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merrywaanderer · 8 months

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the return

aziraphale + crowley

synopsis: set sometime post s2.

warnings: SERIOUS SPOILERS FOR GOOD OMENS SEASON 2. i am NOT joking. read at your own peril... also, contains angst.

word count: 700

a/n: this is a fix-it.

⭒

When he comes back, he’s yelling.

Sure, he has shouted, but never before like this. He left that to Crowley. But somewhere between all the heartbreak and the back and forth, his angelic patience has wilted away.

No, not wilted. It has been worn away, like the sides of a canyon drowned by the rivers of time, and with all the pain and agony of the centuries, he has been worn down.

With all the love of the only creature who has ever truly mattered to him, he has been torn apart.

Torn between what is right, and what is right for him, because since the beginning of time itself, since the beginning of that little quadrant of the universe, Crowley is the only being who has made sense. Who felt right from the start, though Aziraphale was loath to admit it at the time — or indeed, up until now. But now he has returned, and despite the mutual anger, despite the pain — despite the ache in his chest which sucks the air away whenever he tries to breathe — he tries to push down his guilt and meet those lovely eyes he has known for always, because now, for always, this is the only thing which has been right in his existence.

He and Crowley were ineffable from the start. He should have known.

“But I didn’t leave you!” he screams, and it’s as if all the pain he has ever felt is poured into those words. “You left me.”

And here his voice breaks, and he looks away, because Crowley’s eyes are bare of their glasses, and Aziraphale feels like crying.

“You told me you forgave me,” Crowley says into the silence, and his voice is oddly stilted, gravelly, how Aziraphale’s throat feels.

Aziraphale swallows, wrings his hands. Takes that final, damning step toward Crowley.

“I meant, I love you,” he says.

He hears himself say it, as though he has been discorporated and is watching his last bodily words from afar. But at the same time he sees Crowley sigh and his shoulders slump as he shakes his head. His eyes are full of tears, and Aziraphale suddenly remembers how Crowley looked once, sitting at a pub, talking to his own watery image — I lost my best friend.

And then he strides, and takes Crowley’s face in his hands, and presses his lips against Crowley’s. He’s clumsy, and he doesn’t know what he’s doing, only that this feels right, more right than anything Heaven could ever offer him, because Crowley is all that matters to him, and even they could not give him this.

There is a moment frozen in time, there, where he fears this will be naught but a repeat of the first time, where Aziraphale tastes the salt of their mingling tears and wishes for death sooner than heartbreak.

But then Crowley’s arms are around him, his slim form pressed to Aziraphale’s soft edges, and it is as though their Earthly bodies were made in mirror images of one another, because Aziraphale fits perfectly against Crowley, and Crowley against Aziraphale.

And Crowley kisses him back like he is the first breath of life, like he needs him as much as Aziraphale does him, like he forgives him, like he—

“I love you, angel.”

The words are murmured against his lips, and Aziraphale’s breath stutters. He feels the vibrations more than he hears them, but his heart hurts a little less, and he wants those words again, so he pleads,

“Say it again. Please.”

But he doesn’t need to plead, because Crowley is already saying it again and again and again,

“I love you I love you I love you I love you,” and Aziraphale is melting into him, and Crowley is holding him up.

“I love you,” Aziraphale says it again too, just so Crowley knows. Just in case he doubted — oh, how could he ever doubt, when Aziraphale looks at him like this?

But Crowley is smiling.

“I know,” he says.

He is smiling, as before. The nebula glitters in his eyes, and its radiance reaches out, cradles the other angel in the warmth of its glow.

This is all that Aziraphale has ever wanted. He runs his fingers through Crowley’s hair, soft and short, where once it was long. Crowley’s eyes twinkle down at him.

He has loved this being in every time and in all of space, and he is never letting him go again.

⭒

good omens taglist: @killerqueen-ofwillowgreen , @ineffable-hubbiewubbies

send me an ask to be added to my taglist!

#aziracrow #aziraphale x crowley #aziraphale and crowley #good omens #good omens fic #good omens spoilers #good omens 2 spoilers #go2 spoilers #go 2 spoilers #aziraphale #crowley #ineffable husbands #fic #tina's writing

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tubborucho · 6 months

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Tubbo, Tina, Badboyhalo – We have a shared longing: to devour the devine

I really wanted to make a web weave for Blue Co-Leaders, because I love them so much

taglist: @pastelvangelion @smallz-o @salineroses @dynamicworms @cindersnows @deadfishisyeq @snyland @missstrawberry @frubbotoxicyuri @haloberry @mobcharacter255 @thecardboardbutterfly @avianchorus @therearethornsinthisgarden @qtubbo

dm me if you want in or out of taglist

credits:

1. https://pin.it/lggo8sr

2. by Richey Edwards

3. “An Ideal Husband” Oscar Wilde

4. Lana Del Ray – Old Money

5. https://pin.it/5jXzs3r

6. https://pin.it/3ZgYR7e

7. https://pin.it/3EMWke5

8. Quote by Kristin Chang

9. https://pin.it/NIMdbA4

10. “A Self-Portrait in Letters” Anne Sexton

#liss writes posts #liss does web weaving #qsmp #team soulfire #q!tubbo #q!badboyhalo #q!tina #tina kitten #badboyhalo #tubbo

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afewproblems · 8 months

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Season 2 Halloween AU Part Four

Part One, Part Two, Part Three

A very big thank you to @strangersteddierthings for chatting with me today and being such a great sounding board for the next update!

Synopsis: What if Eddie had been at Tina's Halloween Party in Season Two? Featuring Steve!Whump, Stancy Breakup, and Eddie just trying to keep up with all these new revelations about who King-Steve actually is...

***

"So…I have to ask," Eddie blurts out, cutting through the awkward silence that has fallen between them, "how were you gonna pick up your car before you ran into me?"

"I don't think it counts as running into you, if you were waiting for me Munson," Steve side steps the question expertly, flashing him a strange smirk that seems out of place. It falls after a second and twists into something pained.

"I was hoping Nance would take me," Steve says eventually, his voice soft, "which was pretty stupid in hindsight, 'specially cuz she was counting on me to drive her this morning, which--"

Steve cuts himself, snapping his mouth shut with a harsh click of teeth, he shakes his head and lifts his hand to run roughly through his hair.

"Doesn't matter anymore".

Eddie holds his breath, feeling the conversation begin to shift. It's as though he's stepped onto a tightrope and any wrong move could potentially send him over the edge.

He settles for nodding once, turning the key in the ignition.

Steve sighs and lets himself fall back into his seat, "I know you know already, the whole fucking school does, Billy saw to that," Steve gestures to his face, "say what you really want to ask".

Eddie's fingers tighten around the wheel as he turns them out of the parking lot, fighting the immediate urge to say, 'why did Miss Priss throw it all away?'

"You think I believe the rumours that come out of that shithole?" Eddie lies, keeping his eyes on the road this time.

He can feel Steve's unimpressed stare as they continue down mainstreet.

"Right, so you had no clue I was in detention?"

Eddie chews the inside of his cheek to fight the sly grin that begins to creep over his face, "Alright smart ass".

He hazards another glance at Steve as they begin to hit the residential area, he looks so different from the night before.

His limbs are loose, tension free, if it weren't for the heavy bags under Steve's eyes and the nervous tap of his fingers on the passenger door, Eddie would think he was finally relaxed.

"I knew a fight definitely happened, it's Hargrove," Eddie says slowly, carefully weighing his words, "but I typically prefer to hear the whole sordid story from the source before I pass any judgements, ya know?"

Steve doesn't say anything as they continue driving through residential the houses getting progressively bigger as they go.

"Did you," Steve pauses and breathes out slowly before shaking his head and lifting his face to meet Eddie's gaze, "is that offer for something stronger still open?"

Eddie smiles, "I think that can be arranged".

***

Eddie pulls over beside Tina Cline's house, wincing as the right front tire rolls over the curb and bounces the van as it lands on the street once more, startling a snort out of Steve.

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up Harrington," Eddie huffs as Steve shoots him a grin.

"Didn't say a word," Steve hums, unbuckling himself from the seat. Eddie watches as he opens the door and hops out. For a moment Eddie worries Steve will pull the same disappearing act from last night but he simply stops beside his car door and motions for Eddie to roll down his window.

