#eage fic

[aniron48]

close to the sun in lonely lands

Felix decides to take Bond's mind off his troubles by taking him eagle-watching. It goes about how you'd expect.

Coming in with a 00leiter fluff-adjacent ficlet for 007 Fest 2023, just in time for Felix Friday! This fulfills the 2023 Prompt Table entry "The great outdoors: the sun, the smoke, the bugs, the scenery. bring it on," and is also a Rare Pair and an entry for a Theme Day!

I apparently cannot get enough of writing Felix Leiter in Maryland doing Maryland things, so here you go. I hope you enjoy, friends--you can read on ao3, or after the cut. 💜 🦅

James Bond isn’t the only one who likes nice things.

Felix has been known to splash out on an immaculately tailored tux, when the occasion calls for it. He found his favorite cologne at an atelier in Paris on a temporary duty assignment years ago and has never looked back, and some of his shoes are, admittedly, statement pieces. His taste for fine things isn’t limited to the things he puts on his body, either—the sound system for his home in Annapolis is so state-of-the-art it’s got its own line item in Felix’s homeowner’s insurance.

But Felix knows himself, and he also knows that he thrives on balance. He sticks to a detailed budget for grocery shopping and eating out—a government salary only stretches so far. He drives a mid-level sedan that is modest but more than adequate, thank you very much, even if Bond turns up his nose at riding in anything less than an Aston Martin. And Felix is at his happiest in a pair of trunks and a faded Terps t-shirt, taking his boat out on the harbor.

Or, on a day like today, in cargo shorts and that same worn out Terps shirt, trying to get James Bond to shut the fuck up before he scares all the birds away from the nature preserve.

“I’m disappointed, Felix,” Bond says, lowering the binoculars that were trained on the enterprising bald eagle that has taken over the osprey platform in the middle of the marsh. “I thought it’d be bigger.”

Felix snorts, in spite of himself. “And they say Americans are obsessed with size.”

Bond takes the bait, as Felix knew he would.

“You can hardly say size is irrelevant, after last night. Not with a straight face, anyway.”

Felix chucks his water bottle at Bond, catching him in the sternum.

“My face hasn’t been straight since 1982.”

Bond chuckles at that, and Felix feels that familiar sense of vertigo that they’re here, that this is how it is between them. It’s ridiculous that one of the easiest things in his life would turn out to be the sometime-colleagues, sometime-rivals, always-with-benefits thing he has going on with James fucking Bond. And yet.

“I’m not sure why you were so keen on taking me eagle-spotting in the first place,” Bond says. “They’re your national symbol, not mine.”

Felix shrugs. “Thought you could use the peace and quiet. Besides, you’ve got a lot in common.”

“What things, exactly?”

Bond’s face is doing that thing where all the softness leaches from it, as if he’s preparing to take a punch. But Felix has seen the man in a fight a time or two, and the thing is, when he’s actually throwing punches, he looks relaxed. He only looks like this when he’s afraid you might do something really stupid, like be kind to him. It’s taken years, but Felix has finally learned that if you want to show Bond any tenderness, you have to go at it at an angle.

And so Felix refrains from saying resilience or strength or determination or any of the myriad things that the noble bald eagle, survivor of decades of overhunting followed by decimation at the hands of DDT, only to rebound right off the endangered species list, actually has in common with James Bond, himself a frequent returner from the dead and persistent bearer of loss after loss, and who, on this occasion, is fresh from burying Olivia Mansfield, his mentor and the most fucked-up version of a mother figure that Felix has ever had the dubious honor of meeting.

Instead, Felix says, “I’ll have you know that not all of the founding fathers liked the idea of having the eagle on the seal of the United States. Benjamin Franklin hated it because they steal fish from other birds of prey. He hated it so fucking much he wrote a letter to his daughter calling the bald eagle a ‘bird of bad moral character’ that was incapable of making an honest living.”

Bond is laughing, then, his eyes wrinkling at the corners in the way Felix loves best, and after a quick check to make sure there’s no homophobic prick with a hunting license waiting in the scrub to shoot them, he leans in to kiss him. Bond’s lips are warm and chapped and familiar against Felix’s own, and Felix pours everything Bond won’t let him say into the kiss. He likes Bond like this, sweaty and slightly rumpled in clothing he’s borrowed from Felix, far away from the demands of Queen and country and all the ghosts he’s refused to bury. He more than likes him like this, he’s afraid, but that’s a problem for another day.

After a moment, Bond breaks the kiss and lifts the binoculars again, looking for the eagle.

“I’ve revised my opinion,” Bond says. “He’s a majestic bastard, isn’t he?”

“Yeah,” Felix says, “yeah, he is,” and affectionate fool that he is, he isn’t even pretending to look at the bird.

Title comes from the Tennyson poem "The Eagle."

[kirkypet]

Are there any OCs in this chapter/fic? Who’s your favorite?

What emotions do you expect your readers to feel?

What have you been finding frustrating with writing this chapter/fic?

BELATED REPLY to lovely eag who is very patient

I’m going to answer these three questions for both my active WIPs (both American Gods fics - American Kids, a high school AU; Ain’t Got No Body, where Laura gets brought back from the dead as a ghost instead of a zombie)

1) Any OCs?

American Kids - I don’t actually think so. Laura’s grandmother has a substantial presence in one chapter, but she exists in canon (though not necessarily as Dolores Molloy, fun-loving aromantic relationship philosopher). However, Grandpa Steve, his bisexual boyfriend Jim and Liz-next-door are very much my own additions

Ain’t Got No Body - it’s not written yet, but there will be a diner or bar in Nebraska staffed by a bored shaman who causes mischief by giving Sweeney an unexpected out-of-body experience

2) Emotions

AK - ‘oh god teenagers are so dumb, poor things, I’m glad I’m wiser now’

AGNB - morbid curiosity

3) Frustrations

AK - trying to get it finished since I started it SO LONG AGO

AGNB - trying to figure out the logics of the thing. Because the implications of ghost-not-zombie are further-reaching than I’d realised when I began

Just generally - i haven’t got the brain space for fic anymore (positive reasons, nothing bad) and my fic-writing era feels like it’s coming to an end (sadness) but I don’t want to leave these two unfinished. I must be patient!

THANKS FOR ASKING! ♥️

[streaminn]

Ain't no way..

[foreingersgod]

I would love a Georgia amoore fic!! Maybe since they all are at Kelsey Plums class, reader meets Georgia there and they hit it off or something?! You’re so talented 🙏🏻

Sofia . GA

pairing: georgia amoore x reader

synopsis: ^request

A/N: also i’m doing a little name reveal because i don’t want to keep using JUST my initial, so you all can now refer to me as “Gracie” cause thats my real name lmao 😭

You know I'll do anything you ask me to

from the moment she had seen you walk through the doors, bag in hand and hair swept back, she knew she was a goner. you were a goddess in her eyes. the way you sauntered confidently, the way you smiled, the way you talked to everyone (including her) so kindly had her swooning.

she remembers the first day of kelsey’s class. she was nervous and intimidated, and if we’re being honest, she didn’t really want to be there with all of these strangers. georgia wasn’t reserved or especially outgoing either way, but she liked to keep to her small bubble and the people she was close with. in her jersey and basketball shorts, she stood on the sidelines of the court watching all of the attendees chat before the class was scheduled to start. it didn’t bother her that she was alone, but she felt even more anxious just standing there. and then you came along. you were so bubbly and excited to be there as you clambered into the gymnasium. you had noticed georgia from across the room, instantly locking eyes with her, and headed over to her determined.

“just over here by yourself?” your sweet voice wavered into her ears. you gave her a dorky smile, setting your stuff down next to hers.

“oh” she was slightly startled that you had approached her “yea-i um-i don’t know just didn’t really feel like mingling i guess”

she tried to laugh it off, but she could tell her embarrassment was seeping through.

“yea i get you, i don’t really like it either” you shrugged, not even fazed by georgia’s stammering “im, YN, by the way”

she gave you a relieved smile back, nodding slightly “i’m georgia, s’nice to meet you”

you offered out your hand for her to shake and she took it willingly. the sensation of your touch made her brain fuzzy, the way your soft fingers brushed against the callousness of her hands. she watched as you bit your lip, suppressing another smile before releasing her hand.

she was already head over heels for you.

But oh my God, I think I'm in love with you

“hey georgia!” you said, feet planted on the ground as you stood near the net “over here!”

she held the ball, another girl in front of her to guard her. she looked around trying to find someone open when she noticed you. with little hesitation, she passed it, watching as your fingers gripped the ball. you then took your shot, ball falling through the net. the score signified a much needed break and everyone on the court dispersed to the sidelines.

“that was a good pass” you came up behind georgia as she walked over to her bag “you’re looking good out there, g”

she could feel her face grow hot, turning around to face you once she grabbed her water bottle. she tried to hide her flustered demeanor by taking a swig of her water, but it was clearly no use. you were already grinning, tongue darting out to swipe your bottom lip.

“oh, thanks” she managed to muster out, swallowing hard “you too”

“thanks, that’s very sweet of you” she couldn’t tell if your face was just red from running across the court or if she had somehow managed to make you blush too “hey can i ask you something?”

“anything” you had hardly managed to finish your sentence before she was answering. she was quite literally wrapped around your finger. for the past 3 days, georgia had been imploring for an ounce of your attention. wether that meant guarding you, helping you run drills, or try to make small contact with you during breaks. she was desperate to get to know you. so how that you were here, taking the conversation even further, she couldn’t help but feel a little eager.

you chuckled at her reaction “well i, uh, since this is the last day of camp i was wondering if i could get your number? or hang out or something i don’t know? i know that’s really blunt of me but-”

“no yea” she breathed “yea i would love to”

and the rest seemed to be history, in her eyes. after meeting after class and exchanging numbers it felt like her whole world had changed. and in a way, it did.

Standin' here alone now, think that we can drive around

the memory of your first date was engraved in her brain forever. it was like a dream and she had to pinch herself just to believe it. once your time at class together had come to an end, the idea of being able to see you after that seemed surreal.

she had anxiously texted you first, a simple “hey, this is georgia” and you responded in lightning speed. she tried not to be too direct with you, not wanting to scare you off or stress you out, but god did she want to ask you out so bad. she contemplated just getting it over with as the two of you texted back and forth for days. but you had beat her to it, surprisingly. she couldn’t help but smile when she saw your text that one day.

you: hey georgia, do you think that maybe you’d wanna take me up on my offer from last week? get a drink or something?

her mind whirled just thinking about seeing you again.

georgia: i’d like that. could you do 7 pm on friday? we could meet at the bar downtown?

you: works for me! see you then, g <3

her heart felt like it was going to explode, oh how she loved that you called her that. it felt casual, it felt familiar when you would call her ‘g’ rather than ‘georgia’. the little nickname had her leaping off the couch and setting aside the perfect outfit for friday.

the weekend had finally rolled around and georgia was trying so hard to subside her excitement. her foot bounced restlessly as she sat atop the leather bar stool, fingers twisting around each other to try and ease the nerves. her eyes flickered from the door to her phone, trying to pin point any sign of you. she had this lingering fear that this was too good to be true, that maybe, for some unknown reason, you’d stand her up. but you didn’t, she realized quickly, when she saw you walk through the doors as the small bell on the handle chimed loudly.

you waltzed across the tile floors of the run down bar with grace, just like you had done on the first day of class. hips moved side to side, hypnotizing georgia instantly. her breathe caught in her throat once she saw your full figure. you were dressed in a casual yet form fitting little black dress. it’s straps draped over your shoulders and the hem sat comfortably on your thighs. your short heels clacked against the ground as you spotted georgia at the bar, you ran your fingers through your hair as you rushed over to her.

