided to give up the celebrations to look at him for the rest of night, there he was, once again with his hand on your lower back, guiding you through the crowd back to where he initially had seen you. Doesn't take long for you to get lost in the music, dancing like there was no tomorrow. Toto had excused himself to greet other team members and sponsors, fulfilling the ultimate boss role even at parties, and stealing glances from you every now and then while talking to someone.

A few drinks later, the club was getting more empty by the minute, the clock almost hitting 4:30 a.m. Your makeup was already lightly smudged, your black Louboutins long gone in the corner you once laughed with your friends. As you thanked the remaining people for coming, Toto showed up again, startling you as he came from behind, putting his right hand in your shoulder.

"Seems like the party has reached an end." he says, making you look up at him. His face was fairly red, and by the way he slurred his words, you could tell he was somewhat drunk. His hair was messier than earlier and the tie that was once a fancy bow was now untied, resting around his neck, a nice combination to his slightly unbuttoned shirt.

"Unfortunately. I hope you had fun, though." you reply, turning your attention to shake some of your guests' hands.

"It's always fun with you around." He says as he smiles to the same people shaking your hands.

You crookedly smile, turning around to walk to your table. As you do so, he follows.

"Do you need a ride? I saw you coming in with Bradley, but he already left," He watches you as you walk through the empty club, employees cleaning the floor of what was once the party of a lifetime. "guess parties aren't really his thing." He chuckles.

"I don't wanna make you take me home now, it's late and you're probably very tired."

"Oh, please, it's Monaco. Not like I'm going to be driving for hours." He replies, earning you a laugh. You and Toto lived pretty close to each other, but you'd drive past his building before getting to yours, so you truly didn't want him to make a huge detour just because of you.

"Fine," you smile, grabbing your sparkly clutch. "just please tell me you came with your 300sl roadster." You say and he chortles, rolling his eyes.

The Mercedes 300SL Roadster owned by Toto was probably one of your favorite cars in his collection. Hell, in anyone's collection. It's such an incredibly classy vehicle you couldn't resist its charm.

"I did." He says, and you let out a slightly loud yes! as he grabs your scarpins, laughing at your reaction. The way the smallest things were capable of making you happy always made him smile. Even after closing a multi-millionaire deal with your team, some things would never fail to make you excited, such as being driven home in a car you've always wanted.

The both of you start to walk towards Jimmy'z's exit in a different sort of haze, like the two of you were in your own little world together, laughing and exchanging inside jokes. The dry warm Monaco summer air hits you as soon as you step out, and soon the vallet comes driving Toto's car, opening the door for you to get in.

As the both of you get in, he starts driving, the sound of the car's engine echoing throughout Princesse Grace Avenue. Duke Dumont's Ocean Drive in the radio as your hair flies due to the speed in which Toto's driving. Now and then, he casually glances at you, smiling at the way you still manage to dance even when sitting on the passenger's seat.

Despite being a race weekend, the city seemed awfully quiet and empty at this time. Soon enough, he takes a turn and you're finally in Larvotto, which meant in a few seconds he'd be pulling up at your home. However, before he had the chance to, you saw the sun rising in distance, its warm light gleaming in the sea water.

"Toto, look!" you point to the horizon, and he slows the car down to follow your gaze. "It's so beautiful.."

"Indeed it is.." he says, and you can tell by his tone he's got a change of plans coming. When you realize, he's parking the car in the shore, exiting the vehicle to open the door for you. "Come on, let me give you a real after party."

You smile, because there was no way the day could get any better. You were sure you'd wake up later convincing yourself this had been a dream. Taking your hand, he pulls you out of the car, and after you close the door, he runs towards the sea, fingers intertwined with yours.

In this moment, you force yourself to forget about all of the implications and concerns that could come at you. In this moment, it was just you and Toto, not a Mercedes driver and the Mercedes' Team Principal. To anyone else who'd catch a glimpse of the scene, the both of you looked like stupid, reckless teenagers in love.

Sitting on the sand, you try to catch your breath, stomach hurting due to you not being able to stop laughing. You lay your head on his broad shoulders, hands holding his arm.

Suddenly, he feels the need to confess, "I'm always so happy when I'm around you" with the german accent getting heavier as it always did when he was drunk.

You smile, "Me too."

A beat, and then, "You're the most amazing woman I've ever known."

It comes lower than he intends to, but he's also never felt so nervous around someone as he does now. You thank the heavens for the fact that he's not looking at you, you look like a kid stupidly in love.

"You don't need to say that," you sigh. "you've already told me you're proud of me for today."

"I know. I'm not saying it because I feel the need for it to be said, but because I truly think that." he replies. "Ever since that day in Spa, you've proven to be an extremely fierce, fearless, wonderful driver and an even more amazing woman." You roll your eyes at his compliments. "I mean it, Y/N." He grabs your attention just by saying your name, making it all even more real. "Mercedes is extremely lucky to have you, and so am I." he looks at you, his face closer than ever as yours rest on his shoulder.

"You have me?" You say, looking at him through your lashes.

"I like to think I do. Do I?"

"Utterly." You giggle, your eyes glowing just by looking at him.

His hands go to cup your face, and the last thing you'd expect from him happens. At first, his lips brush over yours lightly, as if he's asking for permission, testing the waters to see if he's allowed to go further. When you don't protest, he deepens the kiss, sweeping you off your feet.

The both of you laugh, and you hide your now completely red face in his chest. "You have no idea how long I've waited for this." you say, feeling his body hairs stand on end.

"You have no idea how long I've waited to do this." he says, and you shed a tear on his partially shirt covered chest. "Are you crying?" He asks, and when he hears you sniff, he takes it as a yes. "Hey, don't cry. Look." he lifts your chin up, making you stare at the scene unfolding in front of your eyes.

The sunrise looked like a piece of art, with pinkish and yellow tones coloring the sky. Toto puts an arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer. You could now add having him at your list as well.

#toto wolff #toto wolff x reader #toto wolff x you #toto wolff x y/n #formula one #formula 1 #f1 #lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton x reader #fanfic #alternative universe

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podcastenthusiast · 4 months

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Dead Boy Detectives Fic Rec List

Mostly payneland <3 I will update as I find more fics.

“I don’t like this, mate,” Charles muttered.

The Things We Can, and Cannot, Do by MDJensen

Paul Rowland is dead. It's not just that, though.

Oh, Lonely Bones, Have You Forgotten? by DontOffendTheBees

“No,” Edwin agreed, gravely. “Nor do I.”

Frankly, taking this case was probably an unwise decision. The meagre payment offered by the sickly-looking ghost of the old groundskeeper would fall far, far short of the emotional cost of the expedition. And yet when Edwin had looked over to Charles and met his eyes, there had been no doubt, no hesitation. Perhaps it was the notion of unfinished business; that mysterious force that compelled ghosts to sites of personal trauma as sirens compelled sailors to the unforgiving rocks. Perhaps they were both mere gluttons for punishment.

Either way, they were here now. It was with heavy hearts and wary eyes that on the evening of June twenty-sixth, Edwin and Charles – along with Crystal – set foot once more on the grounds of St. Hilarion's School for Boys. In which a very, very old case is re-opened.

Mom Says It's My Turn to Jump on the Grenade by RoseGanymede95

Charles tried to pay attention, because Edwin was really upset, and Charles still didn’t understand why, and it seemed like this might be important. It was just, they’d been at this for a while, and Edwin kept asking him the same questions and not leaving him time to answer, so. His mind may have wandered a bit to how he would reinforce the next cricket bat. His attention snapped back to the present when Edwin said, “This can’t happen. You can’t risk this, I can’t be the reason you risk it. You have to move on.” “Move on?” Charles repeated blankly. “Move on from what?” “From here, Charles!” Edwin shouted, suddenly furious again, suddenly shouting even though his eyes were filled with tears. “You have to go with Death! You have to leave!” “I don’t want to go with Her,” Charles said, nonplussed. “Fine, that’s your business, but you can’t keep hanging around me!” Edwin snapped. Charles’ world suddenly tilted on its axis, sending everything askew. “I can’t?” he asked, his voice small, his heart wide open and exposed.

Let me bleed instead of you by mellxncollie

The question rang like a cracked bell in what had only just become someplace Edwin had started to contemplate calling home. “What was Hell like?” - Charles and Edwin keep secrets from one another. The list isn't long, but it's not empty. Eventually, they start tumbling out in soft whispers, in tear-reddened eyes, in shocked expressions, in choked up phrases.

Or, 40 years and 8 secrets.

Indelible by Arisprite

Charles is feeling a lot and also not much at all in the immediate aftermath of returning from Hell. He also can tell Edwin is wearing thin from holding himself together. Who wouldn't be, after that? It's okay, though. Charles can take care of him, and he always always will.

Done Running by Asidian

Charles has gone a peculiar off color, all the blood blanched from his cheeks. He glances to the arm, and then back up to Edwin's face. "Any break's a bad break, innit?"

"Some have more drawbacks than others," says Edwin, detached and scholarly. "For instance, unless the nerves are compromised, it is possible to make use of the injured arm in cases of extreme –"

"Bloody hell," breathes Charles.

Joi de Vivre by olympus_mons

Edwin Payne crawls out of Hell twice. Somehow, his problems begin in the aftermath.

so many ways to give in by piilu

“I think there’s something really wrong with me, mate,” Charles sobs, the remains of the bat falling from his hand. ---- Charles struggles with his anger issues. Again.

A Room of One's Own by DarkStars (Worlds_Okayest_Goalie)

Crystal is so tired of watching Charles and Edwin stare longingly at each other. OR 5 times Crystal tells Charles and Edwin to get a room and 1 time they do.

Shape Me by dearheartdont

At least twice a year Charles and his mum packed their cases and caught a train to Birmingham, leaving his dad behind with a freezer full of carefully labelled Tupperware.

Charles Rowland and his relationship with his extended family and heritage.

(Part of a series of snapshots of Charles’ life in the 1980s.)

half of my soul, as the poets say by thegirlofthorns

Edwin existed, just as Charles had. Charles, who occupied a space in loving memory. A much-deserved space – Edwin would have wanted it no other way – but the core of him wanted to scream that he had been here, too. He never would be again, but he had lived, and he had breathed and laughed and moved with too much frippery and frill to continue on breathing, and he had been a whole person, once. And it had not mattered. So looked at CHARLES ROWLAND through tears, allowed himself to. Even Charles's hammer on metal on stone was not enough to dull the pain, but it was enough to remind him that he was still here, even if he was no longer living. It was an awful sound, a jarring sound, and tears shone in Charles’s eyes as he focused intently on carving out the A in his surname, but it was something. They were there, together, and they were feeling.

- Or, Charles finds Edwin's unmarked grave and will, in the lightest of terms, not be having it.

Terrible, Horrible, No Good, and Very Bad by hibye

It was about the torture. The torture he was experiencing presently, and also every minute of every hour of every day, standing alongside Edwin Payne and saying nothing out of the ordinary at all.

O Spirit From The Great Beyond! by InTwainFiction

Edwin is ignoring Charles.

They haven't spoken in almost twelve hours, and all because of a little incident involving some puppies. Yes, said incident may have been Charles' fault, but he has apologised a million times.

Charles is getting desperate to find a way to get Edwin to talk to him again, and a little walk away from the office provides just the thing Charles needs.

He hopes it will get Edwin to talk to him, but at the very least it will be a laugh.

a beautiful day to say goodbye by ofstitches

“The house is… sad,” the client responds.

“Again, we can’t help with selling the house. Maybe try some decorations. That’ll brighten the old place up,” Charles suggests.

“No, you misunderstand. The house doesn’t look sad. The house is sad. It is depressed.”

“How do you figure?” Edwin says, sitting up in his chair now that the client has said something potentially interesting.

or A new case brings up old feelings, and maybe something more.

A Heaven Like They Talk About by LikeMmCookies

After managing to piss off yet another witch, Edwin and Charles are cursed as punishment. Bewildered, powerless, and lacking answers, they face their greatest challenge yet: being human again.

With Edwin doing novel things like picking out shampoo and wearing different pants, Charles finds his body reacting in strange ways to his best friend. He questions if these are new feelings, or if they'd been there all along.

But the biggest question remains - do they stay alive or do they find a way to go back?

being unknown by The_IPRE

Edwin does know Charles, or at least he likes to think that he does. He knows that Charles is far better with the clients than he is, quick to offer a smile or extend sympathy while Edwin is far more interested in delving deeper into the details of the case. He knows that Charles has a wicked swing with his cricket bat, but prefers to leave that as a second resort when he believes there's a way for them to come to a compromise. He knows that Charles chooses to hope for the best from people, even after having seen the worst they have to offer–and in fact, having been killed by it.

As Charles sits in front of him, the strain in his shoulders at odds with the easy grin on his face, Edwin wonders how much of his friend he is failing to see. -- 5 times Edwin didn't press the issue, and one time he did.

The Kind of Light That Means Just Love (When My Baby Smiles at Me) by DontOffendTheBees

“Charles,” Edwin admonished, gently closing his book with a finger tucked between the pages to hold his place. “I have asked you to stop fooling around with that contraption and get some work done.”

“I have been!” Charles defended, gesturing broadly at the higgledy-piggledy array of items around him. Evidently, taking stock of the contents of his bag of tricks was an expansive task. “Taking a break.” He snatched the small square of paper from the Polaroid camera and began to shake it with abandon. In which Charles partakes in some amateur ghost photography, and Edwin (fondly) bemoans the futility of the exercise.

The Good Left Undone by plutosheaven

Help comes from unlikely places when Edwin is once again faced with a threat worse than death.

the phantoms here will never have their fill by ahyperactivehero (ahyperactiverhero)

Poltergeists are created when a ghost experiences extreme emotional distress. Poltergeists are notoriously hard to reign in, and they almost never gently move on. Neither Edwin nor Charles ever imagined it would happen to them.

Basically, five times where the Dead Boy Detective Agency dealt with the threat of a poltergeist.

XXX

“Once you choose to go down the poltergeist route there is no coming back,” Edwin said. “And I will have no choice but to follow you.”

“You can’t do that mate,” Charles said. His voice had cleared up some, his form less wavy.

“Then do not go where I cannot follow,” Edwin said.

Form 239, Schedule L by sanctuary_for_all

At the top of a small pile of papers was a copy of Form 239, Schedule L, filled out with achingly familiar handwriting. At the top, the word "Approved" was stamped in large red letters.

This Darkness, Enduring by kickingtheladder

“Your son is gone,” they tell her. “It was… an Act of God.”

She cannot think of a single thing to say for a very long moment. And then she has many things to say, most of which are not at all appropriate for polite company. --- Edwin Payne's mother, before and after.

Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow by kickingtheladder

“Your son is gone," they tell her. "He ran away." She doesn't say anything. --- Charles Rowland's mother, afterwards.

dreaming of the things you said / hoping that it's meant by ohmyfuckinggod420

Edwin turns away with a deep breath, ignoring the fluttering in his stomach. His non-existent, ghostly stomach. It seems so ridiculously cruel and on theme for his current situation. Not only is he in love with his best friend, and not only does his best friend not love him back, but he’s feeling things that he shouldn’t be feeling on top of things that he physically should not be able to feel. or

The gang is back in London. Niko is gone, Crystal is on the cusp of a breakdown, Charles is still a flirt, and Edwin is... trying his best.

Oh, and he keeps feeling his pulse. As a ghost. A very dead ghost.

The trouble really never ends.

the ghost of the past that you live in by ObsessedWithFandom

It didn’t start as much. As anything, really. Charles noticed him in the hallways only because he was new, which was rare in Year 11, and because he smiled shyly whenever Charles said hi. Aysar, he’d introduced himself, and Charles liked the way the syllables formed in his mouth. He wanted to be Aysar’s friend.

Or: five boys Charles didn't date, and one he did.

Aftermath by sophisticatedyet

“What are you humming?”

Charles’ polo muffled his question, and the pause before Charles answered was so long that Edwin wondered if he hadn’t heard him at all. But then he said, "A lullaby.”

The answer made Edwin smile bemusedly. “Why? I can't fall asleep.”

“Yeah, duh, I know. It's just meant to soothing.”

“Oh.” Edwin rested his head back against Charles’ chest. “I suppose I do feel quite soothed.”

Dance the Night by Gruoch

“What is that?” Crystal asks, looking Edwin up and down with an expression of abject befuddlement that borders on disgust.

“It is my disguise,” Edwin replies a little stiffly in response to her tone. “You told me to wear a disguise.”

“You look like Margaret Thatcher,” Crystal says flatly. “You’re going undercover at a nightclub, not a library. This—“ she plucks at Edwin’s long tweed skirt, her lip curling— “is not appropriate nightclub attire. You’re gonna attract too much attention.”

“I thought attracting attention was the point of this ludicrous exercise,” Edwin snaps back.

“Yes, the right kind of attention,” Crystal stresses. “This—” she waves a hand broadly at him—“will get the wrong kind of attention.”

In which the gang returns home to discover something sinister stalking London’s party scene after dark, Edwin lets his hair down, Charles’ confidence is shaken, and Crystal pursues a new lease on life (and hopefully doesn’t die in the process).

Everywhere, Everything (wanna love you) by WildCookieKeef

Freedom, as it seems, is suffocating. Decades spent running away from death herself and yet now more than ever does Edwin feel restless. Hell is behind him for the second time. He might’ve escaped his fate of eternal torture, but rabidly approaching are revelations he would’ve kept buried for far longer.

He’d never be so flustered and disorganized if it hadn’t been for Crystal or the Cat King or Monty or the Night Nurse or that horrible witch Esther or Simon, god not Simon, or practically reenacting old Greek tales with his best mate or. . .

No. It’s no one’s fault but his own. If he could sleep he’s sure he’d have nightmares.

Of what? There’s lots to choose from, but he can just feel it. Maybe some spirit malady has taken root in his body. He can sense the tension under his skin. Aches of pain that he knows aren’t physical.