Eddie cracks his door open instead, "window's broken, what?"

Steve rolls his eyes, "whatever Munson, you know the way? It's north on 5th and--"

"Then two more rights, yeah man," Eddie says with a laugh in his voice, "I dropped you off remember?"

"Fuck off," Steve huffs out, he's grinning though.

Steve swings the Beemer’s door open and slides in. He turns on the ignition and flinches at the loud burst of music from the stereo, the volume obviously set from the mood of the previous night.

'I want to know what love is, I want you to show me--'

Steve slams his hand against the console, cutting off the song with a harsh crack.

The van is parked just behind the Beemer so Eddie can't see Steve's face, but his head drops down onto the wheel for just the briefest moment before he slowly lifts it, turns on his signal and pulls away from the curb.

***

Steve beats him to the house.

He's getting out of the car, which is parked on the long driveway as Eddie pulls up to the street.

Eddie hops out of the van, hiking his backpack higher up on his shoulders, not bothering to lock it. Who would even want his shitty van among the BMWs and Mercedes parked down this street --hell, Eddie could have sworn he saw a Jag three houses down.

Eddie stops short of the lawn. The Harrington house is so different in the light of day, the strange emptiness that seemed to ooze out of the dark windows the night before has disappeared, leaving an ordinary house in its wake.

"Well?" Steve calls out as he pulls a pair of keys from his back pocket and spins them once on his finger, "you coming or what Munson?"

Eddie rolls his eyes and jogs to catch up to Steve who turns on his heel to stride up the walk. He stuffs the key into the deadbolt and swings one of the double doors inwards before shucking off his sneakers.

No shoes? Fucking rich people man.

Steve must notice Eddie's expression because he blushes and shrugs, "I know, I know, but my parents will be home for Thanksgiving this year so…may as well…"

He gestures around the sterile foyer with a tight smile, as though it explains everything.

If anything, Eddie has more questions.

Steve cuts off the thought by clearing his throat, "we should smoke outside, last thing I need is for you to burn a hole in the couch or something".

Eddie steps over the threshold and has to stop himself from whistling, were the ceilings always this high in this place?

He lifts his foot to unlace his left chuck, snorting at the strange little table in the middle of the foyer. A giant vase sits atop it filled with a mixture of what have to be silk flowers --no way they were real. He pulls the shoe off and tosses it to the side before lifting his right foot.

Eddie never had the greatest balance so he hops back and forth with his right foot in the air before hopping as close as he can to the wall of the foyer and leaning back against it.

He finally gets the knot in his laces undone and throws the sneaker to the floor, dropping his right foot to the hardwood.

Eddie looks up to find Steve staring with a bemused expression on his face, he ignores the wide hazel eyes and removes the backpack from his shoulders -which can't have been helping the balance issue.

Eddie unzips the top and yanks out the trusty metal lunchbox, sliding a wicked grin into place.

"You said something about outside?"

***

By the time they've settled, facing one another on a couple of pool loungers, the sun has begun to dip low, painting the patio and empty pool a warm glowing copper. It catches Steve's hair, which shines like gold in the dying sunlight, like some Autumnal Fae King--

Eddie wants to slap himself, suddenly thankful for the November wind that cuts through the backyard, forcing him to chillout.

He picks up the grinder from his lunchbox, unscrewing the cap to open it.

"You good with a joint this evening my good King?"

He pours a handful of a new strain Rick let him try the other day into the grinder and starts twisting. It's not something he would typically share with anyone other than Jeff, but Steve seemed like he could use something a little more special tonight.

Eddie looks up after a beat of silence, "yo, Major Tom, you with me?"

Steve's face is pinched, tilted towards the empty pool, "please don't call me that," he says quietly.

"Major Tom?"

Steve raises his eyes to meet Eddie's gaze, his mouth cuts a hard line across his face, the typical easy grin it usually houses is gone.

"King-Steve," he runs a hand through his hair, letting the fingers linger to grip and pull, "I just, that's not who I am anymore, I don't--"

Steve swallows harshly, "that's all anyone could talk about this morning".

He drops his voice and octave, "oh, King Steve is so pussy whipped he let his girl fuck Jonathan Byers before she dumped him".

"Is that what Hargrove said?" Eddie asks quietly as he pours out a portion of weed onto a paper.

Steve shakes his head, "that was Tommy, but that wasn't why I hit him".

Eddie nods, and lifts the joint to his mouth to run his tongue along the edge of the paper. Steve watches him from the lounger, his eyes follow the movement before he blinks and continues.

"Tommy and I had been best friends since we were five, he uh, he knows a lot about me," Steve lifts his hand to his mouth and chews the nail of his thumb briefly before dropping it back into his lap.

"Stuff I don't tell anyone, stuff he knows will hurt".

Eddie nods, twisting the joint closed, he can kind of understand that, although the only person in his life that knew him like that was Wayne.

And Wayne would never hurt him.

Did Steve really not have anyone else like that in his life, someone he could tell anything to that wouldn't look at him weird or judge him. Someone safe.

"Anyway, Hargrove started in on me after that, but he's been fucking with me for awhile so," Steve shrugs again, "he saw his big opportunity here".

"Hargrove's been messing with you?" Eddie asks sharply as he pours more weed onto another paper. He lifts it and runs his tongue along the edge of the paper before twisting it into shape. When he looks up, Steve's ears have gone slightly pink and he's sitting strangely, slightly hunched and twisted.

"Yeah," Steve says after a moment, he clears his throat and straightens his back, "yeah, it's just been at practice so far, and I thought it was just because he wanted to one up me for my spot but," he shakes his head, "it's getting worse".

"You know, I have a bit of a reputation around school," Eddie says slowly, carefully, watching as Steve freezes and looks at Eddie with wide eyes.

"The Hellfire club is more than just the game we're playing, it's also kind of a sanctuary for kids that don't have anyone to lean on, we look after each other," Eddie continues, ignoring the way Steve relaxes slightly, "you wouldn't need to play or anything but if you need somewhere to sit at lunch now…"

Steve looks at Eddie for a long time, his expression blank, guarded, "really? Just like that?"

"Yeah man, besides I get to use my 'Mean and Scary Guy' persona on these fuckers so it's a win-win for me".

Steve grins, raising one skeptical eyebrow, "mean and scary?"

Eddie bristles a little bit at the questioning tone in Steve's voice and can't quite swallow the urge to snarl, "yeah I mean you looked plenty scared of the town freak yesterday".

Steve winces and immediately starts to shake his head, inching forward in his seat so he's even closer to Eddie, their knees are almost touching.

"That's not, I wasn't," he stops and takes a deep breath, "I was upset about Nancy and it was so dark outside, the trees--"

"You afraid of the dark Harrington?" Eddie cuts him off, the lingering irritation still simmers in his voice as he coos.

Steve just looks at him, there's something strange about the haunted expression on his face that makes the hair on the back of Eddie's arms stand on end.

"Things happen in the dark, in the woods," Steve says softly, his eyes drift to the empty pool again.

Eddie opens his mouth to ask Steve what the hell he means by that, when a voice shouts across the yard.

"Steve? STEVE?!"

The sound of someone running through the grass has them both of their feet, the joints forgotten on the pool loungers.

"Dustin?"

A kid, he can't be more than twelve or thirteen, skids into the porchlight that has replaced the last copper rays of evening light, the sun fully set by now. The kid's blue eyes are wide underneath a mop of curly hair and hat, he's breathing hard.

"I need your help".

Tag List: @eriquin @luvinthefreaks @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @goodolefashionedloverboi @ellietheasexylibrarian @bambibiest @sadboislovebeans @howincrediblysapphicofyou @coleys-a-nerd @whycantiuseunderscore @airconditioning123 @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @corrodedbisexual @starman-jpg @ilovecupcakesandtea @yoriposts @clumsiluni @pelinelin @phantomcat94 @lololol-1234 @anaibis @airconditioning123 @steveshairspray @hellfireone @sunswathe @eddielives1986 @tentativeghost @robin-not-batman @estrellami-1 @manda-panda-monium @tinyplanet95 @perseus-notjackson

Part Five

and for some peeps that I think may be interested! @steddierthings @steddie-there @steves-strapcollection @outpastthebrakers @henderdads @stevesbipanic

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one-time-i-dreamt · 3 months

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Tina Fey wrote the Bible.