“sorry to keep you waiting!” you had panted, a little out of breathe “traffic was ridiculous, i wasn’t too long was i?”

georgia wanted to laugh, you were too sweet for your own good “no, not all! …could i get you a drink?”

and you smiled, nodding your head quickly and telling her your usual drink order “please, thank you”

“my pleasure”

I just wanna say how I love you with your hair down

“no really georgia,” you mumbled, laughter fizzling from you voice. after a few drinks, you and georgia grew weary of the crowded atmosphere of the bar and decided to ditch it for the night. instead, you opted for a stroll around town, enjoying each others company and the small city’s lights. you could have gone home by now, georgia too, but it felt so nice talking to each other that you didn’t want the night to end “you’re amazing, i mean it! you’re so talented and funny and-and just so admirable! i’m glad you agreed to go out with me…i, um, i really like you”

georgia had stopped in her tracks, now standing in the middle of the sidewalk. you noticed this and slowed down as well, standing in front of her. you knew it was probably stupid, confessing something like that on the first date. quite the rookie move indeed. when she stopped so abruptly, you watched for a change in her expression. you worried that she might be mad or put off by your statement, but it had slipped out and you couldn’t help yourself. but to your relief, the ends of her lips twitched into a faint smile and her eyes glimmered as she looked you up and down. suddenly, you felt vulnerable. having been completely on display to her, your dress riding up ever so gently, her jacket that she had given you to keep you warm still wrapped around you, your hair pulled to one side to keep it neat despite the mildly windy night. she was taking in every inch of you, you could tell.

“i might be crazy for this” georgia whispered “but i think i’d regret it if i didn’t say it”

she thought for a moment, pulling her eyes away from you briefly, closing them and taking a deep breathe. she seemed to be searching for confidence that she truly didn’t need, you were just as consumed by her as she was by you.

“what is it? i’m sorry if said something wrong or if that was too forward to say on a first date i’m sor-”

“could i kiss you?” she interrupted, stepping closer to you “please?”

Baby, you don't gotta fight, I'll be here 'til the end of time

it was positively electric, that kiss. something out of a fairytale, you would continue to tell people when they asked about how the two of you came about as a couple.

standing under the flickering street lamp, georgia leaned into you, hands coming up to rest again your cheek. both of your eyelids lowered, not wanting to look anyway from each other, but closing all the way when your lips touched. she closed the little bit of space between you when she pulled you in gently. her lips felt like heaven against yours, the taste of your cherry lipgloss lingering on her tongue as she fought for dominance in the kiss. and you allowed her to, feeling her tongue snake in between your lips. a soft moan escaped from somewhere deep in your throat which only encouraged georgia to pull you closer. her hands now found their way to your hips, roaming over the fabric of your dress.

you could have kept going all night if it wasn’t for the inconvenience of needing oxygen. you felt her lips pull away from yours, teeth catching your bottom lip as you both opened your eyes. you and georgia smiled, almost gasping for air from the passionate kiss.

“wow” you chuckled.

“yea,” she replied “was that…was that ok?”

“georgia- it was more than ok”

and before she knew it, your lips were back on hers as you went in for another kiss. she would forever be grateful for kelsey’s class, that you decided to talk to her that one day. because little did she know, that’s were she would be meeting the love of her life.

Wishin' that you were mine, pull you in, it's alright.

[skywlker-sluvtt]

69 on the smut dialogue and D5 on the smut prompt list with anakin? :)

Deflowered

anakin x fem!reader

A/N: Ugh this turned into my padawan fic and I absolutely loved the prompt so I couldn't help myself turning it into an entire fic. ily nonnie <3

Master Ani's been dreaming of his padawan for months when he feels her distraction again he finally takes what's his (Anakin is about 10 years older in this <3)

Warnings: master x padawan (reader is 18+), virginity taking, oral (f receiving), dirty talk, fingering, innocence kink, unprotected p n v, a little bit of blood, sprinkle of dacryphilia, lmk if i missed any

Word Count: 1.8k

Main Masterlist 500 Celebration

✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧

Prompt: 69 one person stopping a kiss to ask “do you want to do this?”, only to have the other person answer with a deeper, more passionate kiss + D5 sloppy, dirty sex

“Your lack of concentration is unlike you” Anakin commented placing a hand on your shoulder. Goosebumps rose across your skin at his warm touch. “Sorry Master,” You said putting your robe back on and looking up at him. “Is something on your mind?” He questioned not bothering to put any of his robes back on, still in a thin shirt from training. “Not really I’m quite tired” You replied trying to take your eyes off his exposed chest. “You can’t lie to me that easy” He smirked. “I can feel it y’know,” He said quietly. “Feel what?” You blushed. What was it that he felt? If he knew how you felt about him you were sure you’d be expelled. It was inappropriate and Anakin was much too old for you.

“Look at me,” He said quietly lifting your chin. Recently, he’d been more touchy, brushing a hand over yours or placing a hand on your back more frequently. All those touches made it so much worse. Heat bloomed in your stomach as you looked back at him. His eyes studying you carefully, a smirk plastered on his stupid perfect face. “Tell me what you feel, padawan” You stayed silent as your throat went dry. You couldn’t help but wonder if this was a test.

“I…” You squeaked nerves preventing you from speaking. “I love how innocent you are, can’t even speak the things your pretty head imagines” Anakin continued lifting his thumb to your bottom lip and pulling it down suggestively. “Master” You whispered swallowing thickly. “You sound so sweet when you call me that” He watched your eyes. The way they widened with nerves, he could feel your arousal through the heat of your skin. “I want to know, what you’re thinking about,” Anakin said more firmly this time. “I can’t,” You told him.

His smile grew and he stepped even closer. “Why not?” He questioned leaning even closer. The leather of his glove rested against your jawline, your mind wandered wondering what the durasteel would feel like on your cheek. “Such an innocent thing, let me say it for you,” He said lowly leaning down to capture your lips with his own. Your heart leapt and the familiar butterflies swarmed your stomach as your master kissed you. In response, you leaned in closer placing your hand against his chest.

Anakin pulled back unexpectedly. Touching his flesh you could now feel the lust radiating from him. His dark gaze met yours and he asked in a whisper “Do you want this?” In response, you stood on your tiptoes wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him deeply. Your heart was still pounding with nerves. He immediately slipped his tongue into your mouth grabbing a handful of your ass through thick robes. You whimpered quietly flinching at his touch. He deepened the kiss making sure you were pressed right up against him so he could feel as much as possible.

“So innocent” He whispered breaking the kiss. His lips moved along your jawline down to your neck. His fingers moved downward desperate to undress you. “Tell me padawan, have you ever been touched?” He asked. “N-No Master” “Good girl, then I’ll be the first” He groaned into your neck. “I want you in my quarters, now” He ordered. You nodded eagerly taking a hesitant step away from him before he guided you to his quarters. Anakin let out a quiet sigh of relief that it was so late, nobody would hear what he was about to do to you.

When the door was locked his hands were on you in an instant unwrapping you like a gift. You slowly helped him, becoming more nervous by the second. “I’ve dreamed of this pretty body for months,” He told you. Left in only your undergarments he pulled the breast band from your chest licking his lips hungrily. His gaze made your nipples harden as you began to hide yourself. “No hiding,” He said grabbing your arms and pulling them away. “Master I-” “Shh baby,” He cooed pushing you against his bed dropping his mouth to your breasts.

You whined as he bit and sucked on the sensitive skin. Anakin left bruises across your chest soothing them with his wet tongue. Lifting your hips you started to grind your pussy into his thigh desperate for the slightest amount of friction. His mouth left your tits as he trailed dirty kisses down your stomach, he ran his fingers down your inner thighs before pulling your panties down. “Such pretty holes, I can’t wait to use them” He smirked spreading you open with his fingers. Lifting his free hand to your mouth. “Open,” He told you sneaking his fingers past your lips. “Now suck” You did as he asked sucking on his fingers.

Anakin’s smirk grew as he tested your gag reflex working them down your throat further until you gagged on them. “We’ll have to work on that” He hummed pulling his saliva-soaked fingers from your mouth. “Master, what are you doing?” You asked closing your legs. “I’m getting you ready for me angel, I want these legs open. Show me that pretty cunt” He instructed watching lustfully as you did as he asked. Anakin couldn’t get enough of the blush on your cheeks. “You look so gorgeous like this,” He said quietly teasing your entrance.

“Have you ever fingered yourself padawan?” He asked slipping only one finger into your tightness. “No Master” You replied clenching around his finger. His eyes burned into yours before he smiled. “You just grind your pretty clit on your pillows, don’t you? Thinking about me? Wishing it was my thigh you were humping?” He teased. Noticing how your cheeks burned scarlet red and you looked away Anakin smirked. He slipped a second finger inside of you pushing in gently. A subtle moan escaped your lips and he hummed.

Anakin leaned down between your legs removing the glove from his hand. You felt the sting of cool metal around your thigh before his tongue pressed against your slit. “Master!” You whined shivering from the combining sensations. “Relax, love. I want you to enjoy this” He whispered quietly, languidly licking through your folds with intention. You could feel him deeply the way his force signature flowed with yours so perfectly clouding your senses with desire. Each flick of his tongue drew a desperate moans from your lips. His fingers delicately stretched you out quickening the pace before the heat in your stomach burned.

“Master I’m-I’m going too-” You sighed. “Cum for me my padawan, you have my permission” He smirked as you rolled your hips into him faster. His digits curled deeper into your walls stroking the perfect spot as you lifted your hips higher with a needy moan. Your body convulsed with pleasure around Anakin's fingers as he watched you with a smirk pulling away from your pussy, depriving you of any more pleasure. “Master” You whispered looking back up at him. “I know my darling. This will feel good for you too” He taunted revealing his cock to you.

His hard length sprung free from his boxers and he let it rest on your stomach. Admiring how his tip sat on your belly button. “Ready to feel me in your stomach angel?” He whispered pressing a disgustingly wet kiss to your lips. “Please” You nodded. “I want you to touch it first” He smirked taking your hand in his. Anakin spat into your hand making your eyes go wide. “Don’t get shy on me now” He whispered guiding your hand lower. Glancing down you wrapped your hand around the thickness wondering how that would ever fit inside of you. Your pinky barely touched your thumb as you held his cock.

“Good girl,” He whispered taking your wrist and moving your hand up and down his shaft like it was a fleshlight. “Squeeze tighter,” He said his hand clutching your wrist tight. You did as your master asked watching intently as he helped you jerk him off. “Ah-that’s my girl. Now you’re going to put me inside of you” Anakin smirked. “Master…I don’t know how” You told him. “I’ll show you” He growled leaning back until his tip was pressed to your clit making you squirm. Still holding him tight his dick slipped lower till he was pushing inside of you. “You take me so well baby” He rasped. You whined at the stretch. He filled you only halfway before tears pricked at your eyes.

“I’m only halfway baby” He grinned “Feeling full already?” You nodded squeezing your eyes shut. The pain was almost pleasurable, the feeling of his fat cock made your walls clench begging him to continue. He groaned as you squeezed and pushed further in. “That’s my good girl, you like it don’t you? The pain feels good” He dropped his head to your shoulder entering you fully with a quick thrust, his hips meeting yours. “Master” You squeaked locking your ankles around his waist. “You feel so fuckin’ tight,” He said before kissing you passionately.

Anakin thrusts in and out of you slowly. He watched how tight your cunt squeezed him as he moved. Your pussy clung to him desperately just as you did with your nails, digging them into his shoulder blades. You let out a choked sob and he smirked. “No tears, take it all padawan. You can do it sweet girl” He smirked before his tongue met your cheeks, tasting your tears. “Too much!” You cried out as his fingers met your swollen clit. “No, no, no. You wanted this sweet girl now. take. it” He growled building up his pace.