He never should’ve told Charles. What was he thinking?

or After the end of S1, Edwin reasons that Charles rejected his confession and fears the worst while trying to suffer silently. Charles is very bad at letting Edwin suffer in peace.

the eight layers of hell, reversed by Zairielon

There's a lot that Edwin and Charles don't talk about. Frankly, after 30 years together, you don't have to say much for the other person to get the point. But Port Townsend and Crystal and Niko knocked their dynamic off-kilter, and by the time they return to London and finally get back to "normal," "normal" has changed. "Normal" is now Crystal's bright laughter, Niko's earnest affection, and Edwin's faint smiles. "Normal" is an unnameable ball of emotions tangled up in Charles' chest. "Normal" is Edwin looking at him, and Charles hearing those words all over again.

Charles, I'm in love with you.

OR, Charles figures out what it means that Edwin is the only person in the world he'd run into Hell for.

When We Walk Together We Tend To Walk Alone by UneducatedAuthor

She’s never unexpected, but she’s always a surprise. And when Charles meets her, it's nothing like the nightmare he's built up in his own head, being split away from Edwin and cursed to an afterlife without him. She's kind and gentle and familiar, and she gives him a chance to say goodbye to his mother.

Or, the one where Charles meets Death. They have a lot to talk about. But it's okay. They have time.

it's you that i hold on to by lrvzender

A pair of lips press shakily on his temple. Charles Rowland’s blood definitely runs hot, Edwin decides, definitely.

“You’re not asking anything, mate. But you have to understand that you are worth saving, a thousand times over. You are worth knowing, Edwin.”

Something bigger than the whole, wide sky. Something bigger than death, perhaps.

(where Edwin does not ask to be known, but Charles knows anyway)

and your song, it haunts me like hunger does the crow by kay_cricketed

After they return to London, Charles notices an escalation in people approaching Edwin with their attentions. Which is fine! It's not that Charles is jealous. He wants Edwin to be happy and to have a chance at a fulfilling relationship, yeah? The problem is, Charles is aware that Edwin is unpracticed with these kinds of emotions and other people, and it would be very easy for someone to take advantage. And that’s not going to happen, not on Charles’ watch.

To make matters worse, the admirers are getting a little too intense. And Charles is starting to suspect there's more at work than everyone realizing his best mate is brills.

(Or: In which the damage to Edwin's soul across years of torture has had an unusual effect, and Charles needs to fix it before he's compelled to violence. Again.)

trína chéile, le chéile, claochlaithe / entangled, together, transformed by theroyalsavage

Edwin Payne and Charles Roland are not Orpheus and Eurydice. They are not tragic figures of myth, children of gods and spirits, immortalized in verse by the poets of old. They’re nothing special at all – just two boys too stubborn to move on. With that said, however… Edwin must admit that there are certain similarities.

Came up from that lake of fire by ghostinthelibrary

"Are you a zombie?” Niko peers into Edwin’s eyes. “Because the Night Nurse told me zombies exist. Do you hunger for brains, Edwin?”

“Hardly.” Remembering being splattered with gray matter in the not-so-distant past, Edwin shudders. He cannot imagine consuming it. “I’m not a zombie.”

“What about a vampire?” She almost looks excited by the prospect. “We’re only a couple of hours from Forks. It would be perfect!”” When they’re caught during their escape from Hell, Charles and Edwin have no choice but to make a deal: they have one hundred days to find and entrap a powerful, malevolent spirit, or both of their souls are forfeit. But when they’re both temporarily restored to living bodies to aid in their search, being alive brings with it a host of new feelings, which neither of them know how to cope with, especially as their deadline looms closer and their quarry proves increasingly dangerous.

Unbreakable by Asexual_Enjolras

Edwin feels as though he owes Charles an apology because he cannot offer support to his best friend in the same way that Crystal can. And Charles tells him exactly where to stick that apology the moment he does.

Or, Edwin feels like he is broken and Charles does not agree.

after the insects have laid their claim by lolotr

“Where are you buried, do you’ve any idea?”

“My body was never found,” he replies softly. “There is a memorial marker next to my parents’ graves, but my remains are not there.”

The idea is so horrifying that it stuns Charles into silence for a couple seconds. “I didn’t know that. Why didn’t I know that?”

Edwin’s shoulders tense. “The whole thing is bloody tragic enough as it is.”

Grabbing his wrist, Charles begins marching them back in the direction of the pond they used to get here. Edwin doesn’t resist, but he does argue, because of course he does. “Charles, where are we going?”

“St. Hilarion’s. We’ve got a new case, don’t we?”

Hold This by RoseGanymede95

“Alright, listen,” Charles said, after trying not to think at all for at least five minutes. “Hear me out.”

“Any ideas?” Edwin asked, not looking up from his page.

“It’s just. What would actually happen if you cut my hand off?”

Edwin jerked his head up so fast, Charles wondered that he didn’t brain himself against the stone wall. He looked more offended than he had when he found out about the live snake in Charles’ bag.

“What the hell kind of a question is that?” He hissed.

“I’m not saying we should do it!” Charles backpedaled. “I’m just curious! These cuffs make us proper solid, don’t they? We could probably lop it off and get me out.”

“No,” said Edwin emphatically. “We are not discussing this. I don’t want you getting any ideas and chewing your own arm off like a trapped weasel.”

“Not my whole arm, just my hand.”

the start of something beautiful (the spoiler-free remix) by KiaraSayre

Four cases from the Dead Boy Detectives casebook, featuring amnesia, corporeality, a time loop, and a chill hang sesh.

If I'm Batman, You're Robin by ahyperactivehero

Charles misses a lot of things from life. One of those is the movies. Edwin volunteers to go with him.

XXX

“Batman Returns?” Edwin asked, reading the title. “What sort of creature is a Batman?”

Charles couldn’t help the bark of a laugh he let out. “No, he’s not a creature, mate. He’s a superhero.” At the totally blank look on Edwin’s face he tried again. “He’s like a detective. But he fights crime with his fists, too.”

“Ah,” Edwin said with a knowing look. “One of your heroes, I see.”

offer me that deathless death by websters_lieb

It takes the better part of two days for Charles’s body to even be found, and in the end, Edwin is forced to turn on all the lights in the gymnasium attic where Charles had died in order to get a janitor to come upstairs. No one had even been looking for him, yet. - or Edwin and Charles attend a funeral, look for a gravestone, and decide to become detectives.

Edwin's Payne tolerance by RabidWatermelon

Charles knew Edwin had a high pain tolerance. How could he not, having endured the tortures of hell? He just didn’t expect it to be so… useful.

AKA I want to write drabbles about Edwin's pain tolerance because I think it's something that would come up over thirty years together and be mildly concerning to someone who went through abuse in life. No fixed plot or posting schedule. Will update tags as chapter come out w new content.

The Case of Edwin's Missing Notebook by thewalkingstone

Edwin forgot his notebook at the office.

Not a problem. He prided himself on having an excellent memory. He certainly liked to jot down notes as he worked, but it wasn’t like he couldn’t work without it. He would just have to remember things until they returned to the office.

It was fine. He was a professional, and professionals did not delay an investigation because they forgot their notebook. OR Just months after escaping Hell, Edwin accidentally forgets his notebook on a case. He does not handle it well. Luckily, his new best mate is there to help him out.

The Scenic Route by DontOffendTheBees

"Cheer up, Edwin," said Charles, brightly. "Might never happen."

Edwin gave Charles a look so haughty it had its own title. "It very much has happened, Charles." He sniffed and straightened out his newspaper with attitude, the rustle of it loud and sharp as a whip crack. "I don't see why we couldn't have simply hopped through the mirror and met Crystal there."

"At this point, Edwin, I'm in total fucking agreement," said Crystal, not opening her eyes. She was burrowed under her coat like a blanket, doing her best to make the uncomfortable upright seat look like a cosy bed. Fortunately this train car was basically empty, so she had space to stretch across two seats – and no one close by to comment on the floating newspaper across the table and the fact she was having a barney with it. "You're like, the worst person to travel with." In which the agency takes the scenic route to their next case; and Edwin finally receives some answers he's been waiting for.

what some circumstance stole by Chrome

For a magic-user intent on siphoning pain for power, both Hob Gadling and Edwin Payne represent unique opportunities. United in dire circumstances, a man incapable of dying and a boy long dead forge an unusual friendship--and try to survive the experience. --- “When you died,” Hob said. “How old were you?” “Sixteen.” “That,” Hob said, “Is awful.” Edwin shrugged. “Life is, I’m afraid,” he said. “Can be wonderful, too,” Hob said. “I promise.”

#dead boy detectives #dead boy detective agency #dbda #edwin payne #charles rowland #payneland #crystal palace #dbda fanfic #cj's fic recs

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ladykailitha · 3 months

Text

Never Hold Back Your Step... Part 10

Hello! Just a little morsel of this wonderful for you all. Next week should be me being back on this and the other WIPs full time and hopefully get them done. I'd say this one and Well Met By Moonlight are the closest to being done.

I never intended this one to get anywhere close to canon, but I was talked into going all the way to the end of season four, though it is seriously looking season 5 will get there before I finish book 3.

Not that anything in season five will change the trajectory of this story unless they bring Eddie back.

Anyway...the reason I'm even bringing it up is if you're hoping for a season three re-write, you aren't going to get one. Not really. I'm going to gloss over a lot of it except the end with Billy and the Mind Flayer.

In this chapter a wild, angry, Robin appears. And the shorts. Can't forget those.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

It really shouldn’t have been a surprise that Steve got offered the job at Scoops Ahoy. But of all the places he applied at and yes he applied at all of them, dad, only they offered him a position.

But he sucked it up and went to orientation. He sat there with roughly a half of dozen kids his age and tried not squirm in his seat as at least half of them glared daggers at him. The worst offender was a blonde girl with freckles and blue eyes who kept sneering at him.

The manager walked them through the employee handbook and took their information for tax purposes. And then the final nail in the coffin hit and Steve was mortally wounded.

The uniform.

Oh god, was the thing hideous. He was sure that he was going to be the laughing stock of all of Hawkins. The little shorts, the ridiculous red scarf and the stupid hat. If his dad wasn’t so insistent about the thing, he’d quit. He’d beg Mr. Jones back for his job at the rec center.

But as it was he had to take two sets of this terrible outfit with a pained smile and clenched jaw.

The only good thing he got out of this nightmare was that his mom let him buy new sneakers to go with the damn thing.

He stood in front of the mirror with a sickening sense of dread, he was going to have to find something to put in front of the shorts otherwise the things bordered on the obscene. It showed his package to unfortunate degree.

Steve’s first day of work was a nightmare and considering the past couple of years, that really was saying something.

He was scheduled to work with the blonde girl who was trying to bore daggers into him with her eyes.

Her name was Robin Buckley, she was about to enter her senior year of Hawkins High, and she rode her bike into work each day.

She looked at the white towel he had tucked into the front of his shorts with a raised eyebrow. “That isn’t part of the uniform, you know?” she sneered, wrinkling her nose in distaste.

He sighed. She reminded him of Mike. A chip on her shoulder and an axe to grind. “I’ve already cleared it with the manager,” he picked up the corner of it and waved it her direction. “It’s either the towel or an arrest for public indecency.”

Robin eyed the towel suspiciously. “And if I talk to Paul, he’ll tell me the same thing?”

He threw his arms in the air in exasperation. “Yes!”

She rolled her eyes and started pulling off the lids of the ice cream, so Steve took that as the matter being closed and got to work pulling the chairs off of the tables and tucking them in.

Once they got everything open, ready for business, and serving customers Steve realized he had another problem. One he didn’t know how to manage.

At all.

“Why didn’t you flirt with her?” Robin asked after a pretty blonde girl left with her double strawberry cone.

Steve blinked at her a moment before he realized what had happened. The girl had been batting her eyelashes and twirling her hair around a finger. She had been hitting on him hard and he hadn’t noticed.

Shit.

“Not my type,” he muttered, wiping down the counter even though it was already spotless. “I prefer brunettes.”

“Ew...” she hissed. “I didn’t want to know that.”

Steve rolled his eyes and just kept his mouth shut for the rest of their shift together.

Eddie couldn’t stop laughing. He was doubled over on the couch and just rolling with laughter.

“It’s not funny!” Steve protested. “This is dire. What the hell am I supposed to do?”

Eddie wiped the tears from his eyes as he struggled to sit up. “I’m sorry, babe, but you have to admit that’s one hell of problem to have.”

Steve buried his head into hands with a groan. If it wasn’t him that was facing down this particular barrel, he’d be right beside Eddie laughing his ass off.

“Flirt badly.”

Steve raised his head to look at his boyfriend. “What?”

“Flirt badly,” Eddie repeated. “You know what works, so do the opposite of that.”

Steve scratched his face as he thought about it. That could work. “I can try. I just didn’t want you thinking that I was ashamed of you or that I was looking for someone else if I did that.”

Eddie pulled him in for a hug and kissed the top of his head. “And I appreciate that, sweetheart but you don’t have to worry about that from me. If there is anyone that understands what you’re going through, baby, it’s me.”

Steve let out a shuddering breath.

“Yeah, okay.”

He lifted his head and pressed a kiss to the underside of Eddie’s jaw. Eddie hummed happily.

“I’m going to have to come visit you so I can see you in those slutty little shorts.”

Steve groaned for a different reason. “Please don’t. And don’t tell any of our friends I work there, either. It’s bad enough that the kids are going to find out and mock me.”

Eddie lifted his chin a little higher so he could look him in the eyes. “There might be some light mocking, but it’s not going to be malicious or mean. You’re going to get enough of that from the kids.”

Steve let his eyelids flutter shut as he kissed him warm and tenderly. It was hard for him to let go the fact that he had real friends now, friends that wouldn’t mock or tease him just because they could.

“Yeah,” he breathed. “Okay.”

Eddie got to his feet and helped Steve to his. “Come on, darlin’, let me cheer you up.”

Steve willingly follow him into his bedroom. He was just glad Uncle Wayne wasn’t home. He had learned the hard way there was no way that Steve could keep quiet when Eddie was making love to him.

Eddie kicked his door closed behind them and Steve let himself be taken care of.

Steve didn’t work with Robin all of the time, but when he did he wanted to pour melted ice cream over her head. She was a bitch and while Steve was a fan of that in general, she was being a bitch to him for no reason he could discern.

Then the first of the kids arrived. It was Mike and Lucas. Which normally isn’t a problem, but without the tempering aspects of Dustin and Will’s nature keeping them in check, the sass was out on display.

“Come on, Steve,” Mike was saying when he finally tuned back into their whining. “We spent all our money at the music shop and now we don’t have any money for the movie.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “And how is that my problem?”

“All the shops have a back hallway that link up to each other,” Lucas explained. “So you if let us through then we can slip into the theater and we can see the movie without paying.”

He was about to say no when Eddie walked in. So because he wanted to actually spend time with his boyfriend, he agreed to them out of his hair.

Plus he knew the movie they wanted to see and thought it would be fucking hilarious for them to have nightmares about it and then have to explain to their parents how they saw a movie they weren’t supposed to without giving up their source.

Mike’s in particular would bring him joy because he would absolutely narc on Steve but no one would believe him because of his strong dislike for him.

He came back from letting the kids through to see Eddie being served by Robin.

“I’ll take a double bowl,” he muttered. “Play-dough and bubble gum please.”

Steve had bit down on his tongue to keep from laughing when he saw how hard Robin was trying to keep the look of disgust off her face.

“Are you really going to eat that?” she asked, handing it over.

Steve patted her on the shoulder. “Yep, yep he is. I’m taking my break, but I’ll be right here if you need anything.”

She looked at the two of them in shock. “You two know each other?”

“Yep! Since before Christmas,” Eddie said grinning at her.

“He helped me out when I was puking in class from the concussion Hargrove gave me,” Steve added.

“Gross!” she sneered.

Steve and Eddie just shrugged her off and went to go sit at a booth.

“That stuff will give you cavities,” Steve said, leaning forward to peer into Eddie’s styrofoam cup.

Eddie threw back his head and laughed. “Like you wouldn’t live off the butterscotch one if you had a chance.”

He cocked his head to the side and then shrugged. “Fair.”

“I will say I’m feeling a little deceived at the moment,” Eddie said with a wink.

“Oh?”

Eddie took a big bite of his ice cream and shook his head fondly. “Those shorts aren’t as nearly as short as advertised.”

This time Steve threw his head back and laughed. “It’s not the length that makes the obscene, sunshine. It’s how tight they are.”

“If you say so, big boy,” Eddie huffed digging into his ice cream for another big bite. “So is the music shop here any good?”

Steve shook his head. “Not for a dyed in the wool metal fan such as yourself. Mike was complaining about how it was all pop and new age. And huge fucking country section.”

Eddie sneered around his spoon. “One day I will find good music in this town.”

“Maybe that’s the sign that you should get out of Ford,” Steve said. “After you graduate for Wayne of course.”

“It’s Dodge.”

Steve looked up to see Robin sneering at him again. “What is?”

“The saying,” she said leaning forward. “It’s get out of Dodge.”

“Why would it be dodge?” he asked with a frown of confusion.

“That’s the name of the frontier town that the saying is referring to,” Eddie said gently.

Steve mouthed ‘oh’ and then nodded. “Gotcha.”

Robin scoffed. “So you’ll take his word for it over mine?”

Eddie and Steve shared a glance.

“Yeah,” he said shaking his head slightly. “Because I know him?”

Robin’s head reared back in shock.

“He’s got you there, birdie,” Eddie said, finishing off the last of his ice cream.

She scoffed again and went into the back to ignore them both.

“I think that’s my cue to leave, darlin’,” Eddie cooed. “I’ll see you tonight, all right?”

Steve nodded. “My parents have left again, with ‘plans’ to return for the 4th of July, so just come on over.”

Eddie nodded back and gave Steve’s shoulder a squeeze as he threw out his cup, wiping his hands on a napkin.