#dream #text #February 14th 2024 #tina fey #the bible #writing

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cat-mentality · 4 months

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It's funny really, how much the children have taken from their adoptive parents.

How looking at them is something akin to looking in a mirror.

Richarlyson who has a little bit of every one of his parents. Pac's warm eyes, Felp's curly hair, Mike's smile. Richarlyson who loves building, who is curious and adventurous, who always has a witty remark in the tip of his tongue, who is so protective of those he loves, who has so much love to give.

Pomme with Pierre's smile and Baghera's eyes. Pomme who is fierce and clever, who loves deeply and selflessly, who will take charge of any situation and bows to no one, who stands strong even in the face of the worst adversary.

Empanada whose hair is a mixture of Bagi's and Mouse's, whose eyes are just like Tina's, who laughs and smiles like Niki, the same sharp teeth. Empanada who is kind and gentle and loving, who likes soft things and to take care of her animals, who loves her siblings and would do anything for them.

Sunny with Tubbo's smile, who doesn't recognize the features of her other parents in her face, she has Pol's warm brown eyes, Lenay's cherry red lips and round cheekbones, Slime's light brown hair. Sunny who clung to the person who loved her dearly, who is witty and hardworking, who looks at things and is never satisfied with how they are, who always wants them to be better, who never settles for scraps.

Pepito with Carre's bright green eyes, Quackity's dimpled smile, who doesn't recognize his hair color as matching with Rivers', who doesn't even know he and Mariana match with their glasses. Pepito with his love for movies and spiders, with his drawings and his bright smile, who likes Amarantos and helping people, who laughs and laughs at every little thing, a bundle of joy.

It's tragic really, how much the children have taken from their adoptive parents.

How looking at them is something akin to looking in a mirror.

Richarlyson who has never had a birthday with all his family together and unharmed by the world, Richarlyson who despite the best effort of his fathers has known tragedy as much as he has known joy.

Richarlyson who puts a smile on his face, like his pai Forever, who hides his pain because he can’t think about burdening them with his feelings when he knows how much they have suffered, how much they keep on suffering, Richarlyson who knows they hide things from him to protect him and wants to return the favor, wants to give as much as they have given him. Richas who tries to be a beacon of light, who just wants to protect people, who wants them to be happy and safe even if that means putting himself in harm’s way.

Richas who smiles so brightly, who jokes even in the darkest moments, and that makes people forget he is only a child. Who is treated as older than he truly is, as stronger than he truly is, as if people don’t realize how fragile, how young he is. Richas like his pai Pac, trying to turn every dark moment into a joke in the futile hope that it will make things hurt less, that downplays every nightmare that comes his way because if he can joke about it, it couldn’t be that bad right? He is fine! Look at him, smiling and joking, and breaking down when no one can see him.

Richarlyson, who likes his pai Cellbit has a part of himself that he is terrified of. A darkness that spreads around his chest, that comes to light in bursts that leave him shaken and scared in their wake, Richarlyson who is scared of himself, who doesn’t understand where he come from, why those things happen to him, Richarlyson who is so much like the little boy Cellbit doesn’t remember being, the little boy Bagi has searched her whole life for. Richas who, just like his pai, tries to push that part away, as deep as he can, because he is terrified that it will cause harm to the people he loves, who will every single time choose to be the one harmed over them without thinking twice.

Pomme who was born with a target on her back and a weapon in her hands. Pomme who has had to fight for her right to exist just as much as she had to fight for the love of her parents, Pomme shaped by the eternal guilt of those moments where others had to risk their lives for her sake, marked by the initial rejection.

Pomme who thinks she must protect her sibling and her parents even if that means hurting herself, Pomme who would gladly, easily, set herself on fire for the sake of others. Pomme wh, like her dads Pierre and Antoine, hides her problems deep inside because she would never want to share her burdens and her pains with others, who wants to fix things herself without having to involve others.

Like her mother Baghera, who wants to protect everyone, who will spread herself thin trying to do the right thing, trying to keep her loved ones safe and happy. Pomme who loves without expecting the same level of devotion back, who loves even when she doesn't believe she will receive anything in return. A warrior out of need, made a survivor by the world around her.

Like her father Etoiles who finds comfort in holding a weapon, in fighting a battle. Pomme like Etoiles who looks at her loved ones and puts herself as their protector, who bases her worth on her ability to keep them safe. If she can't protect them, if she can't help them when they need, then what is her worth? Why would they love her if she failed in her only duty? Pomme like Etoiles who takes the burden on her shoulders because she cannot imagine she will be worthy of their love otherwise, because she believes it's what she needs to do even if no one would ever tell her so.

Empanada who doesn't fit.

Like Bagi, a stranger in a strange land, someone to whom people still look at with distrust sometimes, wrapped in the knowledge that at the end of the day everyone else has other priorities, others they will seek first, others they will always love more and at peace with it no matter how much it hurts. Empanada, like her mamãe, used to chase after ghosts of affection, clinging to scraps because for the most part of her life that is all she had.

Like Tina, hiding parts of herself in a desperate attempt to be loved. Chopping away the ugly bits, the things she believes no one wants to see, that no one would ever love, the hard parts, pushing it all away because she is terrified of what they will think of her if they see it. Empanada like her Eomma, who doesn't believe people will love her if they see the darkness inside of her heart, if they knew what she lived through before the Island.

Like Niki, still struggling to find her place, to feel like she is part of everything, feeling that she is always at the fringes of everything, never a part of whatever is happening.

Like Jaiden, the mother she never met. Haunted by the past, alone in her grief and her sadness because she cannot burden her siblings, who all have the same trauma, because they all need to heal even if she stays shattered because it is her job to protect them and she has failed too much already, because she doesn't believe others will offer her support since she is still a stranger to them, Empanada who doesn't know the woman who she shares so much with, who is still unsure if she will ever be accepted by her.

Sunny who clung to Tubbo with desperation because he was there, who tries so hard to be loved, to be accepted, to be trusted, who bases her worth in that. Sunny like her father, feeling like a stranger, feeling left out, desperately trying to carve a place for herself into the hearts of others because she is starving for love but cannot put those feelings into words, cannot bear the vulnerability of truly asking for it.

Little child who like her father never feels like she is enough. Sunny, who smiles brightly, who is happy and energetic, who acts as if she is the best because deep inside she believes she is the opposite. Sunny who takes rejection as a proof of her own failure to be loved, who puts on herself the burden because if they can love everyone else, if they can accept all the children but her, surely she is the problem right?

Sunny like Tubbo who shoves her insecurities as deep as she can, who pretends they don't exist unless she is with those she trusts the most because she wants to be strong, she wants to be good, she wants to be loved.

Pepito who is not as much of a mirror to their parents as they are a glimpse into the past, as to whom they used to be before the world crushed their spirits and mind. Pepito who is loved by people who hate themselves so deeply that they cannot help but hate them as well.

Pepito who just like Roier smiles no matter what is happening around them, who hides everything behind said smile, who doesn't want to let sadness cloud their vision, to damper their optimism, who clings to the good parts, not yet tainted by the betrayals and loss that changed the apa they never saw smile. Pepito like Mariana, like the man they have never meet, the father that is barely spoken of, who pushes pain and grief away, who laughs and ignores the bad bits because it would shatter them, like it shattered this ghost of a father.

Pepito who loves freely, carelessly, who opens their heart to everyone, Pepito who sees goodness even when there is nothing good, who trusts people, who wants to be exactly like this apa Quackity with his sad eyes, who believes they can fix people, that they can make them happy, that has hope that better things are to come. Pepito who will always put everyone else's happiness before their own.

Pepito, who is cursed with the love of people who know loss like an old friend, a constant companion, Pepito who is a ghost of siblings they will never know, forever in the shadows of their loss. Pepito who is loved by people who are just waiting for the moment the world will break Pepito's spirit, for the moment they, cursed as they believe themselves to be, will somehow destroy this child because their hands have proven time and time again that they are not made for softness, for protection. Pepito whose joy is a curse, an offense for people whose hearts cannot stand to be hurt more, who don't believe that goodness and purity can last.