Hips snapping against yours it finally felt good as his cock reached all the right places, the relentless sting leaving you with only pleasure. As you moaned out Anakin’s mouth met yours inhaling every sound that left your mouth. “My innocent padawan-fuck-bleeding all over my cock” He smirked admiring the blood between both of you. “Master! P-Please, wanna cum on your cock” You pleaded loudly. “You cum on my cock when your master tells you to” He replied digging his teeth into your shoulder surely leaving a mark.

“Mine…all fucking mine. This pussy is mine. Say it!” He demanded tugging on your hair. “Yours all yours master! My pussy is yours” You yelped arching your back into him. He massaged your clit in tighter circles watching your face contort with pleasure on the edge of cumming. “Patience” He grunted with a few more sloppy thrusts. “Master” You gasped. “Yes?” “I want it inside” You whimpered. “Little cumslut” He groans biting your lip and pulling away before whispering. “Cum” The coil in your stomach snapped and you saw stars shaking around his thick cock. Your orgasm was electric as you felt his hot seed spill into you The thought of him impregnating you had your head spinning.

Anakin rutted into you lazily working you through your orgasm watching your eyes roll back mumbling praise to you. As the high wore off you were able to make out your master's cocky smirk as he looked down at you. You looked away nervously before he gripped your chin capturing your lips in a heated kiss desperate to taste you again. “Don’t act innocent now. You’re full of my cum angel, now you’re mine. Forever”

[aziraphales-library]

Hi! I'm looking for fics set in ancient history, preferably including extensive descriptions of the ancient cultures. I don't mind NSFW, but mainly I'm looking for a good story and interesting plot. The longer the fic, the better!

If it helps, I really enjoyed "Do You Know What Eternity Is?" by Elderly_Worm and the "Mistakes Were Made" series by eag

Thanks! 💕

Hello. You can check our #through the ages tag for fics. Here are some more to add that feature different cultures...

Camel-travel star-gazing by Sad_Wet_Bretzel (G)

Crowley had tilted his head back. His eyes were still covered by dark lenses and Aziraphale wished he would just take them off. It was night, and the nearest human was twenty metres away, their back turned to them. “See that one?” the demon said suddenly, pointing eastward. “S’ one of my favourites.” or Aziraphale and Crowley are assigned to the same caravan, travelling from the Ghana Empire to the Mediterranean Sea across the Saharan plains. The perfect cover to innocently spend time together.

some chocolate to sweeten the deal by Enelica, sevdrag (G)

“Heathens.” Crowley snorts. “Did you know they’ve already discovered four of the planets? Lot of work went into those, let me tell you, and these clever bastards have spotted four of them already. Britannia should weep.” Aziraphale’s smile softens in pleasure. The angel’s too soft over humanity, and unfortunately, it’s one of the things Crowley likes best about him. “Did you know they’re only eight hundred and ninety years off calculating when the earth began?” The angel glances away, and Crowley has to cover a sharp breath at Aziraphale’s profile, pale and happy. “That’s the closest anyone’s gotten, I believe.” (Written for the Days Of Their Lives zine with incredible art by Enelica!)

we'll get there fast, and then we'll take it slow by in_deepest_blue (T)

"Hurry over like a horse, but take your time like an ox laden with treasures." One summer in late 19th-century Japan, Aziraphale learns about a fascinating tradition during Obon, the festival to honor the deceased, which reminds him of his hopes for a future with Crowley. A look into four different stages in Aziraphale and Crowley's relationship, all set in Japan during different seasons and time periods.

A Juhannus Night's Dream by kittygirl2210 (G)

Aziraphale is sent up to Finland to bless a Midsummer festival, Crowley goes with her on her own "assignment". The pair thus get roped into helping with the celebrations. Aziraphale and Crowley are fem presenting in this, and it takes place between Edinburgh and St. James' Park! (Note: contains some Finnish Fem!Aziracrow art!)

The snake of healing by Sad_Wet_Bretzel (G)

Aziraphale stared at Crowley, who stared back. The angel looked the same, if a little travel worn. His river coloured eyes crinkled slightly at the sides as he took in his friend’s appearance. Crowley tightened her trembling fists, nails digging into the skin. or After a particularly nasty punishment from Hell, Crowley retreats in the Chicama Valley and becomes an artisan. Aziraphale comes to find her.

Mistakes Were Made: The Book of Crowley by eag (M)

Based on the biblical Book of Tobit from the Apocrypha. Ephesus, 400 B.C. Commanded away from Aziraphale's side by an infernal master, Crowley is forced to use his time-stopping powers for Asmodeus' dirty work while Aziraphale is left wondering why Crowley has disappeared. As Crowley sinks ever deeper into despair, Aziraphale is sent on a journey accompanying a human from Nineveh to Ecbatana. Of course, mistakes were made...

- Mod D

[lanawinterscigarettes]

this love came back to me (Wanda Maximoff x reader)

Description: several months after you and Wanda originally broke up, a chance encounter with her at the grocery store has all your old feelings rushing back to you and makes you wonder why you ended things in the first place

A/N: the idea for this fic came from one of the songs off of 1989 tv. I haven't written for anybody from the mcu (or in general) in so long omfg. Also Wanda's a super fucking hottie btw. but you guys already knew that

Warnings: exs to lovers (is that a thing? It is now), fluff, kind of hurt/comfort, mentions of mental health issues, mentions of insecurity/self depreciation, mentions of past heartbreak, happy ending (because y'all really deserve it)

The day began just like any other. You'd woken up to find you were on your last roll of toilet paper, you didn't have anymore hand soap, and you were running out of milk. 

"Guess I'd better make a trip to the grocery store," you said to yourself while you slipped on your shoes and grabbed your keys. 

You got there to find it practically empty, courtesy of making a trip that wasn't during the weekend, when it was slam packed. 

As you browsed the aisles, you couldn't help but notice a young woman around your age shopping in the same area as you. While she looked awfully familiar, you decided to brush it off. It was most likely just your mind playing tricks on you, like it usually did. 

However, when you saw her again a couple aisles down, you realized that maybe you did know her. You were sure you recognized her from somewhere, but where exactly was a difficult place to put your finger on. 

It was when you finally were able to see her face that you recognized her to be Wanda, your ex girlfriend. She looked great, better than you remembered. 

This made you self conscious and overly aware of the fact you were wearing a hoodie and sweatpants while she was all dolled up in her red blouse and dark blue skinny jeans, not to mention the makeup she had on her face. 

It made you think about how whenever you needed to go shopping and she would offer to go with you, you'd have to wait at least thirty minutes for her to find a cute outfit and do her makeup (or at least put on some mascara and lip gloss, if you didn't have the time to wait for her) before she was ready to go. 

It was quite endearing, now that you were thinking back on it, but you distinctively remembered back then how frustrated you would get, having to wait. It hurt your heart to think about how gorgeous she would look while all you could do was grumble about leaving later than you'd originally wanted. 

Before you could think about whether or not approaching her would be a good idea, she looked your way, a warm smile gracing her features. God, she looked pretty than you remembered. "Hey, you." Wanda called out softly, a playful look in her eyes. 

"Uh, hey." You responded with lamely, not really knowing what to think. Did she hate you now? I mean, the breakup hadn't gone poorly, and it was mutual, but you still couldn't help wondering what she thought of you. 

"Long time, no see." She walked over to where you were standing, a grocery basket tucked under her arm. "I missed you." 

You couldn't believe what you were hearing. She missed you? 

"Yeah, same." You inwardly cringe at just how uninterested you must sound, but then again, how could you express your feelings for her properly without her getting upset or wanting to leave? 

"So, um..." You fidgeted, looking everywhere but her as you tried to pluck up the courage to ask that one simple question that could put you on a path back into her arms. 

You decided to just bite the bullet and get on with it. After all, the worst she could do was say no. "Do you... do you wanna maybe get coffee later? Or something?" 

Her face practically lit up with joy. "Sure, I'd love to," she cheerfully answered, a large smile encompassing the lower half of her face. 

You tried not to seem too eager when you responded. "Great! I mean, good, that's good that you wanna do that with me." 

Laughing, she slipped her hand into yours. "Just lemme pay for this real quick, then lunch is on me. We've got a lot of catching up to do." 

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[master-sass-blast]

Resurgence.

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five: Chapter One, Part Five: Chapter Two, Part Five: Chapter Three, Part Six: Chapter One, Part Six: Chapter Two, Part Seven, Part Eight, Part Nine, Part Ten, Part Eleven, Part Twelve, Part Thirteen, Part Fourteen, Part Fifteen, Part Sixteen

Summary: You grin when you step off the elevator and see Lin waiting down the hall, in the doorway of her apartment.

She smirks when she sees you, then smiles faintly when you jog down the hall to greet her. “Someone’s eager.”

“What, you didn’t miss me?”

She hums into your kiss, one strong arm banding around your waist. “Well,” she murmurs against your lips, “maybe just a little.”

You giggle, then let her usher you inside as she kicks the door shut behind you both.

-

AKA you and Lin meet up for an evening to blow off steam. Unfortunately, things don't go as planned.

Pairing(s): Lin Beifong x Reader.

Rating: M for sexual content, panic attacks, PTSD symptomatology, vomiting, and arguing.

Word count: 5.9k.

Author's Note: Me? Posting more than once a year? Surely not.

In other news, my CFS/other body and brain shit is still overwhelming. It basically took dragging myself through editing to be able to post this latest round of fics (for those of you who don't check out my other works, no worries, but I like to post in little caches so that everything is updated mostly together). I'm not trying to vie for pity; I'm really fucking proud of myself for pushing through and being able to post. I had an unofficial goal of wanting to post more fics before April was over (because April is my birth month), and I did it! I am that bitch!

Thank you all for your patience -and all the comments! They really kept me going when the grind of editing was starting to wear me down.

Happy Reading!

P.S. Shout out to the commenter who pointed out how guilty Lin must feel for not saying anything about the locks. I hadn't even thought of that.

Wake up. Stretch. Get ready for work. Catch the 8:30 morning tram.

Get to work. Clock in. Review client roster for the day. Confer with reception Start off with your first patient for the day.

Clock out for lunch. Eat lunch. Talk to coworkers. Take a short walk during break.

Clock back in for the afternoon. Work with more patients. Confer with an assistant on upcoming scheduled appointments. Take your afternoon break. Drink some tea.

Wrap up your last scheduled appointment. Update client progress charts. Tidy work space. Clock out.

Catch 5:45 evening tram. Stop by the market to pick up food for dinner. Go back home. Make dinner. Do chores and general “life maintenance.” Try to relax. Get ready for bed. Go to sleep.

And on, and on, and on, and on…

You like your job. You love the field of work you’ve picked. Carrying on your grandmother’s legacy –the tradition of the Northern Water Tribe’s healing work–gives you reason to hold your head high each morning.

You have purpose. Passion. You help people.

Maybe you’re a workaholic in denial. Or maybe it’s the fault of your mad idea to also work at Yue General as a trauma recovery specialist and on-call surgical assistant. Whatever the case, at least once a year, you hit a point where the daily grind of your life starts drilling through your head and draining your will to live.

In years past, you’d usually take a few days off, after about the fifth week of dragging yourself through the motions. You’d promise to “refresh” your life –clean up your apartment, take care of responsibilities left to the side in the wake of your waning motivation–then spend your time off eating your weight in take out and napping on your couch.

Well. It works. Each year, you’re able to return to work after a few days living as a shut-in hedonist with renewed joy and drive.

This year, however…

You grin when you step off the elevator and see Lin waiting down the hall, in the doorway of her apartment.

She smirks when she sees you, then smiles faintly when you jog down the hall to greet her. “Someone’s eager.”

“What,” you say, somewhat winded, as you slow to a stop in front of her. You wind your arms around her neck and curl your fingers into her curly, short hair. “You didn’t miss me?”

