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captainfern · 8 months

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MARIGOLD PREQUELLLLLLLLLLLLLL 🙌🙌🙌🙌🙌🙌🙌🙌🙌🙌🙌🙌🙌🙌

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Marigold - Prequel

dbf!Captain John Price x fem!reader

[“Marigold” by Nirvana]

[18+]

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• summary - where it all began with you and price, your dad's best friend. oh and the first time you fuck lol. • rating - 18+ • wordcount - 6.9k [hehe] • warnings - fem!reader, dad’sbestfriend!price, age gap [whatever you want it to be as long as it's legal lmao], f!masturbation, m!masturbation, unprotected piv, soft!price/gentle!price, oral [f!&m!receiving], PRAISE, breeding kink?, strong language

thank you all for the support on this little series that's also not really a series lol. lots of luv <3

unedited but enjoy anyway lol

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In all seriousness, you had rats to thank for starting you and Price's relationship.

No, seriously.

Rats.

"Honey, you remember my mate John, don't you?" Your dad asked one evening as the two of you settled in for dinner.

You looked up from your plate of food, fork suspended half-way to your mouth.

"Price?" You queried, before sticking the forkful of food in your mouth and chewing thoughtfully as your dad replied with a nod.

"Yeah, Price," your dad said. "He's going to be staying with us for a few days while his house gets bombed."

You blinked, shocked. "...bombed?"

Your dad laughed. "Not actually bombed. Pest-bombed. Over his last deployment, rats got into his cupboards and ripped the place up, so it'll be a week of exterminators and contractors until his house's back to normal."

You put another forkful of your dinner into your mouth.

Price had been your dad's best mate since, like, forever. They had served together in the military, and remained in contact even when your dad retired when you were young. You remember seeing Price a lot when you were younger, but after your dad's retirement, the time they spent together got less and less.

Embarrassingly, you remember the last time you had a good look at him and you realised that, oh my god, he's hot. Not long ago, a year or so maybe, when he popped around for your dad's birthday in between deployments. He was polite to you, and nice, but you couldn't help but stare.

His muscular back, strong shoulders, forearms lined with veins. He was fresh out of a deployment with dishevelled hair and a scruffy beard and you just couldn't help but feel a little warm.

But it was a crush. Something stupid, anyway.

"Why's he staying here?" You asked. "Why not just stay at a hotel or something?"

"I invited him," your dad told you. "It'd be nice for us to catch up, anyway. And it'll be good for him to relax before he has to head back to work."

You accepted that answer. Your dad deserved to spend some time with his old friend, and it wouldn't make sense to challenge that. So, after dinner and once you'd helped your dad with the dishes, you both worked together to set up the guest room.

A couple of hours later, the doorbell rung.

You were lounging on the couch, some trashy reality show echoing around the living room. Your dad got off the couch and headed out into the hall, opening the front door.

You knew who it was going to be, so you weren't surprised hearing your dads excitable chatter as he greeted his old friend and welcomed him into the house. You listened as, after a few minutes, their footsteps drew into the living room, and you made the effort to pause the show you were watching and cast your eyes across the room.

"Say hi to Price, honey." Your dad smiled, gesturing to the man beside him.

You smiled, offering a small wave. "Hi, Price."

Holy fuck.

It had been about a year since you had seen Captain John Price in person and oh my god. He was still attractive. So much so that butterflies began fluttering around in your stomach, and you felt your body growing hot beneath his gaze.

He was still as fit as ever. Military-style fit, too. Strong shoulders and arms, lean torso, strong legs too. Big hands enclosed around the handles of two black duffel bags. He wore a beanie, and his facial hair was, like you remembered, a bit on the messier-side. You wondered whether he'd shave it, or clean it up tomorrow.

Then, he greeted you with your name. A deep voice, all rich and warm like the cigar smoke and cologne he smelt of. Your name on his tongue made your stomach pinch with some kind of giddy nerves. It sounded nice. He smelt nice, too. He looked nice.

Holy fuck.

Did... did you fancy your dad's best friend?

You physically shook your head to yourself as you looked away and your dad led Price upstairs. A stupid crush, that's all. You stared blankly at the TV, not even resuming your show. You just stared at the paused frame of blurred colours, your mind running away from you.

And you didn't know if you'd be able to catch it.

•º•

The next morning, you and your dad were both up early for work. You ate breakfast at the table, scrolling tiredly through your phone like you usually did until the sleepiness left your system.

Your dad was humming to himself in the kitchen, fixing himself a cup of tea and his second lot of toast (the first lot he had burnt).

The stairs creaked in the early morning silence, and both you and your dad looked up as Price appeared in the doorway of the kitchen in– oh my fucking god– no shirt.

He'd trimmed his facial hair, too. It was neat against his cheeks and above his full lips, and you couldn't help but imagine what it'd feel like–

No. Stop it.

He greeted your dad, then looked momentarily surprised to see you sitting at the table. He bid you good morning, then loitered uneasily in the doorway, eyes flicking to your dad.

"Sorry, d'you want me to put on a shirt?" Price chuckled, and your dad laughed back, shaking his head.

"Nah, mate, you're all right. Half the time I'm walking around here with no shirt on anyway, so she won't mind, will you, honey?" Your dad turned to you, and so did Price.

You tried your best to ignore Price, looking directly at your dad.

"I don't care," you said as casually as you could muster. "At least he's not wearing a fluffy pink dressing gown."

Your dad rolled his eyes, scoffing. "Don't make fun of my pyjamas, kid. I got it from Marks and Spencer for about thirty quid."

You shook your head in amusement, sparing a glance at Price as you turned back to your phone. Maybe you shouldn't have, because those stupid butterflies appeared in your stomach again.

You caught a glimpse of his abs, faint but chiselled lines along his abdomen. The brush of hair across his chest, and the happy-trail leading down into the waistband of his flannel pyjamas. His arms were so big too.

Okay, seriously. Stop it.

•º•

You got home from work late that evening, the house dark and curtains open. You did your usual routine, going around the house and pulling the curtains so you could turn on the lights. You paused outside the guest bedroom though, deciding against going in, and instead moving on.

You showered quickly, then moved downstairs. Sometimes, you'd cook dinner for your dad, and that's what you decided to do tonight.

Half way through cooking, ingredients strewn across the kitchen, the front door opened. You were expecting your dad, but when Price walked into the kitchen, you hoped you didn't look too shocked to see him.

"Oh, hi, Price," you greeted. "How's your day been?"

He smiled softly at you. Politely.

"Not bad," he said, sliding into one of the barstools across the kitchen island. "You?"

You shrugged. "Work's shit, but it is what it is."

His smile continued, and he watched you cook for a moment. You were acutely aware of the way his eyes watched you, watched the movement of your hands, the movement of your body around the kitchen, the concentrated expression on your face.

"You like to cook?" He asked you eventually, melodic voice punctuating the borderline unnerving silence.

"I like cooking for my dad," you said. "I mean, I'm no chef, but my dad seems to like it."

Price cocked his head, taking in the range of ingredients that were spread out across the kitchen counter, as well as ingredients splashing along the marble surface.

"You like making a mess, too, by the looks of it." Price said jokingly, gesturing to the various kinds of sauces and baking agents smeared over the countertop.

The sentence was innocent enough, but it made your heart hammer faster for some reason. Maybe it was the smooth baritone of his voice, or the fact Price said it. Either way, the pace of your heart quickened within your ribcage as you bent down to place your creation in the oven.

You stood up once the food was in the oven, brushing your sticky hands across your apron. Price was still looking at you, and he laughed at the state of your apron.

"So messy." He tutted.

Butterflies. Fucking hell.

"It's a new recipe," you said quickly before your body could betray you and render you speechless. "I'm usually not this messy, I promise."

He just hummed curiously at that.

When your dad got home not long later, dinner was ready. You, him and Price sat down for dinner, and your dad was like a growing teenage boy shovelling the food gratefully into his mouth. You wondered how he wasn't burning the roof of his mouth.

"This is great, honey," your dad said through a mouthful of food and you tried not to laugh. "Thanks."

"That's okay," you smiled ruefully. "I'm glad it's at least edible."

Price chimed in. "It's great, sweetheart. You did well."

Sweetheart.

You did well.

"Oh, thanks..." You muttered. Butterflies again.

•º•

The next couple of days were much the same.

The three of you would wake up at relatively the same time, having breakfast together and talking about the day ahead. Then you'd all head off, you and your dad to work, and Price to... well, who knows. Then, you'd get home at the end of the day and, surprisingly energised, you'd cook for your dad and Price.

Price would get home before your dad, by at least an hour. He'd watch you cook, chatting to you about anything and everything you wanted to talk about. He was attentive when you spoke, or when you yammered on about something that made you excited. He'd listen with a smile, asking you questions about your interest that had you spiralling happily again. You somehow almost burnt your pasta the last time you were telling him about your favourite movie.

Then, your dad would get home and you'd all eat dinner. The conversation was pleasant. But most of the time, you sat silently and listened to Price and your dad talk about the, quote, "good old days". Listening to military stories was also on the agenda. Not that you minded. It was nice seeing your dad happy.

After dinner, you'd do the dishes. Price offered to take over, and you refused. He struck a deal though, your dad helping too, and the three of you made it a military-style regime to wash the dishes and get them away in record speed. You laughed at the goofiness of it all, and how Price ordered your dad around. Your dad would salute and march around the kitchen with a stack of plates in his hands, making you and Price laugh.

But it was nighttime where things differed.

You'd say goodnight to Price and your dad. Sometimes, they were still awake in the living room, or maybe in the kitchen. Other times, they'd retired long before you. Either way, you'd find yourself beneath the covers of your bed, the silence of the night drowning you.

Of the almost four nights Price had stayed, you'd gone to sleep with him on your mind each time. Three of those four nights were all fluffy and cozy and warmth-inducing. Images of him in your head, being so nice to you, being so polite. Such a gentleman. It didn't take long to fall asleep with a content smile on your face.

Tonight was the outlier though.

You'd manage to fend off the nighttime bombardment of butterflies on previous nights. But tonight, they returned with a vengeance. Your stomach was swarming with them at each thought of your dad's best friend. Flipping and swooping with nerves, your body growing hot. But with this warmth came an ache that made you scold yourself.

Stop it.

But you couldn't.

Price's handsome face– glimmering eyes, full lips, neatly trimmed facial hair. His body– the abs, the hair, the muscles. Damn.

You whined softly to yourself, the ache in between your legs intensifying, something pulling tight in the base of your tummy.

You just couldn't help it.

Another quiet whine on your lips, you impatiently shoved your hand beneath your pyjamas. Your middle finger made contact with your clit, puffy and swollen with your arousal, and you sucked in a breath when you began to circle it gently.

The relief was almost immediate, the tight feeling in the base of your stomach drawing tighter. Your body hummed with warmth as you sped up the movement of your circles, pleasure creeping through your veins. You probably didn't even need to fuck yourself. Judging by the way your body was reacting, you were close enough with just the attention to your clit. So, so sensitive.

You sunk your teeth into your bottom lip to keep yourself quiet, small moans and airy whimpers caught in the base of your throat. Your skin was becoming dewy with sweat, your legs beginning to shake as your finger pressed and drew shapes across your little bundle of nerves.

In your mind, flashing images of Price. Everything about him, physically and not. His voice, his words–

"So messy."

"You did well."

"Sweetheart."

A desperate whimper fell past your lips, your back arching, clit pressing tighter against your finger, hand beginning to ache. Your thighs trembled, heart-rate spiking as the coil in your stomach balled the tightest it had been all night, before it snapped.

"Price." You whispered into the darkness of your room as you came. It hit you hard, too. Sparks floating behind your eyelids, your entire body trembling against the mattress as your cunt spasmed around nothing, your clit pulsing in time with the beating of your heart.

You came down from your high with a wave of embarrassment crashing over you, and you broke the surface of it with a gasp and a frustrated sigh. You kicked off your blankets, burning up, sticky with sweat.

"Fuck..." You whimpered, eyes suddenly pricking with tears.

Maybe this wasn't just some stupid crush anymore.

•º•

Price heard you that night.

It was an accident.

He couldn't sleep after hours of pacing his room. So he ducked downstairs, grabbed himself a glass of water, and drank it whilst staring into the darkness. After, he rinsed the glass clean and dried it, putting it back in the cupboard, and then making his way back upstairs.

In his efforts of trying to be quiet, he heard you. Creeping past your room, he paused when he heard the soft creaking of your bed and a soft sigh escape beneath the small gap beneath the door. He cursed himself, initially believing he'd woken you up. But the more he listened, the more his cheeks began to heat up, and his cock began to stir in his pyjama pants.

It was wrong.

But you sounded so fucking pretty. Touching yourself, sighing and whimpering, trying so hard to be quiet. He wondered how you were touching yourself, how fucking wet you were.

His chest tightened in shame. What the hell was he doing? His best friend's daughter of all people?!

But he couldn't move. Not when the mattress shifted, the bed frame creaked, and a few more airy whines flew out of your mouth before you were whimpering his name.

His fucking name.

"Price."

He could've come right then and there.

He held out, gritting his teeth and shuffling silently back down the hall and into his room. He closed the door as quietly as he could and found himself sitting on the edge of the bed, taking his cock out of his pyjamas.

Already painfully hard and sensitive, he fucked it in his fist dry at first. The pre-cum dribbling from his slit made the movements glide after a moment, and he was quick to start moaning under his breath. He'd always been good at remaining silent with these types of things. But with you in his head, your whimpers in his head, he was trying desperately and almost failing to keep quiet.

Price stroked his cock, thinking about you. His best friend's daughter. He felt guilty. Dirty.

But it was no match for the feelings of lust and pleasure. He grit his teeth, trapping a moan between his molars as he circled the tip of his cock, more pre pearling at the slit. He imagined it being your pretty cunt, so wet and tight.

He grunted, tightening his grip, and then had to restrict another warbled groan. His balls tightened, stomach quivering as he came in a sudden hot spurt, coating his fingers and thighs. He jerked himself through it until his tip was flushed an angry red and he was on the verge of overstimulation.

"Christ..." He muttered, looking down at the mess he'd made.

He wanted to make a mess of you.

•º•

You didn't make dinner the next night after work. You were too tired, and you knew your dad would be sympathetic. So instead, you opted to have a nice, long shower. And by long, you meant long. You scrubbed yourself clean of the day's extremities, leaving you to smell really, really good.

It was much later by the time you got out, dressing into your pyjamas. You went downstairs. You'd probably just eat some leftovers, or dig something out of the freezer. Entering the kitchen, you were taken aback to see Price sitting at the kitchen island, arms folded along the marble surface. He looked up as you entered.

"Oh, hey, Price." You greeted, heading for the fridge.

His mouth curled into a small grin. "You can call me John, you know."

"Eh," you opened the fridge, your back to him. "I like Price. John make's you sound old."

"Is that so?" He cocked his head at you, watching you dig through the fridge. "Do I look old?"

You threw him a look over your shoulder. "Not really."

"Not really?" He chuckled.

"Mhm. The beard makes you look older."

He stroked his face while you pulled out some leftover pasta, closing the fridge and placing the container on the counter near the microwave.

"I like it, though." You told him with a smile, and your brain didn't quite register what you said until you were beginning to reheat your pasta.

"You like it?"

Fuck.

Damn it.

"It... suits you, yeah." You said shyly, not making eye contact. Your body was growing warm. It might as well have been you in that microwave by the way your skin was heating.

Silence filled the kitchen until the microwave began to beep. You took out your steaming pasta and dropped it noisily on the countertop.

You could feel his eyes on you, and it made your heart race. But it was racing in a good way. The way he looked at you, the way he made you feel, was something you'd never experienced before.

Slowly, you turned to look at him. He was looking at you, eyes soft and deep and warm and everything you wanted. It was like he was waiting for you to speak– waiting for you to open your mouth and tell him everything you wanted too. It's like he knew.

The butterflies were back.

You chewed nervously on your bottom lip, and Price's eyes followed the movement.

"Not making dinner tonight?" He asked you, voice smooth, eyes still on your mouth.

You shook your head. "No... sorry."

"Don't apologise, sweetheart."