The children are the mirrors of their parents, for better or worse.

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operationcaked · 1 year

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aged up designs that i made a bit ago :))

#definitely could change these up a bit at any point #louise is my fav design of the three i’m especially happy about theirs #i would think that louise would still be working at the restaurant- probably not owning it yet or anything #emphasis on “yet’’#BUT i also think that cool careers for her could be a lawyer or ermm a guidance counselor #tee hee #tina is an author!! writes romance novels and such #STRANGE romance novels ofc but her readers have a fine taste #i think she could also possibly write stuff for kids at some point.. maybe under a different name lmao #i remember seeing a different headcannon for what her career would be and thinking it was cute but i can’t remember it rn grrr!!!!!#i’m not sure about gene but him alex and courtney could do music stuff together #maybe they have a successful soundcloud #also #i wanted to draw more jewelry on him but my brain wasn’t working #whatevr just imagine it ❤️#bob’s burgers #gene belcher #tina belcher #louise belcher #character design #mick draws #doodles

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brittie-frog · 2 months

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Today was brilliant:

- Bagi giving up her day off to celebrate Em's 100 days

- their outfits - I imagine it's something that drunk Tina asked for in the admin chat about a little special outfit for her

- Bagi flying, the dragon wings and the comments from Tina about it

- the Hatsune Miku statue... crying

- museum!!! So much bagi/breakfast family and Demon Lore!!

- Tina finally getting on, also in a hanbok, and mentioning she hasn't been home and Bagi having a moment of realisation of what she'd left (reminiscent of when she remembered leaving the date ask when she day Tina)

- them lying about Em picking up the string first to make her feel better but she's already smart and also she has chat open so she definitely knows it's the book

- Pepito getting the ritual and Roier (Doied?) Wanting to do it too and instead coaxing Pepi to pick up the money because he only had 3 coins...

- the money shots in front of the atm with warp stones and diamonds - definitely the Pancake Mafia

- the lightning strikes and Tina leaving and Em still holding out on telling her but saying that if she just waits for Tina to talk she'll never - this is a detective she's definitely figured it out like she said

The only thing that could have made it better was if Tina was streaming so we could see the convos she had with Em when Bagi left and the panic on her face when Bagi just went to buy her the warp stone but understandable she was short on time so no real point

#the lightning strikes were weird but it makes no sense for it to be Tina lore but is hilarious to think so #please someone needs to follow through on the vampire lore for longer than a day #also cant wait for tina to log back on in that hole i hope its on stream because she'll probably forget shes in there #qsmp tina #qsmp bagi #qsmp empanada #qsmp #time to spend my next week at home finsihing demon lore tina and hanbok family photo #despite that i have 3 essays to write for the week after

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dvnieldraws · 7 months

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mreow

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disciplinedindiscipline · 8 months

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Talking Heads reuniting yesterday after 20 years is the best thing I saw today

#talking heads #david byrne #chris frantz #tina weymouth #jerry harrison #writing this on my way to work lol

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thanotaphobia · 6 months

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ménage à quatre

or, missa runs into tina on the way to see phil. and pac. and mariana. and-

CROSSPOSTED TO AO3

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Missa thinks he’s decent at being sneaky.

He at least doesn’t knock things over. Their new and improved underground base is well-lit despite the dark stone that makes up its walls, and Missa skirts the farms and chairs and chests with ease. Getting out isn’t so simple, but he’s nearly there. It’s nighttime, and while most people don’t always sleep through the night in this place, it’s easier to hide under the cover of darkness. Easier to get away with things, to see people. Missa also knows if he runs into anyone who isn’t his team or Phil that he’s absolutely dying, so going out at night is a necessary risk. Risk, because mobs, but once he reaches the meeting spot in the woods he and Phil had talked about, then he’ll be okay.

He misses Phil. With every aching beat of his heart, he misses him.

Missa hadn’t known how strong his feelings had run until they’d been separated like this. It was physically painful, like love had wrapped tendrils around his heart and gut, squeezing every time Phil pops into his head.

And so the occasional midnight rendezvous must happen. It has to happen, because otherwise Missa thinks he would die if he didn’t get to see his husband in a relatively safe, stress-free space.

Careful not to catch the attention of any of his teammates, Missa creeps through the base and watches every step. He doesn’t think they’d crucify him for it, but he doesn’t think they’d like it either. People have become different, and fast. Personalities have shifted and everyone, Missa thinks, has gotten a little more ruthless. Even Missa himself thinks it’s affecting him– although he tends to isolate instead of lash out. He’s frozen to death on beaches more than once, staring out at the ocean lost in thought until his eyes had clouded over and he’d woken up in their base with fingers stiff from cold. Others, though. BBH has a look in his eye every time Missa sees him, a look that makes him skirt around the man like he’s got the plague.

It’s unsettling. He hates feeling uncomfortable in what’s supposed to be a safe place. He hates sneaking around like this when he should just be able to see his husband whenever he wants– he hates it.

But it’s fine. He’s nearly out, anyway. He enters the darkest part of his exit, a long corridor, and hurries forward. Just another couple steps and–

“Oh!”

All the air is forced out of his lungs, half from terror and half from the collision. He bounces backwards into the cold stone wall and shrieks, then shoves a hand over his own mouth to stifle the sound. Across from him, there’s a thud and someone gasps. Missa blinks into the dark.

“Missa?” Tina says after a second of silence. He takes into stock what just happened– a warm body bumping into his, shorter but strong, and the strong scent of tea leaves and cool soil in the air. Tina. Just Tina.

“Sorry,” Missa says out loud after a second, lowering his hand from his mouth. Tina laughs, and Missa can’t see her very well in the dark as he pushes himself up off the wall. “I didn’t mean to–”

“No, it’s okay!” Tina says. They’re both whispering, but even then each word sounds like a gunshot in the tunnel. It reverbs, echoing around them and twisting in the air like smoke. “I didn’t expect you– oh, man, I fell down and dropped my bag, can you–”

“Yeah, one second,” Missa says, getting her intent instantly and dropping to his knees to feel around for the knapsack. “You okay?”

“Fine, thanks!” Tina giggles, high and breathy. Missa’s hand knocks against fabric and he grasps it triumphantly.

“Got it!” he says, raising his clenched fist into the air– only for it to come into contact with skin and bone, the crack echoing around them louder than their words had been.

Missa is almost impressed by how Pac doesn’t swear. He hears a thump as someone sits down, a soft hiss of breath, and then a long exhale.

“Oh my god,” Missa breathes, before he knows it’s Pac, “I’m so so sorry–”

“All good,” Pac grits out, and Tina gasps.

“Hey!” she says. “It’s like a party in here!”

“Are you bleeding?” Missa asks, and Pac mumbles an affirmative. The next thirty seconds is spent looking for a piece of cloth to hold to his nose, and they end up having to improvise with one of Tina’s shirt sleeves. “I’m so sorry,” Missa apologizes again. “Bro, bro, I swear I didn’t know you were there, I didn’t mean to, I was just getting Tina’s bag. I’m so sorry, man.”

“It’s dark,” Pac says, his voice slightly muffled and sounding as though he’s got a bad cold. “All good! All good, my friend.”

“What were you even doing down here?” Tina asks. She’s kneeling by Pac on the other side, and Missa has finally gotten used to the dark. They’re all mostly on the floor, staring around at one another– Missa can see the whites of their eyes, and that’s about it. It’s the strangest situation he’s been in for a while, honestly.

“Well, I was trying to leave,” Pac says, sniffling once and grunting in pain. “But, ah– you were here first.”

“Wait,” Missa says, blinking as he realizes something. “Tina, why were you here–”

And then someone lights a torch, the spark and resulting flame causing all three of them to cover their eyes or cry out. Missa blinks back tears from the sudden brightness and glances back– standing a few feet away is Mariana, torch held up as he stares at the three of them with an indignant expression.

“The fuck are you bitches doing?” he asks loudly, and despite their various states of distress, Missa, Tina, and Pac shush him quickly. Mariana goes quiet, pressing his lips together before stalking forward and crouching beside them. In the torchlight, Missa can see the blood on Pac’s nose now, and winces. “Why did none of you have a torch?” Mariana asks.