She hums into your kiss, one strong arm banding around your waist. “Well,” she murmurs against your lips, “maybe just a little.”

You giggle, then let her usher you inside as she kicks the door shut behind you both.

…

The second the deadbolt slides into place, the weight of your daily grind melts away.

Technically, the second you got a phone call from your darling girlfriend, and thus received the invitation to come over for an evening, a lot of the drudgery bearing down on you had abated. But you’d still waited, balancing electric anticipation, looming over your head as you counted down the days, then the hours, then the minutes…

You moan into Lin’s mouth as she grabs your ass with both hands.

Bliss.

You’ve always hated waiting for what you want –for anything, really.

Lin shoves you against the nearest wall. She growls when you squeeze her ass harder than necessary, then grabs your hands. “Behave.”

“No.” You take the opportunity to nip at her lower lip –which makes her gasp gloriously–then utilize her shock to fight her grip. “I–”

Lin all but slams your hands against the wall, over your head. She brushes her lips along your jawline –which makes you tremble–then murmurs huskily in your ear. “Enough. Be patient.”

“Patient?” you sputter. “I’ve been patient the whole damn week–”

“I called you only three days ago.”

“It felt like a week!” You whimper when Lin nips at the side of your neck. Feigning submission, you tip your head back and melt against her –until she loosens her grip on your wrists.

“You little–” Lin catches your hand halfway on its journey up her shirt with one hand, then grabs your face with the other. She forces you to look her in the eye and glowers down at you. “What did I just tell you?”

“You called me three days ago.” A cheeky, self-satisfied grin stretches across your face when she growls at you. You smile up at her, the picture of innocence, then use her moment of distraction to jam your thigh between her legs.

Lin lets out a choked gasp of your name and stumbles against you.

“Aw, baby, did you miss me?” you purr. “You could’ve called me so –FUCK!”

In one fluid motion, Lin tosses you over her shoulder and marches down the hall, towards her bedroom.

A short grunt escapes you when she tosses you on her bed, and then you squeal when she yanks you over her lap. In short order, your pants are yanked down around your knees. You mock-glare at her over your shoulder when she pulls roughly on your underwear. “Don’t rip these! I like them!”

Lin grabs a fistful of your hair and pushes your head back down against the bed. “Shut up.”

Blissful pain shoots across your scalp. Your eyelids flutter shut, and you moan into her bedspread.

(Regardless, she heeds your demand and doesn’t ruin your underwear.)

Your underwear follow the trajectory of your pants in short order. Anticipation and arousal pulse through your cunt, prompting you to squirm atop Lin’s lap.

She pins you down by barring one strong, unyielding arm across the small of your back. Her free hand gently smooths over the swell of your bare ass –almost worshipful, in contrast to her ire with your bratting. “Last chance. Behave.”

You can’t resist. “Or what?”

Her hand cracks down against your skin.

You yelp –then whimper when she kneads your asscheek, drawing out the underlying ache. “Lin–”

“Be. Good.” She leans over your back to growl in your ear. “Or I won’t let you cum tonight.”

…Come on. She practically set that up on a silver platter for you.

“What makes you think you can make me cum to begin with?”

SMACK!

A delighted sob rips out of your throat. You writhe –well, as much as you can, anyway, since Lin’s always bound to win any contest of strength between the two of you–then moan when she spanks you one, two, three more times. Stars burst behind your eyelids, dazzling and transcendent as all coherent thought leaks out your brain through your dripping cunt. “Fucking spirits–” You groan, low and ragged, when Lin’s hand cracks down against your ass for a fourth time. “Oh shit!”

She keeps spanking you in irregular intervals, until your ass feels hot and you’re a whimpering, slick mess. Lin brushes her fingers against your labia, then pulls away when your hips push against her fingertips. “What? Nothing smart to say now?”

And you don’t. The ability to speak has since left your brain, drowned out by arousal, and endorphins, and the feeling of your girlfriend’s hand against your throbbing skin. So, in lieu of saying what’s on your mind, you opt for a physical demonstration.

“You little fucking brat–”

Or, well, you try to.

You manage to twist your arm and get half a hand on Lin’s chest –her beautiful, soft chest that you would never take your hands off, if you had things your way–before the bottom drawer of her nightstand flies open and a familiar glint of silver whizzes past your head.

Your stomach lurches, akin to airsickness, when the first metal cuff closes around your wrist.

“You never listen, never learn–”

It’s like you’ve toppled into the Northern Ocean in the midst of winter. Every muscle in your body seizes, practically frozen solid. You’re sinking, slipping beneath the surface as La drags you into their depths, theirs forevermore.

“–okay? Talk to me–”

You can’t breathe right. There’s a burlap bag over your head. You’re tied to a chair in a dank basement, there’s a bag over your head, and you’re going to die–

“Breathe.” Lin undoes the cuffs with her metalbending, then tosses them aside. She lifts you into her arms, turning you so that you’re sitting in her lap. “What’s wrong? Did I–”

“Don’t leave me again!” A broken sob tears from your throat. You throw your arms around her, clutching her close as you bury your face into her neck. Shudders wrack your body as you cry louder. “Don’t –don’t leave me–”

“Okay! Okay.” Lin cups the back of your head with one hand. “I won’t leave you. Just breathe for me, alright?”

You’re trying. But it’s like you’ve been punched in the gut. You can’t catch your breath, can’t get your diaphragm to open up properly.

“What does she taste like?”

The back of your throat burns. Your mouth tastes like acrid metal.

“I want you to tell me. What does she taste like when you use your tongue on her?”

Clammy sweat beads along your forehead.

“I guess I’ll have to find out for myself.”

You shove yourself to your feet, then clap one hand over your mouth when you retch.

Lin’s reflexes succeed where yours fail. When you double over, she grabs you by the shoulders and rushes you to the bathroom.

The first heave makes your eyes water and burn. You cough, stomach roiling as your whole body rolls. Putrid bile spews into the toilet basin on the second heave, burning your throat on the way out. You sob when you can breathe again, falling to your knees on the hard, cold tiles of Lin’s bathroom floor.

Lin’s hand is strong, yet gentle on your hair. She quickly tucks a few stray strands away from your face. “Easy. Just let it happen.”

Like I have any control here. Panting, you clutch the rim of the toilet bowl. “I–” You retch, then curl over the toilet again.

…

Things go fuzzy. Once your stomach is empty, you collapse against the side of Lin’s bathtub. You’re gasping, clammy and trembling as you try to suck down enough air to stop the feeling of drowning.

A cool glass of water is pressed into your hands. You take a small sip, rinse your mouth, then spit into the toilet bowl before slumping down again.

At some point, you wind up in Lin’s bed, tucked carefully under the covers. Your knees and hips ache from the harsh, unforgiving tile floor. Still shaking, you wince as you curl up on your side. Short, shallow breaths puff past your lips. I’m okay. It’s okay. Everything is okay. You’re safe, Lin’s here–

Except she’s not.

You bolt upright, terror coursing through your veins. The bathroom’s empty, there’s no light peeking out beneath the door to her home office, and the kitchen is silent. Your stomach drops into your feet, and you lunge out of bed. “Lin?”

“What’s wrong?” Her feet hit the floor in her living room, and then she appears at the end of the hallway, expression pinched from concern. “Are you–” She stumbles back a few steps when you careen into her. “What the –hey!”

You lock your arms around her waist and bury your face in her neck. Your pulse pounds in your ears, racing and erratic. “You left me again!”

“I–” Lin’s hands grip your shoulders tightly. “I stayed with you while–”

“Not then! Earlier! You left me!”

Lin tightens her hold on your shoulders, then forces you back so she can see your face. “I don’t know what we’re talking about!”

You lock your jaw to keep yourself from rambling and gibbering like an unhinged loon. Throat tight with fear and anguish, you force yourself to breathe as deeply as you can. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Bile roils in your empty stomach; you swallow hard, then pull away from her. “You left me. After the warehouse. After Kim.”

Lin goes perfectly still. Her wide, green eyes lock onto your face, then quickly focus on the floor instead, before finally drifting to the empty kitchen. Her scarred cheek twitches minutely. “I don’t understand what that has to do with right now.”

“I’m trying,” you spit out between clenched teeth. Frustrated –with her, with the situation, with yourself–you close your eyes and scrub at your face with your hands. “I’m not –you aren’t –I don’t want to–”

“Breathe.”

You do as Lin says, relaxing minutely when her hand brushes against your upper arm. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Use the diaphragm and abdominal muscles to control things. Deep inhale, even slower exhale.

Once you’re visibly calmer, Lin speaks again. “Why did you panic when I cuffed you?”

“I…” You swallow hard, then shrug small and sad. “I flashed back to –to the warehouse fight.” A pang of anxiety makes your voice crack. “When Kim had me tied to a chair in the basement.”

“Shit.” Lin rakes one hand through her short, wavy gray hair. “I’m sorry, I should have thought–”

“Of nothing,” you cut her off, suddenly weary.

“I should have checked in before restraining you–”

“And I would have said ‘go for it.’” You level her with a firm stare. “I didn’t know it was going to happen, either. It just… came out of nowhere.” The anxiousness crests higher, and you compensate by stepping into Lin’s space and wrapping your arms around her waist. You bury your face into the crook of her neck. “Thanks for helping me when I freaked out.”

“Of course,” Lin says as she wraps both arms around your shoulders. “What, like I was going to leave you like that?”

“I know, I know,” you reply automatically.

She left you after the warehouse.

It’s a poisonous, traitorous thought. Cold, nauseating ire roils in your gut. It turns hot as it swirls up your spine, until it breaks over your head in a tidal wave of rage and indignance.

It’s not fair. You and Lin have talked about the whole Kim aftermath fiasco. It’s been put to bed.

Has it? You chew on your lower lip as your mind turns the issue over. If you’re still upset about it, has it really been laid to rest?

How many times have you lectured your patients, after all? Some small injuries or aches, if left unattended, can morph into much bigger problems.

The tell-tale sensation snaps back –almost like vertigo, your head spins as the room suddenly feels miniscule around you. You can feel the walls of Lin’s apartment closing in around you, feel your scalp pressing against the plastered ceiling, even though your girlfriend is still holding you and your head is still comfortably pillowed against her chest. The urge to curl in on yourself, to find somewhere dark and small to hide claws up your legs and back, snarling and demanding your immediate submission. Breathe. Your eyes slip shut, and you press your forehead against your girlfriend’s shoulder. I deserve to exist. My feelings deserve to exist. Teeth clenched against a fresh wave of nausea, you breathe through anger and frustration and pain. Ask, don’t accuse. You swallow around the lump in your throat. “Why –why did you leave me after I got kidnapped?”

Unsurprisingly, Lin freezes again.

You can hear her swallow nervously. When she doesn’t speak, you decide to keep talking. “I needed you. I–I was so fucking scared, and hurt–” Your voice cracks as hot, stinging tears well up behind your closed eyelids. You press the heels of your hands against your eyes, trembling all over as you try to compose yourself. “Sorry. Just –give me a second.”

Lin says nothing, simply waiting in patient silence.

Outside, down in the street below, a Satomobile door thumps shut. The engine revs, then settles into a steady purr before fading away. The familiar rattle of the city tram breaks through the autumnal winds that rip off the harbor. The sound of the tram’s bell soars higher, sailing into the night air like asclepias puffs in the wind.

You flex your feet against the hardwood floors of Lin’s apartment. Pretty grain pattern, part of your brain notes inanely. Must’ve been expensive to refine and install. “Why did you leave me?” you whisper hoarsely, once you finally manage to scrape yourself together. You swipe at your face with the cuff of your sleeve; you hadn’t even managed to get undressed before everything went to shit. You clear your throat. “I… I don’t understand.”