You wanted to scream into a pillow or something. Sweetheart? Did he want you to have a fucking heart attack?

"Are you hungry?" You asked.

His eyes flicked up to yours. "Yeah."

You felt guilty. "Did you want me to cook–?"

"No," he said simply. "No, don't worry about that. I don't need food."

You cocked your head and he watched you do so. Confused, you frowned, sucking your bottom lip back into your mouth. Once again, his eyes darted downwards to catch the movement, his eyes flashing.

"Then what do you want?" You asked him, and deep down you already knew. Somehow, you knew what he wanted.

And you wanted it too.

Price got to his feet, casually rounding the kitchen island until he was standing beside you in the kitchen. You turned, your lower back pressed up against the adjacent countertop as he approached you slowly. You craned your neck to look up at him, your heart hurting from how hard it was beating inside you.

"I want you to be honest with me, okay?" He said softly, his voice comforting. "D'you want me to touch you how you touched yourself last night?"

Your entire body was on fire. Every nerve, every blood vessel was blistering hot. Your shame was the gasoline. But your lust was the fucking spark.

You let out a breath, a whine mingling with it. You averted your eyes, looking away. Immediately, a large hand gently took hold of your chin and guided your head back upwards, lightly guiding eye contact.

"It's okay, sweetheart, I promise," he told you in a whisper, the caring look in his eyes soothing the flames within you. "I want you to tell me. I want you to be honest."

For a moment, your lower lip trembled. A mix of embarrassment and arousal was confusing your brain.

You swallowed thickly. "Yes..."

"Yeah? You want me to touch you like you touched yourself? Make you feel good?" He probed, careful not to raise his voice above a whisper. "You want me to take care of you, sweetheart? It's okay, you can tell me."

You nodded. "Yes please."

The hand Price had on your chin moved to cradle the back of your head as he leaned down, his face hovering just above yours. His eyes scanned your features, his other hand moving to hold your waist.

"Can I kiss you?" Price asked, the words brushing over your own lips.

"Yeah..." You whispered, breathless from your impatience.

He smiled, then kissed you. It was so gentle and warm and everything you'd thought about the night before. It wasn't rushed or rough in anyway. He was taking his time– smoothing his lips against yours, cradling your head, slipping his tongue along the seam of your lips. You opened for him, your tongue meeting his, the kiss deepening.

He pressed you further into the countertop and you arched, chest meshing with his. His tongue was solid against yours, and you whined into his mouth, your hands moving to clasp the back of his head, fingers delving into his soft hair.

The hand on your hip pulled your pelvis flush with his. You groaned when you felt him hardening against your lower stomach, and Price pulled out of the kiss with a light squeeze to the back of your head.

"Feel that, sweetheart?" He said breathlessly, leaning himself heavier against you. "Feel how much I want you."

He took your hand in his, letting go of your head. He guided your hand between your bodies, and you took initiative in pressing your palm flat to the front of his jeans. He groaned, head flopping forward to rest on your shoulder. You palmed the solid imprint of his cock, your core throbbing at the muffled grunts eliciting from his throat.

"Price...?" You whispered, and he groaned again.

"Fuck... yeah?"

"I want you."

He groaned for the third time, low and breathy, before he pulled away from you. He grasped your hand, before dragging you out of the kitchen and towards the stairs. You giggled, giddy with excitement, as he led you upstairs.

"Your room or mine?" Price asked, bending down to kiss you again.

You pulled away, and he proceeded to kiss a wet trail down the bare expanse of your neck. "Mine..." You said, backing towards your room and urging him inside.

He closed the door behind you as you flopped onto your bed. You grinned when he followed you, crawling over top of your body and slotting himself against you, kissing you again. He licked into your mouth as you tugged and pulled at his hair.

A minute later, Price was crawling back down your body until he rested between your legs. He took hold of your pyjama pants and pulled them down, discarding them, while you threw your t-shirt off. You unclipped your bra and tossed it across the room when Price hooked his fingers beneath the waistband of your underwear.

He looked up at you. "Is this okay?"

"This is perfect, Price."

He took a deep breath as he pulled your underwear down your legs, so slowly you thought about kicking him. But you didn't. His eyes were transfixed on your core, his mouth agape.

"Christ," he muttered, flinging your underwear away. He ran two fingers slowly up your slit, collecting your arousal, before drawing them into his mouth. He moaned around his fingers. "S'fucking perfect."

You whined as he tucked himself between your legs, his breath fanning over your glistening core.

"Watch me, sweetheart." He told you as he languidly licked a stripe up your slit, before latching his lips around your clit.

Your eyes rolled, but his words forced you to maintain eye contact. You watched his lower face disappear between your legs, his eyes hooded and locked onto yours as he ate you out.

He circled your clit with his tongue, his top teeth brushing lightly against the nerves. Your body jolted, a moan falling out of your mouth, before his tongue was laving over you once more. He then dragged his tongue in a zig-zag motion downwards until he circled your cunt. You whimpered loudly when he pushed his tongue inside you.

He grunted with each movement of his tongue, eyelids threatening to close each time more of your arousal trickled into the back of his throat. Your thighs were warm around his head, squishy against his ears. He couldn't help but grab a fistful of the flesh in his hands, kneading contently as he fucked his tongue into you.

You were on cloud-nine. His tongue was warm and solid inside you, your stomach fluttering with a build-up of pleasure. You reached a hand down, the other balled in your sheets, and grasped his hair, still maintaining eye contact. You moaned, the sound making Price groan into your cunt.

"P-Price, sir, m'gonna come." You told him desperately as your impending climax began warming your body, thighs growing tighter around his head.

The word sir made Price moan into your cunt and redouble his efforts, fucking his tongue into you at a renewed pace that made you sob out his name in pleasure. Your thighs shook against his head, your cunt fluttering around his tongue, arousal dribbling down the sides of his chin.

He was throbbing in his trousers, your noises and taste building his own arousal. His cock twitched painfully in the confines of his boxers and when you came, he almost came with you. Almost.

You came with a whiny "Price", pushing his head further into you. He licked you through it, dragging his tongue out of you once your hole stopped spasming, suctioning your swollen clit back into his mouth. You whimpered curses, pulling at his hair. He conceded, and detached his mouth.

"Feel good, sweetheart?" Price asked, kissing up your body as he crawled back over top of you.

You hummed your agreement, still fizzling down from your high.

After kissing along your breasts, Price slotted his mouth back to yours. You moaned when you tasted yourself on him, his face sticky against yours.

When he pulled back, his pupils were blown. "Tell me what you want, pretty girl."

"Want you." You whimpered, and he kissed you again.

He then stripped himself, discarding his clothes on your floor. When he removed his boxers, you tossed your head back and groaned. His hard cock bobbed up against his abdomen. A slight curve, a prominent vein along the underside, leading to a ruddy tip already leaking pre. You took hold of it, feeling the soft, velvety ridges against your palm.

Price hissed. "Sweetheart–"

"Can I use my mouth?" You asked, slowly starting to stroke his cock.

He groaned, head dropping back as if the words you said struck him across the face. He seemed to contemplate it for a moment, really thinking hard, as his eyes dropped down to yours.

"You don't have t–"

"I want too," you smiled, before you were pushing him off of you and slipping off the bed.

He watched you patiently, situating himself on the edge of the bed and planting his feet on the floor. He parted his legs, allowing you to settle between them. You took hold of his cock again, and his hips twitched, a sound like a whimper being whispered from the depths of his throat.

Price looked down at you, stroking your hair as you worked your hand up and down his length. His eyelids drooped when your fingers neared his tip, and when you worked them around the underside, he whispered your name in a pleasured sigh.

He continued stroking your head and face. "Are you sure you want to do this, sweetheart? You don't h–"

You shut him up by leaning forward and licking a stripe up his cock. He choked on his sentence, hand resting gently on the crown of your head as you licked him from base to tip. You kept one hand around the base of him, pumping as you worked your tongue up the vein on the underside of his cock.

He hummed a moan, something vibrating deep in his chest, primal almost, as he watched you. His eyelids had dropped, his pupils stretched wide, hips twitching each time your tongue skimmed the base of his tip. He was fucking leaking, now, and you wasted no time in cleaning him up.

Retaining eye contact, you wrapped your mouth around the tip and he moaned. A pretty, desperate sound that made your wet core flutter around nothing. You sunk deeper and deeper, taking more of him, until your mouth was stretched wide, your lips pressing against the side of your hand where you squeezed him. Price moaned again, head of his cock nudging the back of your throat. You gagged, pulling up slightly, and he let out a deep grunt.

"Easy, sweetheart, s'alright..." Price dragged out, hand warm on the top of your head.

Saliva dripped from the corners of your mouth in strings, smearing down his length as you brought your head up. You circled your tongue around his head again, swiping against the slit and making his hips buck. You withheld a smile and took him deeper again. You repeated this action a few times, until Price had left that tentative, almost nervous view behind him.

Now, he had a firm but guiding hold on the back of your head, groaning and panting as you sucked his cock. He urged you gently to take more of him, and you eventually removed your hand so more of him slid down your throat. You gagged, and he groaned and pulled back slightly, before repeating the action again anyway.

A hand to your head, he pulled your head all the way back until your lips wrapped around his tip. You looked him in the eyes, tears along your waterline, before he was pushing you back down.

"Yeah, that's my girl," He groaned as you took him all the way to the base. "Fuck, that's my girl. My good girl, baby, fuck."

You whimpered around his cock, the praise making your stomach flip and your cunt ache. Your arousal was physically dripping down the curve of your thighs, and you shivered.

Suddenly, his hips began twitching and his mouth dropped open, a breathless moan filtering out. He grabbed hold of the back of your neck and slowly pulled you away from his cock.

"I need you, sweetheart, come on." Price whispered when you whined, your mouth detaching from his cock with a wet pop.

You wiped the saliva away from your mouth with the back of your hand. "But–"

Price urged you to your feet, pushing you back onto the bed and flattening you against the mattress with his frame. You smiled at his desperation, feeling his wet cock against your inner thigh as he spread your legs with a squeeze to the backs of your knees.

He leaned down and kissed you. "I– fuck– I need to be inside you, sweetheart. Let me inside you. Please."

You'd never thought he'd be the type to beg. Holy shit.

You giggled nervously, kissing him again. Price groaned into your mouth, one large hand coming to hold the side of your face, caressing it gently. He then grabbed his cock near the base and guided it to your dripping cunt. He ran the tip up and down your folds a few times, making you mewl into his mouth, before tapping the head against your slick hole.

He broke the kiss, panting. "Oh fuck, I don't have a con–"

"Birth control," you said quickly, body writhing beneath his. "Please, just–"

His brows pinched together in light concern. "Okay, okay, but you need to stop me if I you–."

You were begging now. Desperate for him. "I'm okay, Price. Please, sir, just please–"

With a low grunt, Price pushed in slowly, the tip of his cock stretching you open. You moaned loudly, nails dragging down his muscled back as he slid more and more inside you, inch by inch. He groaned, caging your head between his arms, his eyes locked on your face, searching for any sign of hesitance. But he only found pleasure as your mouth dropped open and your eyelids flitted.

You were so tight around him, warm and wet. He closed his eyes for just a second. He was focussing on not coming straight away.

You mewled loudly when the tip of his cock nudged your cervix, his hips flush with yours. Your nails scraped down his back, and he grunted, dipping down to kiss you. The kiss was sloppy and messy, all tongue and no direction. He didn't move his hips, and the feeling of him inside you, warm and heavy, made you break the kiss with a moan.

"Price, oh my god." You breathed against his lips, hole clenching around his girth.

He groaned. "I know, sweetheart, I know."

You whimpered when his hips shifted, pelvis grinding against you. He paused, moving his head back to look at you.

"You okay?"

You nodded, humming your approval. "Mhm– yes, m'good, Price. Mmm feels so good– please don't stop, please–"

Gently, he pulled out until his tip was just barely inside you, his length and the hair at the base glistened with your arousal. Then, he was thrusting back into you, making you moan his name again.

"Fuck, that's it, good girl, sweetheart," he murmured, sucking a kiss to your jaw. "There you go, just take it... taking it so well, sweetheart."

You moaned, arching your back. The sounds of his thrusts were wet and loud in the silence of your room, accompanied by the slapping of skin and your mewls of pleasure.

"Feels like you were just made for me," Price whispered, cock bullying the plug of your womb, making your eyes roll. "Mhm... this pretty cunt was just made for my cock."

"Sir..." You dragged out through a moan, hands flailing to keep you grounded, dragging up and down the plains of his back. You wanted to say something else. It began slipping out of your mouth, "Cap–" before you stopped yourself.

Price groaned, slamming into you harder. "Yeah that's right, pretty girl. Call me captain, baby. S'your captain making you feel so good, yeah? S'your captain filling this tight cunt."

You moaned loudly. You hoped your neighbours weren't home. Your nails dug into his back as tight pleasure built up in the base of your abdomen. Your thighs were quivering, your entire body being consumed by him.

Price, Price, Price.

He slammed into you again and again, drawing more sounds from you. His body was warm over yours, solid and comforting and you almost wanted to sob. You felt so good. He was making you feel so good. Your dad's best friend. Fuck.

You couldn't help but whimper at that thought, your clit pulsing, sitting shiny and puffy. And it's like Price knew– he always seemed to know what you wanted. Still fucking you steadily, he reached downwards, dragging his hand down your body. The rough pad of his middle finger found your swollen clit, and you keened, sobbing out a moan as he applied pressure.

"S'that feel good, sweetheart?" He asked in a whisper, pressing tight circles as his hips worked his cock into you. "Is this what you needed? Wanted me to play with this pretty clit, is that it?"

Your eyes rolled, his words turning your brain to mush. "Y-yeah," you stuttered, tummy drawing up tighter, legs quivering faster against the mattress. "F-feels... g..."

You sentence was lost as his cock hit that spot inside you over and over again, making your blood pump hot and the base of your belly flood with a burning kind of pleasure that had tears falling from your eyes.

Price kissed your tears away as you moaned, arching your back, your tits pressing up against his chest.

"Captain, please–" you choked on a pleasured sob. "M'gonna–"

"S'alright, sweetheart, come for me," Price said softly, kissing a tear from your cheek. "Good girl. Come for me."

He shifted his head and kissed you deeply when you came. Your tongues pressing together as you trembled against him, cunt squeezing his cock. Your release made your body burn up, and you felt it drip hot and wet out of you, dribbling around the sides of his cock. You moaned his name into his mouth, and he swallowed it whole, continuing to rut into you.

"Good girl, good girl..." Price muttered, sucking your bottom lip into his mouth.

He moved his hand away from your clit, back up to the side of your head.

He released your lip when he groaned. "Fuck, m'not gonna last, sweetheart."

Dazed, you pressed your mouth to his again. It was sloppy and wet, uncoordinated through your post-orgasmic haze. He grunted against your tongue, thrusts losing rhythm as he neared his peak.

"Come for me, sir, please." You whispered into his mouth, and that sent him over the edge.

He groaned your name into your mouth, coming deep inside you. The warmth that filled you made you keen, and Price kept thrusting, panting with his lips brushing yours.

"Fuck, baby, fuck..." He whined, finally stilling inside you, plugging you full of him.

After a long moment of basking in each other's heat, he pulled out. You mewled as he sat on his ankles, watching his cum leak out of your dripping core. He gathered the mix on two fingers, shoving it back inside you with a satisfied grunt.

"So messy..."

•º•

Price cleaned you, applying a warm, damp cloth between your legs. He dressed you, too. While you were still laying down, he pulled your clothes back onto you– minus your bra, which you didn't want back on as that would've involved you actually sitting up– then he tucked you beneath the covers.

He placed a kiss to your forehead, before he ducked into the bathroom and cleaned himself up. When he returned to you, he put his clothes back on, and then leaned over to kiss you on the forehead again.

"You still hungry?" He asked, cupping your cheek and rubbing his thumb along your cheekbone.

You shook your head. "No... m'gonna sleep for a bit."

He smiled, kissing you briefly on the lips before leaving your room, closing the door behind him. He made his way downstairs and into the kitchen, your pasta sitting cold on the countertop. He tossed it back into the microwave and heated it up again. When he pulled it out, steam curling upwards, the front door opened.