Tina hums. “That probably would’ve been a good idea.”

“Why are you here?” Pac asks. “Did you hear us?”

“No,” Mariana scoffs. “But I should’ve. I was going to see Slime–” He clearly didn’t mean to say it– his eyes widen a fraction and he snaps his mouth shut quickly, staring at the three of them before clearing his throat. “I meant, I was going to kill Slime.”

“We all know what you did in the fountain,” Pac says, his voice nasally but dry. “You know?”

Tina breaks out into big, bubbly laughter, heaving for air between gasps of breaths. She giggles, high-pitched and frantic, and Missa can’t help but snort either, covering his face with one hand. He can see Mariana between the bars of his fingers, and the way his face goes a bright, brilliant red.

“Yeah, well–” Mariana only stutters for a moment, composing himself and snapping. “What are you three doing anyway?”

“I was going to see Bagi,” Tina practically wails. She’s on her back on the floor, hair spread like a halo around her, and Missa thinks it’s a miracle she hasn’t passed out from laughing yet. Pac is laughing too, still pinching his nose but grinning and cackling. Missa bites his lip, then drags his hands down his face and comes out with the truth.

“Phil,” he says, cursing his husband’s name into his palms. “Phil and I–”

“I won’t say who I was going to see,” Pac says proudly, and Tina stops laughing at that. She sits up and points a finger at him.

“We all know about Fit, Pac! We know! Nothing is a secret!” Between her words she hiccups giggles. “This is so dumb, we’re all so dumb!”

Missa leans back against the stone wall of the tunnel and slumps, his knees slowly giving out until he’s sitting fully on the cold floor and staring at the rest of them slowly losing it. Tina and Pac are holding onto each other, giggling and rocking back and forth slightly, while Mariana is trying his hardest to look disgusted with them and notably failing to hide a smile. Missa lets out a breath and knocks his head back, covering his eyes with his elbow and snickering.

“Well, I’m going,” Mariana finally says, stepping over Missa’s outstretched legs and past Pac and Tina. He’s still got the torch in hand– the shadows against the wall stretch and warp with his movement, making the whole tunnel feel unsteady. He turns back. “I have a date to keep.”

“Oh gosh, so do I,” Tina gasps, finally getting a hold of herself and scrambling for her bag. Missa nudges it closer to her with one foot and she grins at him. “Thanks! Don’t want Bagi to be waiting up for me.”

“Have fun on your date,” Missa says, mouth a little dry. “Dates.”

“You too,” Tina chirps, standing up and slinging her bag over her back.

“Wait, I need to get up too,” Pac says, and he and Missa stand together, gripping each other’s shoulders and arms as they do. His nose has, for the most part, stopped bleeding.

“Sorry again,” Missa says apologetically.

Pac grins and shakes his head. “No biggie.”

“Are you coming?” Mariana calls. The shadows have gotten longer and the light dimmer as he’d started walking away, but he waits now near the end of the tunnel, looking back at the three of them with mild irritation. “Or can I ditch you all yet?”

“Oh be quiet Mariana,” Tina says, catching up with him easily. They both wait for Missa and Pac, which makes something warm blossom in his chest where the cold has sat so easily the past few days. “We can go together now, as long as we stay away from Bad!”

“That would be not good,” Pac mutters, glancing back. Missa winces.

“We’ve gotten this far,” he says.

“This far without waking the guard dog,” Tina says, and they all make their way the last little bit out into the faint light of the stars. Around them the air is cold and crisp, and it takes Missa’s breath away. For a minute they all stand there, taking in the sight of the moon glistening across the oil-slick sea, light refracting off the ice and snow and making the whole world a soft, delicate shade of blue. Even the light from Mariana’s torch doesn’t last, barely casting out onto the pockmarked and scarred beach ahead of them.

“Well,” Missa says, equipping some gloves. He doesn’t want to stand here for too long. He wants to see Phil. The ache is back, something about the sight in front of him and the people beside him making his heart ultra aware of Phil’s absence. He thinks of Phil, worrying about him being late; he thinks of Phil laughing when he hears what delayed him. “See you in the morning, guys.”

“Hey, Missa?” He glances over at Mariana, who sticks his torch down into the sand and shoves his hands into his pockets, nonchalant. “Do you want to go together? Might be easier. Mobs and stuff.”

“Oh, that’s a good idea! Pac, let’s go together!” Tina chirps, and Pac nods with a smile. She grabs his hand and he lets her.

“Sure,” Missa says, a little startled. “That’s– yeah, yeah. Okay.”

“Okay,” Mariana says. “Bye, guys.”

Pac and Tina wave as they deploy their separate boats, hopping in beside one another and parting into the cold, choppy sea. Mariana drives, Missa sitting passenger, and he stares out over the ocean as they leave their team base behind them in the cold. When he looks over at Mariana, the other man is staring out across the horizon in front of them, hands gripping the wheel of the boat and a strange look on his face. When he notices Missa looking, he glances over and catches his eye.

“What’s the matter?” Missa asks.

“Bad Boy Halo totally was watching us leave,” Mariana says, dead serious, and that is finally what sends Missa into hysterical laughter.

#qsmp #q!missa #q!tina #q!pactw #q!mariana #pissa #bagina #fitpac #slimariana #team soulfire #qsmp blue team #they're in a comedy #actually #my writing

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merrywaanderer · 2 years

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hey all, i swear i am in the process of writing some fics, but life got very suddenly quite hectic, so i am taking a lot longer to get writing done than i intended.

hopefully it won't be much longer x

#t rambles #tina's writing

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tubborucho · 2 months

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Jungryeok fits in here, on the QSMPreg island, so well!!!!

#liss writes posts #qsmp #tina liveblogging #qsmp jungryeok

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afewproblems · 8 months

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Season 2 Halloween Party AU Part Two

You can read part one here!

***

Eddie can't help but steal glances at his passenger as he starts the engine while Steve buckles himself in.

A streetlight flickers overhead bathing the front seat in strobing gold light; it's so distracting Eddie nearly misses the way Steve's hands tighten around the seatbelt, a slight tremor running through them.

The other man looks exhausted but incredibly on edge, his back straight and shoulders stiff. Eddie has to stop himself from rolling his eyes as Steve scans the dark street ahead of them.

If he's so embarrassed to be seen with the town freak, he can just get out and walk home.

Eddie almost says as much, but shakes the words off and flicks the small Snoopy bobblehead on the dash, before reaching for the edge of the passenger seat.

He feels Steve flinch at the sudden movement as Eddie braces himself on the seat to look out the rearview window.

Eddie tamps down the flicker of irritation that burns in his chest, he hadnt taken Harrington for a Bible thumping asshole that would believe the rumours circling Eddie, but then again, Eddie didn't really know Steve.

Eddie backs out of the space slowly, no need to wreck the paint even more by hitting some suburban moms stationwagon after all. He shifts into drive and pulls away from the street and the flashing lights of Tina's party behind them.

Steve is quiet as they drive, and as the sound of the dull throbbing bass and party goers begins to fade into the background, Steve slowly begins to curls inwards, tugging his arms around himself.

Eddie's eyes flick between Steve and the road, he's still not looking at Eddie, just out the window with a blank expression. It's the most quiet he's ever seen King-Steve, it's unsettling.

But, the more Eddie thinks about it, that really isn't true.

King-Steve hasn't been King of anything for awhile now, Tommy Hagan has seen to that.

Steve has been keeping to himself more and more, preferring to hang out with Wheeler and, surprisingly, Byers of all people.

Eddie isn't sure he'd ever be able to comfortably sit at a cafeteria table with someone who cleaned his clock, but Steve makes it look easy.

Eddie sneaks another glance and startles to find that Steve is already looking at him. He's chewing his lip, his eyebrows pinched and Eddie can't help but feel as though he's being evaluated somehow.

Great.

"Actually, you know what," Steve says after they've turned down yet another subdivision, just one street shy before the main road, "you can just drop me off up here, my house is close".

"You sure?" Eddie asks, ignoring the frustration that rises in his chest once more, "I can drive you the rest of the way, it's not like we don't all know where the King's Domaine is".