For several long, tense moments, you think she might not answer at all. Then, Lin sighs. “I… I panicked.”

You watch Lin sharply, trying to read her often inscrutable expression and posture.

She walks away from you, over to the window in the living area that overlooks Republic City. She stares out at the night skyline –despite the sun having already set, the city glows from all the electric lights. She braces her hands against the white windowsill; she almost looks like a pensive, noir-style detective from the murder mystery radio shows you like so much.

You tuck your tongue in your cheek to keep from giggling hysterically.

“It was my fault.” She doesn’t look at you. “The nature of my job creates enemies.” She steps back from the windowsill; her hands curl into fists at her sides. “I should’ve known better. I do know better. And despite that, I didn’t keep you safe.”

“It’s not–” With a long, heavy sigh, you shake your head. “You can’t possibly predict every–”

“I did.” When you sputter disbelievingly, she faces you –but her gaze doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “The security on your building is shit. And you’d be a lot better off with platinum locks.”

After a moment of your best river carp impression, you manage to close your mouth and shake your head. “Lin…” You hold up one finger when she opens her mouth to argue. “That’s not the same thing as knowing that Kim was going to kidnap me.” When Lin’s unconvinced, pinched expression doesn’t lift, you sputter, flabbergasted. “Okay, look –Lin. Baby. If I don’t expect you to make sure every aspect of my life is safe, what good does it do to hold yourself to that kind of standard?”

“I still–”

“‘Still’ nothing, Lin! You’re not a fucking god! Okay, so you thought about my locks; that –that doesn’t obligate you to do anything,” you insist. Sweat beads along your back, soaking into your shirt. You sigh, then sweep your hair off the back of your neck to try and cool off. “As it so happens, I’m an adult; I’m ultimately responsible for myself, and that includes my own safety. Besides, it’s a nice enough neighborhood!”

Lin stares at you, flat and unimpressed. “Bad things happen anywhere.” Her jaw tightens. “You would know.”

You sputter, caught flat-footed by her audacity to use your own assault against you. “I –how fucking dare you!” You clench your hands into fists at your side, fingernails biting into the meat of your palm. “I am not –I cannot believe–” Sense takes hold before you cavalier too far down the road of rage and indignance; as angry as you are, you don’t want to spew vitriol all over Lin. Even if she’s kind of earned it. You glare at her, jaw locked tight. “Even if you have a logical point,” you spit out through clenched teeth, “the woman who skipped out on me after I was assaulted does not get to use that trauma against me in an argument!”

Lin’s lips press into a thin line. She looks at the floor, expression somewhat chastened. “I’m sorry. That was out of line.”

“Yes, yes it was. And thank you.” In a testament to your self-control –which, normally, you’d pass off as lacking at best–you inhale deeply and try to yank your temper back into some semblance of calm. Your head is starting to throb dully. So much for a relaxing night off. You rub your temples as you struggle to process and respond to Lin’s adamant self-blame. “I don’t –I don’t walk around with this notion that being your girlfriend comes with some sort of pass to perfect protection! I don’t expect you to package me up all nice and safe so nothing bad ever happens to me!” 

“I know–”

“Then what, in Yue’s name, is the fucking problem!” You fling your arms wide, voice rising as your frustration mounts again. “There are associated risks with living in the real fucking world, and I have never asked, or intoned, or suggested that you safeguard me from every bad thing that could ever happen! Why…” When your mind finally runs blank, anger petering out, you throw up your arms before letting them fall back to your sides. Your palms hit your thighs with a light slap. “What’s the point? What’s the point of putting yourself through all that, Lin?”

Lin scowls. She turns partly away and rakes one hand through her thick, curly hair. “It’s still my job.” She sighs harshly. “I know you don’t expect me to protect you.” She looks back over you, expression solemn. “I know. But it’s still my job. I don’t–” She presses her lips into a thin line, frustrated, then crosses her arms over her chest. “I believe in police work. I believe that doing my job keeps people safe. Even when I’m ‘off the clock,’ my duties to the people I care about don’t stop, and that includes keeping them safe.”

“Okay.” You nod along, choking back retort after retort through sheer force of will. It matters to her. It matters to her. It matters to her. “Okay.”

Lin fully turns away from you –but even without seeing her face, you can still tell she’s on edge. The line of her body is rigid as she stares out the window of her living room. She takes a deep, audible breath, shoulders rising and falling as she does. She clasps her hands behind her back and bows her head; for a moment, she looks exactly like the countless press release pictures of the indomitable Chief Beifong (which you may or may not have clipped out of the newspaper and tucked away for your own edification, you’ll claim the fifth if asked to testify, presumed innocent until proven guilty). “I didn’t know if we were going to be serious or not. It was more comfortable, for me, to keep you at arm’s length. And that included not making an issue of your building’s security problems.”

It stings, you can’t lie. Her confessed, deliberate indifference to your safety –when it’s apparently a big deal to her–hurts. You swallow hard, then tuck the inside of your cheek between your teeth to keep from firing back before she’s done talking. 

“It was my fault,” Lin states, voice flat and final. “After Kim… I couldn’t deal with it.” Finally, she turns and looks you in the eye. Her expression flickers for a moment, nearly giving way to anguish, before locking down to something more neutral with what you know to be an insurmountable, bone-deep reserve of will. “I’m sorry.” She stiffens, then frowns slowly when you start shaking your head. “What? What is it?”

“I–” Hot, stinging tears trace down your cheeks. Your palms are clammy, and your back is drenched in sweat. “That –thank you. Thank you for being honest. But–” You draw in a shaky breath as you try to school your thoughts into something more coherent. “I don’t –the locks wouldn’t have changed anything, Lin. They –no.” You hold up one finger and glare harshly at her when she opens her mouth to argue. “No. We both know that Kim had a very particular goal in mind. Better locks wouldn’t have stopped him. He would’ve had his goons just, I don’t know, kick in my door, or some shit.” You shrug, defeated, then rub your hands over your face. “I –I don’t care about the stupid locks. I get that it’s important to you, and that’s fine, but the locks don’t make a difference to me.” 

The locks wouldn’t have held your hand in the hospital, after all. The locks wouldn’t have talked to you on the phone after you woke up from yet another nightmare. The locks wouldn’t have rubbed salve into the rope burn on your wrists from where you’d chafed your skin trying to wriggle free. The locks–

Your face crumples, but you manage to keep going as you start crying. “I needed you.” Your whole body shudders as you draw in a shaky, broken breath. “I was so fucking scared, and hurt, and I didn’t know what was going to happen to me–”

Lin presses her lips together in a tight line, then holds her arms out to you.

You choke on a sob, then rush into her embrace. “I was so fucking scared!” You bury your face into her shirt, trembling as you weep. “I felt so lost, and small, and you just left me–”

Lin tucks your head beneath her chin. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“It was cruel,” you insist, voice pitiful to your own ears. “And selfish.”

Lin draws in a shaky breath. “It was,” she agrees, her own voice wavering. She hugs you close, as though she can squeeze the pain and suffering right out of you. “I was wrong –and cruel, and selfish. I’m so, so sorry.”

Something inside you releases, like a locked muscle finally relaxing after a good, thorough healing session. You melt against her, hurt yielding to assurance and peace. A shaky exhale floats past your lips. “Thank you.”

…

Once you stop crying and settle into the post-panic attack-argument-meltdown, Lin disentangles from you and sequesters herself in the bathroom.

You can hear the sink tap running; if you felt up to it, you could probably extend your bending and feel the water swirling down the drain.

Exhaustion has you feeling hollowed out. You peel your shirt away from your skin with a grimace. The stress of the evening made you sweat. You try to adjust your underwear under your skirt. All of your clothes, frankly, feel uncomfortably, grossly stuck to your skin. This is not how I wanted to get wet tonight.

You drop down onto Lin’s couch gracelessly. You slump into the dark green cushions and close your eyes.

Your whole body feels raw. Your skin almost feels like you’ve been scraped along the pavement outside. Throbbing and tender, you shift restlessly, trying to find some position that will agree with you.

Outside, a Satomobile honks loudly, which is quickly followed by the sound of tires screeching.

Flinching, you curl forward and comb your fingers through your hair. Fuck me. Quickly, you flip on Lin’s radio, then let out a sigh when instrumental music starts droning through the speakers. You turn up the volume dial, just until the crushing feeling of overstimulation starts to abate. That’s better.

Eventually, Lin emerges from the bathroom. (It’s probably not very long, but your poor, fatigued brain has settled into the muddy state where time starts moving like molasses.) She heads straight for the kitchen and starts quietly puttering about; a few cabinet doors open and close, the tap for the sink runs briefly, and the range hisses as Lin lights it with match.

You borderline drowse as you half-watch her work, half-melt away into the syrupy ooze of reality.

Hours, maybe minutes later, Lin joins you at the couch. She sets down a tray with a fresh pot of tea and two cups onto the coffee table, then reaches over and turns the radio down. “Here.”

You force yourself into a more upright position and accept the cup of steaming, fragrant tea she holds out to you. “Thanks.”

Lin sets down next to you, and makes no protest when you immediately invade her space and curl up against her. She wraps one arm around your shoulders, then picks up her cup of tea with her free hand.

The tea is nice –no doubt some very expensive, well grown blend. You wish you could do more than sip tiredly at it, but your head feels heavy (probably from the swelling in your sinuses, on account of all the crying).

Distantly, the healer part of your brain starts noting all the facets of recovery after crying. Parasympathetic nervous system takes over. Brain releases endorphins. Muscles release tension from build up of stress. Autonomic nervous system reins in heart rate, respiration rate, and blood pressure.

“You alright?” Lin murmurs when you let out a shaky breath..

Nodding, you hum, then tip your head back and kiss her softly. Even though you’re tired, your head feels clearer. The consuming static of terror and rage have finally been swept out, leaving subdued peace and clarity.

Speaking of…

“Hey.” You crane your head back so you can see her face better. “If… if something happens to me again–” You pause when Lin grimaces and looks away. After waiting a moment, you press your fingers against her jaw and gently guide her head until she’s looking at you again. “If something happens to me again,” you repeat, “don’t… don’t push me away.” A lump rises in your throat, but you push past it. “I won’t ever be angry at you if something bad happens to me, okay? And it’s –it’s so much worse–” Your voice breaks; you have to take a moment to pull yourself together before you try speaking again. “It’s so much worse with you not around.”

Blinking rapidly, Lin nods. “Alright.” She looks away for a bit, gaze distant. She swallows hard, jaw rolling as she lets out a sigh, then asks, “Would you consider getting platinum locks?”

“They’re expensive.”

“Victim’s Assistance fund should pay for them, considering your apartment was broken into during the course of an abduction,” Lin fires back, almost like she’s reading the fine print straight from the page. “All you’d have to do is submit a request form and a copy of the police report to their office. And if they don’t pay for platinum locks, I will.”

Part of you wants to protest the notion of her paying for any of it. It’s your apartment and your responsibility. Feasibly, you could scope out some options, compare prices, and then allot the necessary savings into your monthly budget.

A quiet, wiser voice in your head whispers, ‘It’s okay to let her help you.’ “Would you feel better if I had platinum locks?”

Lin’s reply comes without hesitation. “Yes.”

You sweep your tongue along the back of your teeth; part of you chafes at the thought of acquiescing. You can take care of yourself, after all. You moved here on your own, put yourself through university and therapeutic certifications, built yourself up as a reputable and capable physical therapist and surgical assistant. While Lin’s compensated you for ruined clothes and the odd day when she’s worked you over enough that you needed to take a day or two off work, you’ve never needed –or expected–her to bankroll your life.

If the Victim’s Assistance Fund comes through, she won’t have to pay, you remind yourself. And it’s just one set of locks, and she’ll feel better knowing you’re safer.