Price felt a pang of guilt in the depths of his stomach, just briefly, before his mind was flooded with images of you, and he was desperately trying not to get hard again.

Your dad walked into the kitchen, dumping his work gear near the dining table.

"Hey, mate," your dad said with a smile. "Good day?"

Price couldn't help but smile, disguising it by stabbing a fork into the past and bringing it towards his mouth. "Yeah, mate, really good. You?"

Your dad continued on about his day, telling Price animatedly about his activities at work. Once he'd concluded his story, he looked around pointedly. "Where's our chef?"

Price laughed. "No chef today, mate. She's in bed."

"Oh, strange. Rough day at work, probably," your dad said. "She's a good girl, you know. I'm really proud of her."

Price smiled. He couldn't help but agree.

•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•

was this ok? idek lol

#captainfern #captainfernsalutes #call of duty #captain john price #call of duty mw2 #fem reader #captain price #captain price smut #captain john price x you #captain price x reader #cod smut #cod price #price smut #price call of duty #cod mwii #captain'snirvana

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thelukesalvez · 6 months

Text

Luke Alvez x Reader: Concussed

Request: do you think you could do some type of situation with luke where he has to clean a cut on your forehead or something? like that cute awkward moment 😭 (i hope this makes sense)

Word count: 2.9k

Warnings: blood mention

A/N: Plsssss I miss him sm, enjoy!!

Every single day, you fought actual, literal bad guys for a living. The worst of the worst– the kind local police needed help handling. You drew your weapon more than you could keep track of and chased unsubs down the street at least once a month.

And yet, it was the bird feeder that did you in.

To be fair– you figured technically, it was the ladder that you were standing on in a feeble attempt to hang the bird feeder that was the real culprit. But as you sat in the grass with a bruised ass and ego, you figured the details weren’t really that important.

Once the initial shock from the whole ordeal wore off, you slowly started to stand up– emphasis on the slowly. Because it became inherently clear as soon as you tried to move that you’d been hit in the head harder than you initially thought.

“Fuck,” you hissed as soon as your fingers grazed the sensitive spot on your forehead. When you pulled your hand away, you were horrified to see the thick, crimson liquid coating your fingers. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” you winced, bracing your hands on your knees while you stood the rest of the way up.

“You try to do something nice… like feed the fucking birds, and look what happens,” you muttered to the universe. “You fall on your ass and get concussed by a goddamn bird feeder.”

A concussion would definitely help explain the absurd amount of talking you were doing to absolutely nobody.

With what little dignity you had left (which was practically zero) you picked up the smashed bird feeder from the ground and trudged across the lawn towards the open garage door. After setting it down near the overflowing trash bin, you dragged your feet the rest of the way inside.

You made it about two feet before you heard a knock coming from the front door.

Frowning, you wondered who the hell would be knocking at your door at 11 o’clock on a Sunday morning. Your curiosity made you forget all about your almost-certain concussion, as you slid across the kitchen towards where the knocking continued. Because you weren’t a total idiot (bird feeder to the forehead aside) you peaked through the curtains cautiously, hoping to catch a glimpse of your visitor. Everything inside of you loosened the moment you laid eyes on Luke– the newest member of your team and your neighbor only four houses down (which you’d learned from a brief conversation with him only days ago).

He was dressed in a plain, gray T-shirt and a pair of athletic shorts, his muscular calves on full display. You watched for only a moment longer, trying to control the butterflies suddenly flying rampant through your stomach. Luke had only been a part of the team for a couple weeks, but you were already learning that he had this sort of effect on you. Something about his smile– or the way he laughed, or the way he told the funniest jokes, and always knew what to say when someone was having a tough day– or the way he so obviously cared about the people you helped and was always so empathetic… Come to think about it, you adored just about everything about Luke.

Before he could catch you gawking over him through the window like an absolute lunatic, you snapped the blinds closed and made your way to the front door. As soon as you swung it open, you were faced with arguably the most handsome man you’d ever met.

“Luke, hi!” you greeted happily.

But his face went from excited to horrified to angry in the blink of an eye.

“Y/N, what the hell?

His beautiful, warm eyes went dark as they swept over the length of you. And that was the moment you remembered what you currently looked like–

With all the excitement of seeing Luke, you had totally forgotten that you’d fallen off a ladder and mauled by a bird feeder only moments ago.

His shock quickly turned to anger as he took a step forward, so that he was standing right in front of you. “Who did this?” he asked, his tone solid and protective. His hand hovered near your jaw but didn’t quite touch you.

“What?” you shook your head, and winced as soon as you did. “No–”

“Y/N, who did this to you?”

“No one–” you said quickly. “I mean– I did. Not on purpose–” you clarified. “I fell.”

“You fell?” he asked in disbelief, his tone softening just the slightest bit.

You nodded. “I was trying to hang the bird feeder, but the ladder slipped on the leaves on the lawn. It was stupid–”

“Jesus,” Luke winced as his fingers ghosted along the edge of your jaw. You couldn’t help the sudden, sharp inhale through your lips the second that you felt his touch graze your skin. “I could’ve helped you with that, you know. Why didn’t you ask–”

“Because I didn’t think bird suet would be the death of me today,” you admitted feebly. You hoped the dirt and blood from your fall was at least hiding the blush creeping up your neck and cheeks.

A soft chuckle escaped Luke’s lips, but the look of concern remained.

“That’s a pretty nasty cut,” he said. “Let me help you clean it up.”

“Oh that’s okay,” you waved him away. “You don’t have to do that–”

“Did you even notice that you had blood all over your collar?” he asked, nodding slightly.

You look down quickly and groan as soon as you see that your beige pullover was stained in a dark shade of crimson.

“I think you’re probably a little concussed,” he added. “At least let me make sure you’re not dealing with anything worse. I used to help the medic sometimes in the field. Plus– I brought homemade muffins.”

Your eyes widened at the sight of the plastic container being raised in Luke’s other hand. “You brought baked goods?”

“Muffins– yes.”

A wave of emotions washed over you. You didn’t have the best dating history– there was the guy who kept you a secret from his entire family (wife that you had no idea about included), then there was the guy who would cancel all your dates to spend time playing video games with his friends. And how could you forget about the guy who would conveniently “forget” his wallet every time you went out.

And now here you were– standing in front of a man you’d known for only a couple of weeks and he was bringing you homemade muffins.

“I–” you stammered. “I don’t– I can’t–”

“Woah,” Luke said, taking another step forward. “Maybe you should sit down. I think you’re more concussed than we thought.”

You shook your head. “I’m not concussed. Or… I probably am. But I mean, I’m just shocked–” you admitted. “No one’s ever done something like this before.”

“You said pumpkin muffins reminded you of home– and then you said later that day that you were feeling homesick. So–” his voice trailed off. You thought you might have detected a hint of embarrassment in his tone.

Your eyes widened even more.

“This is making me sound way creepier than I am–” Luke stammered. “I just… I was baking anyway, and I had a can of pumpkin just lying around... I didn’t go out of my way or anything in a weird way…”

“That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me,” you said, meaning it. “Seriously, Luke. Thank you. I don’t… I don’t know how to repay you.”

“How about letting me help clean that cut up?” he asked, throwing you a cheeky grin.

The corner of your mouth curled into a smile. “Fine,” you agreed, finally stepping back to let him inside. After closing the door, you turned to find him setting the plastic container down on the counter.

“Where’s your first aid kit?” he asked.

“Uh, under the sink in the bathroom,” you said, still convinced you hadn’t processed any of this yet.

“And the bathroom is…” his voice trailed off.

“Oh–” Luke looked so damn natural standing in your kitchen, you forgot he’d never actually been here before. “Down the hall, last door on the left.”

“Got it. Be right back.” With that, Luke was taking his uncharacteristically long strides down your hall before disappearing in the bathroom.

For the first time since answering the door, you raised your hand and touched your temple. Wet liquid still coated your forehead, despite how much time had passed since the accident. Maybe it was a good thing you were agreeing to let Luke help.

He was back in an instant, holding a damp washcloth and the small first aid kit you’d ordered online months ago, but hoping to never use.

“In here,” he nodded towards the kitchen. “The lighting’s better.”

You nodded, realizing he really didn’t have to explain. You and your concussed brain would follow him just about anywhere. Your eyes really widened when he patted the counter, indicating that he wanted you to sit on it.

You didn’t even question his logic though. Instead, you swiftly slipped onto the lip of the granite counter and waited aimlessly while Luke fished around your first aid kit for what he needed. You were level with him now, your gaze trailing down the length of his thick, muscular body. You studied the lines and curves of his skin better. You noticed every crease– every laugh line, every freckle. God, was he always this beautiful?

Out of nowhere a smirk spread across his lips. “You’re staring.”

Blinking harshly, you tilted your head towards the ceiling, the bright light hitting your eyes and making you wince. “Fuck,” you grunted, dropping your head and squeezing your eyes shut.

“Shit, you okay?” he asked carefully, dropping the kit to cup your cheek carefully. You felt the pressure on your neck ease as you allowed yourself to lean into his touch.

Carefully you opened your eyes and nodded. “Yeah– just the light.”

“You’re definitely concussed,” he stated, eyes traveling from yours to the cut on your forehead. “Did you hurt anything else besides your forehead?”

“Is the gash not enough?” you asked dryly, missing the feeling of his touch the moment he moved his hand.

Luke chuckled. “Oh, the gash is plenty. Just checking, though. Here–” you felt his touch against your face again. This time, his fingers grazed along your chin, tipping it slightly. “Can you lift just a bit for me?”

You nodded and moved your head in the direction he gestured. “'Atta girl,” he said, your stomach churning at his praise. You felt him press the washcloth to your temple gently, swiping up dried blood. As he neared the actual wound, you found yourself tensing up. But when you gripped the sleeve of his T-shirt, Luke didn’t even mention it. Instead he traced his thumb up and down your jaw soothingly and whispered reassurances. “I’m sorry, I know, I know–”

“It’s okay,” you said through gritted teeth. “It’s my own stupid fault. Too bad you didn’t show up just a few minutes earlier, you might have actually gotten to see the show.”

“So remind me again how this happened– you fell off a ladder?”

“Well, sort of,” you explained. “I was trying to hang my bird feeder– on the tall branch. But the ladder slipped on the leaves, which I’ve been meaning to rake for weeks now… and when I fell the bird feeder sort of fell too… on my head.”

You dared to steal a glance towards Luke. The second you did, you noticed him biting back a smile.

“You can laugh,” you said defeatedly. “It’s completely ridiculous. A little stupid, too.”

“It’s not stupid,” he said, composing himself.

“We took down a six foot unsub last week,” you reminded him. “Yet the bird feeder is what does me in.”

“Well… when you put it that way,” Luke smirked.

“If anyone at work asks, you have to lie for me,” you pleaded. “Tell them it was something heroic.”

“I’ll tell them you saved a baby bird from a tree. Instead of letting it fall to its death, you broke the fall with your forehead.”

“That makes me sound so noble,” you laughed.

“Get ready,” Luke warned as he dabbed some alcohol on a gauze pad.

“Shit,” you muttered, trying to brace yourself, not even thinking as you moved to grip his bicep.

“Squeeze as hard as you need,” he said softly. “Ready?”

You weren’t. But you nodded anyway.

The stinging sensation ripped through you, causing an onslaught of swear words to escape your lips. You gripped Luke’s arm desperately, your fingers digging into his skin. If you weren’t completely consumed by pain, you would’ve noticed how strong his muscles felt beneath your touch.

“Almost done,” he murmured, dabbing a few more spots before finally setting down the gauze. “There. Breathe.”

You nodded, your eyes still snapped shut as you attempted to inhale and exhale.

“Good job,” he soothed. When you opened your eyes, your breath hitched when you noticed how close Luke’s face was to yours.

His jaw tensed, shadows dancing across his face, and you immediately wished you could lean forward and just kiss that look of concern right off from his lips. Your eyes lingered on them for a beat too long– because you heard Luke clear his throat and tilt his head back.

Embarrassed, you looked down at your hands folded in your lap.

“Last step,” he said quietly, pulling a large bandaid and some antibiotic cream from the first aid kit.

You nodded, shaking yourself out of the desire before holding your head up to give him better access to your cut. Carefully, Luke placed the cream and bandage over your cut. “There,” he murmured softly.

His hand shifted on its own accord, fingers moving to brush loose strands of hair that had fallen into your face, before traveling down the length of your jaw, chin and neck.

God, he really was beautiful.

Luke smirked. “Thanks.”

“What?” you whispered.

“I think you’re beautiful, too.”

Oh, shit. Had you really said that out loud? And was that the concussion speaking or just this intense, surreal intoxication you felt for Luke?

Involuntarily, you sucked in a breath, and then you did something you knew you wouldn’t have been brave enough to do unless you really were concussed– you leaned forward and pressed your mouth against Luke’s without a second thought. It was a soft brush at first, testing to see if he wanted to pull away. When he didn't, you slid forward on the counter and wound your arms around his neck.

Luke’s other hand, the one that wasn’t cupping your face like he was afraid you’d break, landed on your hip. His fingers dug into your side as he pulled you closer to him. Your body fit against his like it was made for kissing him.

Your hands found their way to the nape of his neck, where you twisted your fingers amongst his curls. He moaned in approval, and you smiled into the kiss– into him, and it was nearly devastating when he pulled away and didn't smile back.

And then Luke was sinking his teeth into his bottom lip and taking a step back. “You’re concussed,” he said. “I’m sorry, this can’t happen– you’re… not in the right state of mind.”

Embarrassed, you slid off from the counter and wiped your mouth with your sleeve. “I’m sorry–” you stammered. “I didn’t realize you didn’t want to–”

Before you could slip past Luke– to run or hide or whatever the hell you could think to do– he shook his head and gently placed his hand on your hip, guiding you until your back collided with the counter. “I want to,” he said clearly, lowering his forehead so that it was pressed against yours. “God knows I’ve wanted to since the day I met you.”

It took a minute for his words to find meaning in your own brain. But as soon as they did, you looked up at him hopefully, your eyes widening. “Really?”

“Fuck, yes,” he rasped, his thumb wiping a tear you hadn’t even realized was falling. “Are you kidding me? I don’t just bring pumpkin muffins to anyone… That was my attempt at making a move.”

“Instead I got clocked with a bird feeder before throwing myself at you,” you groaned. You leaned forward and rested the non-injured side of your head against Luke’s chest.

“If I didn’t think you had a pretty severe concussion, I would more than welcome you throwing yourself at me,” Luke assured you.

You scoffed. “The concussion may have given me the courage to throw myself at you, but I’ve been wanting to do it way longer.”

You felt his chuckle vibrate beneath you. “I’ll tell you what…” he began, his hand sprawling out against your back. “You still want me after you’re not concussed, and you won’t have to throw yourself at me ever again.”

A shiver ran down your spine– your body thrilled with the idea. “Deal.”

“In the meantime, how about I hangout here? Make sure no more bird feeders fall on your head.”

You smiled against his chest, unable to contain the feelings he elicited inside of you. “I’d like that,” you admitted.

#luke alvez #criminal minds #luke alvez imagine #luke alvez x reader #luke alvez fic #luke alvez x reader imagine #criminal minds imagine #luke alvez x reader fic #luke alvez x reader fanfic #criminal minds x reader

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lonelystarrs · 1 year

Text

The Pudding

Barou Shouei x FemReader (Ft Isagi Yoichi)

Barou was acting like you’d been winding him up to brat tame, however you’d been on your best behaviour since Isagi came to crash with you guys for awhile, who knew he’d be such a homewrecker and not even release it was his fault. That pudding Barou was obsessed with do be good though!

Warnings: 18+ MDNI • DomBarou • smut • Barou being Barou. • dirty talk -filth • this do be spicy get your face fans out• 5 years after Blue Lock • Isagi temporary house mate causing arguments • crack • established relationship • the ending tho 💀 isagi you homewrecker.

Frantic, aggressive and a borderline bully -Barou Shouei was showing all these traits when he’d stomped his way over to you, red eyes glowing as his figured shadow drew closer.

Normally you’d do something to warrant this kind of a reaction from him, brat taming you was something he enjoyed and something you found amusing to draw out in him.