Eddie watches as Steve's expression turns stony for the barest of moments before it shutters.

"Okay".

Eddie nods with a grimace. He isn't even sure what he wanted to happen tonight, but it wasn’t this.

Eddie makes a left and another right before pulling into the long drive of the Harrington house.

It used to make him scoff whenever he dealt here. The huge house, the lavish furnishings and fixtures. For fucks sake, the master bath had two sinks and the closet was almost as big as his own bedroom.

But now as the engine dies and a strange silence falls on the pair, Eddie can't help but notice just how dark the house is.

"Your parents here?" Eddie says, craning his neck to see the upstairs windows, he doesn't even notice Steve has unclicked himself from the passenger seat until the door is open and he's halfway out of the van.

"Woah--"

"Thanks for the ride," Steve calls over his shoulder, "see you around Munson".

Eddie barely has time to open his mouth in protest before Steve is unlocking his door and slamming it behind him, leaving Eddie in the van alone.

He sits for a second before sighing and turning the key once more, coaxing the engine back to life. Eddie turns again, bracing his hand on the passenger seat, debating if he should head back to the party, before he spots something on the floor shining in the glow of the streetlights.

A pair of large black sunglasses, and there's no doubt who they belong to.

"Well shit," Eddie hums thoughtfully as he bends forward to grab the glasses from the floor, "guess I'll be seeing you sooner than we thought".

***

The first bell rings as Eddie closes his locker, he looks out across the sea of teenagers making their way to homeroom before the second bell and smirks.

Eddie should also be hurrying, considering how far his locker is from his first period class, but there's something about the way the teachers glare as he saunters in late that just fuels him.

Eddie smirks as he swings his backpack over his shoulder, the metal lunchbox inside clangs against something and Eddie winces at the sound. Shit.

He moves the pack off his shoulder and unzips the top, reaching inside to grab the sunglasses from where they've become trapped beneath his lunchbox.

They aren't broken thankfully, Eddie's sure that Harrington wouldn't appreciate his gesture nearly as much if they came back cracked or bent.

The thought makes Eddie stop for just a moment before he opens his locker again to place the sunglasses on the top shelf. Why is he even doing this? It's not as though King-Steve would appreciate this, he probably doesn't even know the glasses are missing.

What does Eddie care about some asshole jock?

An image of Steve with his head in his hands, his hazel eyes wet and wide as he looks up at Eddie has him slamming his locker shut, mortified by the unbidden thought.

It's a complete betrayal of his own God damned doctrine, and worse, Steve is straight. All Eddie is doing is hurting himself in the long run with all his pointless pining.

Especially over someone that didn't want to be seen getting into his van last night.

Eddie leans his head onto his locker and knocks it harshly against the metal, stupid.

The second bell rings and the last of the stragglers leave him alone in the hallway. Eddie taps his fingers on the locker and pushes himself away as he makes his way to the main door, throwing his backpack over his shoulder once more.

He needs a smoke, and definitely doesn't need Mrs. McBrayden telling him off for not handing in yet another essay today.

Whatever, it isn't as though Eddie hasn't read Macbeth, he knows that stupid play backwards and forwards --the witches speech is absolutely full of kickass creepy language and was perfect for this one campaign he ran a few years ago.

Eddie could tell you all the major themes and conflicts no problem, it was writing it in such a way that his teacher would believe he actually wrote it that was the issue.

The last time Eddie actually tried on one of his assignments, he had been immediately accused of plagiarizing someone else's work.

So, why bother.

Eddie's already got a cigarette between his lips as he pushes the door open and makes his way to his favorite picnic table by the treeline when he hears a familiar voice behind the gym.

"Tell me--"

"Tell you what?" another voice scoffs, a woman's this time.

Eddie pokes his head tentatively around the corner, spotting the man he had driven home just the night before and his girlfriend alone, clearly fighting.

"Tell me," Steve says firmly, even as his voice waivers, "you love me".

Wheeler stands there, her arms wrapped tightly around her books, "really?"

The word comes out, wrapped in a smile, like it's a joke.

Steve doesn't move, he doesn't laugh, he doesn't make a sound.

Nancy's mouth opens and closes as her blue eyes search Steve's face for a long time. She tries for a laugh again, but her smile cracks as Steve continues to stand there expectantly.

Eddie can't see Steve's face from where he's standing but he does hear the low curse he lets out eventually before turning abruptly, swinging a towel over his shoulder as he jogs back to the field to join the rest of the class.

Well shit.

Eddie watches Nancy as she remains rooted to the spot, her face tipped down to the gravel. She breathes out a long sigh and raises one hand to brush through her hair before it drops heavily at her side.

Eddie can't help but feel a twinge of sympathy as he slowly turns away, shaking his head as he continues to the picnic table.

He lights the cigarette as he takes a seat facing the school, letting the edge of the table dig into his back. He pulls a long drag from the cigarette and breathes out, watching as the smoke billows away in the cool November air.

If it wasn't officially over last night, it definitely was now. The priss and the jock were no more, and knowing Hawkins?

It would be all over the school by lunch.

Part Three up!

and for some peeps that I think may be interested! @strangersteddierthings @steddierthings @steddie-there @steves-strapcollection @outpastthebrakers @henderdads

#stranger things #stranger things season 2 au #steve harrington #eddie munson #nancy wheeler #steve and nancy breakup #what would have happened if eddie had been at tinas halloween party?#yall want a part three?#this fic is going places apparently #dont be mad at nancy #steve and nancy were too dumb kids that were affected by deep trauma and definitely did not know how to be in a relationship #eddie is having all sorts of complicated feelings about steve here #add a little bit of misunderstandings in the van as a treat #cw smoking #i will never get tired of halloween party breakup aus #you can pry them from my cold dead fingers #afewproblems writes

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tothebestofmyabilities · 4 months

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some highschool newspaper editor tina doodles

#my art #bobs burgers #tina belcher #bobs burgers fanart #fanart #artists on tumblr #with her interests in writing and on air school news plus her strong sense of moral justice #her whole character just screama hs newspaper editor and later journalism major to me

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tinalbion · 16 days

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Hi! Can I please request a smut fic with Rusty Nail? When I saw that you wrote for him, I was so excited because he is so underrated!

Hey there! I've been thinking about this for so long and I am finally here with good news, I am gracing you with more Rusty smut! Something the world desperately needs, I know I do! Thank you for being patient, I know it was a hell of a wait, but I am back as much as I can be!

Rusty is very underrated and he deserves so much more love than what he gets. So I hope this will suffice for the time being! 💙✨

"I Don't Want To Miss You Like I Do" ||

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Rusty Nail x fem!Reader

𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄! Minors, DO NOT interact! Masturbation, vaginal fingering, cowgirl, oral, penetration, creampie

𝐋𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐡: 4k

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: You had been feeling extra lonely since Rusty had been out doing his job to support the both of you, so with your mind occupied, you figured you'd have some personal one-on-one time. Too bad you didn't know you weren't alone.

Whenever Rusty was gone for weeks at a time, that part didn't bother you in the slightest, it paid the bills and was a necessary trade-off for affording all he could provide for you. You didn’t even think he would give up what he loved doing, and you’d never want him to, but what you hated the most was the loneliness.

You'd grown accustomed to having him around, so when that first time back on the job came around, you were slightly nervous, but living in his larger home was nice and much more peaceful than staying in your city apartment. It gave you things to do with a place so large, new things to discover about Rusty that he had displayed around the walls, but for such a larger place compared to your apartment, it was painfully quiet after a while of living there. Rusty wanted you to feel at home here since you decided to stay with him, so he tried his best to do what he could to bring more of you out within the confines of the walls. He offered to set up a room just for you if you wanted it, sort of like an office or a crafting area, and he'd arrange it to suit your needs. You spent time in there when he was away, fiddling around with whatever you had set up, and you just mostly liked to sit in there and read, but today you were feeling impatient, so you placed the book down and let out an irritable sigh.