That’s the clincher, in the end. Stubborn pride isn’t worth your girlfriend’s peace of mind –especially over something as non-invasive as a good set of locks.

You nestle back against the warmth and comfort of Lin’s embrace. “Alright. I’ll start figuring out the Victim’s Assistance fund stuff tomorrow.”

“I can give you the number for one of the department heads.”

“Okay,” you murmur, cheek squished against her shoulder. Part of you thinks it’s a little ridiculous –there’s no reason you can’t go through the same process as everyone else–but you’re too tired to argue (and, honestly, bypassing some of the formalities and traditional run-around will be nice). You sigh, then nuzzle against her and close your eyes. “I’m sorry for freaking out at you earlier. I know –I know you were just taking a moment to breathe, and you weren’t actually leaving me; I just –I was still so out of my head from the cuffs, and the panic attack, and I–”

“It’s okay.” Lin wraps one strong arm around your shoulders. “You were scared; it’s okay.” She kisses the top of your head, then squeezes you a little closer. “Stay here tonight. I’d rather you go home once you’ve had a chance to rest.”

You sniff, then nod. “Okay.” Melting into her embrace, you tuck your head into the crook of her neck. “That sounds nice. Thanks.”

“Of course.”

The radio croons on; the singer –a woman with a smooth, low voice–drawls on about the ocean and the land meeting as lovers. Down the hall, the gentle, intermittent rumble of the elevator interjects between the radio and the sounds of the city at no particular rhythm. Outside, the distant, waning sounds of Republic City’s nightlife echo into the air.

The two of you lapse back into comforting silence.

…

Once the two of you finish your tea, Lin tidies up before shepherding you to bed. 

You rinse off in the shower first. You worry about washing your hair, or anything too involved, but getting the sweat off your skin is essential if you don’t want to wake up irritable and itchy. 

Your stomach still feels shaky –no doubt from all the mucus and drainage from crying. You turn down the water to a comfortably cool temperature (helps with the inflammation), then mechanically work through the steps of washing up as quickly as you can.

You borrow Lin’s toothbrush (and, fine, it’s really not the grossest thing, especially since you’ve made a point of burying your face between her legs whenever she lets you), and she lends you another baggy, Republic City Police Academy shirt to sleep in.

The gray shirt feels exquisitely soft between your fingertips, against your skin. You tuck away the notion of “borrowing” it for future you to ponder.

It’s nice, slipping beneath the covers on Lin’s bed. Her sheets are luxuriously soft –no doubt a vastly higher thread count than what you can afford.

You stretch your legs like a polar bear pup. Something pops in your lower back, and you groan. “Ugh, finally.”

“You okay?”

“Cracked my back.” You wait for her to turn off the lamp, then cross the space between you and curl up against her side.

Lin obliges you by slipping her arm beneath your neck and winding it around your shoulders. Her fingertips slip beneath the collar of your shirt and stroke along the base of your neck. 

The familiar sounds of the city dwindle as the night drags on. The surrounding apartments are equally still. Here, in Lin’s bed, in her arms, you’re enveloped by safety. By warmth. Every breath you take is filled with the familiar scent of Lin –traces of the cologne she favors, the fresh mint of her toothpaste, even the fragrant tea you both had earlier. The blankets are cozy, exquisitely soft, and the perfect weight to help lull your frazzled mind and body into slumber.

Just for a moment, right before you drop off into sleep, your body relaxes into a state of perfect contentment. It’s almost like you’re floating, perfectly supported and enveloped, much like floating in a pool for a moment of rest before swimming again. Tranquility seeps through your veins, washing away any remaining tension and panic from earlier in the evening.

You fall asleep to the gentle thumping of Lin’s heart and her steady, deep breathing.

[erenaeoth]

I saw what you wrote in tags and what I can say? You know me too well! :D So for a headcanon meme, as I'm not familiar with Resident Evil beyond some really basic idea, but I'm curious after seeing a lot great art from your reblogs, how about ◉ - Any other question of your choosing for albert wesker, as in, gimme your most favorite headcanon (or two or more!) about him :)

Ahh, you're too kind giving me a question like this!

I guess my main headcanon for Wesker is that he has an anti-social personality disorder, so whilst he comes over as extremely charming and eloquent, he feels no real empathy for others, and most of his emotional-appearing responses are learned behaviour. There are a few other aspects in others that he has to fake and try to understand - like what attachment to a nuclear family is meant to feel like (he grew up in an orphanage), and how others think, as he realised from an early eage that he can make connections and process information a lot faster than most.

For these reasons, he's always set himself above others, and considers them almost a distinct species from himself, although he doesn't fully develop his god complex until many years later. There are exceptions to this. Once he found others as brilliant as himself, like William Birkin, he was much better able to quantify what his own strengths are when compared to others. William is one of the few people he feels he can relax around, since he doesn't have to hide his true nature (clever and sadistic) and can just be himself. And because he has outlets where he feels understood, he's able to curtail the prideful aloofness I imagine he walked around with as a teen and child.

I think one of his main motivations, prior to becoming fixated on his global human enhancement (and genocide) plans, was really to stave off boredom. I think he loves the complexity of playing different people off one another and having mulitple allegiances, of being involved in cutting edge research, action, espionage, of wearing all these different faces. I think it's a game to him that excites him. And I think at its heart he wants independence. He doesn't want to be owned or used, and the best way he can serve himself is to always have a backdoor escape, always have a spare loyalty up his sleeve, never trust anyone, and assume that everyone wants to use his brilliance and then discard him. So it's a game he adores playing, but also one he has to play in order to survive.

Thanks for the ask he lives in my head for always and these are things I'm writing my fic to explore!

[pastelwitchling]

Malex fic Numb chapter one teaser.

***

              Alex woke up screaming. He was doing that a lot these days.

              Not that his nightmares were anything new, but most of the time it was like his mind and body were so used to the trauma that instead of having him thrash in bed or wake in a cold sweat, as he’d done in his first few years as a new recruit, he now typically woke with either a silent flutter of his eyes, as though he’d known better than to fall into a deep sleep in the first place, or a slight jolt, like even though he’d known the nightmare was coming, he couldn’t help being terrified by it.

              He rarely screamed. At least, he hadn’t. Until recently. In the last month alone, the worst of his nightmares had come at an alarmingly frequent rate, now ranging on almost every single night. Alex couldn’t remember the last time he’d gotten a full night’s sleep. He was usually good at functioning despite that, but it was getting to be too much to handle, even for him.

              His heart hammering and his hair plastered to his skin from the sweat, he reached for the light on his nightstand, the room bathed in warm yellow, and he did a quick scan of his room before settling back against the headboard, still panting. He closed his eyes, trying to take some comfort in the silence of the night, the faint chirping crickets, the tree branches rustling together in the chilly breeze. His bedroom window rattled in its frame, and Alex tried to remind himself that he was safe, he was at home, he was a long way from the trenches. The darkness couldn’t hurt him anymore.

              “Breathe, Manes,” he whispered to himself, even as his voice shook, his lamplight nowhere near strong enough to cast away the shadows in the corners of his room. His heart was still rattling in his chest, his hands still trembling. He ducked his head, his eyes shut tight against the images his mind was trying to conjure up.

              There were no enemy soldiers hidden in the shadows.

              There were no explosions in the distance, lighting up the darkness.

              His father was not outside his bedroom, lurking in the corridors, getting ready to bust down his door.

              “Damn it,” he breathed. It wasn’t working. Sometimes it was hard enough that he couldn’t will his body to calm down, and it felt like lately, that was every night.

              Finally, unable to stand the heat sticking to his body, he threw the blanket off, biting his lower lip hard enough that he bled, hard enough that he could focus on the pain and try to get his hands to stop trembling. After a few long, deep breaths, Alex managed to still himself, and licked the drops of blood off his lip. Reaching for his crutch, he pushed himself off the bed, rubbing his eyes. He grabbed his phone off the nightstand and did a cursory glance at the time. 2:40 am.

              Not that it mattered. Once the nightmares hit, he had no hope of going back to sleep. Instead, Alex made his way into his living room and turned on the lights and television so that he knew he’d be returning to a bright room, the sounds of whatever comedy he’d flipped to following him into the kitchen where he switched on his coffeemaker. He groaned under his breath as he pulled a stool against the wall, sat down and waited, his world flooded with enough noise and light that there wasn’t any room to think of the latest nightmare that had woken him. He hummed idly to himself, if only to add to the noise. As the coffeemaker whirred and beeped, Alex did what he usually did on nights like this, and pulled his phone out. He headed to his contacts list, pulled up Michael’s name, and just . . . stared at it.

              Sometimes, he liked to imagine what would happen if he called. He imagined Michael was awake too, the both of them forever insomniacs and almost okay with it because at least they were awake together. He imagined Michael half-waiting for Alex to call, just as eager to hear a minute of his voice. He imagined being able to talk to Michael about the miserable darkness that simmered just below the surface of his skin, waiting for any moment of weakness to release itself and take over Alex’s mind completely.

              He imagined confessing how tired he really was, and he imagined Michael caring enough to listen, to drive here in the middle of the night, to comfort him. Then a tear would roll down Alex’s cheek, like it was doing right now, and it would wake him from his fantasies. He wiped any trace away with the back of his hand before shutting off his phone and stuffing it back into his pocket, right on time for his coffee to be ready. He just needed some noise and work to keep himself busy, that was all.

              His desire for comfort and someone to hold him, he knew, was ridiculous, and the first person to say so would be the one man he wanted here with him more than anyone. Alex was used to feeling unwanted, after all. He supposed loneliness was not that much worse of a burden to bear.

              This too, Alex reminded himself now as he leaned on his crutch and grabbed his coffee, just as he’d reminded himself every day since he’d enlisted. I can handle this too.

***

:)

[chilaios-week]

I've said this already but I wanted to say it again

Thank you for hosting this event <3

It's been a while since I've participated in am event like this, and it fills me with so much joy to connect with others and see their wonderful art and reading their awesome stories

Im really happy I took the time to plan out the fics I'll write, and I'm sure I'll be coming back to this blog multiple times to relive the joy I feel right now

BIG HUGS!!!

(-Dungeonmeshimybeloved)

Eage, your words really warm my heart! I too have felt such joy in this event, I didn't expect such skillful and inspired people to partake in it and was pleasantly surprised (extremely so!).

I've never hosted any events so this was my first time ever trying something out and I am honestly so glad I did! I was worried at first like oh who is even gonna find the blog my main isn't even popular, but so many people joined in and gosh

I'm rambling at this point, sorry! I'm just really happy and glad you are too

[roman0writes]

Good Puppy: Jesus Burgess x Reader

Summary: You decide to give your good boy a treat.

CW: fem dom, puppy play, praise kink, oral (receiving), penis in vagina sex

A/N: minors do not interact, and if I see ONE person complain about this fic I’m going to punt you into the sun. You read the title, you read the tags… idk what you thought you were getting out of this if its not exactly what’s down below.

Lilac locks of hair curl around your fingers. You clench your hand tighter into his hair, and yank his head back, just to get a good look at him. Eyes glazed over and glossy, mouth and beard wet from your arousal, but still thoroughly engrossed in the task he was performing seconds ago.

“Mistress?” He questions you. His hands, large enough to circle your thighs with an inch of overlap, rested delicately on top, right below where your legs met your hips. He wanted to hold you flush to his mouth, encapture your core around his lips and ravage you, but he couldn’t.

Because you wouldn’t allow him too. One hand in his hair, holding his head so it faced you, so you could take it all in, and the other wrapped around the leather of his leash.

The color stood out against his olive skin, and the shine of the leather reflected the candle light in the room.