Today however? You hadn’t done anything, in fact since Isagi came to crash a couple of days ago with you both for a few weeks you’d been pretty good. Barou only allowed it because Isagi was easy to live with, he knew this from his days in blue lock, collecting laundry and at least trying to aid his level of OCD with cleaning. He was respectful and he, unknowingly to you or anyone else owed Isagi a favour.

Why? That secret would die with Barou -and with Isagi if he kept his word on not telling anyone. Barou had actually asked him to try find out your ring sizes, which he had successfully done -fuck knows how he pulled it off and fuck knows how Barou bit his pride to ask. He wanted someone outside to get the job done, he himself or his sisters would be way too obvious. Apparently he took you shopping with Bachira who you had a soft spot for, the guys eccentric personality made it easy to fall for, he made you try on a load of stacking rings and Isagi remembered the one for your ring finger, clever little shit Barou had to give him that.

“W-wait Barou, s-slow down-“

You tried to tighten your thighs together in an attempt to block him but he’d only pushed his weight by his hips further into you causing you to spread them.

Normally Barou would prep you, much needed considering how thick and long this guy was, he was built like a god head to toe and taking him was always a stretch.

You were actually a little worried at how fired up he was, but equally excited by his sudden attitude shift, he was fine this morning but he was borderline feral at the moment.

Barou snorted a laugh, red eyes looking up to you as he held himself over you. Hands planted by your sides as you gripped onto his forearms to brace yourself, his huge biceps bulging as he held his own weight above you. His shoulders looked fucking huge, pure muscle hovering over you as sweat dripped from his body from his wound up he was getting not even cooling down after he finished a work out. His cock rested hard on your stomach, leaking at the tip.

“Huh? Where’s that cocky attitude gone, girl?”

Eyes returning down he watch himself as he lifted his hips, flexing his thick, heavy cock to hit his stomach watching the pre cum link between him, before dropping it down to press the thick tip to your entrance. You clenched around nothing as he pressed against you, easing the head in.

His deep voice making bumps rise on your skin, there was nothing unmanly about this guy, he oozes testosterone and gruffness, but that voice? God it got you every time, especially when he was threatening you.

“I’ll warn you now-“ he glanced up at you, his gaze harsh as he kept eye contact “-I’d find something to hold onto if I were you. You’re getting devoured, teach you to stop pissing me off.”

You swallowed and he was drinking in how vulnerable you looked under him, eyes glazed and doe like, it sent his ego soaring. The growl that left his chest was feral, eyes flashing as he tried to control himself from pushing himself in with one thrust.

Barou was mean, but not a complete sadist.

You moved a hand to press against the headboard behind you, the other remaining on his forearm.

He felt the tight ring of your cunt protest as he pushed the head in, you were so tight he couldn’t pull the head back as it gripped onto him and it was game over for you when he felt it sucking his cock in.

He pushed through to the hilt, bullying this thick cock through your velvety walls as they gripped him, milking any precum he had crawling up his dick.

“Fucking hell s’fucking warm, how you stay this tight huh? This cock not fucked you enough times?” he breathed out, not once dropping that gruffness his voice carried. He pressed his forehead against yours looking down at his cock buried in you. Barou was big, he had the length and the thickness but this man knew how to roll his cock into you.

“B-Barou s’too much please just -“

“Tch, thought you knew what you were in for? Acting cocky and now whinin’ cause you can’t take me? Suck it up princess, wanna help yourself? Reach down and play with your clit as I fuck you, it’s the only mercy you’re getting.”

You whimpered under him, your hips twitching to try angle yourself better as your pussy clenched around him.

Despite years of being together he was still a stretch to take especially when he’d been away for a few weeks for soccer and you’d not had him. This time, it was because he’d remained rather tame while Isagi was crashing at your place whilst he moved into his new one.

You had no idea why Barou was so pissed off, he only got like this when you’d been teasing him or winding him up until he entered his brat taming mode.

This time though -you hadn’t.

You pussy was soaking, drooling to your ass and over his cock and balls, he tilted his hips so the hilt of his dick rubbed your clit and you threw your head back with an unholy moan.

He withdrew slowly, a deep groan leaving him as he watched his thick dick slide from you covered in slick.

“You’re a mess, acting like you can’t handle it but she’s drooling for me-“ he thrust sharply, hitting that spot in you that made your breath hitch, your mouth fell open as you looked down in slight worry, your hand on his forearm quickly pressed against his six pack.

“Found it already huh? Tch, too easy thought you’d put up more of a fight.”

He rolled his hips beautifully into you, setting a pace that was borderline cruel -hard but not quiet fast enough to build your orgasm as quick as you’d want it.

Barou watched your tits bounce with each thrust into your pussy, hugging him begging it to fill you with his cum, but he wasn’t done yet.

Your vision blurred as he shifted you, only to focus again as he looked down on you folded beneath him. He had hooked both arms under your knees to push you upwards under him, folding you in half as his hands grip the head board behind you to stabilise himself.

Your eyes widened at what he was about to do, tears gathering in your eyes as he moulded you into his own version of a mating press. Mounting you like some animal as he stared down at his prey.

“You’re fucked now, woman.”

His first thrust hit so deep you almost seen stars, head kissing your cervix as he pushed to the hilt whilst rotating his hips in circles.

“Your safe word, you got it?” You nodded dumbly and he pressed a kiss to your leg, a fleeting moment of showing his softness before his annoyance for whatever triggered this took him over again.

Your hand moved to press a finger to your clit and Barou’s eyes followed to watch you rub circles into it, matching his pace to each round.

He was impossibly deep even he could feel resistance to how deeply he’d managed to bury himself into you -actual pride swelling in his chest at you being such a champ and taking him like this. Your clit was hard and burning under the pad of your finger as you eased towards cumming for him. Each squelch of his cock bullying into you, each slap of his skin as his balls hit your ass every moan that left your throat as you begged and spurred him.

Slurring words of adoration for him as he drank everything you gave him, his ego soaring with his heart as he started to rut into you violently. Knuckles turning white as his gripped the head board, sweat dripping from him onto you under him as he pushed himself physically.

“Fuck,” a frustrated growl left him, “-fuck you’re too fucking good.” His words through grunts as he kept up a feral pace. “-you’re fucking made for me.”

“Y-yes!”

“Yeah? You made for this king? Made to take this dick?”

“M-made for you- Ngh-Barou I’m gonna- hah- please I’m cumming, Barou- y-yes there, please-“

“Yeah? Keep fucking begging n slurring all dumb like that, makes me wanna devour you.”

He felt you start to roll your hips under him, your spare hand blinded reaching for his on the head board, finding it you gripped it, fingers laying over his. The finger on your clit started stuttering, picking up a fast messy pace.

“Cummin’ f’you- Bar-King, fuckfuckfuck!”

He smugly watched you lose it under him, body tightening and your toes curling, feeling your pussy clamp around him made him buckle slightly, edging him towards his own release. He didn’t ease you down, instead Barou shifted another gear as his pace turned fast and hard.

“S’Kings gonna fill that pretty cunt up-“

He flipped his hand, twisting it to lace his fingers through yours and planting beside your head, letting one of your legs lower. Barou pressed his lips to your leg still held up by his other, placing wet kisses between bites, panting through his nose as he groan into your skin holding between his teeth.

His thrusts turned sloppy but kept their hardness fucking into you like an alpha fucking his mate through a rut.

“Take it all -fuuuuuck!”

He hunched over you pressing his hips to yours as he spilled into you, cock flexing inside you as he moaned into your leg, red eyes half hooded and glazed. His hips twitched against you as you clenched around him, stomach muscles flexing in little spasms as he came hard emptying into you.

The room was filled with both your panting, coming down from your highs and Barou released you, sitting back onto his folded legs spread. You whimpered as his cock pulled from you now half hard as he softened. Your legs bent up and still spread, shaking as you felt the tremors start to inch up your body. Hands shaking you sat up onto your elbows, Barou was still breathing heavy, red eyes fixed on your swollen pussy starting to leak out his cum and he groaned again. It was the only kind of mess he deemed somewhat acceptable. Running a hand through his hair you could see him shaking lightly, a smug smirk made it’s way to your face.

“The fuck is with that smug smile? Knock it off,”

“You’re shaking.”

“I fucking wouldn’t be if you hadn’t ate the last pudding!”

“What?” You deadpanned at him, “-I didn’t.”

“Don’t bullshit me, I didn’t eat it and it was there this morning.”

“-wait, Barou did you just fuck me like that cause you thought I ate your last pudding?!”

“Hardly the first time, you act like a brat to get fucked like one. Got what you wanted now go out and replace it!”

“I can’t fucking walk! You literally just beat my pussy up!”

“Yeah? I’ll do it again until you stop stealing my shit!”

“I didn’t eat it Barou!”

Meanwhile Isagi sat in the spare room listening to you both from across the hall. -completely forgotten about that he was currently residing with you guys and was actually in the building.

An impressively raging hard on at the inspirational rough sex he’d just heard whilst looking down at his hands, one with a spoon and the other holding an empty container for pudding. He’d been eating it whilst you guys fucked like animals in your bedroom. Like popcorn at a cinema.

Man, Barou really liked his damn pudding, Isagi didn’t think he’d heard him that angry since he called the king a donkey back in Blue Lock 5 years ago.

He shrugged and cleaned the spoon off, ah well Barou didn’t know it was actually him who’d stolen the last pudding, ‘sides it was worth it listening to that.

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 29 days

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AITA for making a YouTuber feel uncomfortable?

Here me out please, before you all make assumptions.

A couple months ago, I(19F) began following a YouTuber that I quickly began to love. I won’t be saying the YouTuber’s name for the sake of protecting their privacy, obviously. I started to watch their videos(which were mainly about a story that she came up with, featuring her ocs) and enjoyed them all, enjoyed the ocs, too. This YouTuber is a relatively unpopular one, but not so unpopular that they’re obscure or completely unheard of, they’re just not one of the big names in the YouTuber community. I made a few amazing friends due to us being in the same fandom and both enjoying this YouTuber’s content. One day, I decided to write a fanfic for this person’s story featuring her ocs. I uploaded the fic to AO3 and made sure to credit the YouTuber with creating these amazing ocs. I then showed it to my few friends, who all loved the fanfic. However, one day I made the mistake of showing the fic to a mutual friend(now an ex-friend but that’s a topic for another discussion) that me and the YT both share, and she sent the fanfic to the YT without my permission. Now before y’all get up in arms, I didn’t mind at all that she had sent it to the YT, in fact, I actually wanted the YT to see. However I really wish that she had asked me first, because I would have been more than happy to show it to them! Unfortunately, a few days after I sent it to her, my other friend(let’s call her M) showed me an announcement the YT made on her Discord, in which she complained about people writing fanfictions of her ocs and “using” them in her stories without her permission. She also stated that she felt like she was losing control of her story when other people wrote fanfics of it, and that whoever wrote the fanfiction “didn’t understand boundaries”(even though she didn’t have this boundary before and also wrote in the announcement that she used to be okay with fanfics of her work, but now no longer is). I deleted the fanfic the moment I saw the post from my friend, but I was a bit disappointed since I never meant to make her feel uncomfortable and only wanted to show my love and appreciation for her story, and possibly get more people to check out her story as well. Still, I deleted the fanfic from AO3.

Now, here’s where things get interesting. A while later, I joined the YouTuber’s Discord server, where I met many people that I got along quite well with and quickly befriended. I often engaged in conversations with them about the story, and often drew fanart of my favorite character and posted it to the art channel in the server(she’s okay with fanart of her ocs, just not fanfics). Now is probably a good time to mention that while I was in the Discord server(and even before that) I often talked about the story with my friend on Tumblr(not M, these are two separate friends) who did not have Discord but loved the story just as much as I did. We often talked about the story and how much we enjoyed it, and often came up with jokes and headcanons, basic stuff like that, that any fan would do. Anyway, back to the Discord, one of the rules of the server was not to be disrespectful or rude or malicious towards other people, and another was that if you received two warnings about your behavior in the server then you would be quickly banned from the server and no longer allowed to come back. I understood this and tried to conduct myself to the best of my ability. However, one day, I found myself mysteriously unable to access the server, and when I tried to rejoin, I was again unable to. I found out that the reason I couldn’t access the server was because I had been banned due to “disrespectful behavior”, “engaging in arguments”, and making the YouTuber(who ran the server) uncomfortable. I was confused, because I genuinely don’t remember ever engaging in rude behavior with anyone. The few instances(according to them) in which I had been allegedly rude or disrespectful to people were both genuine misunderstandings, and both times I had apologized for them and did not repeat the behavior. I also did not receive any form of warning before being banned, despite one of the rules being that you will receive two warnings before being banned from the server. Still, I apologized for my alleged hostility and asked if I could come back, however the YouTuber said no, and went on to add that not only was I rude to people in the server(which, again, were both genuine misunderstandings), but that she had seen my Tumblr conversations with my friends in which I talked about her story, and said that she was “wildly uncomfortable” with how “obsessive” I was with it as well as my favorite character in the story. This bewildered me to no end because the YouTuber did not have Tumblr and had never once ever mentioned being on or having access to Tumblr, so I did not expect her to see my posts(and even if she did, I did not expect to get banned for them as they do not violate the rules of the server). It made me wonder why she didn’t just talk to me and explain to me that she was uncomfortable with me posting about her work instead of just banning me altogether and not giving me a chance to defend myself. I ended up sadly and reluctantly deleting all of my posts relating to her story, and requesting my friend to do the same. I told M about this scenario, and she was enraged on my behalf, saying that the YouTuber probably was actually upset about my having written a fanfic for her ocs, and said that she didn’t understand me being called obsessive because I acted like a normal fan would(which I agree with). Some of my other friends have sided with me as well and told me that the YouTuber was acting petty, however some of my friends have taken a middle ground. None of them entirely condemned me, but that may just be because they are biased and don’t want to hurt my feelings. The mutual friend/now ex-friend(of course) merely told me to “self-reflect” and move on from the story. Regardless, the YouTuber now has me blocked, not just on Discord, but on Instagram as well, where I also reside.

Reasons why I think I might be the asshole: I will admit that I have a tendency to really hyperfixate on things and get especially attached to fictional characters that I adore and resonate with, so I can see why that would make them uncomfortable. That being said…

Reasons why I think I might not be the asshole: I genuinely wasn’t trying to make this wonderful YouTuber feel uncomfortable or be “obsessive” with the story. I merely wanted to show my appreciation for it in a way that I thought was normal for online fans, which included writing a fanfic, drawing fanart, and geeking out about the story with my friends(admittedly publicly). I had no idea that these actions would turn the YouTuber off, and merely wanted to show how much I enjoyed the story. I also was never rude to anyone in the server and apologized whenever a misunderstanding rose up. I never tried to be aggressive with anyone or cursed anybody out or tried to have arguments with people, so I have no idea where that came from.

So, what say ye, oh wise people of Tumblr? Am I the asshole or not?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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midnightechoes · 6 months

Text

Five years ago today, She-Ra and the Princesses of Power premiered on Netflix. I had seen a few preview articles about it, and liked what I saw. Those articles mostly focused on She-Ra’s, Adora’s, Glimmer’s, Bow’s, and Catra’s redesigns, and I thought they were fabulous. I loved Adora’s new red jacket and bouffant hair style. Glimmer’s entire redesign was inspired, and I loved that they made Bow black so we could have more diversity in the main cast.

It was She-Ra’s and Catra’s redesigns that caught my eyes the most, though. They made Catra an actual catgirl, and not just in the anime sense where she's just a cute girl with cat ears and maybe a cat tail. She was a full-on furry. It was a brilliant design choice. Honestly it’s no wonder that so many were instantly drawn to her.

And of course, She-Ra herself. I loved her new look, and her huge ass new Sword of Protection. In fact, I loved it so much that I drew this picture of her before the show even came out:

Then the show came out, and needless to say, I fell in love. And honestly, it changed my life.

I know, I know. That sounds very hyperbolic, and to an extent it is, but in a lot of ways, I’m absolutely serious.