Steve watched as he left, feeling as if Robin’s eyes were boring into the back of his head again.

It was going to be a long summer.

Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16

Tag List: 10 slots remaining

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3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

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#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes #boy with a bat

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faghubby · 4 months

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Not Knocking changes my life

I opened the door to my bosses office. I had thought he had already left for the day and wanted to leave the incedent report for him to look over. I dropped it when I saw him. His pants around his ankles as he jerked off. I froze for a moment his cock was so big. He didn't stop instead he spun his chair a bit so I had an even better view.

"So sorry Mr Green" I stuttered he was still slowly stroking himself. I had never seen another man jerk off before.

"Paul check out this one" he said moving his computer screen. I was even more stunned when I saw what he was jerking off too. A slender small femme boi. I tried to leave.

"What Paul I know this is what you watch" He said. I froze.

"That virus we got last week" he added as if telling me how he knew.

"Paul are you wearing panties now?" He asked.

"No, of course not" I stuttered I wasn't sure I could get any more uncomfortable then I was now. He stood kicking off his pants as he stepped and grabbed my arm.

"Prove it" he said. He was so close I could of touched his cock. I let him turn me. He started to unbutton my shirt. I panicked and closed the door.

"Mr Green you're married" I said it was stupid but only thing I could think of. He removed my shirt. Standing very close now. He looked down into my eyes. He was at least 6 inches taller then my 5'5" slender frame.Mr green was old enough to be my father. I was 22 year old loser. And this successful handsom older man wanted me. unbuckled my belt I couldn't move. As he unzipped my pants and let them fall around my ankles.

"You little liar" Mr Green smiled when he saw my satin yellow panties. He cupped my bulge. My 4 inch penis straining against the flimsy material. His hands wrapped around and gropped my ass with both hands.

"Mr Green" I stuttered

"You should probably call me John with what is about to happen" John told me. John pulled his shirt off and led me back to his chair. He sat down and pulled me to his lap.

"Sit on Daddy's lap and watch this with me" John told me. He continued to rub me thru my panties. I stroked his cock as we watched porn on the computer.

"Do you suck cock baby?" He asked.

"I never" I mumbled

"I got myself a little virgin sissy" he laughed. I stroked him faster as his breath sounds increased.

"Look how she takes his big cock in her ass" John said he rubbed me thru the panties. I came. A moment later I made him cum. My hand coated with his seed. There was so much I thought. I never came that much.

"Have you ever tasted it?" John asked scooping up a glob of his cum and bringing it to my lips. I shook my head but opened my mouth and tasted his cum. The salty taste and texture was odd. But Iooked them in the eye for the first time and licked my hand. He was still rock hard. I was surprised.

"Why don't you sit on it" he suggested.

"It's so big and" I stuttered.

"We don't even have to take off your pretty panties" he smiled. And moved me his cock rubbed against my ass. I started to gyrate on his lap.

"I am going to teach you everything" John told me. He rubbed and pinched my nipples.

"Do you have a girlie name?" John asked. I just shook my head no. He pulled my long hair out of the pony tail I always kept it in.

I got hard again as I did I doubled my efforts pleasing him. I spun around on his lap. I don't know why but I leaned in and kissed him my tounge danced in his mouth. This made him cum all over my ass. He stood lifting me with him. He set me down and pulled my panties down bending me over his desk He used his cum as lube he worked his fingers in my ass. I cried out loud as he did. As his fingers probed my ass. He stroked my dick just a few times making me cum on his desk.

"I love you to except that I am going to have you" John told me. I nodded. He watched as I got dressed and left.

The next day I got called to HR. At first I thought it was over the forklift accident. But when I got called into a private office by Gina. Gina was an older woman of about 60. I thought of last night.

"Paul, sit down. You are not in trouble. Mr Green just wanted to show his appreciation for your professionalism in reporting the incident. She handed me an envelope. I opened it and it was a pass to a salon. I must of looked confused.

"Paul, John is discreet and on occasions chooses people to achieve their potential. I am aware of somethings, not details. But I help Mr Green at times. And if you don't want to continue or want to even file a complaint I will help you with that. I also am someone you can contact I'd there is a problem." Gina told me she handed me a new cell phone. "Both mine and Mr Green numbers are in the phone. It is the only number you are to use to reach Mr Green." Gina was very calm about all of this. She stopped and looked me straight in the eye.

"John won't want half way, that coupon you hold is for a full body wax and mani pedi." Gina warned me. I nodded as to say I understood.

"Okay, that appointment is in an hour" Gina smiled. It was 9 am I had 6 hours left on my shift.

"It's okay go" Gina assured me. I left and drove across town to a very upscale salon. I sat in the car for ten minutes trying to build the courage to go inside. Having to pee I went in to use the bathroom. As soon as I walked in I was greeted by a very good looking woman in her 50s

"You must be Paul" she said greeting me. I was stunned.

"We are alone except my assistant. This is just between us" she said making me feel at ease. She showed me to a locker room I stripped and put on a pink robe. Kelly the salon owner explained everything and answered every question with care. Her assistant Mary another woman in her 50s. They made chit chat. As they scubbed, waxed, plucked my body. It took forever but there were breaks where I soaked in a hot bath. They didn't stop until every hair below my chin was gone. They also did my nails. My toes where painted a hot pink my fingers a clear polish. They weren't done next the treated my hair adding highlights and some volume to my hair cut and styled it. Mary showed me how to style it to look more femine. She then smiled alittle.

"Trust me?" Mary asked. I nodded and she shapped my eyebrows. Not alot but they where thinner. I got a text with an address. And time from John.

I arrived to find a hotel I got another text room 1204. How did he know I was here. I went up to the room . John answered the door wearing a fluffy robe.

"Those are for you?" He said. I saw several presents. I was already amazed at how generous he had been. I didn't even know if I could do what I knew he wanted. I had never been with anyone. Not even a woman. John sat on the bed. He watched me as I walked across the room. His eyes never leaving me. I just approached him I stood in front off him for a moment. Then sank to my knees.

"I never, not sure how, and you're so big" I said with a certain amount of fear. John said nothing just spread his leg a bit further. I opened his robe. His cock was still impressive even soft I thought. As I reach ed and stroked him. I bought my head down and took just the head in my mouth. His hands gently played with my hair. As I licked and sucked his cock. Making it grow.

"Cup the balls, gently caress them. Even lick and suck them" John told me. "That's nice with the tounge wrap it around like that. Don't take to much. You will get better at it slowly" he told me. "You can use your hand some. No such thing as to much salivia" he kept encouraging me. My jaw started to hurt. But I kept going it took more thspen a half hour to get him close. He stood pushing me back. As he unleash a tidal wave of cum into my mouth and all over my face. It dripped down my chest. He helped me to my feet and grabbed a towel. He feed me big globs of his cum but basicly cleaned me. Then led me to where he had left the gifts. The first box was beautiful white lingerie like a bride would wear. A corset that attached to stockings, and a little thong.

"I love to see you in this" he told me. I picked up the box blushing and went to the bathroom. I needed his help with the corset but managed the rest. He ran his hands all over my body when I came out.

"You look so lovely" he told me. Kissing me. I melted in his arms. He then handed me the next present. I opened it to find ha jeweled butt plug. He took it from me and lubed it up. I bent over he pulled my thong to the side and slowly worked it in. It wasn't that big but felt huge as he set I'm place. I was so aroused I would of let him do anything at this point. But he sat me down next to him and opened a small box. It had a gold necklace. With "Paulie" in it he didn't ask just put it on my neck.

"You will need alot of training before I can fuck you" he told me. He pushed on the plug. "Would you like to start?" I just nodded. He grabbed a bag and set it on the table. He positioned me on the bed my face buried in a pillow and my ass high in the air. He removed the plug and replaced it with something longer. After about ten minutes he used another toy thicker. Then another. And another.

"That's enough for today" John told me.

"Please daddy, try I can take it please let me feel you inside me" I pleaded. He got behind me and applied even more lube. I felt the huge head of his cock pushing against me. Then my ass suddenly opened and engulfed the head of his cock. I screamed as it did. Daddy didn't move just held me still. The pain subsided sum. I was in pain. But I wanted him, I wanted to plase him. So I pushed back. Letting more of his massive cock rip my virgin asshole open. Tears flowed down my face now.

"That's enough" Daddy smacked my ass. And pulled out. I crawled into a fetal position. Daddy came and lifted my head and set it on her lap. He ran his hands thru my hair.

"Shhh, it's okay you did well" he told me. Then he reached down and pushed a plug in my ass.

"I never want to see you not wearing this" he said running his hand across my necklace. "And if you aren't wearing panties you better be Commando." He told me. I met him once a week at the hotel. At work though I couldn't even hide the special attention he gave me. It was obvious to all my co workers and I was teased about it. They didn't know exactly who was throwing me favoritism. But at least once a week I found myself in his office (usually after hours) or in his car. He took pleasure not only in teaching me to be his slut. But pushing me to be more and more femine.

Once a month I had a spa appointment, where I learned skin care, but also make up tutorials. At first he had me get my ears pieced. He loved buying me jewelry and perfume. I could now take half his cock in my ass. But still not been able to take all 10 inches. Orally was worse but I was beginning to get over my gag refex.

Then one night he calls drunk tells me he is outside my appartment. I was in bed I get up and throw on some clothes and let him in. He is forceful for the first time is normal gentle patience gone. He rips my clothes off annoyed at my male clothes. Then bends me over my table. My ass is plugged. He pulls it out and drives his cock in. Not stopping this time not working about me he FUCKS me. Driving all 10 inches of his two inch thick cock into my ass. I can do nothing but bite my lip as he pounds away. I cum on the table after only a minute he doesn't even notice. Smaking my ass as he uses me. I almost pass out by the time he fills my ass with his sperm. He pulls out and leaves. Barely saying a word. I grab my shirt and wrap it around myself.

As I arrive at work the next morning I am met in the parking lot by miss Gina. She quickly ushers me to her office.

"I am guessing things changed last night" She smiled. "John has asked me to have you read this and answer any questions you may have. As I read what looked like a contract. Gina made the comment.

"You know you are a year younger then his daughter?" I blushed I had not even thought about it.

I was confused by the language of the document I was reading.

"Basically it says you agree to be his. You will not be permitted to have any relations with anyone else. You will wear what he asks you too. Do what he demands. In exchange he will set you up in a condo, with an allowance." Gina said. She stopped looked at me. "You will be his sex slave for at least the next 5 years" she stated. "He may have you alter your body permanently" she added.

I nodded that I understood. I went to see him before I signed. He locked his door and dropped his pants he pushed me to the floor.

"Take it all" he commanded as he shoved his cock in my mouth. I had never took more them half. But now he forced it down my throat. Soon he was fucking my throat as I tried to relax as tears flowed down my face. His balls slapped against my chin and I felt like I had won the world series. He continued to fuck my throat till he came straight into my stomach. He pulled out and helped me up.

"You're fired" he said. Handing me a tissue to wipe my face. "Gina has the keys to your new place. No need for any of your old things unless I gave them to you. And some personal things" John told me. I didn't even tell him I hadn't signed. I went back to Gina signed it and was driven back to my place where I was given a box to pack up a few things from my old life. Before bought to a gorgeous two bedroom condo. The place was furnished and closets full of clothes. I was left alone the closets where almost completely women clothes. I had recover worn a dress but I tried them on.

John came in around 7pm. He had a key. He walked straight up to me and pushed me over a table. Flipped the dress up and tore my panties off.

"You drive me crazy" he told me his cock sliding across my ass. He smacked my ass. And let me go.

"You are to be fitted with a chastity cage" he told me. I can't have you flopping all over. As he said it there was a knock at the door. He opened it and two men entered. They sat me down pulled up my dress and took measurements. First of me hard then one of them put some kind of gel on my penis. It got soft immediately. They took more measurements then locked me in a steel cage. And gave the keys to John. He thanked them and they left.

"You are a woman now, I will not have you dressing or acting in any other way" John informed me.

"Lily (his wife) knows all about you. She even has keys to this place. You will treat her with respect if she chooses to meet you" he told me. He then picked me up and carried me to the bedroom. He tossed me on the bed and ripped the dress off of me. He was gentle he was rough and corse. Biting and cursing he play raped me. Then pulled out and shoved his cock down my throat. I was so turned on my penis hurt unable to grow. As I moaned even cried as he used me.

"This is what you are for" he told me.

"Yes, thank you Daddy" I moaned.

I learned Lily allowed me because I did everything she had no interest in doing and Daddy needed. Daddy even took me on trips with him on occasion. He transformed me. I had not only my ears pierced several times but also my nose and nipples. I had c cup implants he didn't want them big with my small frame. My clit was locked away in a custom made cage that was so small it compressed it even when soft. He even had me get a tattoo that said Daddy's toy on my ass. Unless I was naked no one would ever suspect I was really male.

I knew my place, if Daddy had a stressful day. I was going to feel it. It wasn't even beyond him to tie me up of spank me. I was his to do as he pleased.

Till one day Lily rang the bell. I invited her in. I never went out without Daddy or at least Gus his driver. I didn't have a car. And really no money everything was paid for.

"Paulina, I have a proposition for you." LILY said. "A few months ago you met a man named Mohammed" she continued I remember.

"Mohammed has asked for you" Lily told me. "John likes the conquest but he has you properly as far as he is willing to take you. He will soon replace you. But Mohammed" Lily smiled. I was confused.

"If John throws you out you have nothing" Lily pointed out.

"John is aware I am here. I propose you meet with Mohammed" Lily continued. I had said almost nothing. Lily got up.

"A car will arrive tonight at 6" she told me. And left. I didn't know what to do but fussed and panicked about meeting this man tonight. Was picked up by a driver and driven to a hotel. In the presidential suite I met Mohammed. He was a good looking man. Taller then I remembered. His black bald head shimmered in the light.

Without a word he pointed to the floor at his feet I dropped. He unzipped his pants, I reached out and helped him. I pulled out his lovely black cock. I had only ever touched John's. He wouldn't like me touching Mohammed's. But I couldn't resist and sucked his lovely cock. It wasn't as thick as John's but just as long. Mohammed stopped me before I finished.

"I am told you like disapline" He says.

"I understand my place and need to be spanked" I told him.

"What about more then spanked. Have you ever been whipped?" He asked his hand cupping my face. I swallowed hard

"No sir" I replied.

"I am going to" he told me he pulled my hair. As I stood. He had me strip. Naked. He didn't care about my pretty lingerie. He tied my hands above my head. And laid me on the bed. Where he tied that to the frame then my feet spread apart where tied as well. He used a belt. Across my ass. Then let it lay there. Slowly moving it then again. And again. It was slow, it made me jump and cry everytime. But also strangely erotic. I never went back to the condo.

Sir. Gave me a dozen lashes that day. Before he fucked my ass pulling out to cum all over my welted ass. I belonged to him after that.

Mohammed was different although much more strict he was there everyday. There was no second like. I traveled with him. And practically every night we slept in the same bed.

He was Mohammed in public but always sir when we where alone. Now 26 years old. I am pain slut to a 58 year old. He doesn't even have the keys to my cage. He says if we ever need it off he will just have me castrated.

I want to marry this man, but he says he cant. He is married to a woman he hasn't seen in 20 years.

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lostbetweenvampiresandmusic · 6 months

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5 and 20 prompt Paul x reader x marco

5. " I can predict the future."

20. "You weren't joking?"

I hope you'll like this!💜

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For a Friday night, the bar was rather quiet. Normally, it would be buzzing with people. Students drinking into the early hours of the morning, people celebrating the fact they'd made it to the end of the week - but not tonight.

No, even though it was already nearing eleven, the bar was still empty, except for the career drinkers. The only new guest - new in the sense that they weren't a regular - was me. Or at least, that's what the barkeep told me.

"So what's a pretty thing like you doing here alone?" He'd asked when he poured me a gin. I smiled as I took it, swirling the liquid around in the glass.

"I'm meeting some new people tonight."

"Blind date?"

I shrugged, giving him a small smirk. "Something like that."

I hadn't met the two boys I was about to meet before, but I knew I had to. I had seen them many a time before in my visions, and I was dying to know who they were. They were handsome, that much I knew. And based on what I'd seen, they could be rather dangerous. And yet - there must have been a reason why they'd shown up in my visions. Why I kept on seeing them. So, after figuring out where they lived, I had decided to just try and meet them.

It was about twenty minutes after my conversation with the barkeep that the bell above the door rang. Two guys, both blond bikers, walked in. They were talking, laughing - telling the barkeep to get them their regular drinks. And I just sat there, looking at them. These were the guys.

I felt my face heat up when I noticed that one of them - Marko, I realised his name was - looked at me. Quickly, he came towards me, grinning a Cheshire grin.

"Like what you see?"

"I didn't mean to stare," I said, quickly taking a much needed sip from my drink.

"Nah, that's alright, babe. Paul and I were wondering if you'd join us."

I thought for a second before nodding. This had been what I wanted, right?

"Sure." I followed him to where Paul was sitting, greeting him as well. As I sat down on the bench, I gasped silently -

A bedroom. Laughter. Candles. Marko chasing me, at the beach. Blood. Kisses. Paul flying. Me flying with him. Marko's voice, "I've never been happier than with you two."

I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath. I only opened them when I heard Paul say my name.

"Huh?"

"Are you alright? You seemed completely lost for a moment."

"Yeah, it- it happens sometimes."

"So, why did you want to meet us?" Marko sat across from me, handing me a new glass.

"How did you know I wanted to meet you two?"

"We just know things." He shrugged, leaning back in his chair.

"Well, I just see things. Sometimes I act upon those things."

"You see things?" Paul asked, laughing before sarcastically adding. "That makes you so special!"

I sighed, smiling. Even without my ability, his response had been predictable. "What I mean is that I can predict the future."

"Why would we believe you?" Marko asked. I grinned - telling them exactly what would happen the next five minutes.