You weren't upset with him, far from it, you were upset with yourself for being so codependent on this man. He brought out a side to you that you didn't know existed, and you were starting to feel that feeling in the pit of your stomach whenever you began to think of Rusty. It would lead from missing him and wondering what he was thinking, to wondering if he'd ever let you fuck him in his truck. You sure hoped he would at some point, you needed to ride him while he was in that seat of his–

“Oh god,” you grumbled and stood up from the chair, then you decided it was best to go and take a shower. Wash away your sinful thoughts, that's what you needed to do. You pulled yourself away from the room and weaved your way around to the shared room you had, then rummaged through the closet, your mind desperately trying to bury the thoughts you were having.

The trickling of water felt great as soon as it hit your body, your muscles relaxed under the warmth of it, so you cranked it up just a little more to get the temperature just a bit higher. A smile grew across your face as the water soaked your hair, ran down your back, and you stood there to allow yourself just a few moments to gather your thoughts. But as soon as you closed your eyes, his face was there. You could imagine him walking into the bathroom as soon as he heard the water start running, opening the door, and just leaning against the frame, because he’d know you heard him, so you’d peek out.

“What’re you up to, sugar?”

You’d scoff and look up at him as you peeked through the shower curtain meekly. “Taking a shower, why?”

“Just wonderin’ why you didn’t invite me in.”

Rusty was like that sometimes; he would want to be wherever you were, wanting to touch you in every place he possibly could reach. You weren’t opposed to it, you encouraged it even, but something about his gentle touch when he was in one of those moods always made you feel empty without him here. Your fingertips ghosted over your lips and slid down to your neck -his favorite spot to kiss you- as you stood beneath the running water still, smiling to yourself.

The impure thoughts that took over your mind were willing you to slide those fingers lower and lower, smiling as your eyes remained closed until you gently dipped them between your legs. Your vivid memory of the way his large, calloused hands handled you so well flooded back, and the way he curled those two fingers into that sweet spot made you buckle at the knees. Yours weren’t as good as his, but they’d get the job done. You let out a small moan, your breath hitched as you pictured Rusty pinning you against the cold tiles of the shower.

“Easy there, girl, you’re so eager. Gonna take my time with you.”

Just thinking about his deep voice as smooth as pouring a glass of whiskey, it tickled your brain in the right ways when he spoke you through everything he did. Most times he'd tease you, edging you to the point you were a shaking, sobbing mess. Other times, he would talk you through it and watch you as your face contorted from feeling pure bliss to feeling complete frustration.

“Please, Rusty, I wanna cum so bad,” you'd whine.

“Oh you will if I let'cha,” he'd respond smoothly, knowing you couldn't do much to change his mind.

Your head leaned back as the water sprayed down your chest, you couldn't help but grab your breast and squeeze it, playing gently with your hardened nipple. God, you needed him so badly, and you wondered when he'd be back home, back in your bed. You wanted to feel his mouth between your legs, feeling the way his facial hair rubbed against the inside of your thighs sent you into a frenzy every time, and he knew what to do to get you to cum on command.

You wished he was here to pick you up and place you in the bed, but you had to make due until he came back. With a sigh, you removed your fingers from yourself and washed them off, then stepped out of the shower with a towel wrapped around you. The sting of sadness set in a little as you shuffled to the large bed in the center of the master bedroom, seeing how painfully empty his side was. He was already gone for a couple of weeks, and it had been a while since you last called to check on him, so maybe you would do that to ease your loneliness. But you felt so pent up and needed to feel a release in one way or another, so maybe you'd call afterward.

As you crawled into the middle of your bed, you laid on your back and sprawled out, one leg lifted as you placed your fingers between your already slick folds, thinking of the large, rough man of your dreams. He would know how to take care of you, it's like he was easily attuned to your needs and what you preferred, and his fingers fit so well into your hole. You moaned out softly, your body moved as you rolled against your hand, wanting to feel his thick digits stretching you so well. The room was filled with your moans and wet sounds from between your legs, and you pulled those mental images to mind that made you want to descend into your orgasm, already so eager to feel the sweet relief so you could finally relax.

What you hadn't been paying attention to was the front door opening and closing.

Rusty had tried to call you twice, but your phone was still sitting in your office space beside the book you were reading, so you had no indication that Rusty was going to surprise you by coming back a little earlier than expected. He heard your moan from downstairs, his ears perked up and tuned into his surroundings. At first, he was a little worried by your lack of reaching out, but it seemed he'd caught you at the perfect time. He was missing you while he was away, and he already felt the growing excitement in his jeans. Slowly but surely, he made his way up the stairs, making sure he didn't tip you off just yet, and the sounds coming from you only sounded more enticing the closer he’d gotten.

He had finally got to the doorway and he peeked inside, watching as you lay there spread out on your shared bed, touching yourself as your eyes were squeezed shut. You were pumping your fingers in and out, curling into that sweet spot as you moaned out Rusty's name over and over, wishing he was there to take care of you. It was hard for him to keep watching and do nothing, he had to have you, he couldn't wait for much longer.

His large hand slowly pushed the door open as you continued, no sound came from the hinges which would have given away his position. Instead, he stood in the doorway, leaning against the doorframe with one arm keeping him in place while the other slid into his front pocket. Damn, you looked good like this, he was always a watcher, but never to this degree.

“Well, damn, if I woulda known you were havin’ fun without me, I woulda came home sooner,” he said suddenly, his voice still low and deep.

Your eyes snapped open as you removed your fingers from yourself, the sudden shock of the fear of being caught electrified your nerves. But after the initial shock, you stared up at him and smiled with a hint of embarrassment.

“R-Rusty! You're home!” You wanted to run to him to greet him, but your soaked hand kept you from doing so. “You're back early.”

He stepped up toward the bed, his head cocked to the side as his hands managed to find his belt as he began to undo it. “Well, I wanted to surprise you, but it seems you surprised me first. What'chu doin’?”

Your face was most definitely red as you closed your legs, poorly hiding the fact that You were just touching yourself. “Uh, I was just… I was thinking of you all day, I was missing you… and I got caught up…” You confessed with a blush in your cheeks.

“Missin’ me that much means a lot to little ol’ me, sugar.” He stepped up to the edge of the bed and without missing a beat, he grabbed your legs and pulled you toward him, which caused you to yelp out a little in surprise, but you were now face to face with him. He smiled down at you beneath the brim of his aging trucker hat, his eyes bore deep into yours. “Havin’ all the fun without me, ain't you?”

“I wasn't having that much fun, I was wishing you were here with me,” you explained, staring up at the large man. “But… you're here now, and well, I haven't finished…”

“Oh, so you want me to help you with that, huh?” He asked with a smirk, his large hands still resting on your ankles. “And so what if I do help you?” He asked playfully. “What do I get out of this if you finish?”

You knew he wanted you just as bad as you needed him, and he wanted you to work for it now that he caught you in the act.

“Couldn't keep those pretty little fingers away, just had to get impatient, huh?” He chuckled as he lowered his body onto you, massive in size compared to you.

You bit your lip as you reached up for his neck, wanting to play with the hair that peeked out from beneath the hat. He stopped just above you, hovering enough that if you were to lean up, he would be just out of reach. “Rusty, kiss me, please?”

He just chuckled in response, that smile you fell for immediately peeking from beneath the hat. “Oh I don't think so, you gotta earn that, sweetheart.”

You were about to whine in protest, just wanting to dote on the man now that he was back, but you barely had time to recover when he lowered his mouth to your inner thigh, kissing it and biting at your sensitive flesh that was oh-so close to your heat. The gasp that escaped was loud and sharp, but you soon turned into a whining mess the more he teased you.

“Rustyyyyy~” You whined as you tugged at his hair, causing the hat to shift and fall off to the side of the bed. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to do it.”

“You mean you didn't mean to get caught, is that it?”

Your face was flushed at the realization that he was right, you meant to pleasure yourself but wanted to get it out of the way so you could hold off a while longer for him to get home.

“Been so greedy ever since you were fucked,” he huffed and lowered his mouth back onto your thigh. “Give you a taste and now you're fuckin’ cock hungry.”

His lips kissed your slick folds over and over, just missing the mark of paying attention to your throbbing clit, and you swallowed a pathetic whimper that died in your throat as soon as he plunged two of his fingers into you. You hissed at the feeling of those calloused digits, curling into you and causing your walls to flutter around him. Your back arched as you rolled your hips into his hand, feeling that sweet friction that hit you in just the right way, you wanted to cry with how much you've missed him.