Alright, I have to back up a little. Back when I was in college, and for a few years after, a couple of friends and I tried to make a webcomic called The Devil’s Gate. It was minorly successful but eventually floundered. Then I met some people and we tried to make a video game, which also failed. After those few years, I found myself on my own and trying to rework the concept of my webcomic. Making comics, creating stories, those have always been my dream, and I was desperately trying to figure out a story I could make work, something that I believed in. But it never truly got off the ground. By the end of 2015 I had given up on the comic, realizing that after working on it for years in different forms that I needed to step away from it.

I didn’t really know what to do after that. I was still doing my quick daily doodles, but I wasn’t writing, I wasn’t drawing anything of note. I felt emotionally and physically drained of my creativity. I was honestly getting to the point where I thought it might be time for me to give up on trying to be creative or making things all together.

She-Ra and the Princesses of Power came out on November 13, 2018, but despite looking forward to it, I didn’t actually watch it when it came out. It wasn’t until that weekend that I decided to check it out.

I was instantly hooked. I binged through the entire season in two days, and did plenty of crying and cheering. And then rewatched it immediately. I was in love. I was obsessed. It had been a long time since anything grabbed me like SPOP did. I loved the characters. I loved the colorful, sci-fi-fairy tale world of Etheria. I loved how unapologetically feminine it was. And most of all, I loved how queer it was.

I hadn’t done a ton of shipping before SPOP. I’ve been down bad for harlivy for what feels like my whole life, and I was angry when Mika and HG didn’t get together in Warehouse 13, but more often than not I had just been conditioned not to look for queer things in mainstream culture, and even barely in subculture.

That is to say, when I was smashed in the face with Catradora I was surprised how much I glommed onto it immediately. I was absolutely taken with Adora and Catra and their relationship. Both characters were so relatable, and despite not quite being text (although the subtext was so loud and obvious it might as well have been text), it was impossible to not read their feelings for each other as romantic.

It wasn’t just Catradora, even if that was a lot of it. Spinnerella and Netossa being canon from the start was wonderful. How much Glimmer and Bow screamed “BISEXUAL DISASTERS” from the start was adorable. Scorpia’s crush on Catra was as cute as it was sad in its one-sidedness.

I had never really been in a fandom. That is, yeah I’ve liked things, loved things even, but I never found other people to talk about it at length, never found discords just for that thing, never read or wrote fanfic, barely ever drew fanart.

But, I watched SPOP, and then I watched it again. And then I drew Catra. And then I drew Adora. And then I drew them again. And suddenly I was on AO3, a site I never frequented, reading Catradora fics. And then I had an AO3 account. That December I participated in Catradora Week 2018 (I’d never heard of this kind of thing) and drew two pictures for it and wrote my first fanfic.

By the end of February I had drawn more in the three months since the show had premiered than I had in the previous year. I was working furiously on a long, multi-chapter fanfic, and writing more words than I had in the previous couple of years combined.

I was inspired again.

In the 18 months that SPOP ran for, I drew more than I had in years, I wrote hundreds of thousands of words. I felt so rejuvenated and happy about my creativity and free for the first time in years.

It’s hard to put into words exactly how it felt. I was so close to giving up my art and writing, which honestly, would have been giving up a part of myself. An important part of myself. It’s not overstating that SPOP saved me, or at least my creative spirit.

I also learned about the wonders of being in a fandom and fandom things like fan weeks, big bangs, zines. And I made some wonderful friends that I cherish to this day.

Even as I inevitably moved onto other hyperfixations, my love for She-Ra hasn’t diminished. Plushie Catra and Adora sit next to me on my desk every day. Catradora art still hangs on my wall.

The inspiration that SPOP ignited in me hasn’t died either. It’s carried me through a tremendous level of creativity that I’ve been riding since the premiere. It let me create a ton of fan art for SPOP, and then RWBY and then the Witch From Mercury, and I’ve written a ton of fanfics for RWBY and Supergirl. And perhaps the best, that inspiration has helped me create more OC stuff in the last couple years than I had in a long time.

I owe She-Ra and The Princesses of Power so much. I am so happy that it exists and that it happened when it did. I’ll always cherish it.

And for real, Netflix, SPOP spin-off movies WHEN?!

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smartycvnt · 4 months

Text

Inked

Title: Inked

Pairing: Dominik Mysterio x Reader

Summary: Dom surprises Ash with a tattoo.

Word Count: 708

Warnings: none

"Alright man, you are all done." Dom slowly stood as his tattoo artist moved away from him. Dom looked proudly at the new piece he had picked out to represent his feelings for Ash. She loved his tattoos, and just a few weeks earlier had jokingly drawn that design on him with a sharpie. All Dom had done was have his artist make a different version of that to actually tattoo on his skin.

"Thank you man. I can't even begin to tell you how much this means. Ash is going to love it," Dom said. He gave the man a quick hug as he went up to finish the payment. It would be a little while before Ash would be able to see it, but Dom was certain that she would absolutely love it.

The few days that Dom was away with The Judgement Day doing shows was like hell for him. He just wanted to go home and show Ash his new tattoo. Especially once the other guys started to rip on him for being such a sap. They couldn't believe that Dom still acted like such a softie after going his rounds with Rhea.

Dom didn't mind their teasing. He loved Ash, and Ash loved him. If there was one thing that Dom knew for sure, it was that he was going to marry Ash one day. That was the woman that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with, so he had to treat her right.

There was just enough time between Dom getting his tattoo and seeing Ash again for him to wonder if she would think it was stupid. He was nervous as he walked up to their house. They had only just moved in with each other a few months ago. They were still just dating, and Dom didn't even know if Ash felt as strongly for him as he did for her. That wouldn't matter though because Dom wasn't sure that it was possible for anybody to love someone else as much as he loved Ash.

"Honey, I'm home!" Dom called out as he pushed his way through the front door with his suitcase. Ash was sitting on the couch playing a video game, but she immediately paused it and set the controller down to go over to him. Dom dropped his bags at his feet to wrap his arms around Ash for a hug. Ash pressed a couple of kisses to the side of his jaw before backing away just enough to give him a kiss on the lips.

"I've got something to show you," Ash told him. Dom's interest was definitely piqued, but not quite enough for him to forget about his own surprise for Ash. "It seems a little extreme, but I was going stir crazy and was planning on getting something done anyway."

"Oh?" Dom placed his hand on the bottom of his shorts, fiddling with the hem. "I have a surprise for you too."

"Well, you can go first," Ash said. She leaned against the back of the couch and watched Dom slowly lift up the bottom of his shorts to reveal a tattoo on his thigh. Ash looked at it for a moment before she broke out into a huge smile. "Is that the one I drew on you?"

"Yeah, it is," Dom confirmed sheepishly. Ash jumped up into his arms and pressed several kisses to his face. "I take it that you like it?"

"I love it. It's so much better than the one I got for you," Ash said. She pulled her sweatpants down just enough to reveal a skull wearing a purple bandana over the lower part of its face with a 'D' carved into its forehead.

"That's for me? That's awesome," Dom said. He dropped down to his knees to get a better look at the new tattoo. Ash let her hand fall onto the top of his head, running her fingers through his hair as he took in every little detail of her tattoo that he could. "I love it. I love you."

"I love you too." Ash smiled down at Dom, and in that moment, knew she would never love another person like she loved him.

#my writing #one shot #dominik mysterio x reader #dominik mysterio #dom mysterio x reader #dom mysterio #wwe x reader #wwe

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imtrashraccoon · 6 months

Text

Hello everyone!

Next Day

A month ago I saw a post by @scrambledmeggys (I hope you don't mind me tagging you!) for a month's worth of prompts for Self Shipping with UF! Papyrus. I originally wanted to try my hand at art but I am much better at writing imo, so here is what I've come up with so far!

I missed Day 1 so now I'm uploading that and Day 2 at the same time. I'm planning on continuing to write a continuous storyline with these prompts but I am pretty much making things up as I go lol.

Edit: I actually drew something for this chapter here if you want to check it out!

Day 1: First Meeting

You walked carefully through the snow, cringing slightly from the loud crunching sound it made, interrupting the otherwise quiet winter morning.

You were in a tough spot to say the least.

The fall had been an accident. One moment, your little friend was innocently kicking stones down the sink hole, and the next, they'd slipped and fell in. Of course, you'd tried your hardest to catch them but then you lost your balance and plunged in after them.

Against all odds, you'd both survived the fall. While your friend had thankfully only sustained a few small cuts, especially because you managed to shield them from the impact, you on the other hand had hit your head pretty hard. The bleeding had stopped by now but you still felt weak and rather lightheaded.

Still, you had to keep going. You had to find a way to get Frisk back to the surface. They were still a child, barely six, and had their whole life ahead of them afterall.

Speaking of, Frisk lightly tapped your shoulder and you paused so they could tell you what was on their mind. Shifting them from your back around your body until you were facing them, you flashed them a small smile.

"What happened?" you asked quietly.

Frisk's face reflexively screwed up. "You died again..." they signed slowly.

Your smile fell. "I'm sorry..." you murmured and let out a sigh.

You didn't understand how or why, but ever since falling down here, Frisk had seemingly developed an amazing power that allowed them to reset time to previous safe points. They didn't really know how to explain it but they claimed it was sort of like reloading a video game.

You didn't know how many times you'd apparently died so far, as Frisk hadn't been keeping track. You were instead focusing on doing your best to keep moving forward. Still, you were pretty concerned for them.

While you didn't remember any of your deaths up to this point, you knew Frisk did and while neither of you was discussing it, you knew this was something that would need to be dealt with. Once you got back to the surface, you would need to get therapy and figure out how to do the same for Frisk. They would definitely benefit from it at least.

Frisk patted your shoulder and you realized you'd zoned out. "It's alright, I'm getting used to it." They smiled but you knew it was a forced one.

"I promise I will keep you safe. No matter what happens, we will get through this together," you said.

Frisk nodded and their expression took on a more determined look.

You took a deep breath. "Let's do this again then," you muttered and started to shift Frisk back into a piggyback hold.

"Watch out for the skeleton up ahead," Frisk signed before wrapping their arms around your shoulders again.

You raised an eyebrow. Was that who'd killed you? Frisk hadn't elaborated further but you didn't blame them. You'd died a couple times to the traps in the Ruins and many times during your escape from Toriel. Many of those had apparently been pretty grisly if how shaken Frisk had been afterwards was any indication.

< ~ - . - ~ >

Someone was stalking you. While you were trying not to think about it, you were getting pretty anxious. Frisk hadn't said anything else so you just focused on continuing forwards.

Until you came to a narrow bridge with wooden bars across it that is. While you could still get through the gap between the bars with little effort, before you could do so, you heard footsteps approaching from behind you.

Frisk tightened their hold on your shoulders and you quickly turned around to put yourself between them and this new person.

It was a skeleton but not quite like what human skeletons looked like. He was only slightly taller than you were, but his bones seemed thicker and sturdier which gave him quite a bit of added bulk.

He was wearing a gray hoodie with a fur fringe, a red turtle neck sweater underneath, a pair of basketball shorts, and a pair of high tops. His smile was filled with sharp teeth, one of which was gold, and there was a pair of crimson pinpricks in his otherwise empty eye sockets that regarded you suspiciously.

"well, well, what have we here?" he drawled as his eyelights flickered over your body.

You narrowed your eyes in response, feeling a wave of disgust at the way he was eyeing you up. "My eyes are up here, thank you very much," you muttered through grit teeth.

The skeleton chuckled, "ah, my bad." He held out his right hand and added, "name's sans, sans the skeleton. and you are?"

Before you could actually shake his hand though, Frisk squeezed your shoulder. You assumed they were warning you not to, so you didn't.

"Rihanna," you said in response.

Sans raised a bonebrow when you left him hanging but seemed ultimately unbothered, which was a relief. "i'd say it's nice to meet ya, but that'd be a lie," he said and flashed a slightly menacing grin at you.

If you weren't holding Frisk, you would've crossed your arms, so instead you just gave him an unamused look.

Sans chuckled and started to walk around you, "ya know, i'm supposed to be on the look out for humans right now, but i don't really care about capturin' anyone."

You remained facing him as he walked until you'd essentially swapped places. You held Frisk a bit closer as well, just in case you'd have to run.

"now my brother, Papyrus, well, he's a human huntin' fanatic," Sans continued. He glanced through the wooden fence and added, "go on through, he made the bars too wide to stop anyone anyways." He turned and strode casually across the bridge as if to demonstrate.

You glanced at Frisk over your shoulder and they nodded. Well, at least he didn't seem like he wanted to immediately kill you like most monsters you'd met so far. So you followed him, although you maintained a safe distance just to be on the safe side.

Sans paused near a wooden booth up ahead and looked further down the path. As you walked over to him, he made a quiet "huh" sound. "ya know what, i think that's my brother comin' this way now..." There was a slightly amused tinge to the tone of his voice as he spoke which sent a wave of irritation through you.

You glanced over where he was looking and immediately spotted a tall skeleton wearing black armour with red accents approaching. Even from this distance, you could tell he was pissed and it sent a shiver down your spine.

Frisk squirmed in your grip to be let down and while you didn't want to let go of them, you relented and let go. They thankfully stayed behind you and clutched onto one of your pant legs.

You knelt down next to them and ruffled their fluffy hair a little. Flashing them a small smile, you whispered, "We doing this?"

Frisk got a familiar determined look and nodded. "I'll help you! I think we can talk him down if you say the right things."

You chuckled and stood up again, ready to face this new opponent. You could get through this, in fact, you would get through this...for Frisk's sake.

Papyrus certainly looked familiar and part of you wondered if he was actually the one who'd killed you last time. It would make sense, as he definitely looked more dangerous than Sans.

He was at least a foot taller than you were and looked quite a bit different from his brother. He still had sturdy bones but his frame was a lot more angular compared to Sans' more bulky look. He had sharp teeth as well, although his eyelights were a slightly different shade, maybe a scarlet? His left eye socket also had two long scars across it, presumably from a fight.

Besides his black chestplate, Papyrus also wore long red gloves, a red scarf that was more of a cape, and tall red boots with heels surprisingly. If you weren't battling to remain calm, you probably would've complimented his bold fashion sense. You didn't know of anyone else who could look so menacing and...hot at the same time.

"Sans! You Lazybones! You Have Not Reset Your Traps Yet Today! What If A Human Comes..." He paused mid rant when he took in your appearance.

Sans bristled and the corners of his smile fell slightly. He seemed like he was about to retort in kind but stopped himself.

Papyrus narrowed his eye sockets at you as if he was scrutinizing your appearance. He slowly strode forward, stopping a few feet away from you. "Why Does It Feel Like I Have Met You Before, Human?" he asked in a chillingly quiet tone.

You stared up at him unblinkingly and crossed your arms. "I could ask the same actually..." you answered.

Papyrus glanced at Sans, who merely shrugged. "don't ask me, bro," he hissed.

Frisk tugged at your pant leg to get your attention. When you glanced down, they quickly signed what was on their mind. "Flirt with him."

You had to bite your tongue to keep yourself from retorting and drawing too much attention. Why would they suggest such a thing? Where had this child even picked up the concept of flirting? If this worked, you were going to have a serious discussion with them at some point.

"So, Papyrus," you started to say, catching his attention once again. "Do you have more bones than the average human or would you like to find out?" You mentally kicked yourself for that one but tried to maintain face and batted your eyelashes at him.

Papyrus stared at you for a solid five seconds before the meaning of your question seemed to set it. A dusting of scarlet flickered across his cheekbones and he stepped back from you, covering his mouth as he did so.

You smiled and stepped slightly closer to him. Feeling slightly bolder, you called upon everything you had learned from sucking up to college professors and your boss.

"If I may be so bold, I think you also look very cool. Like seriously, humans dress so boring in comparison." You made a bit of a show of looking him up and down, nodding approvingly. "I'm actually jealous of how cool you are."

Papyrus opened his mouth to respond but quickly closed it. The scarlet blush wasn't disappearing no matter how hard he probably wished it would. He stammered and stepped back again.

"You... Your Flattery Will Not Save You, Human." He scoffed and turned on his heal. As he stormed off, you heard him mutter something along the lines of, "Not Being Able To Talk Your Way Out Of My Traps."