The barkeep would accidentally spill a beer on the lap of one of the regulars. Said regular would get up, throw a punch - missing the barkeep and hitting another guest. The guest would hit back, causing the regular to fall back on top of a table, breaking it in two. He'd then lose consciousness.

I hadn't finished speaking, or what I'd just told them began to happen. I didn't bother looking at the scene, instead looking at the two boys. Their sceptic look changed to slight disbelief to acceptance - which was all I could ask for.

"So, the future, hm?" Paul asked, looking at me. "What made you decide to come to us?"

"In most of my visions, I see the three of us together. I wanted to know why."

"Most people would call those sex fantasies. Ever heard of those?" Marko asked, standing up.

Paul followed, and I quickly walked up after them. "I know, I know it's weird and hard to believe. I know - but you're vampires. Is it really so hard to believe that I just have visions?"

The boys froze, their eyes turning a dark shade of yellow. "How do you know?"

"I'm a psychic! I can see the future!"

"Bullshit! That scene in there, you'd planned it. You're faking this whole thing to get our attention." Marko hissed, causing me to flinch.

"I didn't."

"Can you believe that shit?" Marko had walked off, stepping on his bike. Paul sat beside him, fumbling with his keys.

"The whole predicting the future thing?" Paul shrugged. "It's probably a party trick, based on statistics or something."

"Yeah, probably. Little asshole. Let's go home, alright. We can hunt tomorrow."

I froze as I saw them drive off. Grabbing my bike, I raced after them, moving the pedals as quickly as I could. There would be an accident - and Marko would be staked. I was out of breath, sweat dripping down my face, when I realised it was impossible to catch up. So I did the one thing I could think of. I could make it to the site of the accident before them, going through the park and taking a shortcut. By doing so, I could stop them from getting hurt - and hopefully, I'd be fine as well. Picking up speed, I raced past the trees, slipping as I turned to hit the mainroad again.

The bike fell away under me, sliding over the asphalt. I hissed as I was flung a couple of feet away - my eyes widening as I saw two headlights nearing me. I screamed. I closed my eyes, readying myself for impact and -

"I got you." Two arms pulled me away, right on time for me to get away unhurt, the car hitting the tree and a large branch being launched to the place I had just been seconds ago. If I had stayed there, not only would I be crushed beneath a car - I would have been staked as well.

"Paul?" I asked, shaken, still trying to catch my breath.

"What were you thinking? For someone who claims to see the future, you've got shit vision."

"If I hadn't moved when I did, Marko would have been the one hit. And staked."

Paul froze, realising that I had been right. If they hadn't slowed done because of me, they would have been-

"You weren't joking?"

I shook my head, getting up.

"You really see the future?" Marko asked, and I nodded once again. "You see the three of us?"

"Yeah."

It was quiet for a moment, then he stepped towards me. "I'm still sceptical, but you did save me. How about you join us at the cave, and we'll see where it goes from there?"

I smiled shyly, looking at him and then at Paul - who looked rather enthusiastically. "I'd like that, very much."

#the lost boys #marko #david #paul #tlb #dwayne #the lost boys 1987 #tlb 1987 #star #the lost boys x reader

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m1ssunderstanding · 8 months

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Get Back Rewatch 55 Years On: Days Eleven and Twelve

The Different Beatle Arrivals outside apple are interesting to me.

Ringo: arrives first, in the passenger’s seat, has a chummy remark for his driver, a cheeky grin for the camera, and a kind nod for the scruffs.

John and Yoko: arrive second, in the back of their on-brand, white thing, with no acknowledgement of anyone (and Yoko accidentally goes for the front door then changes directions when she sees John going around the side)

George: drives himself, glances over his shoulder, locks his car door, and goes in. Again, no acknowledgement.

Paul: walks, studiously ignores the camera, bestows a condescending nod at the scruffs. (shouldn’t be sexy. Is. what else is new?)

Everything the scruffs said was perfection. Where are their parents? Who is taking care of them? Do they not go to school?

So glad for the boys that they took a day to hide from the cameras. I hope they all traded meaningful items of clothing and meditated and circle jerked and told each other how brilliant they were. (Oh gosh. Can you all imagine a circle-jerk plus yoko? Her and Paul furiously compete over who can hold John's eye contact?)

Short queens making the beatles look like child-labor supporters.

Look at that cute little impish grin. What do we think? Did George and John actually have a punch-up? George Martin went out of his way on at least two occasions to say that they did, in fact, come to blows. But I didn’t see any evidence on John the next day, and they both seem extremely comfortable joke-fighting here, where I don’t think they would if they’d real-fought a week or so ago. I don’t know, I think it’s very up for debate. But if they did, I actually think it would be a testament to the importance of the John and George dynamic. We always say how it shows how much John must’ve cared about Paul to sprint down the road and jump his fence over a missed recording session. What would it say about how much John must’ve cared about George if he punched him when he said he’d quit?

Either way, their *meaningful* rendition of “You are my sunshine” is heart-melting.

Yoko, the og sad beige mom.

Add juggling to Ringo’s talents in his cabaret/circus act with Paul.

Every old man obsessed with “tough, acerbic Lennon” needs to have “My rock and roll finger is bleeding, my rock and roll finger is hurt” played on a loop in their heads every time they open their mouths until they shut up.

Paul, why are you literally strong-arming Glyn into the studio? This man does not know how to touch another person.

Maybe they kept Magic Alex around just for laughs? It’s good to hear anyway, that they are fully aware they’re being conned.

The way George and Paul just in sync jump into their old choreography.

The way they could really have just gone off and done their own things while Glyn finishes setting up. But the idea just doesn’t occur to them. Why would they want to be anywhere else, doing anything else, with anyone else?

I feel like John right now because I’m like enjoying Paul’s sexy drumming face and then the camera switches and I’m like Oh Yoko you’re so pretty. And is this another *meaningful* cover? I’m going to have to make a list of all these and go through after I’m done with this and see which ones I think actually have a double meaning. “My baby left me” by Crudup. My main evidence here being Yoko’s Jim Halpert expression as John’s singing this at Paul.

How to get Paul to stop messing with your shit. A demonstration by Ringo Starr.

John is Not having Paul reading their bad press for the cameras.

And today, it’s John that needs a little Ringofection. I wonder if it had anything to do with “Aaaaall I want is youuuuuuuuu. Everything has got to be the way you want it toooooooooo.”

George looking at Ringo’s jumping jacks. I agree.

“Richard Rogers has got nothing on this boy. . . . Ah, sometimes, John, I don’t know.” “I just make it up as I go along.” “Oh, is that how you do it?” Again. He’s being silly, but he really does think you’re the smartest boy in the whole wide world, John. I hope you know that. (he definitely does not know that.)

ICONIC. One of my favorite moments of the whole series. Not a glance at each other. Perfectly synchronized.

Any particular significance with Dicky Murdock that anyone knows about?

Another favorite moment. The absolute marshmallow softness. Oh to have footage of Paul teaching John guitar chords on one of their childhood beds.

Not going to say it again, but boy am I thinking it.

Someone needs to make a compilation of all the times someone’s been caught giving John and Paul a WTF look.

#paul mccartney #the beatles #john lennon #mclennon #ringo starr #george harrison #get back

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danoberry · 1 year

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★ object of your affection (hank devereaux x reader) SMUT 18+

description: after many “private” sessions with your professor, you finally get what you’ve been wanting.

content: SMUT 18+!!!, age gap (reader is in her 20s), use of the word “kiddo” a lot, kinda cum play, teasing, more stuff but it’s unimportant and it’s 12:30am

pronouns: you/yours (female reader)

wc: 2.7k

afab genitalia

AN:

hi guys! i’m really back! new content, woo! when i fade out of my interests, there’s a gap of time where i really have no interests. after i stopped being OBSESSED with paul dano, i finished breaking bad and watched better call saul, which, of course, sparked a huge interest and an infatuation with bob odenkirk. with that being said, here is the new fic. i hope everyone, even my religiously devoted dano fans, enjoy!

The sound of your foot against the floor tip-tapped with the cadence of a song running through your mind. You stood at Professor Devereaux’s door, waiting for the one-on-one session that you had asked him for, for the fourth week in a row. After his outburst in class, you had noticed he had been more stressed than ever before. You wouldn’t have cared as much if you didn’t have such a good bond with him, but with your similar humor (and consistent effort) you both got along very well. It was never your intention to become so close to your much older professor, but lack of friends and need for validation led you to this friendship.

Professor Devereaux was an ethical man. So you thought, at least until the outburst. For what it was worth, you agreed with what he was preaching. The college he taught at, the one you went to, was mediocrity’s capital. There was nothing special about it. What he said was right. The idiotic kid who kept dragging on the situation knew nothing about the man you knew. Someone practical. Someone witty. Someone caring. So as you stood there tapping your feet, you thought about how off-topic this one-on-one session with your professor could get. Or on the contrary, how off-topic you could make it.

“Hey, Y/N,” you heard a voice say as you looked up from your feet.

“Hey, Professor,” you replied, getting out of the doorway and watching as Prof. Devereaux grabbed the keys from his pocket and unlocked the door.

“Listen, kid, I’m super sleep deprived. I’ll look at your paper to the best of my ability, but I can’t promise world class advice.”

“That’s okay. I kinda just wanted to eat somewhere besides the cafeteria.”

He replied sarcastically, “Go right ahead, I’ll sit and watch you.”

He sat in his chair across from you as you grabbed the salad from your bag. You pulled up your paper on your laptop, beginning to eat.

“Jeez, you're making me hungry now,” he said, laughing and looking at his computer.

“Yeah, well, I’d offer you some but I don’t want any cross-contamination going on.”

“I’ll live. I think I have a vanilla Coke in the fridge out there. Be right back,” he opened the door, “before I die of hunger!”

You ate your salad as you waited for him to get back, aimlessly scrolling on Pinterest. When he did come back, he carried two cans of Coke in his hands, one for him, and one for you.

“See, I’m not as selfish as everyone is saying,” he said.

“Definitely not. Thanks, Professor.”

He sat down and leaned against the desk. “You gonna show me your paper?”

“Oh yeah, here.” You flipped the screen and showed him what you were working on, and he invited you to sit on the other side of the desk with him, pointing out details that you didn’t need or needed to add. You took a sip of your Coke and grabbed a mint from across the desk after you were done with the salad. Slowly, you unconsciously started to scoot closer to him, closing the gap between your bodies substantially. You looked up at his gaze upon your screen, studying his facial features. You studied his hair and his beard and its color. You watched his eyes flick from each side of the screen as he read. Right then and there, you reached a breaking point. God, you couldn’t bear looking at such a handsome face and not being able to mess with it. He was so successful and attractive and intelligent. You wanted him to ruin you.

You leaned closer to him, pretending to read your paper again. Slowly, you began to rub his shoulder as he read. He didn’t tense up or ask for you to stop, responses you could have received. Instead, he kept as he was.

“What’re you doing?” He asked absentmindedly.

“I don’t know. I’ll stop-“

“No, it’s fine. I was just wondering if you could get the other shoulder.”

You paused for a moment.

“Uh, yes sir.”

“Don’t feel obligated. You just do it very well.”

You blushed hard. “Thank you,” you nearly whispered.

“Thank you. Could you get the blinds too?”

You nodded your head while you got up, letting your hand linger on his shoulder until you couldn’t touch him anymore. As you shut the blinds, your professor looked over at you, tracking your body with his eyes. When you walked back over to him, you massaged his shoulders as he finished his reading and revising. You leaned closer to his head and watched your screen that he had control over.

“There you are,” he said, taking his hands off of your keyboard, lifting one to rub your fingers that were resting on his shoulder. “Sit down, let me talk to you for a moment.”

You let go of his shoulders and sat down next to him. “You’re one of my most promising students,” he started. “You’re not like these… ignoramuses I deal with every day…”

“Thank you, professor,” you said, nervous from the intimacy of the conversation. He leaned back and smiled.

“I think we can get rid of the formalities now, don’t you think…? You can call me Hank when we’re alone.”

You nodded your head, still blushing and timid from the conversation.

“You don’t have to act so shy,” he teased. “I know what you’re trying to do. To be frank, it’s working… if that gives you any validation. You want one-on-one ‘lessons’ with me after class almost every week, and all we do is sit and talk. I’ve caught on. Scooting close to me while I read your essays, which I know you write just so we can have these ‘lessons.’ I know you want to mess with me. You’ve got me right where you want me.”

You sat there in awe, the numbness in your thighs dialing down as you got more comfortable with the fact that he knew you were attracted to him. Hank leaned closer to you, and instead of letting him take initiative, you leaned into him and met his lips between his beard. He tasted the mint flavor on your tongue.

“What was that about ‘cross contamination?’ Wintergreen, huh? How’d you know that was my favorite?”

“Lucky guess.”

You kissed him again and felt the softness of his beard against your skin. It was a new feeling, something you had never experienced. You had only been with men your age. You melted in the thought; you were able to kiss such an experienced man, one who even knew how to speak to you so sweetly. You swooned over Hank’s quiet groans, ones he made when he was out of breath. Inching closer to the man, touring your hand up his knee and onto his thigh, he whispered to you, “Right here,” having you straddle his lap over the seat. He told you ‘atta girl’ when you adjusted your hips on top of him.

“Jesus Christ, kiddo. I don’t know how you expect me to last long if I’m getting this undone from just touching you.”

“Who knows, maybe I could teach an old dog new tricks today,” you laughed. Hank kissed your neck, tickling you and making you giggle even more.

“Who are you calling old?”

“More like… mature,” you said, still giggling from the ticklish neck kisses.

“Mature, huh? I guess you wanna know how someone so mature can make you feel then?”

“I think I’d like that very much.”

Hank took hold of your pants’ button and unclasped it, afterwards unzipping your zipper. You stood up quickly to kick them off, displaying a perfect pair of lace panties you had worn every single time you had a “session” with him. Hank unbuckled his belt, dropping it to the floor, and he undid his button and zipper.

“I bet you wore those underwear just for me, didn’t you? How dirty.”

“But you like them, right?” You asked jokingly, turning around squeezing your ass in your hands. You straddled Hank again and kissed him. “Talk about dirty, you’re about to have sex with one of your students in your office.”

“Trust me,” he said, “if I could take you home with me right now, I would.”

“And what would you do with me if you did?” You asked him, grinding a bit harder against his crotch than you were before.

“A lot more than what we can do right now.”

“Why don’t you give it your all, then?”

“Pshh, ‘give it my all.’ You’re really asking for it, huh?”

“Hank, I’m on my knees.”

You kissed him again and rubbed against his crotch, making sure he could feel the wetness seeping through your panties. Hank hummed when he felt you graze his cock. You stood up and watched as he pulled down his underwear and unbuttoned his shirt. Seeing his cock lay so perfectly against his stomach made your legs weak, and you swore you could feel yourself salivating. You bent down over his cock and watched as pre-cum leaked in little beads from his tip. You kissed the tip of his length, giving it kitten licks. You could see the twitch of his cock just from teasing him.

“God- ah- fuck, kid. Get on top of me.”

With zero hesitation, you climbed back onto his lap and moved your panties to the side, giving Hank kisses on his lips and grinding against his cock, waiting for a moment before taking him all. You stood up and positioned yourself over his cock, sitting back down with an exasperated shudder, moaning into his neck. Hank expelled a large breath against your skin, feeling your pussy wrap around him so perfectly.

“Ah- wow, you feel good.”

“Who, me?” You sarcastically remarked, panting.

Hank squeezed your ass and moved it up and down on his cock. “Don’t get all smart-elicy on me now. We both know where you get it from.”

He breathed between his teeth, almost audibly whining, when you deliberately clenched around his cock.

“If you mean myself, then you’d be correct.”

Hank pounded into you harder than before, shocking you from the abrupt change in pace. You worried to whine as quietly as you could into his shoulder. “Smart brats make good dumb bunnies, kiddo.”

“I- ah- oh, fuck!” You moaned as quietly as you could in his ear.

“Hmph, yeah, see what I mean?”

He groaned with hot breaths against your skin, making you clench harder around his cock again. You drooled against his shoulder and whined, nearly incomprehensible.

“Ah- hng- I- feels so- good!”

“You- fuck- like that?”

“Mhm..!”

Through his groans, Hank teased you again, “Hmm, I think you could have it a little more rough.”

You moaned into his neck, drooling as he pounded his cock into you, stretching your hole. Whatever response you could have given, you couldn’t. He stopped pounding into you for a moment and tucked your hair out of your pretty face to look at you, holding your hand and rubbing his calloused fingers over yours.

“You wanna bend over for me, kiddo?”

You mewled and kissed his lips, nodding, despite how tired and sore you were. You got off of his lap, feeling cold and empty from the lack of friction. Wetness seeped around your pussy and around your thighs as you spread your legs and bent down over his desk.

“I’m teasing you, but you really are doing so well for me,” he said, bending over and kissing your cheek. “Don’t lay your head like that. Here, sweetheart.” He put his hand on the left side of your cheek, creating a barrier between your head and the hard desk. Hank massaged your ass with his other hand, before shoving his wet cock back into you, making you moan at the feeling.

Hank tried keeping the noises at a minimum, yet still trying to pound into you and hit the spots that made you arch farther up his stomach. You could tell he was close to cumming, but God, you didn’t want it to end. With every thrust, you could feel him becoming more tense, groaning, letting out hot breaths. His thrusts were becoming sloppier and quicker.

“Where- oh fuck- where do you want- ah- it?”

“Cum in me, please! Please, please please!”

Hank grunted as quietly as he could, almost moaning, when you felt his cock twitch inside you. Cum spurted over your walls, making your pussy clench around him. You felt bad about not being able to cum as he pulled out of you, kissing your shoulder.

“Hank,” you said quietly as you turned around and played with your clit.

“What’s up, kiddo?” He replied in his chair, out of breath.

“I couldn’t cum,” you practically mumbled.

“Poor thing,” he said, sitting up and kissing your face. “I’ll fix it, don’t worry.”