“Oh my god, Rusty, please, keep going…” you sighed, your lead lolled off to the side as you removed the towel from your top half, and then you began to massage your breast as he kissed and touched you.

“You better not cum till I tell you to,” he warned in that deep honeyed voice. “Else you ain't gettin’ what you want.”

“I-I don't know if I can hold back–”

“Then you better learn real quick, sweetheart, you ain't gonna like the punishment you get if you don't.”

You loved when he urged you, spoke to you like he did, the gravelly voice he got with you was so sexy that you could have fun just listening to him talk. You shifted and couldn't help but continue to fuck yourself on his hand, whimpering as you were stretched so good with just his fingers. Rusty then slid his tongue around, coating it in your wetness as he continued to finger you, gently playing with your clit. He sucked at it, watching as you went from a whiney mess to a blubbering mess. You twitched and your body jolted, feeling that intense pleasure on your clit, getting the friction you so desperately craved.

“Oh, fuck, Rusty! Please!” you begged, your knees shaking as he held one of your legs up behind your knee.

You urged him to continue, so he obliged and removed his fingers, to which you cried at the loss of feeling him inside of you. But now those had been replaced with that broad tongue, lapping away at your essence, wanting to taste the sweetheart he so desired in his absence. You could feel his facial hair scratch and tickle at your thighs, the overwhelming feeling of his stubble, his tongue, and his large hand gripping at your leg so hard was a lot to handle while your orgasm was building.

“Oh fuck, fuck, fuck–” You were at a loss for words with how well you were being treated, you'd loved how he got you so sinfully wet.

Rusty smiled as he brought his lips up to your aching nub and began to swirl his tongue around it before he began to suck at it. You cried out and thrust your hips upward, pushing yourself further against his mouth as if you could get him any closer to you, all while your hands were clutching at the comforter beneath you.

You were so close to feeling a sweet release until his mouth harshly pulled away from you, leaving you feeling empty and aching. “Rusty, no! W-Why would you do that?”

“Told you you couldn't cum without my say so, and as much as I wanna taste you, I want you to cum while I'm inside you,” he explained, followed by a dark chuckle.

It didn't take him long to crawl back toward you, one hand guiding himself to push against your folds, his head pushing against your clit. You squirmed and rocked against him, trying to feel him slide against your lips, just wanting anything more than the emptiness you felt right now.

Your eyes closed, your brow furrowed, and you moaned every time he pushed against you just enough to feel just a little relief only to pull away again, and it was driving you insane. Your eyes fluttered open and you stared up at him with a look of pure frustration.

“Rusty, pleaseeeee,” you begged him again, but you regretted doing so as soon as he pulled away from you. “Wait, what are–”

He pushed himself up, then with a quick turn and an arm slung around your waist, you flew up against him, landing against his chest as he quickly positioned himself so you were straddling his lap as he sunk into the mattress.

“Told you, sweetheart, you're gonna work for it.”

Your lips suddenly felt dry as you could feel his hard cock twitch beneath you. He was giving you the chance to ride him, how could you refuse him this? Your hands hold onto his shoulders to gain some leverage as you move yourself a little higher, allowing yourself to line up perfectly with him. Slowly you sunk onto him, the girth of his cock stretched you so well, it made you let out such a low sigh as your entire body shivered with the feeling of how much you needed this.

“Oh my god, Rusty,” you groan out, your hands still placed on his shoulders. “Fuck, missed you so much while you were gone.”

“Yeah?” He asked with a wicked smirk, his hands gripped your waist as he pushed himself deeper inside of you until he bottomed out, and then those calloused fingers slid down to your thighs.

Your hands immediately reached up and snaked through his hair, grabbing and pulling at it as his hands held you by your ass, allowing you to bounce on his cock at your own speed, but he could easily change that in an instant if he decided to. You leaned forward, wanting to kiss him, but he leaned back a little and smiled, chuckling at the disapproval plastered across your face.

“Told you sugar, you gotta earn that. Need you to cum on me first, now start movin’,” he huffed as he leaned back against the pillow, watching you with interest as you began to bounce on him.

He helped a little, lifting you every so often to get you to fall harder into his lap, your skin slapping in a beautiful rhythm as you cried out his name over and over again, but your voice hitched when he slipped his hand between the both of you to rub his thumb against your clit. Your fingers clasped the back of his head and neck, your nails grazing his skin while he continued to gauge your reaction.

“Oh fuck, Rusty-” you gasp.

His thumb rubbed in increasingly tighter albeit sloppy circles, and that only caused the pleasant tingle between your legs to grow with a deeper intensity. Rusty then pressed the pad of his thumb harshly against your throbbing nub while he thrusted his hips upward at the same time, watching you as you were coming undone as he watched you intensely.

“Yeah, you’re doin’ a good job there, wonder if I should let you cum now…” He chuckled as he saw your eyes roll back once he jerked his hips upward, hitting that spot in such a delicious manner.

“Please, oh my god, PLEASE-”

“Please what, sweetheart?”

You shivered and bit your lip, wanting to stifle your moan so you could form a singular sentence. “Please, I wanna cum so bad. Please, let me cum…”

Rusty’s grip tightened as his smile widened. “Atta girl, love hearin’ you beg for it.” His hand pulled away from your possibly bruised hip as he reached up, his massive palm now wrapped around your throat as he pounded into you harder, faster, all while still stimulating your clit.

You cried out, your whines and moans drowned out by the blasphemous sounds that came from your slick-soaked pussy. He relished in the sounds you made, you knew he wanted you to be as vocal as you possibly could, even in public when he would make sure you knew who you belonged to. His hands released your throat and moved away from your clit, then slid around to rest on your ass, gripping your cheeks hard as he began to fuck himself into you. He’d give you the release you so desperately craved, and the release he needed to lose himself in being away from you for all that time.

“Rusty, I won’t be able to hold it...” you warned through gritted teeth, your hands resting firmly on his chest as you clawed your nails against his skin.

“Guess I could let you cum on me, then,” Rusty offered through his heaving breath, still smiling up at you.

Several more hard thrusts against your aching cunt and you were going to be ruined in his lap, you cried out while he continued to plow into you, making you take every inch you could of him as your body tensed and finally released that pleasure. You couldn’t even take the time to ride out your orgasm, Rusty was relentless and continued to take you at his unyielding pace, wanting to be able to cum deep inside of you. His thighs tensed with each roll of his hips, his body straining beneath you as your walls clenched around him.

Rusty wrapped his arms around your waist and buried himself to the hilt inside of you, coming hard as spurts of his hot seed coated your insides, his deep honeyed voice released a guttural growl as he gripped you hard. It throbbed as he held you in place, but you were too tired to move much anyway, so you allowed him to use you as he deemed fit as you lay limp in his arms.

You were both straining to catch your breath as you both lay there, your body now collapsed on top of him while his arms released the firm grip on your waist and just draped over you gently. Your head was resting on his shoulder as you attempted to catch your breath, and Rusty just lay there with his hand stroking your hair softly, rewarding you for your good behavior with the softness only you really got to see. He wouldn’t force you off after, he enjoyed the affection you showered him with during moments like these, so he allowed you to remain splayed on top of him.

“That was amazing…” You sighed happily, your eyes closed as you listened to his heart beating. You couldn’t find the heart to pull away from him, even if he’d been gone for a while, you just wanted to enjoy it with him, no matter how brief.

His arms wrapped around you as if to give you a hug that he hadn’t thought of giving you till that very moment, so you moved your head lazily to look up at him, your chin resting against his chest. “You still haven’t given me that kiss yet,” you huffed and pushed out your bottom lip.

Rusty just let out a low chuckle as he always did, but he pushed himself up and slid his hand around your neck, tangling in the sweat-soaked hairs as he pulled you into a heated kiss. When you pulled away, you smiled up at him and felt content with everything in the world now.

“Missed you, too, sugar. Next time you’re feelin’ lonely like that, I suggest you call me up.”

“And how will that help me exactly?”

Rusty just laughed again and slid his hand down to your ass, giving it a firm slap. “Oh, I’ll think of a way.”

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