You couldn't believe that had worked. You scooped Frisk into your arms and hugged them tightly. "You have some explaining to do later, kiddo..." you muttered but Frisk only grinned at you, clearly proud of themselves.

"wow, i can't tell if you're insane or just lucky. either way, i'll be keepin' an eye socket on ya, human..." Sans said quietly.

You chuckled and flashed him a triumphant grin, which caused him to huff and walk away in the direction you had come from. You'd survived just a little bit longer it seemed.

#selfshipufpap #undertale #underfell #reader #named oc #underfell papyrus x reader #underfell papyrus #thwbd #the hand we've been dealt #alternate universe #raccoons drabbles

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ohtobeleah · 1 year

Note

I need to know how Fe, Rooster and Dot’s Christmas was? What did he get them?

First update after Christmas. Oof—let’s get back into the swing of things shall we? As always, here’s the Series Masterlist for those looking to catch up.

Warnings Below: Smut! Mention of domestic violence.

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

“Are you sure you don't want me to stay with you guys?” Jake asked one final time as you helped him carry his bags out to the taxi that was idling in the drive. “Because I can always call and say I've been asked to stay on base.” Jake was going home for the holidays, back to Texas where a large quantity of the Seresin family resided. He only really had one option, there was no way his mother was going to let him bail out of Christmas again this year–not after he’d been deployed for the last two.

“No, you go spend time with your family–” You really didn't want to be a burden on Jake anymore than you already felt like you'd become. Passing him the bags one by one as he hoisted them into the boot of the taxi. “Me and Dot will be just fine here.” Jake had invited you and your little girl to the Seresin family Christmas and it was a warm invitation you almost accepted. But being back in Texas meant running the risk of Jaidyn finding out where you had run off to. He wasn't a dumb man and if you set foot back on Texan soil he’d surely sniff you out–besides, you didn't really want the Seresin knowing you were hiding out in Miramar. They were a family who had only ever known money–and for a dollar they would out anyones dirty laundry. All except Jake and his sister Lydia. “Besides, Roosters gonna swing by and stay the night of Christmas Eve and then we’re gonna head off to Penny and Mavs place for lunch on Christmas day.”

“You two are starting to get pretty serious aren't you?” It had been a couple of weeks since Rooster had first stayed the night and a few weeks since you’d started to let your walls come down a little. Letting in the chestnut blonde who looked at you like you hung all the stars in the night sky just for him. “Not that i'm complaining, He’s a good guy–just gotta get used to seeing Bradshaw walking around the house in his boxer briefs is all.” It had been one time, Bradley had woken up in the middle of the night, skulking down stairs for a glass of water–he’d run into Jake who was doing the same thing. Only Jake was wearing pants and Braldley had decided that the few extra seconds it would have taken to put his sweats back on would have sent him into the early dehydration process. You chuckled as Jake drew you in for a hug, his arms wrapping around your waist as he issued the top of your head. “Keys are in the key bowl and I filled up the tank.”

“I should probably start looking at getting my own car huh?” You mumbled into Jake's chest before pulling away. The two of you normally carpooled to work and it hadn’t been an issue sharing. But perhaps it was time. “Still waiting to hear about staff housing, but I could look at getting a private somewhere a little more in town.”

“Let's table this for when I get back, yeah?” Jake was in absolutely no hurry to actually get you out of his house. He joked and he taunted and he teased that his humble abode had been taken over, but he would never toss you out. He’d never make you leave if you weren't ready to. You came to him for help, for protection. He was willing to play that role for the rest of his life. “Just don't burn the house down while I'm gone! And dont let Rooster in my fucking room.” He pointed into your chest before ducking into the passenger's side of the taxi. “You call me, if anything happens?”

“Roger that.” You tapped him off and stepped away, watching as you hugged yourself as Jake disappeared out of sight down the road. Leaving you somewhat alone since you first showed up on his doorstep unannounced all those months ago. It felt odd, silent. But soon enough as you stepped back into the house you shared with Jake the beaming sound of your daughter's favourite show Bluey could be heard ringing out from the living room where you left her.

“Looks like it's just you and me girly.” You sighed as you started picking up toys she’d discarded the minute her attention was drawn to the television. Crayons and pieces of paper that were scattered across the coffee table caught your attention as you noticed the unmistakable drawing of your daughter's version of a plane. “This Rooster baby?” You asked softly as you showed your daughter the drawing you were referring to. Her soft nod told you everything you needed to know. “He’s pretty cool huh?”

“He likes you mamma.” Dot smiled but her eyes never left the TV.

“Oh yeah?” Placing your hands on your hips you smirked back at your mini me. “And who told you that little miss?” Dot was still learning how to pronounce certain letters and sounds. Her R’s were still a little wonky. But you knew who she was talking about when her attention was finally drawn to you.

“Tooster did.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~

Bradley Bradshaw was for once, excited about Christmas. For the longest time he hadnt had a child around him to create the magic of Christmas for. He’d never been one big on it, coming from a small family that just seemed to get smaller and smaller every year that passed him by. It felt nice to know that this year would be different.

“How’ve things been without Jake here?” It had only been two days, but there was certainly a void that had ripped through the usually loud home. Without Hangman around? Things had actually been pretty quiet. He was always blaming the noise on dot and her abundance of obnoxiously loud toys. But as it turns out? He was the source of it all.

“Surprisingly okay, but we’ve been camping in the living room with all the Christmas lights on.” You explained as Bradley placed a few gifts he’d gotten for you and Dot under the tree. “Just couldn't bring myself to sleep upstairs.” Rooster just frowned at you as he stood–he wasn't blind to the bags under your eyes that looked a little darker than the ones you normally wore as a hard working single parent. “I know, super irrational.”

“You could have called me.” If Bradley had known you were having trouble, he would have come. Point blank, end of discussion. “But I get it, and it's not irrational.” It was nice to have your feelings validated. “But unfortunately we can't camp tonight, otherwise Santa won't be able to deliver all your presents. Will he Odette?” Bradley was quick to turn his attention to your daughter who'd come barrelling into the living room with her bowl of cut up apply. Scooping her up with ease as she giggled and laughed at being spun around.

“Mamma said we have to leave a cawwot out for the waindear and a glass of miwk for santa.”

“Ah, I'm pretty sure Santa drinks oat milk–he’s got a small intolerance to dairy.” You couldn't help but to stare at Bradley as he placed your daughter down. She’d gone right back to her original trajectory of the small chair by the coffee table–colouring in one of her many colouring books. “What?” He laughed as you pushed his shoulder softly, shaking your head.

“You wanna write me a list of Santa’s allergies Bradshaw?” Taunting Bradley as he followed you around the corner into the hall. You didn't want to subject your daughter to public displays of affection that might confuse her. So behind the wall that separated the living room from the hall that led up to the stairs, You pulled Rooster into you. Kissing him as his hands immediately went to your hips, pressing you against the wall as he deepened the kiss almost instantly.

“Feel like I'm back in highschool, sneaking around trying not to get caught kissing girls under the bleachers.” Bradley mumbled as one hand came up to cup your cheek, the pad of his thumb rubbed softly against your skin. “Only it's a curious toddler who will have my ass and not Mrs Rundle.”

“I don't wanna confuse her.” You whispered as your hand came down between the pair of you, palming Rooster through his jeans as he stilled and let out a breathy groan. “But after she's asleep, and Santa has helped me put out all her presents.” You cooed into Bradleys ear as you felt him growing under your touch. “I wouldn't mind being a little naughty under the tree.”

“You don't know what you do to me Y/n.” Braldys head was spinning as you continued to palm him through his jeans. “Christ I really am back in highschool, you keep doing that and I’m gonna cream my pants.” Before you could answer with some witty remark, Dot wall calling out for you.

“Back to motherhood I go–”

“I'm gonna go take a cold shower.” Rooster smirked as he left you with one final kiss, taking his bags upstairs as he adjusted himself with every step he took. “You’re killing me mamma!” Rooster cried out from the top of the staircase. You just laughed in response as you turned on your heels biting your lower lip.

***~***~***~***~***~***~

Christmas Eve at the hard deck was always a hard one to pick. Penny Benjamin never really knew what to expect when the time came every year. Last year, it had been packed to the rafters, but that had been because most of the crew that occupied Mirimar on a more permanent basis had stuck around. This yeah? Mostly everyone had gone back home to see their families. Besides you and Rooster? Everyone had left a few days ago. Leaving the Bar abandoned except for some stragglers and a handful of families that had drifted in for a cheap pub feed.

“What can I get you?” Penny sent the man sitting at her bar a quick toothy smile. He smiled back when he’d been acknowledged and shifted in his seat. Pulling his wallet out from his back pocket.

“A rum and coke thanks dear.”

“Anything specific?” Penny pressed as she turned to read out the rums she had on offer. “I've got Jim Beam, Jack Daniels, Gentlmens, Morgans, Kraken–” She listed them out one by one as she flung the bar towel over her shoulder.

“Gentlemns sounds good, Thankyou.”

“What's brought you into town?” Penny was good at making lighthearted conversation as she poured the man's drink. She’d been doing it for long enough to know how to go through the motions without getting too emotionally invested in whatever answers were thrown her way.

“Uh, I just transferred here from Kingsville–Texas.” Penny widened her eyes as she passed the man his drink, taking his card in return to run it through the eftpos machine. “Don't officially start till the third but I had nothing better to do.”

“So you're in the Navy?” Passing the card back, Penny leaned on the bar. “Hate to disappoint but most of the crew have gone home for the Holidays, they’d usually be here till dawn otherwise.”

“Yes ma’am, Lietantent Jaidyn ‘Zeus’ Dolan at your service.” Jaiydn sent a thousand-watt smile Penny’s way as he took a sip of his drink. “And that's alright, in due time I guess.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~

“Did you ever believe in Santa?” It was a beautiful sight. Rooster on his knees neatly tucking the presents you'd wrapped together under the Christmas Tree.

“I think for a while there I did.” You sighed as you crossed your legs and sat back against the back of the lounge. Matching pyjamas matching Bradley’s and Dots as she slept soundly upstairs. “But after a while I think I started to question why Santa didn’t stop at our place.” Bradley kept placing present after present under the tree, unlike yourself when you were a kid, you wanted your daughter to remember Christmas as a time for family and friends and the gift of giving and receiving. You just remembered it as a time where all the other kids in the neighbourhood got whatever it was that was on their Christmas wish list—you? You were lucky if your parents hadnt loaded themselves enough to overdose on the back porch. “I remember accidentally ruining Santa for Jake one year because he’d told me he got this new transformer he’d been begging for and I told him his mum had brought it six months prior.”

“You Christmas Grinch, you ruined Christmas for little Seresin? No wonder he’s a dick now.” Bradley chuckled as he came out from under the tree. “You’ve really spoiled her haven’t you?” Looking at the sight, it warmed your heart. You had and you weren’t ashamed of it. You were in a position to do so.

“Yep, and I’m gonna make sure I always can.” It was the glow about you that had Rooster melting into a puddle at your feet as you spoke about your daughter. “I may be projecting but I’m always gonna make sure she has everything she needs, wants, desires.” Rooster smiled, creeping closer till he was sitting beside you.

“Has anyone told you recently that you’re a really good mum?” Rooster cooed as you looked his way, the light from the Christmas tree illuminating just enough of you that to Bradley you looked like a goddess in the dim glow. “And it’s not because of the presents, although an added bonus I’m sure—but you're a really good mum because you love her so much Y/n.”

You folded completely, all your walls, all your worries about not being good enough for Bradley went out the window for just a few fleeting moments. Leaning in closer to ghost your lips against Bradley as he leaned closer into you.

“Just know if you kiss me right now I don’t think I’ll be able to control myself—“ He whispered against your lips as you moved to straddle his waist on the floor. His back against the lounge. “You’re so beautiful.”

“Rooster—“ You whispered as his hands roamed your body, slipping up the back of your Pyjama shirt.

“If you tell me you don’t want this I’ll stop.” He reminded you before softly and ever so gently placing his lips on yours for a brief moment. Pulling away seconds later. “You gotta tell me you want me Or we’re just gonna keep going around in a circle.”

“I’m scared.” You knew Rooster valued honesty, so the truth of the matter is what he got. “I’m afraid I’ll let you in and I’ll be too much trouble than what I’m really worth.” Your forehead stayed pressed against his as your hands slid down his chest, unbuttoning the small line of buttons that kept the flannel closed. “That the more you learn about me, you’ll realise that it would be easier to run than to stick around.”

“Nah, I think I’m good where I am with you.” Bradley kissed you a little harder as you removed his top, exposing him for all he’s worth. You’d seen him shirtless a million times—but in this very moment he looked otherworldly. “I’m not going anywhere unless you tell me that you don’t wanna do this.”

“I do, I do wanna do this—“ You couldn’t hold back the soft moans that escaped as Bradley started a soft assault on your neck. Leaving butterfly-like kisses up and down the junction of your neck and shoulder. “But things are complicated, you have to know that—“

“I’ll do complicated for you, fuck I’d do just about anything for you.” Against your neck Bradley moaned as you started to move your hips across his crotch. “Please Fe, just let me in?” There had been a handful of times where you'd gotten close enough with Bradley that you’d almost followed through to a home run. But it had never gone any further than third base. Until now.

Nodding before you captured Bradley lips in a feverish kiss, only pulling away so you could remove your own shirt. Setting the pace for how this was going to go—Rooster caught on immediately. You were in control.

“Fuck, you’re so pretty Y/n.” Bradley smirked as your hands went to tug at the waistband of his pyjama pants, lifting yourself up to rid yourself of yours as Bradley discarded his own. “Do you wanna, maybe—“ He was trying to ask if you wanted to mess around first, but the look in your eyes told him all he needed to know. You were ready and you wanted him now. “Are you sure?” Rooster's voice hitched in his throat as your fist wrapped around his length, palming him up and down creating a perfect friction. “Ahh, fuck Y/n—ohhh.”

“I want this Roo, I want you.” You lined his lip up with your entrance—already slick and needy just for him. “Are you sure?” Nodding frantically, Bradley’s hands helped to guide you down slowly. Taking him inch by inch as soft moans echoed off the walls around you. “Ahhh fuck, yes!” Throwing your head back as you bottomed out on Bradley, he said still beneath you while you adjusted. “God, Bradshaw how the fuck do you walk around with this thing?”

“You’ll notice the slight limp now that you’ve mentioned it.” Rooster took your lips hostage once again as his hands helped to guide your hips. Slowly, you began to ride him. Bobbing up and down along his slicked up shaft. “Oh fucking Christ you’re perfect.” Capturing one of your nipples in his mouth—Bradley reveled in the sounds you made all for him. The whimpers, the groans of pleasure, the shift gasps whenever the head of his cock pressed against the velvety walls of your dripping cunt. “So pretty, all for me.” You’d never heard such loving praise before, and it was doing something for you.

“Please keep talking—“ You begged as your hands came up to rest on Roosters shoulders for more stability. Still remaining in full control. “Please Roo.”

“You’re beautiful mamma, so beautiful while you ride me.” He wasn’t lying, he was telling the whole ass truth. “Bet you look even pretty when I do this huh?” Rooster waited for you to tell him otherwise, his hand slowly coming down from your hip to rub small soft pressure against your bundle of nerves.

Ahhhhh fuck!—“ You didn’t stop him, if anything you got just a little faster as you picked up the pace to match his rhythm. “Bradley—I—I’m.”

“I’m right with you baby, I’m here—you can let you.” Bradley sweet nothings were coaxing you closer and closer to your high, a feeling so overpowering it took control of all your senses. “You don’t have to be scared, or afraid, you—Ahhh, ohh ffgghh, you don’t have to run from me baby I got you.”

Crumbling into a pile on Bradley's chest as you came, Bradley bucked his hips as you cried out through your high, jaw slack on his shoulder as he quickly gathered himself and pumped his shaft till his own high was splattering onto his lower abdomen. He didn’t want to cum inside you, he didn’t want you to get the wrong idea. He knew just from what you’d told him that it would feel like a sense of ownership—Bradley didn’t own you nor did he ever want you to feel like that.