You played with your clit softly when he sat back down in his chair, scooting towards your pussy and spreading your legs. You watched Hank as his head moved down to your crotch, and he collected the cum that was seeping out of your hole on his fingers and raised them to your mouth. You sucked them gently, before he brought his hand back down to your hole and began fucking you with his fingers and flicking his tongue over your clit. You whined out and tried squeezing your thighs, but to no avail, because he was already using his free hand to hold your legs down. You heard the wet noises that he made as he sucked on your puffy clit, making the knot in your stomach tighten.

“Ah- oh, fuck! Ah, hngg, Hank!” You moaned as you tried to bite your lip. You could feel his smile curl against your pussy, and you held your orgasm for as long as you could, trying to relax your muscles. Only a few seconds after, however, did you let go, pulsating and cumming all around his calloused fingers. Hank licked the mixture of his cum and yours from your hole, kissing you.

You, sweaty and nearly incoherent from being fucked dumb, mustered up a, “You’re kissing me with cum in your mouth, but I’m the dirty one.”

Hank laughed at your ability to joke, even though you were so tired and cum-drunk. “You got me there,” he said, kissing you again. You sat there, batting your eyes as you looked up and his foggy glasses.

“Thank you,” you said, quietly.

“Of course, kiddo. Thank you. You’re the best I’ve had in years.”

You smiled. “Really?”

“Well maybe not the best behaved, but…”

You laughed and rolled your eyes. Hank grabbed a few tissues from his closet, along with a blanket that he gave you once you hopped down from his desk. He wiped your legs off and around the base of his cock, getting himself ready for his class.

“Don’t come to class today. Take a nap, I know you need it,” he said, putting his chair back. He kissed you when you sat down, and put his pants on after buttoning his shirt.

“I gotta get to my lecture and get this mess off in the restroom. Lock the door behind me, I’ll tell you when I’m back.”

“Okay,” you said.

“You’re a good girl, you know that?”

“I guess I do now,” you said, with a smirk on your face. Hank shook his head with a smile and kissed you again, before straightening himself out and walking out the door, shutting it behind him. He opened it back up and peeked in for just a second.

“Same time next week?” He whispered.

“Sooner.”

“You got it.”

#lucky hank #bob odenkirk #bob odenkirk fic #lucky hank fic #better call saul #danoberry #better call saul fic #jimmy mcgill #jimmy mcgill fic #saul goodman #saul goodmanfic #saul goodman smut #jimmy mcgill smut #jimmy mcgill x reader #saul goodman x reader #hank devereaux smut #hank devereaux x reader #better call saul smut #bob odenkirk x reader

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lazywerebat · 1 year

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i loved your little me, big world fic!! if its not too much trouble, can you please do another gn!little reader fic? something where michael joins the group and reader is super shy meeting him but michael shows he's a super gentle and sweet caregiver?

thank u! 😻

Little Me, Big Meetings !

⚠️ DO NOT READ THIS IF UR 18+,KINK, NSFW, MDNI BLOG & INTO AGEPLAY‼️THIS HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH IT & Y'ALL MAKE US UNCOMFY ASF‼️DNFI IF YOU SEXUALIZE SFW AGERE/PETRE GO AWAY YOU WEIRDOS ⚠️

Polyam! Lost Boys x Little!GN! Reader With Michael

warnings; none :]

a/n; thanks for request!! i hope you like it ^°^

“Come on come on !!” I said excited as I got off Pauls bike and went in front of them.

“Slow down bug” Paul said,

“Come onnnn, I wanna go to concert!!” I stated,

“Love, concert will start in 15 minutes, so theres no need for rush” Dwayne explained.

“We will get some food and drinks first okay?” David questioned, I annoyingly groaned,

“Uhhh fineeee, can I go alone there?” I questioned with smile,

“No” David stated, I gave him sad fake look but he knows it isn't real. We went to get food and drinks at stands.

“Can I go at least with one of you?” I questioned them,

“Little one we all will go together, okay?” Dwayne said as he petted my head and kissed my cheek and I nodded to him. When we got our food and drinks, we went to concert, we were late to concert which relieved me. I was between Dwaynes arms and he would check on me from time to time as others too. I was enjoying concert then I noticed David leaving for some reason. I went to follow him but was stopped by Dwayne,

“You okay baby?” he asked as he wrapped his arms around me and I nodded. I was drinking my juice and noticed David coming back with someone? I got confused a bit and went more into Dwayne arms.

“Everything okay bug?” Paul asked me with grin, and I didn't really replied him back or gave him non-verbal reply which got them worried.

“Im back”, David said, “This is Michael”,

“Hi” Michael said with nervous tone. I got out of Dwaynes arms and went to Pauls arms instead. I hided my face in Pauls chest and jacket and warped my arms around him. I felt Pauls arms around me and heard him whispering to me that its okay. After that I thought they were gonna eat him or something but no, boys decided to hang out with him. They tried for me and him get along but I didn't really feel comfy with that yet. One night I was in main cave while boys were out hunting, I was colouring a colour book, that Marko got me, with crayons. I heard someone coming and its Michael,

“Hey” he said with a warm smile,

“Hi” I said to him shyly, he went near me but kept his distance to not make me feel uncomfy. We sat there in silence for some time until Michael started talking,

“What are you colouring?” he asked,

“Just some pictures” I answered him,

“Can I see them?” he questioned, my eyes lit up at question and I moved enough for him to sit next to me. He got what I was trying to say and sat next to me. I was showing him pictures I coloured and from my previous colours books too. He didn't mind at all me rambling about all of pictures I coloured and other stuff too. After a while of chatting with each other, I got tired and I went to sit on his lap facing him. I laid my head on his shoulder and I closed my eyes. He noticed my tiredness and I felt he lift us up and went somewhere. I opened my eyes a bit to see he got us comfy on couch. He rubbed my back while I was falling asleeping. Maybe hes not so bad after all?

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spacedoutman · 7 months

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【𝕻𝖊𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝕮𝖗𝖎𝖘𝖘 𝖎𝖘 𝖔𝖚𝖙𝖊𝖉 𝖆𝖘 𝖆 𝖘𝖕𝖞 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖍𝖆𝖓𝖌𝖊𝖉 | 𝕬𝖒𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖈𝖆𝖓 𝖗𝖊𝖛𝖔𝖑𝖚𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓 𝖆𝖚 】

(𝕺𝖓𝖊 𝖘𝖍𝖔𝖙)

Description: Brigadier general Criss is paying for the consequences he very well knew could be dished out to him for spying. What he didn't expect? For his love madame Ace Frehley to be the one to turn him in.

♥ Peter Criss x Ace Frehley

Notes: I wrote this on a whim and I don't even know what the fuck it is all I know is that Gel Gibson's face is now haunting me like a ghost and I'm upset (Art is a self portrait by John Andre)

Warnings: Crackfic | satire

!𝖆𝖔3

Bright green grass as vibrant as a portrait blew behind the field locked away by thin row of trees. A soft breeze rolled through, pushing the clouds through the vivid blue sky. The leaves shook, interrupting the singing birds. Peter smiled. His heart slowed as his shoulders fell. The sun shone lightly, yet left a slight haze where it touched.

Peter turned. He couldn’t wipe away his smile though his heart twisted inside. Two continental soldiers pulled him back gently. Peter took a deep breath. The smell of wildflowers and savory roasted meat filled his lungs.

“Come on, sir Criss.” Gene Simmons said solemnly. “To the gallows with you.”

Peter kept his head high as every accomplishment he made flashed not only in his head, but on his ocean blue coat. Gene and Paul took his arms and walked him forward. The trees almost made a path leading to the solemn thing. Wooden planks pasted together to make a platform. The rope swayed from side to side as the wind puffed against it, seeming to glint in the sun.

Peter’s legs stiffened as he walked up the stairs. Every deep breath he took fought his growing tenseness. He kept his eyes in front of him. At least he got to look at the faces he loved one last time. His nerves were calm as a river after a storm. Gene helped him onto the stool. There wasn’t an angry face in the crowd, just distraught. Peter wore a straight face.

“Why don’t you untie me so I may die like a dignified man and with a fixed cravat?” He said solemnly, keeping his chin high.

Gene walked around to the back of him and pulled the rope from his hands. Paul came around with the wheat sack. Peter scoffed. Paul’s eyes widened slightly. He wore a tight frown. “What is this?” Peter sneered, sweeping his arms out beside him. He looked around, raising an eyebrow.

“You wish to put that thing over my head and smother my legacy? Let me die like the man I was and am. Ye shall rid of it.” He growled. Paul backed off.

Peter looked out at the distant tents. It was almost like a set up for the toy soldiers he used to play with as a kid. His pearly grin glistened.

Gene stepped back, grabbed a paper and holding it in front of him. The sun touched the crystal tears trickling down his cheeks. He shrunk like a mouse.

“G-George Peter John Criscuola,” Gene’s announced, breaking through a shaky voice. “Or brigadier general Criss.”

Peter opened his coat a bit, displaying the sash hanging from his shoulder and swooping around his waist. “You are to be hanged for your offense of giving valuable information to the British.” Gene’s voice was as formal as he could get. “And now you shall perish with the burden of shame on your shoulders while our God looks down upon you and shakes his head.”

Peter took a deep breath. Gene stepped back, dragging himself to the noose. Peter scanned the faces in the crowd. His eyes shot wide for a split second before he straightened himself out and dusted his shoulders.

“Frehley.”

His eyes stopped at the man who stood at the front, staring up with tears sparkling in his large brown eyes. His white bonnet hid his messy brown hair. The salmon dress he wore was dotted in beautifully embroidered flowers. He dabbed his eyes with the handkerchief. The soldiers snapped to face Ace, who whimpered.

“My last words go to you, my beloved.” Peter Criss said calmly, disappointment strong in his voice. “I may have found my peace, but know I cannot forgive you for the pain you alone have brought upon me.”

Ace sniffled. His shoulders tensed. Peter dug in his pocket. “Catch, my dear.” Ace gently looked up. Peter flipped a silver wedding band like a coin. It spun through the air and into Ace’s open hands. “I was going to ask for your hand in marriage as you were quite the woman.” Ace went back to dabbing his eyes. “But do understand, all good things must end even if it’s rather… grim.”

Paul and Gene pulled Peter back. He stepped onto the stool. Paul blew his nose on his handkerchief. “I’m so sorry.” Paul whispered, tying the noose around Peter’s neck.

“Look into my eyes, Frehley.” Peter said sternly. “Look at what you have caused, my sweet little dove.”

Ace’s eyes flitted to Peter, who stood, shoulders squared, chin up and chest out. His hands were jammed neatly behind his back. He looked regal in his black bi corn hat. A long white ostrich feather hung from the expensive pin on the front. Badges decorated his new, spotless uniform. His champagne breeches were as clean as his white stockings. His leather shoes shone like new.

Peter savored the sight of Ace, who flung his handkerchief over is shoulder. A few soldiers fought like cats to grab it. Ace’s eyes shot ungodly wide. He threw his hands together and fell to his knees. “Oh god, please no!” Devastation made his voice raw. “Peter Criss—My Criss-kitty! I have a deep regard for you!”

Peter nodded again. Paul kicked the stool from under him. Peter fell and started strangling to death. “NOOOOOOOO!” Ace cried, collapsing. He beat the ground with his clenched trembling fist. “Oh g-god!” He wept “Please, please switch me out for him! I would do anything! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH”

#kissblr #kiss band #kissfan #peter criss #ace frehley #ace and peter were dating because love #american revolution #what the hell is this i am losing it #Ace has his own stupid secrets too but peter took the high road to prevent ace from being hanged as well #everyone is overly verbse #barley edited #BARELY

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kamehamehamlet · 4 months

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youtube

A teaser for Mayor Lear of Townsville, showcasing a handful of projections which would be used in the show and edited in homage to a then recent trailer for Twin Peaks: The Return.

Play-Dot Archives: Mayor Lear Projections

Early on in development, I knew I wanted to use projections for Mayor Lear and that one of the MN Fringe venues was Intermedia Arts. Intermedia Arts, like many incredible theatre and arts building in the Twin Cities has since shuttered, but in 2017 the theatre's projector could be used to cover the back from floor to ceiling.

In a later scene in the Mayors office, the Townsville Skyline was animated to be on fire. (Emily Rose Duea, Bre'Elle Erickson, Natalie Rae Wass, and Meghan Wolff). Photo by Alex Wohlhueter.

And for the MN Fringe, where all of your props and set needed to be in and out of the theater in a matter of minutes before and after each show, using projections meant we could have near effortless set changes. Well, effortless during the show at least. See on top of writing the script, I also tasked myself with making the projections. Since I was responsible for both, I had no one to blame but myself for needing over 50 projections with a mix of flat images, animations, and one very special video.

A folder containing many of the still images of Mayor Lear of Townsville.

It's also worth noting that many people assumed our images had come from the TV show when in reality they were all created digitally by me. Although many of the popular location were recreated with heavy reference usage. It was really fun to learn the shows art style, and in some cases animation style, and it really can't be overstated how cool it was to be in that theatre with the projections covering the whole wall. Seven years on, it's easy to be nostalgic, having packed the memories of stress at trying to get all of these ready on time somewhere deep deep away.

A longer image which would pan across the backwall, imitating a shot in the TV shows opening. Since this took place years after the show, a few of the villains were aged up and other baddies were added as well. To cap off this longer archival post, I want to share one last stupid choice I made that summer: I became the world's most amateur storm chaser. Throughout June and July, I kept a close eye on the weather and when a Thunderstorm was approaching, I race to a bluff about a 10-minute drive away, trying to catch a recording of lightning alongside the Saint Paul Skyline. All to sell a bit during big Lear storm scene, where the cartoon world would snap away and we see the inner turmoil of The Mayor.

The hills outside of Townsville during the storm, and the opening of Scene Nine. While I did catch the perfect bolt lightning which illuminated the city... my equipment was not made to capture it well. Eventually, I would have to cobble together some of my footage, use some after effects basic vfx, and call it a day. But as meh as I felt my video was, there's a real magic in theatre. After 40 minutes of campy cartoony melodramatic fun, it was absolutely electric watching Natalie shed the hokey outward persona of The Mayor and deliver one of Shakespeare's best monologues. It made every soaking wet, bone chilling minute of my foolish storm chasing task worth it. I had known for years Natalie was an incredible force of nature on stage and we were so lucky to have her as our lead. I choose not to take the easy pun and say as "our Lear" because... did I mention she was double cast?

Come back tomorrow to learn about my other favorite scene in Mayor Lear! Want to see more photos of the projections? Check out yesterday's archival post!

Have questions about Mayor Lear or Kamehamehamlet? Join us during our weekly Rally Stream on YouTube this Saturday.

#mayor lear #powerpuff girls #theatre #shakespeare #King Lear #the mayor #ppg fanart #ppg blossom #ppg bubbles #ppg buttercup #mojo jojo #I'm just now realizing that Mojo Jojos hair point doesn't line up perfectly with the edge and wow this destroys me inside #also I wrote this during a particularly wild storm last week and now I'm all nostalgic #ppg fandom #ppg fanfic #Youtube #playdotarchives

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honeybeezgobzzzzz · 1 year

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𓅨 Dreamswept: Chapter Two

Dreamswept: In which Dream’s imprisonment brings out his darker side. Y/N’s mother works for the Burgess’s as a nurse, and after stumbling across what is hidden beneath Fawny Rig’s mortars one summer, Y/N’s life will never be the same. A darkness has attached itself to her and no matter how long she is kept from the Endless in the basement, he has not forgotten her kindness and brief moments of comfort. No, he has not forgotten, and now he craves it.

Warnings: Blood & Injury, Blood Magic (That I Made Up), Child!Reader Makes a Deal With Morpheus (Without Knowing the Consequences), Morpheus Latches Onto The First Scrap of Kindness He Can Get (And Will Never Let Go).

To Note: Dark!Morpheus/Dream x Female!Reader, Inspired by 'Claiming His Queen' by @moonmaiden1996 (Go Read It!).

Word Count: ~2.5k

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“I’d really like to know how you got in here,” You spoke as you chipped away at a corner of the glass ball with a garden trowel you had nicked from Paul’s garden shed. “I mean there’s no opening, how’d they put you in here in the first place?” The star-eyed man as you had dubbed him, said nothing as you prattled away as usual. Since discovering him down here, you had made trips down to the basement to try and break him out. But your efforts were to no avail. He was stuck in there even after two weeks of trying. At least you had someone to talk to though. You weren’t sure if he even cared to hear about how your day had gone but it beat wandering around in boredom. At the very least, he paid attention to you while you yammered on. “I tried raiding the library to look for a book on those symbols… found a book but I didn’t understand any of it. Being an adult looks complicated and boring if all your books are like that one.”

His face twitched in amusement. He never spoke but you were accustomed to the micro changes in his usually blank face as a response to your rambling.

“Like what does taxidermy mean and why is there an entire collection in the library on it?” Your face scrunched in memory of the pictures you had seen after curiously opening one of the books up. “The book had pictures and it looks gross.” Your ramblings continued as you angled the garden trowel into a better angle between the glass and steel frame, and jabbed it in. “Anyways, I got good marks on that exam I told you about. Mama’s been too busy to bother telling, but Paul was happy for me. It’s sometimes hard to tell if—” The garden trowel had hit just right to chip out a small wave of glass shards at your face. “Ouch!”

Gasping, you jerked back and slapped a hand to your face where your skin stung viciously. The man jerked forwards from his usual folded position and pressed his hand against the glass. Star-filled eyes now held concern. You blinked rapidly and prodded your cheek, feeling warm liquid dripping down your cheek. Your gaze dropped to see blood dripping down onto the magic circle encompassing the glass cage. Crimson merged into faded red and for a moment, you could have sworn that the ground beneath your folded knees shook. Another concern quickly wiped that thought away.