You smirk at him as he slowly leaves his pussy-drunk haze and enters the present again. “Apologies, puppy,” you say, “just wanted to see the mess I made before you finished eating.”

The hand on his head tugs him back to his task, scratching behind the ears clipped into his hair before pushing him against your folds. He eats at you eagerly, tongue thrusting in and out of you, nose bumping against your clit in a way that had you humping his face.

You tug harsher on his leash and he moans into you when you praise him. “Good puppy,” you whisper out to him, and he feels his cock throb around the ring you make him wear. The denial of release gets to him sometimes, but sometimes it adds to the experience.

Burgess knows if he reaches down to touch himself that he’d get put back in the cage, regardless of whether or not he could even cum with the cock ring wrapped tightly around the base. The thought turns him on even more.

“A little more baby, I’m so close,” you whimper out, pressing your crotch into his face even more. He can hardly breathe, surrounded by the taste and smell of you. It’s intoxicating- addicting- even and so he crawls back, on all fours to between your legs, like always.

He feels your walls throb around his tongue, holds your thrashing and shaking legs closer to the sides of his face, and lets you ride out your orgasm on your tongue screaming.

He only lets up when you harshly tug on his leash, forcing him from his previous position to resting his head on your stomach, the entirety of his lower face dripping your wetness against your bare stomach.

He looks up at you, breathing just as hard as you are, watching you recover from what had to be one of the most body wrecking orgasms of your life. You’d been using his mouth to edge yourself for the better part of an hour, and toys long before then.

“You’ve been a good puppy,” you say, using the hand on his head to stroke his hair, tangled from you gripping and tugging on it mercilessly. Tousled hair was a good look on him.

He smiles wide at the praise and nuzzles into your abdomen, pressing kisses enthusiastically.

“You look so content down there,” you whisper, “I’d almost feel bad making you move for your reward.”

You smirk when he freezes and slowly looks up at you, intrigued by the idea of a reward.

Despite being an amazing and well-behaved puppy, the best you’ve ever trained, you didn’t reward him often, since he responded a lot more swiftly to negative reinforcement. For whatever reason, putting a muzzle on him fixed most of his bouts of misbehavior. Or making him eat you out through the grate of his cage. You found yourself getting wet again, at the thought of punishing him.

“Do you want your reward, puppy?” You ask him. He nods eagerly in response and waits for your next instructions.

“Okay, okay,” you laugh and scratch behind his ears, “one reward for my good boy.” Your hand holding the leash raises and attaches to the end of the footboard of the bed. “Maybe two if you’re extra good,” you joke.

“Up!” You wave your index finger towards the sky and he rises to his full height. almost immediately. You take him in, just because you can. He’s wearing a leather pitbull harness that frames his wide chest beautifully, and it’s the same color as his collar and leash. You let your eyes trail down sculpted abs to his v-line and eventually his cock.

Around the base of it is a chrome cock-ring. The rest of his dick is flushed with the blood flowing to it, and throbbing from the lack of attention. So long and heavy that even fully erect, it sags under its own weight. Pre-cum drips from it despite remaining untouched this entire time. It’s cute, you think to yourself, and you’d put it in your mouth if you didn’t have better plans for it.

Your eyes trail further down, admiring his balls and the purple tail dangling below it. It was attached to a vibrating plug in his ass, on the lowest setting, and you had to respect the dedication to keep both his hands on you instead of touching himself when he was being teased with that inside him.

You reach out to him, and trail your hands down his abs, down to his dick, and slowly slide the ring off from around him. “There we go, that should make your reward a little sweeter.”

He looks visibly relieved with the constricting device off of him, and tossed to the side somewhere it won’t bother him anymore. He watches you carefully as you crawl a little further up the bed, and roll over onto all fours, knees spread, showing off your glistening folds.

“Mount.”

And he does. He hunches over your back and blindly thrusts his cock between your folds, desperately trying to push the head inside, but barely missing, bumping against your over-sensitive clit instead.

You reach a hand down, and slowly guide him inside of, whispering praises to him as he slowly sinks inside of you.

“Good boy,” you whisper to him, and he whimpers next to your ear as he sinks deeper inside you.

And when he finally hilts himself fully inside of you, he stops, and awaits your next instructions, just like he was properly trained to. You turn your head to look at him, hunched above you, hands flat against the bed next to your shoulders, upper body shaking with the restraint it took to be still inside you.

“Good puppy.” You smirk and reach a hand back to pet behind his fake ears before putting yourself face down into the bed. You push your ass up against him, just to get him a little deeper in you, and you moan when the head hits that spot inside you.

“Now keep being a good boy and breed your mistress.”

[ailendolin]

Title: Grace [2/10 on AO3]

Characters: Thomas, Alison, Mike, Baby Cooper, the Ghosts, the Plague Ghosts

Summary: “Mike and I are going to have a baby.”

Baby Cooper’s arrival at Button Houses changes many things, and all for the better - at least at first.

Or as Mary once said: babies can see ghosts sometimes but usually only up until they can walk.

A/N: Baby Cooper finally arrives! Thank you to everyone who's read and liked/reblogged this fic so far! Have some more fluff with this chapter and I hope you enjoy it as much as the first one!

Chapters: 1 - 2

————

Grace

Chapter 2: The Birth

“Mike!”

It’s the middle of the night. Of course it’s the middle of the night, Alison thinks as she blinks against the harsh light of the bathroom lamp that highlights the dark shadows under her tired eyes in an unflattering way.

There’s no reaction from the bedroom.

“Mike, get up!” she shouts again, a hint of urgency creeping into her tone. “My water broke!”

She hears a choked off sound followed by a dull thud that makes her wince. A second later, Mike pokes his head around the bathroom door, panic written all over his face. “You’re what did what now?”

Alison gives him an unimpressed look. “Did you just fall out of bed?”

Mike blinks at her for a moment, thrown off guard. “Uh … maybe?”

With a fond roll of her eyes, Alison turns back to washing her hands. “My water broke. Get the bag. We need to go to the hospital.”

As Mike scrambles to get dressed, she takes a moment to herself and lets the situation sink in. In just a few hours, she will hold a baby in her arms – her baby. She will be the mother of a tiny, perfect human being. Alison shakes her head, feeling a little stunned. After all these months of waiting it seems surreal that the moment is finally here.

It definitely is, though, Alison thinks to herself as she feels another contraction starting and grips the sink in front of her to steady herself. She can’t be sure but it feels like the intervals between the contraction are getting shorter – not short enough to make her panic but short enough for her to know that it’s time to get going.

She dresses in something warm and comfortable that she set aside for this exact moment and sneaks a glance out of the window when Mike hands her her coat. The grounds are shrouded in thick darkness but as far as she can tell the heavy snowfall the weather forecast predicted last night hasn’t set in yet.

Thank god, Alison thinks in relief. The last thing they need right now is inaccessible roads.

She follows Mike to the stairs but stops halfway down when she spots the ghosts, all of them, even Humphrey, standing at the bottom, silently gazing up at her with wide-eyed, nervous worry. Kitty is the only one who doesn’t seem to be anxious. The smile on her face is as bright as ever and she’s bouncing on the balls of her feet with barely concealed excitement when she asks, “Is the baby coming?”

“Not right now I hope,” Alison mutters and continues down the stairs. Feeling another contraction coming, she stops again to support herself on the wall and breathes in and out just as the midwife taught her. Mike hovers helplessly by her side as if he, just like Kitty, expects her to give birth right then and there on their staircase. Alison would laugh at the absurdity of it all if she wasn’t so busy breathing through the pain.

When the contraction finally passes, she closes her eyes in relief.

“I’m fine,” she says before Mike or the ghosts can ask her if she’s all right. She lets Mike help her down the last few steps of the stairs and gestures for him to wait a moment so she can address the ghosts. “Alright guys, we’re going to the hospital now. Mike will give you an update once the baby is born.”

The Captain stands to attention before her, his back straight and his face more serious than she’s ever seen it.

“Do not worry about a thing, Alison. We will hold down the fort while you two are away.” He clears his throat before he adds, a little more softly, “And we will eagerly await your return.”

Touched, Alison smiles at him before she gives them all a little wave goodbye. She isn’t surprised at all when Thomas follows her and Mike out to the car. They’ve grown closer these last few months, ever since she asked him to become her baby’s godfather, and she knows he’s been fretting about this moment for weeks now. He tried to be subtle about it but well, he’s still Thomas and can’t really help but wear his heart on his sleeve – something Alison doesn’t mind at all now that it’s no longer beating for her.

He waits until she’s buckled in before he sticks his head through the window and says, “I know childbirth is not as dangerous as it was 200 years ago but – please be safe, Alison. Come back to us.” He glances down at her belly and bites his lip. “Both of you.”

“We will,” Alison promises him softly even though she knows that there’s always a chance of something going wrong. “See you in a few days, Thomas.”

Thomas nods and, taking a deep breath, steps away from the car and lets her go. “Goodbye, Alison.”

He watches the car until the night swallows its lights.

Roughly ten hours of labour later, Alison is holding a beautiful baby girl in her arms, all wrinkly and scrunched up and a little bit bloody but perfect in every way as she cries her heart out for the first time in her very young life. She looks up at Mike, exhausted but happier than she’s ever been, and finds herself smiling through her tears when she sees him gazing down at their daughter with a look of utter wonder and disbelief on his face.

The only thing missing from this perfect moment are the ghosts.

The next few hours are filled with medical tests for both her and the baby, taking a thousand pictures, baby’s first meal and a dozen phone calls to friends and family Alison gladly lets Mike take charge of. They fly by so fast that by the time she’s finally transferred to a room it’s already noon and she’s so tired she could sleep for a week. Mike doesn’t fare much better. He tries his best to hide his exhaustion and stay awake so he won’t miss a single second with his daughter but when Alison catches him nodding off, still with that dazed smile on his face she knows won’t wear off for days, she decides to shoo him out of the room. He still has to drive home, after all, and she really doesn’t want him to end up in a ditch somewhere.

“We’ll still be here tomorrow,” she says with a soft smile. “Go home, get some sleep and–“

“–don’t forget to let the ghosts call,” he finishes around a yawn, giving her the thumbs up. “Yeah, I know.”

Alison doesn’t think she’s ever loved him more than in that moment.

He bends down to kiss first her and then their little girl on the forehead before he leaves with the happiest and goofiest grin on his face that Alison has ever seen. Heart overflowing with love, she leans down to whisper to her sleeping daughter, “Your daddy is the best.”

She gets about an hour of blissful rest before her phone lights up with an incoming video call.

“I’m back home,” Mike says as if Alison can’t tell by the crackling fireplace in the background and the ghosts hovering behind him, trying to get a look at her on the small screen. “And I already told the ghosts everything went well – at least I think I did. Are they here?”

Alison looks at the dearly beloved faces he can’t see and feels her eyes well up. “Yeah, they are. Can you put the phone on the table so they can all see it?”

Mike does as instructed and steps back to give the ghosts a little more room. They gather on the sofa, each of them eager to see the newest addition to their unconventional family.

“Is it truly a girl?” Kitty asks, leaning forward. “Because Mike said it was a girl and I would love to have a little niece!”

“It is,” Alison confirms with a smile. She readjusts her phone so they can see her daughter resting peacefully in her arm. “Everyone, meet Grace Katherine Cooper.”

Kitty’s eyes grow wide.

“Oh my, she has my name!” she breathes, looking close to tears.

Alison nods, unable to contain her grin. “Surprise!”

“Look at her fingers,” Robin says softly, pointing at the phone before he turns to Julian. “So tiny.”

Grace gives a little yawn and scrunches up her nose. Alison laughs as everyone positively melts at the sight, Mike included.

“She is adorable, Alison,” Pat smiles. “Well done.”

“Thanks, Pat,” Alison says, gazing down at her daughter with endless love. “I can’t wait to bring her home.”