“Holy shit, Y/n, that was—“ Bradley cut himself off when he heard your groans turn to gentle sobs, tears against his skin soon followed. “Hey, hey what’s wrong Fe?” It came out more panicked then it probably should have, But Rooster had never had someone cry after sex with him before. “Y/n? Hey darlin what's wrong? Did I do something?”

“Nothing–” Bradley cupped your face as you rose up to meet his gaze, the slightly rough pads of his thumbs worked to wipe away the tears that streamed down your cheeks. “I just forgot what it was like before the world fell at my feet.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~

The next morning, wrapped in Roosters arms, Dot had you both waking with a gasp as she screamed from her bed at whatever god awful hour it was.

“Holy shit.” Rooster groaned as you scurried off the bed to collect your very excited two year old. “I'm up, I'm awake, just give me a second.”

“Santa! Santa! Santa!” Dot jumped around as you picked her up with tied eyes. “Did he come mamma?”

“He sure did.” Rooster teased as he sat up rubbing his eyes. You sent him a look as you held Odette to your hip, settling her just enough so that she didn't break your hip. “What? I'm just telling the truth.” Rooster was quick to defend himself as he rose from his spot on the bed. All of you matched in the red striped flannel pyjamas and it was just the sweetest sight. “Come on you two, let's go see what’s under the tree yeah.”

You thought Odette’s eyes couldn't have gotten any bigger, but sure enough when she laid eyes on all the presents sitting neatly and tidy under the tree she’d helped you and uncle Jake decorate, she was screaming with pure joy and excitement.

Rooster took picture after picture for you on your phone so you didn't miss a single moment of Dots third Christmas. Her first was when she was just a newborn, born the eleventh of January. She was only just now starting to take things in, her brain starting to develop the ability to remember things long term.

When Bradley wasn’t taking pictures, he was cleaning up the sea of wrapping paper Dot had torn through. Two massive bin bags full of the stuff sat on top of the lounge. He couldn't believe just one little girl could make such a mess but here he was, trialling after her mess like every Dad ever on Christmas day ever.

“You didn't?” You beamed as you helped Dot in your lap and helped her unwrap the present Rooster had gotten her. “Bradley Bradshaw you surely didn't.” Oh he had.

“I know, I overdid it.” He ginned ear to ear as you held up the flight suit. Custom ordered for Dot. “But I couldn't help myself, she's an avid aviator already.” Holding the Normex up you couldn't help but to laugh, it was the cutest little thing. “Odette “Polkadot” Dolan reporting for duty.”

“This is just amazing, thank you–I'm definitely going to keep that even when she grows out of it.” It truly did mean the world to you. Rooster didn't have to get your daughter a single thing. But the fact he;d gone to such great lengths to make it something special just melted your heart.

“I got you something too.” Rooster crawled under the tree to fetch the box he’d snuck under the tree last night. Grabbing it out gently before passing it your way. “Here.”

“Oh–Roo you didn't have to.” You had grown up in a family where gift giving was barely non-existent. And when there was a gift involved it usually came with a but or would be thrown in your face at a later date. “Really–”

“Just open it.” Bradley huffed as he sat beside you, an arm coming to rest behind you as Dot squirmed out of your lap to investigate her newest toys. “And I know I didn't have to, but I wanted to.” Yuu didn't think arguing would lead you anywhere, so reluctantly, you opened the gift Rooster had gone out of his way to get for you.

“Oh Rooster–” You gasped when you opened the bracelet box. Speechless as Bradley kissed your shoulder.

“I've still got the receipt if it needs to get resized, the lady said the warranty should cover it.” It was the white Gold bracelet you'd been eyeing off each time you went past the jeweller in Westfields. “But I'm hoping it fits just right.”

“Can you help me put it on?” You asked just above a whisper as you held yourself together, not wanting to cry on Christmas morning. Noone had ever gotten you something so special. “It's beautiful.”

“Beautiful women deserve beautiful things.” Bradley clipped the claps together as you held out your wrist. “See, it fits perfectly.”

“Okay well, now you have to open your gift.” You sighed as you reached under the tree for Roosters present. “And don't argue that I got you something when you just did the same thing.” Calling Bradley out on his bullshit before he could even start, he held his hands up in surrender before accepting the gift.

“Oh. My. Gosh.” Bradley laughed as he unwrapped the present you had given him. “He’s gonna love these.” You couldn't help yourself after the whole boxer brief incident with Jake in the Kitchen. You'd given Bradley a few pairs of briefs with Jake's face plastered all over them. “For when I get up for water right?”

“Exactly, for when you get up for water.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~

Jake Seresin stood in the kitchen of his parents place on Christmas morning helping his mum peel potatoes of the potato bake she was planning to make for Christmas lunch. He’d already gotten over the festivities when he’d been asked about the possibility of a girlfriend in the future. He loved his family to death–but sometimes they were a little much. And when they all got together, they were a lot.

“I forgot to mention earlier that I ran into Jaidyn earlier in the week.” Jake recoiled at the name, he hated that the man who’d caused you so much pain behind closed doors for so many years played it off that he was an upstanding citizen.

“Who?” He pretended not to care as he peeled the russet potatoes for his mum.

“Oh you know Jacob, Jaiydn Dolan, He was dating Y/n for the longest time.”

“Ma, I haven't spoken to either of them for at least two years.” Jake had chosen to play dumb when it came to you for your own safety. He didn't even want his family knowing you were still as close as you were. “What's Jaidyn doing talking to you?”

“I ran into him at the grocery store, it turns out his reposting to North Island cone the new year.” If Jake hadn’t been paying so much attention to what he’d been doing, he was sure he would have cut his finger off with the potato peeler he was using. Gasping a sharp hiss when he slipped and nicked his finger.

“Ah fuck, Mum what do you mean he’s reposting to North Island?” Panic. Pure panic rose in the Depths of Jake's heart. This couldn't be happening.

“Well as it turns out that Y/n girl ran off with his daughter a few months back, just took off with her without a trace, he hasn't heard from her since and with nothing left for him here he decided to take up a new posting.”

“And he just told you this in the aisle of Wholefoods did he?” Jake huffed as he ran his hand under the stream of water racing out of the fossett. “Y/n probably left his bitch ass because he’s a wife beater.”

“Jacob Seresin!” Jake's mother hissed his way. “You know that girl’s no good, you always have, ever since you were kids.”

“Yeah well, not everyone can come from money ma—Y/n’s good people, she always has been—she just didn’t have good people around her, you know that.” It’s not that Jennifer Seresin disliked you. She’d taken you in more times then she could count on one hand. She’s even been the one who helped you get your driver's licence. But she had a distaste for people who could easily drag her beautiful baby boy down into the gutters. She knew with your background that wouldn’t be hard. “You know she’s a good person, heart of gold.”

“A girl with a heart of gold would run off with a man’s only child?”

“Just because you never had the guts to leave dad doesn’t mean Y/n had to tolerate the same treatment.” Jake was seething, he loved his mother with all his heart but sometimes she saw the world from a less than perspective. He couldn’t blame her all too much—it was his dad who’d reprogrammed her to believe the things she did. “If Y/n ran? She’s running from him mum.”

“What do you know, Jacob? Hmm? For someone who hasn’t seen or spoken to either of them in two years you seem to have an awful opinion on the situation?” Jake knew he had to quiet before the questions came down on him like an avalanche. He also saw just how much of a bullet you’d truly dodged forfeiting the invite he’d given you to the Seresin family Christmas. “That girl will always be family, you know that–if she's in trouble she can always come to us for help but lord have mercy on my soul if she ever corrupts my baby boy.”

“Did Jaiydn really say North Island?” Jake asked as he stood with his mother in the kitchen. Holding his finger under a cloth to dry it, stop it from bleeding.

“Sure did.” His mother confirmed as she went back to cutting her russets. Fishing his phone out of his jeans, Jake went to send Rooster an SOS message. Before he did, he noticed the text he’d missed from Penny yesterday afternoon.

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***

Tags: @a-serene-place-to-be @lilyevanswhore@thescarletknight2014 @blindedbythelightt t @averyhotchner@emma8895eb @blairfox94 @caitsymichelle13 @oxxolovemelikeyoudooxxo

#terms of endearment// bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw x reader #top gun bradley bradshaw #rooster x reader #rooster x female reader

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ratguy-nico · 3 months

Text

Geneuary prompt Crush / Birthday

This as a matter of fact was the firts Geneuary piece I drew, why? Cause... it was the first prompt that come to mind. yeah Im not that deep. At least not at thinking.

Scene from the movie Sixteen Candles, why? cause for me this movie combine perfectly the Crush prompt with the b-day prompt.

-ejem ejem- Starring in this piece not only my Genie Wieny Beanie but also co-starring as the romantic interest -dum duru dum- ALEXIS!!! oc, child of the awesome @golden--doodler also known as the person to whom we owe Geneuary @goldendoodlerlockerlove -fuegos artificiales, epic solo de guitarra, explosiones piu-piu piu-

fvk forget to mention draw Alexis heavily inspired in @drawthething commision with golden were they drew Alexis so kudos to them too. (love your drawings)

(more about the drawing down here)

... Yeah...

The thing is! As I said before this is a scene from the movie Sixteen Candles starring Molly Ringwald most known for The Breakfast Club movie that actually have an episode of Bob's Burgers dedicated to it. do you see the connection?

So yeah, don't remember if is actually mentioned but I'm totally sure Gene is a big Molly Ringwald fan, is just his type of girl icon.

The movie in itself is a movie that carries a lot of good memories for me. My mom loves to show me movies from her childhood and teen years.

I remember watching this movie with my mom we both laughing of all the craziest shit that this movie had, commenting how different movies were back then and crushing over Molly Ringwald.

And then just a couple of days ago as a way to find the inspiration again I decided to watch it again with my lil sis who almost cry in the end scene (not the romantic one, the one with the girl and her dad)

And we catch sight of a lesbian! Hunting lesbians in older movies since 2024

The thing is even though I love this movie I have to say is from the 80's, wich mean hella racist toward asian people, very misogynist, and it have boobs (that is not a real problem but since people on twit is trying to banned sex I added it) so yeah, watch carefully. But totally recommended.

There's a scene I would also draw with Tina and Bob from this movie.

Second fun fact. Even though this was the first drawing I made I didn't made the romantic interest until this wednesday.

Originally I though Alex, but I wasn't 100% convinced cause at that point I was heart broken at the realization they were probably discarding his character (note: I don't know if they are discarding the character) (read as a Mort situation) So yeah.

Then I though DAH! Courtney, but I don't ship them as a couple so that didn't seem quite right.

Then talking with Golden I got really fond of their OC Alexis and though, why not? I believed in signs.

The universe talk and I have to listen. The fact that Golden decided to tell me about their character right when I was starting to draw this piece was all I needed to know.

Also I though of just letting that spot blank and maybe made a dynamic were people put whoever they wanted with Gene. Which for me could been hella funny. But I don't think anyone would actually want to do that so yeah.

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grey-gazania · 1 month

Note

I'm sorry someone bombarded you with bitchy comments 😭. While my To Read list is lengthy and continually lengthier (actually I think something of yours with her is on it), I'd like to hear more about Ianneth-Fingon-Maedhros if you want to talk about them.

@polutrope

It wasn't really upsetting, just annoying and honestly a little bit funny. This guy left comments on all six chapters of By Love or at Least Free Will, every time I updated the story, just objecting to the entire premise of the story and ranting about how Elves have incorruptible pure souls and are immune to lust. I was sorely tempted to respond with this quote from "Laws & Customs Among the Eldar":

Even when in after days, as the histories reveal, many of the Eldar in Middle-earth became corrupted, and their hearts darkened by the shadow that lies upon Arda, seldom is any tale told of deeds of lust among them.

'Seldom' is not the same thing as 'never', and furthermore, I don't think lust is even a major theme of my story. It's more about conflicting obligations and unruly hearts.

In the end I deleted the comments without responding, because I have a personal policy of not engaging with people who are acting in bad faith. But I have to assume that this guy has no actual hobbies if he spends his time hate-reading entire stories instead of just...closing the window and moving on with his life. Maybe take up crochet, bro? Or volunteer at a soup kitchen? Watch a TV show that you like? Grow some tomatoes? Do something that will be more fulfilling than typing long screeds on AO3. I promise it will make you a happier person.

Anyway. On to the actual topic of your ask! As you've probably noticed, I am very fond of Russingon. However, I am also very fond of Fingon as Gil-galad's father. At first I balanced these two ideas by keeping my Russingon ideas and my Fingon-father-of-Gil-galad ideas in two separate universes, but then I started really fleshing out Gil-galad's mother, and it made me think some thoughts. To repeat something I said to @cuarthol in a comment on AO3:

...half the genesis of Ianneth was seeing so many stories (in multiple fandoms, not just Tolkien) where the woman is written out of a canon or semi-canon couple to make room for a popular M/M ship instead, without the female character being treated with any respect. I decided that the female perspective on that situation would be a nice change of pace and interesting to write.

I'm not trying to point fingers -- I'll readily admit that I have my male faves just like the next gal and that it's fun to make them kiss -- but the wives and girlfriends don't get a lot of love in fandom, do they? And it doesn't help that the legendarium in general tends to be a bit of a sausage fest. So I decided that Fingon would have a wife and be in love with Maedhros. But instead of focusing just on the forbidden love, I was going to focus on the wife's feelings, too.

Ianneth ("bridge-woman") is one of the Northern Sindar, from the community that lives around Lake Mithrim. She's the daughter of Annael (yes, that Annael), whom I've imagined to be one of the more influential leaders among the Northern Sindar, and particularly among the Elves of Mithrim.

Her betrothal to Fingon starts as a political arrangement. Fingolfin loves Fingon dearly, of course, but he's also been hinting for a while now that Fingon really needs to settle down and start having kids so that there will be a strong line of heirs should Fingolfin die. After all, Argon's dead, and Turgon and Aredhel abruptly fucked off to god-knows-where some three hundred years ago and haven't been seen nor heard from since. Your dad needs some grandsons, Fingon, and this also seems like a ripe opportunity to strengthen the Noldor's alliance with the Northern Sindar.

I don't think political marriage is unknown among the Elves of Beleriand. (For one example in the text, see Celegorm trying to marry Luthien to force Doriath into an alliance.) And the quote I drew the title of the aforementioned Fingon/Ianneth story from, also found in "Laws and Customs Among the Eldar," is:

The Eldar wedded only once in life, and for love or at the least by free will upon either part.

Free will could easily mean, "Are we in love? No. But I'll still marry you, for the good of our peoples, and I'll bring some of Dad's soldiers along with me." That sort of thing happened all the time among real-world nobility, so I see no reason why it can't happen among Elven nobility in Beleriand, too.

At any rate, Fingolfin arranges for Fingon to meet the daughters of some of the more powerful leaders of the Northern Sindar, and he's hint-hint-hinting that Fingon really needs to pick one of them to be his wife. Fingon, having been in love with Maedhros since they were young in Valinor, is not exactly keen on this plan. But he goes along with it anyway because he is a dutiful son, he knows that his father is right about needing to strengthen the line of succession, and he also knows that revealing his (quite taboo!) relationship with Maedhros to his father would probably break Fingolfin's heart.

It takes Fingon a while to decide who to court, but he picks Ianneth because he likes her sense of humor; she has the guts to gently tease him at their first meeting, which he finds quite charming. He doesn't think he can love anyone besides Maedhros, but he does look at Ianneth and think, "This is a woman I could grow to care for and whose companionship I think could enjoy."

The trouble begins when, over the course of their courtship, Fingon starts falling in love with Ianneth without falling out of love with Maedhros. And he doesn't know what to do about this. He can't call off the marriage, and he doesn't want to break things off with Maedhros, so he decides to just...keep the whole thing with Maedhros a secret and marry Ianneth anyway. It's not a good decision, but really, are there any options here that won't end with someone getting hurt? I don't think so.

So we have Ianneth, blissfully ignorant of her husband's infidelity (for now); Fingon, in love with two people at once and feeling horribly guilty about it, but unwilling to pick one partner over the other; and Maedhros, resigned to the situation but still hurting because Fingon is no longer his alone.