“Rats, I’m going to have to come up with an excuse for this,” You sighed dramatically, rubbing your palm into your still-stinging cheek. The glass had dug in well. “Mama is going to be—“ You paused when you lifted your eyes to see that the man had moved his entire body and was now staring at you intensely with his hand pressed against the glass. “I’m alright you know,” You spoke to him waving the garden trowel. “It’s just a scratch. I’ve bled before… nicked my knees and elbows a few times exploring the grounds… I’m more worried about hiding it from mama and Paul.”

His eyes darkened in disagreement and leaning forwards, you pressed your forehead against the glass with a sigh.

“I’ll get a plaster for it, I promise, probably will have to go roll around in the dirt to have an excuse for why my cheek is bleeding. Mama’s going to be so cross with me,” You stated, closing your eyes briefly to fight back the burning tears that wanted to erupt. You felt a hum of energy run across the glass and opening your eyes, you saw that his hand was pressed over the area where blood still oozed from your cheek. He didn’t look convinced by your promise, but there wasn’t much else you could do because the little timer you brought with you to time how long you had alone down there, started going off. It was time to go.

With great reluctance, you withdrew from your new silent friend and dusted the place you had been kneeling to rid the evidence of your presence. There was almost a glimmer of sadness in his eyes as you rose to your feet, but you passed it off as another reflection of the bright lights. There wasn’t much you could do about the blood that had splattered on the dirt and painted symbols. The entire way to the dumbwaiter, you felt his eyes on your back and after climbing in, you gave him one last look. His eyes glowed a soft silver. You reluctantly closed the door and started pulling yourself up.

It was a bit of a mad dash to get to the garden unseen, but you made it to a particularly rocky and dirt-filled patch and all but face-planted. Perhaps you had rolled a little too much in the dirt because some of it ended up in your hair, but it did the desired job. But now you had to go back to the manner and face Paul and mother, not a task you were going to enjoy. You probably stood in front of the front doors for ten minutes, stalling entry because you knew just how much trouble you would be in… but at the same time, your cheek hurt ever so badly. You gave in.

Slipping your way into the manor, you dragged your feet in the direction of the parlor where your mother would be with Paul, tending to afternoon tea. You pressed your hand against your oozing cheek and grimaced, trying your best not to let the gathering tears fall. You were ten, not a baby who cried over little cuts. The moment you entered the parlor, Paul sighed and your mother went pale.

“Oh darling, what have you gotten yourself into this time?” Paul gently mused as your mother hurried up to you.

“Y/N!” She exclaimed in a scolding manner. “Whatever happened?”

“I tripped in the garden chasing a frog,” You answered quietly as mother pulled your bloody hand away from your face to take stock of the damage. She clicked her tongue in worry.

“Y/N, you’re going to need stitches! Oh darling, what were you doing!?” She exclaimed. “When will you learn to stop chasing frogs and act your age?” Your lip quivered a little at her scolding as she dragged you to the butler’s pantry and rummaged through a drawer for a first aid kit. “You are supposed to be behaving yourself here, you know how important this job is to me.” She continued before conversing with herself. “To us.” She clicked her tongue once more. “You are positively filthy! You need to act like a lady!”

“I just wanted to have fun,” You whispered in a pitiful defense, trying not to be upset by the fact that she was scolding you heavily for a lie. It was also hurtful to hear that she still thought you to be so childish. Were you not being a good daughter and staying out of her way while she worked? Did you not respect Fawny Rig? (Your trips to the basement excluded). You stayed quiet for the time it took for her to properly dress your cheek.

Mother ended up having to put stitches in your cheek to stop the bleeding and the entire time she did so she spent berating you for being a reckless tomboy chasing after stars and dreams that did not exist. Her words stung. You weren’t sure when she had started demanding that you act more ladylike but it was an increasing experience. Perhaps the influence of Alex was rubbing off on her.

It was over a week before you were able to sneak out from under her watchful eye to go back to the basement and continue your efforts. While you were slowly making your way to the basement through the dumbwaiter, your mind churned in anger and hurt.

You weren’t a spiteful child, but your mother had just made you so angry by telling you to act your age. You didn’t know where this rage was coming from but you needed to take it out on something. That glass cage was a good target in your mind. When you reached the basement and harshly yanked up the door, you dropped your feet to the dirt and marched up to where your trowel was tucked away. You picked it up and went to the spot you had been chipping away at, ignoring the looks of concern from the star-eyed man. You jabbed the end of the spade harder into the glass, making little pieces of glass fly from the curve. Your cheek twinged in pain from your nose scrunching in anger. On your next strike, the spade cracked the glass, and you were thrown back by a burst of air. Your head cracked against one of the metal columns and you were knocked right out.

You were standing in a forest that stretched as far as you could see. To your left was a creek bubbling away, frogs croaking loudly. It was the perfect place to explore. Paradise. You walked forwards towards the creek and stared at the frogs hopping around. It brought a smile to your lips and crouching down, you reached out to dip your fingers into the water. Crimson dripped from your fingers before you even made contact with the crystal-clear water. Twisting your hands in front of you, you stared at your ripped-up palms that constantly leaked blood. Your picture-perfect paradise wasn’t so perfect after all. Rising to your feet, you turned around and walked away from the stream.

“Leaving so soon?” The calm voice had your head looking to your right. It was the star-eyed man. He was free from his glass cage and dressed in all black. He looked very regal.

“It’s not real,” You said simply, holding out your hands, palms up to show off the gruesome wounds. Blood welled and slipped from your skin. “Mama says I need to grow up and stop acting so childish.” You wiggled your fingers about, watching as more blood slipped from your hands and splattered to the forest floor. He moved forward to stand in front of you and leaning your head back, you looked up into his star-filled eyes. “I’m to stop daydreaming and act like a proper lady.”

“And how should a proper lady act?” He questioned. You shrugged, not knowing the answer.

“I don’t know. I’m not grown up yet.” His lips twitched ever so slightly and his eyebrow rose.

“Then why should you be expected to act as one?” He had a point. You looked back down at your hands.

“I don’t want to stop chasing stars and dreams,” You said with a sniffle.

“You don’t have to, little one,” The star-eyed man answered. He reached for your shaking hands and held them in his. “I am the King of Dreams and Nightmares and it can be my will that you dream as much as you wish, Y/N. If you so choose that path.”

“How?”

“You’ve already sacrificed blood to me, that is more than anyone else has given me in centuries. Will you give your dreams to me for safekeeping?” You didn’t know what he meant by that, but if your dreams were going to be kept safe…

“You promise to keep them safe?” You whispered. His eyes glowed with stars. “I don’t want to lose them when I grow up.”

“With every part of my being, I promise that I shall hold onto your dreams until the End.” He solemnly promised.

“Okay, you can have them.” His starry eyes blazed silver shortly before he was bending down and pressing his lips against the edge of your palms. Your fingers twitched as a rush of tingles ran through them. Then your eyes widened as your oozing wounds started closing over and the blood that had stained your skin faded to nothing. It was like your pain was being melted away. Then there was a warm feeling washing over your body, enveloping you like a blanket. You shivered.

“Keep chasing your stars, Y/N,” Your star-eyed man spoke to you one last time. The dream faded as sleep pulled you back to its dark depths.

You woke up with a bad headache that felt like someone was taking a hammer repeatedly to your skull. Whimpering, you raised a hand to press your fingers against the spot from which the headache came. Your fingers were intercepted.

“Oh Y/N!” Mother gasped, her fingers clutching yours fervently. You blinked against the bright light and tried to settle your blurry gaze on her.

“Mama?” Your voice came out in a rasp. Mother’s bright eyes which mirrored yours loomed over you, concern and grief etched deep within her face.

“Oh my darling, thank goodness you’ve woken up!” Mother continued, pressing her lips against your hand. “You’ve been asleep for days. We’ve been ever so worried!” You were so confused.

“Mama, what happened?” She looked at you with confliction.

“Do you not remember? You were in an accident Y/N/N, you hit your head pretty badly.” Mother explained, reaching up to brush her fingers over your hair. “Cracked your skull open. You’re lucky you have a hard head.” She let out a strained chuckle. “Everything is well now though darling, as soon as you rest up and get back on your feet you get to go to one of England’s finest schools in London!”

London? But you lived here in Wych Cross…

“Are we moving again mama? Did I make you lose your job?” You whispered, tears gathering in your eyes. She shook her head at your and ran her hand over your hair once more.

“No darling, Paul and Alex wish to send you to the best school England has, you’ve won their hearts over you know.” You had? But did that mean you were to be going to school by yourself? Mother sniffed and patted your hand. “You’re a big girl now, it’s time for you to learn how to be a proper young lady.” You were being sent away. Then you remembered.

“Mama, what happened to the man?” You asked, looking at her with renewed interest. “Will you tell me if he’s alright?” Mother looked shocked for a moment before she frowned.

“Y/N, what man? You were found in the basement all by yourself! Heavens knows how you got down there… but the guards found you lying in a pool of blood. You must have tripped and knocked yourself out!”

“But—“

“Hush now, darling,” Mother said, shushing you. “You hit your head against a solid metal beam, I wouldn’t be surprised if you thought you saw something.” You pressed your lips together in confusion but decided to let it be. Your head hurt terribly and your mother still looked worried. You closed your eyes and dreamed of stars and shimmering blue eyes.

Date Published: 9/28/22

Last Edit: 4/3/23

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#morpheus #morpheus x reader #lord morpheus #dream of the endless #dream the endless #dream of the endless x reader #dream the endless x reader #dream x reader #the sandman #sandman x reader #the sandman x reader #the sandman netflix

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harrisongslimited · 6 months

Text

Chapter of the Day (more smut for you!)

Chapter 17

I Saw Her Standing There

Trigger Warnings: adult situations and conversations, smoking, drinking, smut (M/F consensual).

***18+ only***

Chapter 17

Joie curled up in George's arms, her head nestled against his shoulder. She dozed off and on until she heard the rhythmic sound of his breathing, knowing he was fast asleep.

She was warm and content—a perfect time for her mind to start racing -- she thought about what was going to happen when they got back to reality. It was going to hit them soon enough. Fans, the press, albums to record, tours to go on. But what would she do? It didn't seem to make sense to her that she would go back to working for him, but she wouldn't just be "kept" by him either. And what would happen when her visa was up in 2 months. Would she have to go back to the States? What would she do?

At that moment, there was a loud bang on the door.

"George, Joie, get up." John called, excitedly. "We're busted. The press and fans will be all over this place in a couple of hours. Peter just called. We have to get out of here or we will be mauled to death."

Joie jumped up first and threw her robe on. George pulled his pajama pants on and went to open the door.

"What in the bloody hell happened?" George asked, angrily.

"Don't know. I think it was the maids or that weasley room service wanker. We have to get out of here."

"We can't just walk out can we?"

"No." John told him. "The manager is coming up now. He's going to get us out of here in one piece or I'll rip him from limb to limb."

..........

After a harrowing escape which included Joie and Cyn dressing as maids and John and George being placed in laundry baskets, they made their way to the airport and back to London. In order to avoid the press, they took different planes, but it didn't work.

George was tense and irritable and held Joie's hand through the airport as if their lives depended on it. He was on high alert and the whole scenario frightened Joie to death.

"George," Joie said softly.

"We have to get out of the airport," George said, his voice low and gravelly. "Peter sent a car. Just hold my hand and don't let go. Do not let go."

Joie nodded as George squeezed her hand even tighter. When they stepped out of the airport, their driver quickly took the baggage and placed it in the boot of the car. Flashes went off in their faces and Joie plastered a smile on her face, although she lowered her head in order to be able to see. George led her forward, and as the driver opened the door, George helped her in, following her quickly. He slammed the door and locked it. Only then did he seem to relax as he looked out the window and smiled with a raised hand.

"Bloody hell," he growled under his breath. "There goes the vacation."

"At least we made it out alive," Joie reminded him, nestling into his arm. "I wasn't too sure there for a moment."

As they sped down the street, George took a deep, freeing breath. "Are you okay?"

"Yes," she nodded as he kissed her forehead. "The blood has even returned to my hand."

George laughed lightly. "Sorry. I just couldn't lose you."

She looked up at him, a gentle sweetness in her deep brown eyes. "You're never going to lose me."

..........

Brian, Peter and the press officer weren't prepared with statements concerning Joie since she had been spotted and photographed with George. They had put off the press for now, but the phone was ringing off the hook. This was big news. A Beatle romance! Paul and Jane were old news. George and the brunette were fresh kill and George warned Joie again that her life was never going to be the same.

"I don't care," she whispered to him. "As long as I'm with you, we'll be fine."

"Americans....," George sighed with a smile. "Eternal optimists."

..........

When George and Joie returned home to Esher, the phone began ringing the second they walked through the door.

"The press will eat Joie alive," Brian told George, flatly. "She has no reserve to deal with them."

"She's a lot tougher than that Brian. America won the revolution you know," George stated assuredly as Joie walked through to the kitchen to make tea. "Tell the press what you want. I really don't care. Tell them the truth, then. Best in the long run anyway."

"And what happens if this is just a fleeting fancy of yours?"

"This isn't a 'fleeting fancy' Brian," George turned angry. "And I'm not explaining our relationship to you either. You protect her, just as you protect Cyn, Mo and Jane. She's in my life now and if I'm lucky, she'll stay there."

..........

"What happened with Brian?" Joie asked when she handed George his mug of tea.

George shrugged. "Not much. Peter and Derek will run interference as best as they can, but my guess is the reporters are going to find out about us sooner or later. Nothing gets by these guys for long."

"So what are we gonna do? I mean, it doesn't worry me at all. Let them find out who I am."

"Joie," George told her. "It's not the press I'm worried about....it's the fans. They can get very possessive and out of hand. And you are American on top of it."

'So? You mean they will not like me because I'm American?'

"They wouldn't like anyone really....but we're all born and bred. The band started here. Possession is 9/10ths of the law."

"I'll be ok, George," Joie told him confidently, running her hand lovingly down his cheek. "I'm from California. Nothing bothers me."

..........

They spent the next 2 weeks quietly, getting ready for their trip to the Bahamas and the start of the Beatles next movie. George helped her move her things from the coach house into the main house, her clothes and personal things safely placed in the master bedroom and bathroom.

"Does your Dad know...you know...about us?" George asked quietly as he pulled the comforter down to the foot of the bed.

"Yes...and no," Joie called to him from the bathroom.

"Which means what?"

Joie peeked around the bathroom door. "He knows I love you," she said brightly. "But I haven't told him I moved from the coach house. Of course, he's not clueless. He's a homicide detective. I'm sure he's deduced by now that we're living together."

"But he hasn't said anything?"

"No," Joie shook her head.

"And your sister?"

"For a 15 year old, she's pretty smart. I'm sure she gets it." Joie turned off the light in the bathroom and entered the bedroom dressed in a black lacey nightgown that flowed just to her ankles. Her skin shined like porcelain in the soft light and her eyes were dark and heavy lidded with desire.

George took an unsteady deep breath as his eyes traveled from her face down to her feet.

"I went shopping," she said, her voice low and seductive. She ran her palms slowly down the sides of her curves, her eyes laser focused on him.

He hadn't moved an inch, afraid she'd disappear in a whisp of white vapor. "I see that," he said appreciatively. He loved her shapely body that tapered down from firm, full breasts to a small waist and then to her lovely hips. "You look beautiful."

"Thank you." Her face was make-up free, her cheeks flushed with passion, her lips pink and moist, her breathing deep and quickened. George suddenly felt over dressed as his jeans began to tighten over his groin. "I can help you with that," she said, her eyes on his bulging jeans.

Joie surprised him every time they made love. Her virginal passion had transformed into the sexy imagination of a grown woman interested in making their love life fun, interesting and fulfilling. She wasn't afraid or shy about anything. She hadn't been jaded to create hang-ups and while George was exceptionally careful and gentle in the beginning, his desire for her sometimes overtook him and he became more insistent and forceful. Joie met him every step of the way and he found he craved to take her nearly constantly.

"I'd appreciate that," he smiled, taking a step towards her.

As they approached each other, George's hands slipped around her waist as Joie's hands rested on his shoulders. His head fell forward into the nape of her neck, where he smelled her sweet, clean scent, and pressed her in close to him. They wrapped around each other in a tight hug, then George's hands traveled down to her backside where he pulled her into him.

"Let me help...," Joie teased, leaning away from him. She lifted his t-shirt up and over his head. His hands immediately went to the sides of her face as he leaned in to kiss her. Several short, gentle touches of their lips turned into a deep, needy kiss, their mouths open to each other, his tongue waltzing with hers. They both released low moans, just enjoying the feeling of each other.

As they kissed, Joie angled her hips away from him to give her room to unzip and remove his jeans and boxers, freeing him from the confining material. His hands moved from her backside to her shoulders and back again, devouring the feeling of the silky material and her warm body underneath.

#the beatles #beatles #george harrison #john lennon #beatlemania #beatles fanfiction #tumblr writers #I Saw Her Standing There #George chapter of the day #romance #real love

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your-divine-ribs · 3 months

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Ice Cold Part 25

Words: 3.2k

Ice Cold Masterlist Main Masterlist

"What the hell were you thinking Lyla?" Paul's exasperated tone was drenched with anger, his face contorted with fury. "How could you? How could you think for one second that you could do this on your own?"

I was perched on the back steps of an ambulance whilst a paramedic tended to my injuries. I could barely bring myself to look at Paul, frightened to meet his eyes in case he saw me for what I really was. I could feel it. Something was changing inside me. All of the lies and deceit had built up, a grimy layer which couldn't be cleansed, and now here I was, a murderer. It couldn't get much worse... could it?

"It was Jason's idea." I fixed my eyes on the pavement as I spoke, looking up when a stretcher was wheeled past bearing his body. A blanket had been draped over him and I was grateful that I couldn't see him. I knew that if I was forced to look upon him again I'd still somehow see the accusation in his dead eyes.

"I don't care who came up with the idea!" Paul snapped. "This isn't the time to be keeping secrets, sneaking around and playing at being the hero. There's a bloody war on!"