“And we can’t wait to meet her,” Fanny says. “She will bring much joy to this old and noble house.”

Thomas nods softly, already completely enamoured. “Indeed she will.”

Grace opens her eyes at that and blinks up at the phone, looking surprisingly alert. Alison laughs. “I think she likes the sound of your voice, Thomas.”

She realises what she just said at the same moment that Mary says knowingly, “Ah yes, she be seeing us.”

“Oh,” Alison whispers a little dumbstruck as she stares down at her daughter.

Mike’s face appears back on the screen. “Oh? What oh? Did something happen?”

Alison shakes her head. “No. I just … I think Grace can see the ghosts. I totally forgot that babies can do that sometimes.”

“Oh,” Mike echoes faintly as the room around him erupts into excited chatter as the ghosts start waving at the camera, all of them eager to personally welcome little Grace Cooper to the family.

[the-writer-nerd-ro]

All's Fair In Love and Uno

You guys voted in a poll for this fic sorry to trick you guys into voting for a rarepair no one cares about, enjoy!

After Christmas was a smashing success, Sara was eage for more chances to impress Hunter’s family, and Hunter was happy to supply those opportunities.

The first opportunity happened the first week of January, for the bi-monthly cousin game night.

Unfortunately, they were down two cousins, since Morgan had to work and Maddox had a debate that, as team captain, she had to attend.

“Don’t worry, it’ll be less competitive with just Marian,” Hunter promised.

“I don’t mind competition.”

“Well, you haven’t seen Richardson family levels of competitive. Things get pretty heated, especially between me and Maddox.”

“I want to experience every side of you and your family- even when things get too hot to handle.”

“Things are always too hot to handle with you,” Hunter said, eyeing Sara’s pink fuzzy sweater topped with turquoise sports bra, with matching turquoise pants. Sara accessorized with a pair of silver monopoly piece earrings, the dog and the top hat.

“Stop it, your cousin will be here soon, don’t make me flustered.”

“Alright,” Hunter said, though she wasn’t done flirting yet. “Zip me up?”

She was wearing a more modern dress for once, something off the rack at Bargain Hunt that Sara was pretty sure had been made for a tall, goth child. It was black with billowy sleeves and it came down to slightly below Hunter’s knees. Hunter paired it with black knee-length dress socks (she never wore tights at home) and a turquoise necklace that almost matched Sara’s outfit. 

Sara zipped Hunter up, trailing her hands over Hunter’s back and barely keeping herself from covering Hunter’s neck in kisses.

There was a knock at the door.

“Ready for your first cousin game night?” Hunter asked.

“Ready.”

Hunter stepped into a pair of black flats and together they headed to the door.

In addition to being excited to get to know Hunter’s family better, Sara was also excited to play hostess. She hadn’t gotten to host anything in ages, so used to being a guest at parties that she hardly had the chance to throw any of her own. But now that she was making friends (or rather, stealing Hunter’s), hopefully that would change.

Marian beat the pizza delivery guy by ten whole minutes, so they had plenty of time to chat and pick their first game.

“Hard Shell and Chocolate Center are sorry they couldn’t be here,” Marian said with a teasing smile.

“Who?” Sara asked, secretly wondering if she was the butt of the joke.

“Maddox and Morgan. M&M.”

“Wouldn’t it be M&M&M?” Sara asked.

“Yeah, I’m Peanut.”

Sara laughed. “That’s really clever. It sounds like you and your sisters have a really nice dynamic.”

“More so with Chocolate Center than Hard Shell,” Marian laughed. 

Sara had only met them once, but she didn’t have to ask which was which.

“I want a nickname,” Sara decided.

“You gotta earn it. What are we playing first?”

“How about Uno?”

After pizza the three of them set up Uno and went to work. Sara was ruthless as she dispensed draw fours to Marian and Hunter equally depending which way the tide had turned. Hunter was getting smoked, which frankly was smoking hot.

“Wow,” Marian said after she’d beaten both Richardsons. “I see why Hunter likes you.”

“Really?” Sara asked, beaming.

“Mm-hm. I knew you had to be special- I mean she talks non-stop about you. But she’s never invited a date to to game night and I can see why you’re the one to change that.”

Sara blushed and saw that Hunter was blushing too.

Hunter grabbed for Sara’s hand and squeezed it.

“She is special. Sara is part of the family now.”

“Welcome to the family. Best 2 out of 3?”

As Sara destroyed them a second time, Marian shot off the occasional text. Sara didn’t pry but at one point she glanced over and saw that he was texting a group chat labeled “The Candy Bowl.” She could figure it out from there.

Uno turned to War, which Marian won, and then Sara sat out for a game so the cousins could duel each other in California Speed. When it was just Marian and Hunter, Hunter became ten times as competitive. Sara decided to tease Hunter about it later, since she wanted Hunter to know she didn’t have to hold back when it came to game night.

It was nice, though, just sitting back and watching Hunter interact with her family. She was clearly very close with Marian and Sara loved seeing Hunter’s joy. Hunter could be so somber, especially when she was getting out of her funereal mindset. It was honestly a relief that Hunter had people who she could goof off with.

Sara was also relieved that she was one of those people. She had been 95% sure before that Hunter was comfortable around her, but now she was certain. She was part of the family, and she was the undisputed winner of Uno.

After Hunter won a couple rounds of California Speed, Marian checked his phone and grinned. 

“The council has reached a consensus. Maddox suggested Skittles as your new nickname.”

Sara’s eyes sparkled in excitement. “I love it!”

Hunter leaned over and kissed Sara’s cheek. “Taste the rainbow.”

Now Sara was blushing and beaming.

“Morgan says your ship name can be Sour Skittles, since Hunter is our Lemonhead.”

“Ooh, that’s fun.”

“It’s cheesy,” Hunter said, squeezing her eyes shut, blushing as much as Sara.

“I like it,” Sara promised. “Thank you for letting me be part of your Candy Land.”

“Oh, we should play Candy Land next time,” Marian remarked.

“You’re hosting next time,” Hunter said.

“I know. You’re coming to the next one, right Sara?”

“I wouldn’t miss it.” 

[evilasiangenius]

For the Ask meme:

🤡 What's a line, scene, or exchange you've written that made you laugh?

🛒 What are some common things you incorporate in your fics? Themes, feels, scenes, imagery, etc.

🙋‍♀️ Do any irl people know you write fanfic?

From a writing meme. @thelaithlyworm asked this a few weeks back, but I wanted to wait until this chapter was posted before I responded, due to the first question:

🤡 What's a line, scene, or exchange you've written that made you laugh?

“Wait. So no dirty tentacle sex, even though you're a demon? With tentacles?” Anthony was outraged. “No, no, stop – that’s not the important part, Anthony J. Crowley, focus. Aziraphale. Did you, or did you not just tell me that you are also asexual in this universe as well?”

“If by which you mean I have no interest in sexual expressions of love or physical copulation in general then yes, I think I would count myself asexual. Ah, what a useful, informative word, I shall have to write it down-”

“ADAM YOUNG,” Anthony snarled at the sky, at the ground, at the horizon, all the while as the demonic Prince of Hell version of Aziraphale nuzzled and petted him affectionately. “THIS IS NO FUN ADAM, I WANT TO GO HOME. ADAM ARE YOU LISTENING TO ME I WANT TO GO HOME. THIS IS NOT WHAT I SIGNED UP FOR ADAM YOUNG THIS WORLD IS TERRIBLE AND EVERYTHING ABOUT IT IS NOT FAIR AND I AM HORNY AND OFFENDED AND MAYBE A LITTLE BIT TERRIFIED but mostly horny BUT MOSTLY OFFENDED AND WE NEED TO LEAVE RIGHT NOW-”

🛒 What are some common things you incorporate in your fics? Themes, feels, scenes, imagery, etc.

Oh, this is probably a long list. I think the most common themes are love, friendship, and overcoming the past. Also, every now and then, I will write something incredibly silly. The last one was the infamous Slit x Boot (warning, read the tags).

🙋‍♀️ Do any irl people know you write fanfic?

There are some people that know. :) Thanks for asking!

Edit: I think I answered this second question too hastily. Probably should have mentioned that I often include humor, food porn, things that need some historical research, and the occasional action scene. Last few years the writing has been a lot about frustrating situations. A lot of imagery comes from nature but I think this would probably be true for most writers.

[aziraphales-library]

Hello,

Thank you for what you’re doing! It’s so great! Because of you I’ve found some of my favourite fics.

I wanted to ask of you maybe know some shorter ones (around 10 or 20k words) with Aziraphale and Crowley over the centuries falling on love. Maybe some jealous crowley fics as well. Thank you in advance :)

Hi. We have #through the ages and #jealous crowley tags. Here are some 10-20k through the ages fics...

this life we’ve created by rainbowumbrella (T)

“No,” Crawley finally said, after what felt like an eternity. It was long enough for the water to rise about half an inch. “I got you into this, angel, we’ll see it through together. Besides, who knows how long this is going to go for? Might need to take care of this unicorn for a few days.” “Ah, you see… the rain is supposed to last forty days and forty nights. And I believe the flood itself should go on for quite a bit longer.” Perfect. Plenty of time for Hell to notice they were missing a demon on Earth, what could possibly go wrong? “Well, then. You might need a hand babysitting the unicorn.” *** Crowley and Aziraphale babysit a unicorn until the waters of the flood recede enough to return it home.

To Travel Through the World and Not Be Alone by Aethelflaed (G)

The longer Aziraphale spends on Earth, the more he begins to feel new things. Like a need to talk to someone. Or stand close to them. Take their hand. Where do these emotions come from? And why are they mainly directed at the demon he travels with? -- Aziraphale and Crawly learn to cope with the emotions and instincts that come with a human body. The Crowley-Turns-Into-A-Snake-When-Flustered fic that deconstructs the trope and plays it for feels!

the fact of his pulse by lexophile (NR)

The revelation of the angel’s face hovering over him—and his firelit, affectionate expression—is more than he can cope with right now. Crowley shuts his eyes again, although he does make an effort to relax his shoulders and curl his knees in towards his chest. He’s aware that lying in the fetal position with his head on an angel’s lap is just about the least demonic thing he’s ever done. - Or: five times Crowley successfully conceals his crush on Aziraphale and one time he fails.

Mistakes Were Made: The (Babylonian) Story of the Flood by eag (M)

A hundred years after the end of the Flood, Aziraphale runs into Crowley (or rather, Crawley) at a banquet in Abydos. Flashbacks to the Flood and that time an angel and a demon ran away for a year minus a day. Aziraphale and Crowley had better return on time to stand in the delegations of Heaven and Hell that meet in the aftermath of the Flood. Of course, mistakes were made...

The Weight Of The World by entanglednow, wargoddess9 (T)

At the height of the Roman Empire's power, Crowley meets Aziraphale for lunch in Pompeii. He's eager to share some of the famed street food the city has to offer, but the ash falling from the mountain to the North is steadily growing thicker.

Writing Letters Addressed to the Fire by Bluemask (T)

This is the problem of human beings, Crowley ponders; they never know when to stop. “Good Lord,” a familiar voice suddenly sighs on his left, close enough to be heard clearly despite the ongoing revolt. “What have you done this time?” Crowley forces himself to ignore the headache that has begun to squeeze his skull again. “You wound me, angel.” He turns just enough to get a glimpse of Aziraphale’s blonde hair and rich clothes, grinning sharply. “Do you really think all this mess is my fault?” Aziraphale rolls his eyes and takes a couple of steps to join Crowley. “How could it not be?” He asks. “As usual, you’re up to no good.” “What is good and what is evil, anyway..." [Essex, 1381] - Just an angel and a demon Falling in love throughout History, Time and Space. Nothing new, really.

- Mod D