I looked up at him then, the reflection of the blue and red lights from the emergency vehicles dancing across his face, highlighting the grief that was etched there.

"I thought it was the right thing to do. I didn't want to risk any more lives..."

"Jason is dead!" He cried, gesturing towards the coroner's van. "This isn't a petty criminal we're dealing with here, or did you forget? McCann has a kill list as long as your arm. He's a professional and he's dangerous! You can't take him on your own!"

"Here's the murder weapon," a female voice sounded out, distracting Paul, and we both looked up to see an agent holding an evidence bag containing my bloodied knife. The knife covered in my prints...

My heart stuttered as I remembered the feel of the blade sinking into Jason's neck with no more resistance than a knife through butter and the horror mixed with fierce satisfaction that I'd felt. But rather than dwelling on the grisly justice that I'd served, my mind started to piece together a story, a version of events that was plausible enough to be believed. My prints might have been on the knife, but Jason's also were... and Van's too.

"I think you need to come to the hospital for us to look at this arm wound," the paramedic said, trying to peel my coat down my arm, but I resisted, pulling away.

"It's nothing, it's only a graze!"

"You might have fragments of bullet in there," the paramedic insisted sternly. "At the very least you'll need stitches."

I went to open my mouth to protest, but Paul cut me off, glowering down at me. "For fuck's sake Lyla! Can you just do as you're told for once in your goddamn life!"

The days that followed Jason's death passed like a whirlwind, meetings and interviews and investigations raged all around me but I felt like I was in the eye of the storm. It was eerily calm here, almost like I was watching everything unfolding impassively. I kept telling myself that it was just a defence mechanism, my mind putting up barriers to protect itself, but I couldn't shake the disquieting feeling that something was happening to me. A metamorphosis of some kind. A transformation into something dark and terrible. Something that I didn't recognise when I looked at my reflection in the mirror that morning.

It was three days after the fateful night, and my disciplinary was scheduled for that afternoon. I'd spent every waking moment going over my statement, fine tuning every little detail, every word that was supposedly said, every tiny action and interaction. I was an actress rehearsing for a pivotal scene in a movie, and with no other witnesses to corroborate or discount my story it was all down to me and my 'performance'.

The idea of appearing in front of the Director of the agency and learning of my punishment filled me with dread, but I was grateful for the distraction. It gave me something to focus on so I wasn't completely consumed by thoughts of Van and the things that he'd said.

It was obvious now that his interest in me went far deeper than simply satisfying some lustful desire. He talked about me like I'd been a part of his life for so long, but how could that be? Our lives had been so different and I couldn't draw clear parallels at any point. There had to be something though... something lying dormant and buried in my past... and maybe it was buried for a reason.

Whatever was playing out now was unequivocally linked to my dad's death, that much was certain. The knowledge of that fact had lit a fuse of ferocious determination in me to uncover the truth no matter what the cost. If Van wasn't going to divulge his secrets then I'd have to take matters into my own hands.

I logged on to my desktop computer, tapping my fingernails on the desk impatiently as I waited for the case file search screen to load. I knew it was hopeless but I did it anyway. I brought up all the investigations that were taking place in the weeks leading up to my dad's death and started going through them, hoping I'd see something that I'd missed before. There must be something that I'd overlooked.

ACCESS DENIED

The words flashed up on the screen, taunting me. Frustration churned like an angry knot in my stomach. The truth had been evading me for as long as I could remember.

Growing up I’d soon found out that my naturally inquisitive nature was a curse rather than a blessing. Asking questions about my dad's death had only made my mother withdraw even further into herself and eventually I’d reluctantly had to stop plaguing her. I tried the agency, but of course they weren't at liberty to discuss details with family members, especially not an impressionable young child. They cooed and fussed around me, laughing and ruffling my hair at this determined 'little detective' who was dead-set on bringing her father's killers to justice. They made sure that me and my mum were well looked after and their answer to curing my dogged curiosity was to pay for me to attend even more therapy sessions.

When I’d finally graduated my training as a fully-fledged agent my eagerness had seen me trying to delve into my dad's death once again, only to be met by a wall of red tape and stories of corrupt files and lost transcripts. Agency members who'd served at the same time as my dad, including Paul himself, regurgitated a story to me of the head of a drug trafficking network which my dad was investigating at the time finally catching up to him for his part in gunning down his brother on an operation.

I didn't doubt that Paul fully believed the story, as with everyone else I’d asked. On the surface it was convincing and credible enough, but I’d never been able to shake the feeling that there was more to it. I’d been there the night of his death after all. I’d been witness to my dad's agitated and fearful state. His usual unflappable bravery crumbling to be replaced by devastation as he re-counted to whoever he was on the phone to that vital information had been leaked, a betrayal of some kind. This was more than a revenge attack. This was an execution of a person who knew too much.

Just like Van had said... this knowledge was death. And it was still killing now 15 years down the line. Far from deterring me though, it spurred me on. Since when had the ultimate risk ever stopped me before?

Two hours later my eyes were beginning to sting from staring at the screen unblinkingly, and my colleagues were starting to rise up from their desks and wander off in the direction of the cafeteria.

"Come on Lyla, you need a break." I heard Jen's voice calling from behind me, and I swivelled my body around to face her. "Why don't you come and grab a sandwich with me?"

"It's okay, I'm not hungry," I lied, and my stomach immediately started growling like it was attempting to show me up.

"Doesn't sound like it!" Jen gave a grin, like she was considering making a joke, but it soon faded when she met my stoney gaze. She sighed then, stepping closer, and I found myself automatically tensing up. "You shouldn't be too hard on yourself you know... about Jason. Don't blame yourself. He knew the risks just as well as you did."

She tailed off, sympathy brimming in her eyes, and what could I say to that? That I wasn’t blaming myself, and that I wasn’t sorry? Because I wasn’t. Not any more.

I’d been so sure that I’d fall apart, but each day that passed the remaining guilt slipped away, like rainfall washing away the dirt of an old day. Van had been right. Jason had deserved everything that he got.

I looked back down at the desk as I spoke, trying for a contrite tone. "Thanks Jen... for believing in me. It means a lot, it really does. But I know this was all my fault. I'll just have to accept whatever punishment I get given."

Jen moved forward to place a comforting hand on my shoulder. "I don't think you'll be prosecuted, not after everything you've done for the agency. Paul's probably down there in Whitman's office right now, pleading your case!" She laughed softly, trying to coax a smile from me. "You'll probably get a suspension, nothing more."

"We'll see," I replied, turning back to my screen, indicating that the conversation was over.

Jen lingered for a few more moments, then she slowly backed away, leaving me alone.

Charles Whitman had enjoyed a lifelong career at the agency and had been promoted to Director of the agency just before I’d joined and started my training three years ago. All those who worked under him respected him and feared him in equal measures. He was an intimidating figure, and this wasn't all down to his stature. He had the sort of presence which exuded authority.

I arrived for my disciplinary meeting ten minutes early, knowing tardiness would not be tolerated, and I stood outside his office, smoothing my dress down and taking a few deep breaths before I meekly knocked on the door.

"Come in!" The deep voice boomed out, and I took one last lungful of air before I swung the door open and strode inside.

"Lyla," he addressed me, standing up from his desk and extending a hand to me. It was a friendly gesture, but the stern look on his face was anything but.

"Hello Sir," I answered, shaking his hand with as firm a grip as I could manage without it coming across as aggressive.

He gestured towards the seat across the desk from him and I sat, perched on the edge, before I realised that my posture looked nervy so I purposefully tried to relax my body.

Charles looked at me from across the top of his gold framed glasses, pale green eyes sharp and penetrating. Then his gaze dropped down to his desk where a stack of files lay, and I watched anxiously as he started leafing through them. The room was uncomfortably quiet which just added to the tension.

"You have quite the impressive record," he finally said. "In fact I'd go so far as to say impeccable."

"Thank you," I said quietly, not being able to take any satisfaction from his praise because I was sure of what was coming next.

So sure that Charles' next words astounded me.

"Which is the reason why I won't be suspending you, or pressing charges... not at this crucial time in the agency's investigations."

"I... I don't know what to say," I mumbled, stunned. I was so sure that at the very least I’d be suspended without pay or stripped of my badge and shown the door, and at the very worst subjected to some sort of criminal charge for my blatant lies and recklessness.

Charles placed his elbows on the desk and his fingers together almost like he was in prayer. "How about thank you?"

"Yes... yes of course... thank you Sir... I just thought..."

"That's your problem Lyla," he said curtly, cutting me off mid-sentence. "If you spent less time thinking and more time following bloody orders we wouldn't be in this situation right now, would we?"

I opened my mouth to defend myself, then thought better of it, glancing down at my hands which were folded in my lap. I picked at the bandage that I still wore across my wounded palm even though the cut was healing well.

"I hear you picked up a few injuries fighting off McCann," he said as he noticed my fiddling. "How's the arm?"

I instinctively reached up, fingers running over the bandage that I could feel under my sleeve. I’d not lifted the bandage yet to assess the damage, but I knew there'd be scarring once it had healed.

Those small scars will run deeper than the ones on your conscience Lyla.

My mind taunted me, and I realised that I’d not even mentioned Jason, my fallen colleague.

"It's fine, it was nothing really, I was lucky. Not like Jason... poor bastard..." I hoped my expression was sincere, that the twist on my lips could be read as grief and not disgust for the man that I’d killed.

Charles' expression was unreadable as he looked at me for a long moment and my heart started to race. Then he glanced away, looking out the window, not a shred of compassion in his voice as he spoke.

"Yes, that was... unfortunate..."

I watched, taken aback as he rose to his feet and crossed over to the window. I wasn’t sure what I was expecting but it certainly wasn't this. I’d thought that I’d be hauled over the coals for my foolish actions which to anyone else would be seen as leading indirectly to Jason's death. Now here Charles was, brushing off the death of one of his agents like it was of no consequence. And they called Van cold-hearted...

"I've had my eye on you for a while now..."

Charles stood with his back to me, looking out at the city. He spoke slowly, and his words set my already frayed nerves even further on edge.

"Am I in trouble Sir?" I asked uncertainly.

He turned then, swiftly, his back to the window so shadows were cast over his face. "It's come to my attention that you've had quite a few run-ins with McCann... and very close ones at that."

I nodded quickly, not daring to speak, feeling my heart quickening again.

"Most people only cross his path once you know... you're most fortunate."

Charles stepped away from the window and walked behind me, and I was relieved to not have to look at him. I was starting to feel hot and flustered, and I surreptitiously pulled my dress away from my body to cool myself down.

"Some might say I'm actually not very fortunate at all coming up against him so much!" I cracked a weak joke which fell flat, laughing nervously as Charles paced around the office, coming to a stop behind his desk but not sitting down.

His expression looked troubled, his brow suddenly darkened with anger. "It's no laughing matter. He has to be STOPPED!"

His voice boomed out the last word as he slammed his fist down on the desk simultaneously, causing me to jump in my seat. He leaned over the desk towards me, his voice laced with anger.

"I'm raising the threat level. Immediate shoot to kill on any sighting of him. I want him wiped off the face of this planet. The order's going out to all agents today."

I felt my blood run cold at his words, dread rising in my chest, my throat constricting. "But... but I thought you wanted him alive? He must have so much knowledge about the organisation... information about who's running everything. It could be valuable."

Charles shook his head emphatically. "Things have changed. He's gone rogue, cut himself loose from the organisation. And you don't just leave an outfit like that, not by your own choice. We can't predict his next move, he's more dangerous than ever!"

Now I couldn't hide my shock and I tried to rein in my fear to no avail. "What? I don't understand... why would he do that? How do you know all of this?" My voice came out high-pitched and anxious and I couldn't hide it.

Charles pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and he locked eyes with me, then he leaned across the desk as if studying me intently. I was aware that I looked panicked, my cheeks glowing and my heart hammering. I shifted in my seat, uncomfortable.

"I have my sources," he said, tight-lipped. "And McCann's going down one way or another. Even his own will be hunting him down now. He's a dead man walking!"

I shot my hand up to my mouth to stifle a whimper that threatened to break free, masking it as a cough. Then I realised that my hand was shaking, so I dropped it quickly back down into my lap. I needed to get out, compose myself, my resolve threatening to come unravelled at the seams, but I couldn't. Charles stood, looking down on me, his expression unfathomable. I had to hold it together.

"Okay..." I began slowly, trying to keep the tremor out of my voice. "Just tell me what you want me to do... I can help..."

I had to do something... track Van down somehow... warn him...

Charles' unwavering gaze never left mine as he spoke and I tried my best to look like I wasn’t just about to spin out of control.

"You didn't think you were still on this case did you? For heavens sake... no. You're not to go anywhere near it... or McCann. Do you understand?"

"But Sir..."

"I SAID NO LYLA!" The sharpness in his words brought me to a stop mid-sentence and he leant forward over the desk again. "It's quite obvious to me that you're too... involved with this case. It's time for you to step back. I'm assigning you to another investigation. You'll travel down to London the day after tomorrow. I need you on a stake out. Now the London team have lost Scott they need a good agent. In fact I was thinking about having you transferred."

I wanted to scream. I wanted to shout. I wanted to grab Charles and shake him. But I couldn't. I just had to sit there whilst he told me how lucky I was to still have a job after my conduct. After a while his voice faded out and I started to drift.

It wasn't ending like this. It couldn't end like this. I wasn’t going to just sit back whilst Van was hunted down like a dog.

I needed him, and he needed me.

#ice cold #van mccann fanfic #au fanfic #vanfic

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aesopsharpmybeloved · 2 years

Text

Just You Wait

Father Paul and you enjoy a steamy little 'recreation' in the recreation centre. Set during Pirate Priest, or Halloween On Crockett Island.

I had this idea I thought was hot, but didn't know if it wasn't too freaky, so I went and got a second opinion from @blackberries45 and she also thought it was hot. So I hope you'll find this hot as well :)

Basically, Paul and reader being switches who love each other and their fun.

NSFT/18+, I SWEAR TO GOD, GO AWAY CHILDREN

Just You Wait - 4.8K

tw: explicit sexual themes, slight femdom, oral sex (woman receiving) consensual unprotected sex (het), rough(er) sex, semi-public sex, comeplay, swearing

“Oh, just you wait till I get my hands on you, father.”

Father Paul shivered. While your voice was cheeky and teasing, it had that unmistakable undertone to it, one that was a promise as much as a warning. He also couldn’t have imagined that look in your eyes, that dark intense expression which made his heart thump loudly and heavily within his chest as pins and needles of excitement and anticipation settled in his belly. Your relationship was based on mutual adoration and trust, but also openness, in every aspect of it. Therefore, when Paul learned he really likes it when you take the lead and full control every now and then, he told you so openly. Turns out, you also liked to take on the dominant role sometimes.

And so, the priest knew he’d be on the submissive side of today’s activities, at least at first, and this knowledge brought a flush to his cheeks and a rush of blood to his groin. Still, he kept teasing you, riling you up, just to make sure you kept your promise. And by the time the two of you waved goodbye to the last few volunteers who helped hauling the pumpkins into the rec centre, he was positively desirous. He stood, still as a statue with his hands on his hips, watching the backs of his neighbours disappearing through the door with a friendly smile. The door closed with a little thump and his eyes immediately turned to you.

You too observed the now closed door, not making a sound. After a minute or two, during which Paul felt his sanity slowly melting away, you finally moved. You walked over to the door and turned around to face him. Your eyes boring into his and claiming the priest’s entire attention, you made a big show of reaching for the key in the lock. In the absolute silence broken only by a light buzzing of the fluorescent lights above, the click of the key turning around in its lock penetrated the air like a gunshot, and made Paul’s wildly beating heart skip a beat.

Like a predator nearing its prey, you made slow, calculated steps towards the man, keeping your eyes on him the entire time. He watched, transfixed, not daring to move a muscle until you appeared right in front of him, showing no intention of stopping. Paul took a step back, then another, then another, up until his back made contact with the cool wooden wall of the rec centre. You looked at him appreciatively, his pupils were blown so wide it made his eyes appear entirely black, and it was rather obvious the priest was trying very hard to control his breathing.

You were in his space now, so close you felt each of his shuddering exhales on your cheeks. A single sweet, reassuring smile is what you gave him, before looking down slightly and placing your hands on his shoulders. They made their way down his arms little by little, fingers squeezing the muscles there, the muscles he’d been teasing you with the entire afternoon. Finally, you reached his wrists, and, in a single quick movement, closed your fingers around them hard and lifted his arms up to pin them against the wall above his head. This move caused his body to get effectively trapped between you and the wall. A single small whimper escaped his lips.

Father Paul was obviously stronger than you, could easily escape the confinement, could push you back and flip you around without the slightest difficulty and both of you knew it. Neither of you cared. Paul obediently held his hands up against the wall, a little shiver involuntarily running through him as his t-shirt rode up and exposed a strip of the soft skin of his lower belly. Giving him one more smile, this time a devilish one, you lunged forward to capture his lips in a rough, bruising kiss. The man let you ravish his mouth to your satisfaction, feeling each little nip and bite shoot straight into his already painfully hard cock.

Soon your mouth left his rapidly swelling lips to latch onto his neck instead. His eyes were fluttering now and more little sounds were leaving him. A bit of shuffling and suddenly his chin was grabbed, forcing him to open his eyes. In his haze he hadn’t even noticed that his wrists were crossed and held in a single hand, while you administered attention upon his throat. You held his gaze firmly, your thumb now stroking against his lower lip: “Now… behave.” Paul nodded. You returned to sucking on his neck while your free hand now travelled down, across his chest and stomach, before it snuck below the fabric of his t-shirt and moved back up.

You drew circles around his nipples with your thumb until they hardened into little pearls, and only then you lightly pinched one of them. At the same time, you bit just a little harder on a spot which would be hidden under his collar, and ground your hips into his. His loud gasp turned into groan and the priest was now an absolute putty in your hands. Leaving his nipples be for the time being, you let your hand go down again, until it reached the waistband of Paul’s work trousers. You ran your fingers up and down his dark happy trail, making him squirm and thrust his hips, trying to get some friction against his aching member. You moved back before he had the chance however and he let out an unhappy whine, hips thrusting into thin air instead.

“Shh…,” you said, moving so you could whisper in his ear, “I told you to behave, didn’t I?” Paul whined once more, but his hips stilled. You waited for a little while, letting him calm down slightly before you carried on. “Good,” you whispered at last and moved back close to him, fingers reaching to tease at the hair leading to his crotch again. He didn’t try to buck into your hand now, so you took mercy on him. “Very good,” you praised, “you’re doing so good, love.” Finally you slipped your hand past the waistband and into his trousers and underwear. His organ was damp and hot, releasing little drops of precum from the tip. With hands still pinned to the wall above, Paul let his head fall down on your shoulder, releasing an almost pathetic little sound as you finally took hold of him.

You pumped his cock slow and hard, sucking a mark onto that little spot just above his collarbone. You chuckled when you felt Paul’s knees buckle slightly, and a deep moan sounded right next to your ear. “Mhm, f-fuck … you’re going to make me come into my pants,” said the priest, his voice high and breathy. It was neither a question, nor a warning, it was a simple statement of the truth - he knew that was your plan from the start. You grinned against the already purpling spot circled by a reddened imprint of teeth and pulled your hand out. After you made him raise his head and turn his attention to you, you made a show of sucking the remains of his precum from your digits, humming appreciatively at his taste.

He looked like a glorious mess, with his hair out of place and sweat glistening on his skin. His beautiful mouth was raw from your bruising kisses and eyes unfocused. You moved closer again, your free hand moving up once more to grasp at one of his wrists. Placing one of your legs between his, you pressed your thigh against his poor clothed member, slowly moving in an up-and-down motion before stopping. One more intense look was all it took for him to understand and he thrusted his hips, rutting against your thigh. “Go on, love, you’re doing well,” you breathed and put your leg even closer to help him.

He gave a thrust after another, finding a rhythm, before his head fell onto your shoulder once more. His arms stung with fatigue after being pinned above his head for so long, so even if he wanted to resist your hold, he now physically couldn’t. Of course, resisting was the last thing he wanted. Right now, the only thing on his mind was the tremendous need for release, as he desperately dry-humped your leg, his pace growing faster and faster. His face was contorted and he was certain some of the sounds he made were positively whorish, and that he’d be very embarrassed about them, hadn’t his brain been drowning in endorphins and his cock throbbing violently, pre-cum flowing in a steady stream and ruining his underwear.

His pace was feverish now, frenzied, and he rutted harder and harder to get more friction on his weeping organ, you had to hold onto his wrists extra hard to not get thrown off by the ferocity of his thrusts. Finally you had enough leverage to move one of your hands down again and into his hair. You grabbed as many strands as you could and tugged hard. The priest’s head fell back and his hips stuttered. A broken moan fell from his lips and his hips jerked involuntarily for several seconds, as Paul’s orgasm rolled over him like a hurricane and his cock finally released a thick spurt after spurt of cum.

You slowly let go of his wrists and the poor man nearly collapsed on you right there and then, his body overcome with pleasure and exhaustion, but you managed to hold him up by pressing his body against the wall with your own. You felt wetness on your thigh, as Paul’s spunk actually managed to seep through both his pants and trousers. After a while you shifted slightly and accidentally ground your hips against him, which made both of you whine, Paul with overstimulation, and you with your own until now ignored arousal. The priest’s long arms landed heavily on your shoulders, but they were entirely too weak now to really embrace you. Yours were too, after all, you had been the one to hold them there. Even in his post-coital bliss, however, father Paul got a brilliant idea, and slowly he slid down the wall, taking you with him, until he was sitting down, his legs bent at the knees. You automatically climbed into his lap and curled into him, pressing little soothing licks to the love bite you made.

Paul's breathing and heartbeat slowed down little by little, and he finally closed his arms around you with his head craned back and eyes closed, still riding out the last remains of his orgasm. You stayed like this for a while, with Paul’s arms slowly regaining their strength he started stroking intricate patterns on your back and hips, sometimes sliding underneath your top to feel your soft skin. The priest then lifted your head up from his neck by putting his finger under your chin, just so he could capture your lips in a messy delicious kiss, the intensity of it growing by the second. The flame in your core returned and you shifted your hips a little.

Father Paul pulled back to look into your eyes, his own darker than night. “Ride my face,” he said, his voice deep and rumbling, but there was a pleading undertone to it. You smiled softly, your thumb stroking over his pretty lips. “You want me to ride your face?” you asked teasingly, “want me to rut against your mouth, make your face all wet with my juices until all you can see, smell and taste is me?” The priest groaned and licked his lips, and you felt a stir under your backside. Paul’s cock was getting interested once more. You wiggled a tad, pressing yourself against the twitching organ before moving away and standing up. Paul looked at you, alarmed. “Be good and wait here, I’ll be right back,” you said and started walking towards the rec centre’s supply cabinet - there were blankets, pillows, some simple lightweight mattresses, all the things one would need were they to use this place as a shelter.

You came back with these items. They were all light enough to carry in a single arm. Paul eyed you questioningly, sitting in the exact same spot where you left him, not appearing to have moved a muscle. “I don’t want you just lying on the floor,” you explained. Some dominant play from time to time? Sure, but even when you got a little rough, you still wanted the other to feel comfortable. The rec centre’s floor was cold and hard, and you didn’t want Paul’s head dragged across the linoleum each time you thrusted against his mouth. You set the mattress down and put the pillow on it. The blanket you set aside for now.

“Get up,” you spoke softly with a smile. It wasn’t really a command, but it wasn’t a question either. Paul obeyed and stood, his legs just a little unsteady. “Come here, love,” your hand extended towards him and he took it as he reached you. “Now strip. I want to see you.” Not breaking eye contact unless inevitable, the priest began pulling at his clothes. First to go was the t-shirt, slightly stained from when he wiped his hands against it while carrying the pumpkins. His skin was soft and smooth, with a golden hue to it. His dark pink nipples hardened under the chill of the room and gooseflesh appeared on his arms. The mark you made above his collarbone stood out beautifully. He carelessly kicked off his shoes and toed off the socks. Paul reached for the zipper on his work trousers, but then stopped.

“Is… is the back door locked?” he asked quietly then. “Locked, and the key’s in the lock. I checked when I fetched the mattress,” you replied patiently, standing with your arms crossed and admiring the view before you. Finally he pulled the zipper down and popped the button open. Hooking his thumbs under the waistline of his trousers and underwear, he pulled it down, cringing at the wet sticky mess inside. “I think these are beyond salvation,” he murmured as he finally got rid of the clothes. He unceremoniously dropped them at his feet and looked at you expectantly, waiting for your next directions. His shaft was half hard again, glistening wetly with his release still, and throbbing slightly every now and then.

“Lie down, make yourself comfortable,” you said and began undressing as well, slow in your movements. He lied down, naked as the day he was born, resting on his elbows so he could watch you better. The priest didn’t care how many times he saw you bare before, each time it felt like the first time. Each time he was just so fascinated with how beautiful you are, every inch of you was an inch of perfection, your flesh made to be loved and adored and worshipped. He marvelled at your breasts, freed from the confines of your bra, the way they moved and bounced depending on what you were doing. He ate up the sight of your hips as if he were a starving man, the feel of them in his hands as he held them to thrust into you was tattooed under his skin, it felt like the most natural thing in the world. Once you too put away your shoes and socks and began peeling off your own jeans, his breath caught in his throat.

No, he decided, he will never have enough of this. Unlike him, you kept your panties on, and he shivered once he saw they were soaked with your arousal and clinging onto your most precious jewel, the sweetest forbidden fruit he wanted to taste over and over and always. You walked over to the mattress and onto it, your feet on either side of the priest’s rising and falling chest. Very slowly you kneeled, your clothed sex no more than twenty centimetres from Paul’s face in this position. He wasted no time. His hands took hold of your backside and the priest pulled you closer, his mouth immediately finding your clitoris through the damp fabric and he licked at it desperately. You sighed in pleasure, your ache finally attended to. Your hand went back into his hair and you gently massaged his scalp. You gave a little tug each time Paul’s wicked tongue sneaked under the cotton to lick at your folds. “Alright…” you breathed out airily after a while and pulled his head away, “lie down.”

Paul did just so, and you stood up once more to remove your last piece of clothing. Then you went to straddle him once more, this time right on his chest. You sat down now, your knees on each side of his head, his arms on your calves and hands closing around your thighs. “Please…” he said with that soft smile, his expression completely open, love and lust written on it so clearly, like black ink on a white page. You leaned forward to brace your hands on the mattress behind his head and he helped move you until your cunt was lined with his face. And then he lunged forward.

He moaned against your sensitive skin once he was flush with your dripping sex, tongue instantly darting out to lap up your juices and taste every single inch of your womanhood. Still, he pulled at your thighs, until you were close to sitting on his face. You let out soft gasps and sighs, feeling the knot in your stomach slowly coming into existence. You then shifted more of your weight onto your hands and rolled your hips, making Paul’s mouth drag over your slit and nub, and moaned at the sensation. The priest's eyes bore into you from his position, cloudy and half-lidded, but unwilling to miss a single second. You rolled your hips once more and released another moan, when his tongue slipped into your fluttering hole.

Now every time you thrusted, the tongue moved within you, his mouth was sucking hard and Paul’s nose bumped into your clit, sending tremors through your body. You found a rhythm and slowly climbed up the hill of pleasure, your moans becoming louder and more frequent under the priest’s wicked mouth. Your arms began shaking slightly and you were forced to relieve them of some of the weight, sitting on your lover’s face even more. He didn’t seem to mind however, his arms still pulling you closer and closer. Your mewls and whimpers filled the room, along with his own. You looked behind you to see his hips jerking unconsciously, his cock completely hard and dark red, standing against the priest’s stomach and leaking drops of precum into his own belly button, the clear fluid sticking to the hair underneath.

Paul felt you getting close, your walls fluttering around his probing tongue, his greedy mouth hungrily swallowing everything you could give him. You really were the only thing he could see, smell and taste, and he never wanted to stop. He was getting close too, your taste, all those sounds you made, the way your face showed all the pleasure he was giving you. The man was certain he could come untouched just from having you ride his face. You had different ideas, however. He whimpered when you put your weight back on your hands and lifted your cunt from his face. He even tried to pull you back, but you slipped from his arms and sat further away, on his waist.

Your pupils were blown so wide, only a tiny strip of your iris was visible and you were breathing hard. Paul felt your wetness mixing with the pre-cum on his stomach and it pushed him ever so closer to his peak. “I want you inside,” you said between rapid breaths, your voice no longer a command or a direction, it was a plea. “I’m not going to last,” Paul replied, barely recognising his own voice. You smiled at him from above, a drunken smile, white teeth contrasting with your flushed cheeks: “Yeah, me neither…” His hands took a hold of your hips and then travelled north, over your sides, sliding behind to stroke up your back until they reached your neck. He pulled you down, gently and connected your lips. His mouth, nose, cheeks and chin were all wet with your arousal and Paul wasted no time in pushing his tongue into your mouth, fucking it like he fucked your hole.

“How?” he asked after you had to part for breath. You thought for a moment, pleasure clouding your mind: “From behind, please.” Paul nodded and you went to change your positions. In the end, you were on your hands and knees, pushing your bum up into the air. Paul’s hands were spreading your cheeks apart, his thumbs parting your sopping wet folds and revealing your pink entrance. A tiny drop of arousal slipped out and rolled down your aching sex. “Oh, fuck ,” groaned Paul and moved forward once more, chasing the drop with his tongue and licked a long stripe between your labia. You shuddered and your head dropped forward: “Please Paul, please just take me already!” you were openly begging now, last bits of your dominance melting under the need for release, the need to be filled.

The priest climbed over you, his chest resting on your back and one of his hands moving to turn your head to him. When you did, he kissed you again, softly at first, but then he once more pushed his tongue past your lips and, at the same time, pushed his hard cock into your warmth. He easily slid all the way in on the first thrust and you had to pull away from his kiss to gasp and throw your head back. Your fingers dug into the mattress and a shiver ran through you. The priest filled you so perfectly you could cry. He gave you a few moments to adjust, but then his hips snapped harshly and you very nearly fell forward, all the while releasing a pathetic needy whimper.

Paul grabbed your face now and kissed you again, his other arm sneaking under your body to take a hold of your shoulder from below, and with that he began thrusting. His hold of you allowed him to deliver deep, hard thrusts while keeping you in place, all yours for him to take. The kiss was positively filthy, all tongues and saliva, shuddering whimpers and needy whines. “L-look at you, taking my cock so well…” said father Paul against your mouth, the snapping of his hips becoming faster, “like you were b-built to take me, and only me. I-I’ll, ah! Oh God, fuck! I’ll fill you so good, pump your pretty little h-hole so full of cum.” It was your turn to produce a very whorish sound as your eyes closed in rapture.

It drove you mad when father Paul talked dirty. Words that would sound crude from anyone else made your cunt clench on its fleshy intruder when they were spoken by him. You didn’t know why it was, perhaps it was the way his rich voice kept breaking, maybe it was the fact the pleasure he was feeling made him stutter. Maybe it was because he spoke them while kissing you, looking at you with such wonder and adoration. You were so close, your and his arousals were seeping out of your clenching heat and running down your thigh, and you felt blissful tears in your eyes. His hand finally released your face and stroked down your body, over your bouncing breasts and down your belly before it found its goal.

His fingers harshly pressed against your lovebud and your arms finally gave out. With a moan you fell forward and your face hit the mattress. Your hands were in front of you, scrambling for anything to hold on to, before they found the pillow and you buried your fingers into it, knuckles soon going white. Paul’s pace was brutal now and he ground himself into you, his bollocks slapping into the back of your thighs, his shaft hidden within you completely, all the while he carried on with the merciless attacks on your clit. You could no longer moan, only able to release small wretched whimpers as your lover pounded into you with reckless abandon. Your whimpers, his moans, the skin slapping against skin wetly all echoed through the mostly empty space, sounding extremely obscene and the air was filled with the smell of sex.

Paul leaned down and pressed open mouth kisses on your neck, shoulder, cheek, everywhere he could reach. “I’m so c-close, my angel. Come on, c-cum for me,” he said, his voice an octave higher and flicked over your clit hard. Your toes curled and your back arched, and you came so hard you nearly lost vision. Your walls squeezed the priest’s manhood in a vice grip and that was all he needed as he sheathed himself into you completely once more and released. He shuddered out a long groan and ropes of hot cum filled you, so very deep you could almost feel them in your belly. He shallowly thrusted as he was riding out his second orgasm that day, pushing his seed even deeper into you.

You lay boneless, too exhausted, too fucked out to move. The priest pressed more kisses against your shoulder and then pulled his softening member out of you, making you wince. He fascinatedly observed your still gaping, fluttering entrance as pearly cum began weeping out of it. He used his fingers to catch a few drops and push them into his mouth. Then he gathered more of your mixed releases and held the hand in front of your face, your head still on the mattress. You obediently opened your mouth, sucked the cum off his fingers and swallowed. Finally, your lover lowered his head to catch the escaping proof of your passion from your thigh before pushing it back inside of you with his tongue. You whined miserably, overstimulation and the sting from your wild coupling making you shy away from Paul’s soft tongue.

He took mercy on you and helped move you on your side on the mattress, your head on the pillow. He lied beside you and covered the both of you with the blanket you brought earlier. His strong arms enveloped you and you nuzzled into his neck, breathing in his usual scent mixed with the unmistakable smell of physical pleasure. You couldn’t stay long, of course, you already felt Paul’s come dripping out of you, and your thighs were getting sticky with the drying remains of seed your lover hasn't licked away. Right now, though, you were simply happy to be held and cuddled by him while you came down from your high, your bodies calming and cooling, brains regaining control of higher functions once more.

“You okay?” Paul asked after a while, his voice back to normal. “Yeah,” you whispered back and pressed a kiss on the mark you made earlier, “are you?” His fingers began combing through your hair softly and he sighed happily: “Couldn’t be better. Though, I’m not looking forward to putting on those pants again,” his nose crinkled cutely, “even if it’s just for the walk home.” You giggled quietly.

You got a little cleaned up in the rec centre’s restroom and wrapped your filthy underwear in some paper towels. You both decided going commando for the short walk back to the rectory was more agreeable than the mess you made of the undergarments. To be safe, you also pulled the sheets off the mattress to take with you, the pillow and blanket as well. A quick cycle in the washing machine and no one will be the wiser. Paul opened all the windows to get the heavy odour of sex out and you both inspected the floor for any proof of your little tryst. Feeling content nobody would ever know, you finally left the recreation centre, turned off the lights and locked the doors from the outside. Darkness fell while you were seeking the pleasure of each other’s arms, and the only sound around was the crashing of waves from the shore and a light gust of wind blowing through the wooded area behind the rectory.

You made your way to Paul’s little home, holding hands and enjoying the sounds of night. Once inside, you kissed his upper lip and excused yourself, so you could go load the washing machine in his bathroom. He joined you there not five minutes later, pressing his warm body against your back and gently curling his arms around your waist. He began pressing small butterfly kisses on your neck, while you fiddled with the washing cycles. You turned in his arms once you finally set one and the machine’s deep rumbling tore through the quiet. You reciprocated the kisses slowly. “Mhm… shower?” he offered. You smiled against his neck.

Hiya, I hope you enjoyed reading the 4.8k words of unashamed p0rn, because I sure enjoyed writing it :3 If you’d like, check out this story and the entire series on my AO3. I love feedback so much, if I’d love it any more I’d propose to it <3

#father paul hill #father paul smut #midnight mass #father paul #midnight mass fanfiction #father paul x reader #father paul x you #father paul hill x reader #fluff #smut and fluff

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