Maedhros' feelings are complicated by the fact that, once he meets her, he finds that likes Ianneth. It would be easier, he thinks, if he could write her off as just a political necessity for Fingon, but it turns out that she's charming and intelligent and kind, and he can understand why Fingon loves her. His feelings soften further once Ereiniel is born, because Fingon is so happy being a father, and he loves Fingon, so how can he begrudge him that? There's a line from "Famous Blue Raincoat" by Leonard Cohen that I always think of when I'm getting into Maedhros' head at this point:

And thanks for the trouble you took from [his] eyes. I thought it was there for good, so I never tried.

Things tick along about as smoothly as they can for thirteen years, until, in the aftermath of Fingolfin's death during the Dagor Bragollach, as Fingon prepares to send Ianneth and Ereiniel to the Falas for their safety, Ianneth learns his secret. This is understandably devastating for her, and leaves her wondering if Fingon ever really loved her as she loved him, or if his marriage to her was simply a politically expedient sham.

Add to that the fact that she leaves for the Falas less than ten hours after this revelation and spends most of that ten hours either crying or asleep, as she's too upset to really talk to Fingon about what she's discovered, and it leaves her with this horrible knowledge and all the worst thoughts that come from it gnawing at her nearly a full year until Fingon next comes to Eglarest -- time that she spends as the sole caregiver for her young daughter, among strangers in a foreign city, without her mother or her sister or any of her friends who might have theoretically been able to offer her some emotional support.

Theoretically is a key word there, though, because even if, say, her sister had come to Eglarest, Ianneth isn't sure she'd even be able to tell her. For one thing, she can't help feeling ashamed, because infidelity is very rare among Elves, and she can't help thinking that maybe she failed as a wife somehow, and if she'd done something different, Fingon wouldn't have strayed. Then there's the fact that he's the High King of the Noldor, and if this gets out it could cause a crisis in the Noldorin government and possibly tank the alliance between the House of Fingolfin and the Northern Sindar. Ianneth is a practical woman, and she's of the Northern Sindar -- the people who have been living practically on Morgoth's doorstep for centuries, with no Maia queen's magic girdle to protect them. Their alliance with the Noldor is vital, and she would never want to jeopardize it.

So Ianneth is just...completely alone with this pain. She has no one to turn to, no one who can comfort her. And that pain is central to her story, and a not insignificant part of Ereiniel's story, too.

#polutrope #turns out when you ask me about my ocs i turn into treebeard #ianneth #fingon's wife #fingon #maedhros #gil galad #woman king au #my ocs

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panicatthediaz · 5 months

Text

Can you feel it?

What is this? A brand new fic for @eddiemonth? And so soon after?? (shut up this feels soon)

This is day 06, crush, and is in the same continuity as day 5. Named after Mansionair's Astronaut (Something About Your Love), that like. Please listen to them. They are a whole vibe, I love their music.

Warnings: None, this is just even more fluff. Extremely sappy get together. Steddie. I should start calling this section, like. tags or smth.

Wordcount: 2968

If he were to be honest with himself, Eddie hadn't expected to keep this monster hunting party in his life, not for long. He expected everyone to go on their way, while he was fumbling just to get out of the town.

Well, some people did go their own way. Older Byers was off to college in California with Argyle, after some extensive talk with his family and with Nancy, and Nancy herself was off in Boston.

But everyone else? Well, the kids had to finish high school before going anywhere, and Robin had decided to take a gap year that was about to end. And Steve…

Between joint recoveries and sharing almost the same group of people (and eventually truly having all the same friends), they had spent a lot of time together. They had become friends, good friends, not necessarily by choice, but the truth was that Eddie wouldn't change it for the world.

But sometimes, it was nice to just… exist. To be able to not think about the feelings he’d realized that were growing not too long ago. About how, even though he’d only noticed them recently, the feelings hadn’t been really new. About how it looked reciprocated, sometimes.

Eddie expected to hear about Steve’s plans to get out of town any day now, maybe tag along with Robin, so why do anything about the something that was brewing, right?

Deep down, Eddie knew Steve wouldn’t leave before the kids’ senior year started. At the earliest. Eddie felt pretty much the same already, after knowing them for only a little over a year. According to Robin, they did have that effect somehow.

(Something about how young they all were to have been at the whole supernatural thing for years.)

After dropping El and Will back home, he’d driven himself to a secluded little clearing, having to go the long way around so he’d actually be able to drive his van into it. But it was worth it, it’d always been worth it.

Eddie grabbed a few of the blankets stashed at the back of his van and threw them on top of it before climbing up himself. Setting up his little makeshift bed up there was a quick process; a couple of blankets to make the roof a little more comfortable, and the rest bunched together into a pillow.

It wasn’t particularly good, but it was part of his summer routine at this point, so he settled down, lying on the roof of his van. He watched the clear, evening summer sky fade into night, watching the stars come out slowly and then all at once as the animal sounds faded and changed to accompany the sky.

Some birds — owls, if he had to guess — and bats were flying overheard, occasionally cutting his vision of the stars and changing the tracks of his thoughts; the song he’d been working on, the campaign Will wanted to run for Hellfire next, Robin’s entirely too chaotic packing process, and how that girl might have surpassed him in terms of organizational chaos. At least Eddie could find his shit in half the time it had taken her to find the shoes she was taking with her.

The crunch of steps on fallen branches drew him out of his thoughts, making him turn in its direction.

“Jesus, how far is this place,” Eddie heard in a very familiar grumble. Steve was closer than he probably expected to be, and it didn’t take long before Eddie could see him on the treeline. “Uh… Hi.”

“Hi,” Eddie returned, waving at him from where he lay with a grin. “Funny seeing you here.”

Steve rolled his eyes and walked closer. He was wearing some ridiculous yellow shorts and what looked like an old NASCAR shirt, color and design faded with time. It was a little different from what Eddie was used to; more relaxed, like he didn’t have anyone to impress. Which was good, Eddie didn’t need to be impressed by style.

(Eddie knew, objectively, that Steve genuinely enjoyed the polos and all that, but it was still nice to see him in something else. Something softer.)

“What are you doing out here?” Steve asked once he was close to the van, just enough to still be able to see Eddie.

“Looking for Scorpius,” he stated simply, gesturing for Steve to come up. While Steve climbed to the roof of the van, Eddie adjusted the pillow of blankets so they could lie side by side. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, I was expecting to find you in the trailer,” Steve started, leaning back on top of the blankets on his elbows with a frown on his face. “Wayne directed me over here.” Steve looked around, frowning even harder when he glanced at the ground. “You said you’re looking for scorpions?”

“Scorpius, not scorpions,” Eddie corrected softly, turning back to the stars. “The constellation.”

Steve let out a soft “Oh,” turning to glance at the sky before lying down and making himself comfortable.

Eddie had the vague knowledge that Scorpius was closer to the horizon line, but he’d have to drive up to Hop’s old cabin and the nearby hill to actually look for it, and he just… didn’t want to go that far.

(Didn't really want to be looking over all of Hawkins.)

“What’s the story?” Steve asked after a couple of minutes spent in silence. When Eddie turned to look, Steve was already watching him, his little smile illuminated by the moon. After a beat, he added, “Constellations have those, don’t they?”

Eddie nodded, struggling a little to find his words with the way Steve was looking at him. “It’s uh…” He cleared his throat and turned back to the sky. “It’s the scorpion that killed Orion.”

He could still feel Steve’s eyes on him, waiting for more.

“Orion was a hunter, the best one humanity had to offer,” Eddie started, gesturing to their surroundings as if it could encompass every person in the world. “But he was just a human, you know? And if even the gods of ancient Greece were flawed, imagine how bad a human could be.”

He glanced at Steve, finding all of his attention still focused on him.

“His flaws are not really the point, though.” He shook his head, continuing the story. “At some point in his life, Orion was hunting with Artemis, the goddess of the hunt and wild animals, and… Well,” he grimaced, “He claimed to be able to hunt every animal on Earth.”

“To the goddess of the hunt?” Steve questioned with that particular tone he had when he thought something was stupid. “Rather arrogant of him.”

“Yeah, but Artemis was fond of him.” Steve raised an eyebrow at that, but it took Eddie a moment to realize how his words could be taken. “Not like that,” he added, chuckling. “Artemis was a virgin goddess, none of that.”

Steve hummed, his expression betraying his surprise. “Good for her.”

Eddie blinked at Steve, at this tone of awe that he had.

“Where does the scorpion come in?” Steve asked, a little furrow appearing between his brow that Eddie wanted smooth out, though he had a story to finish.

“Right,” Eddie sighed out, turning once again to the stars. “Gaia, the personification of the Earth itself, didn’t like Orion’s claim.” He paused, then added, “She’s the mother of all life, so.” He gestured nonsensically upwards, finishing his story with as much a deadpan tone as he could muster. “She sent a giant scorpion to kill him.”

“A giant—” Steve burst out laughing, shaking his head in some kind of attempt to regain his composure. “Sorry, I’m sorry, just—”

“It’s kind of a silly conclusion?” Eddie asked with a smile on his face as well as in his voice. Steve nodded, taking a deep breath to calm himself down. “Greek mythology is kind of… Dramatic, like that,” he explained with a shrug. “Orion’s hubris got him killed by a giant scorpion—” Steve snorted, but reined himself in quickly— “And they were both raised to the sky as constellations as a warning against humanity’s arrogance.”

Steve hummed, gaze unfocused when Eddie looked at him. “Where are they, then?”

“Uh…” Eddie blinked and turned to the sky to blink some more. “Orion is not visible this time of the year, and Scorpius is closer to the horizon,” he said, raising his arm to point in the general direction he remembered the constellation being.

Steve hummed, but didn’t say anything, letting the silence and the warm evening air envelop them. Eddie expected it to grow awkward, for Steve to say something, for himself to end up fidgeting. Instead, it was easy to just exist together like this, lying side by side and watching the night sky.

“Are you okay?” Steve asked, some indeterminate time later. Eddie could feel Steve move about, slowly as to not risk falling off the side, and settle on his side, holding himself up on his elbow. “El was all…” He gestured toward his face. “All frowny, and she only does that when she’s worried. Dustin also said you seemed down.”

Eddie sighed, wishing those kids paid just a little less attention. “I’m good,” he said, keeping his tone light. “Just thinking, you know?”

“About?”

“What happens now, I guess?” He hadn’t meant for it to come out as a question. “We got a couple more practice sessions before Jeff and Arnie are going back to college.”

“Gareth’s not going anywhere out of state, though, right?” Steve asked with a thoughtful little frown that Eddie couldn’t resist smoothing out with a finger this time. It earned him a soft laugh and a smack to his hand. “You guys can keep Corroded Coffin going?”

Eddie shrugged as much as he could while lying down. He tried that once, making it on his own, but it didn’t seem as worth it now.

“Think I’d rather not split the band,” he said, grimacing and knowing that Steve would pick up the story he wasn’t telling.

“So,” Steve drawled, eyes narrowed at Eddie like he’d be able to figure out whatever was going on in his head. “The plan is just to wait?”

Honestly, Eddie hated that idea, but what else could Corroded Coffin do? “Sure.” Steve eyes narrowed further, going unfocused again. “What?”

“The kids will be starting their junior year,” he stated.

Eddie hummed to let Steve know he was listening, but he had no idea where the guy was going with this.

“You should come to Indianapolis with me,” he announced.

Eddie blinked at Steve, processing his words for a moment. The offer seemed to come out of nowhere. He expected Steve to leave Hawkins at some point, he’d been preparing for that news, and now it came with an offer to tag along?

“I don’t really have any plans yet,” Steve continued, probably taking Eddie’s silence as hesitation. “We’d have to look into places, and Indianapolis is just an hour away, but it should be enough for a fresh start, right?”

Eddie nodded, a little numbly. “You, uh…” He shook his head to dislodge his surprise. “I think Gareth’s going to community college in the city, actually.”

“Is he, now?” Steve raised an eyebrow, looking unimpressed and not surprised.

“Right, you two talk a lot now.” It was still rather amusing that the two of them hung out so much, even without Eddie. “Will?”

“Of course it’s about Will,” Steve scoffed, waving a hand in a flourish. “It’s why he picked Indianapolis. But don’t change the subject,” he added with a smack to Eddie’s arm.

“Alright, alright!” Eddie laughed, rubbing his arm. He’d have rolled away from Steve if it didn’t mean rolling off the roof of the van. “I guess Indianapolis is pretty good…”

Steve beamed at him, a smile he’d been seeing more often as the time passed. Usually, Steve was being a little shit when he smiled like that, but sometimes, he just seemed… happy.

“You could, I don’t know, teach kids how to play the guitar.”

That made Eddie laugh, surprised at the suggestion. Not that he necessarily disliked it.

“Who’d even let me?” He asked. “Maybe I’ll find work at a record store, that seems more likely.”

“If you want to, I’m sure you could find something.” Steve shrugged, that grin not fading from his expression. “Who says you can’t do both, anyway?”

And… Well, Steve had a point. Maybe he could find a store that offered lessons?

“Why are you asking me to go to Indianapolis with you?” The question was asked before Eddie even processed that it was something he wanted to know. He grimaced as soon as it was out. “Not that I don’t want to, god knows I wanted to be out of this town three years ago now, but just— I thought you might tag along with Robin?”

Steve’s expression softened, a serene smile replacing the wide grin. “I thought about it. Robin’s going to Indianapolis University anyway, though, and…” He gave a one-shouldered shrug. “I think I’d like you there too.”

“You think?” Eddie questioned with a raised brow. It was easier to tease and joke than really look into that sparkle of mirth in Steve’s eyes and hope it meant what he wanted it to mean.

Steve shook his head, sending his hair all over the place. “I know. Got used to your noise, Munson.”

“Well, I’m making your life interesting, so you’re welcome.”

They were both smiling when Eddie finally let himself look Steve in the eye, finally relaxed enough even though he hadn’t escaped thinking about Steve, or his actual presence. It was fine. There some tentative plans to get out of Hawkins, together, and maybe Corroded Coffin would forever be a high school band that didn’t really go anywhere — Eddie was only starting to be okay with that idea, though — but that didn’t mean he couldn’t do something else with music.

Steve laid back down on the van after a moment of silence, turning his gaze to the sky. Like this, they were touching pretty much from shoulder to knee, and Eddie was trying not to move too much, conscious of the warmth radiating from Steve.

Steve, on the other hand, didn’t seem to have the same hang-ups, nudging Eddie’s hand until he could take it in his own.

“This okay?” He asked softly, not turning his head and not seeing Eddie already looking at him. Eddie squeezed his hand and intertwined their fingers as response. “I wasn’t planning on talking to you about Indianapolis tonight, you know?” His admission was soft, barely above the ambiance of the woods at night. “I was just gonna keep you company.”

“I’m glad you did.” Eddie let himself take in Steve’s face and what freckles he could see in the dark before turning away. “Easier to think I can actually get out of here when I have a tentative plan.”

“You can, Eddie,” Steve said, firmly squeezing his hand. “I meant it, I’d really like if you came to Indianapolis with me.”

He could feel Steve’s eyes boring a hole into the side of his head, and he refused to loosen the hold on his hand. Eddie sighed, turning to face Steve’s small, determined frown.

“Sometimes,” he started, hesitating before pulling their joined hands closer. “I kinda wish you were still some degree of asshole.” Steve frowned, ready to interject, but Eddie continued before he could. “‘Cause it would make getting over this ridiculous crush so much easier.”

Steve pulled their hands closer to himself this time, and Eddie could see him pursing his lips. He’d been paying too much attention, enough to know this was Steve trying to rein in one of those rare, goofy grins that had been one of the things that made Eddie fall in the first place.

“What if,” Steve started, slowly letting the grin take hold, as he started absently playing with the one ring Eddie forgot to take off before climbing up the van. “I don’t want you getting over this ridiculous crush?”

Eddie blinked at him — he felt like he’d done that a lot tonight, almost constantly surprised by Steve despite how close they’d gotten. Maybe that’s why he hadn’t seen this coming, too close to see what, eventually, might become obvious in hindsight.

“You mean that?”

Steve’s grin came out, full force, in the face of Eddie’s soft tone. He slowly brought Eddie’s hand closer and pressed an oh so soft kiss to his knuckles.

“I mean it.”

Eddie didn’t really know what to say to all that, the smooth jerk knew it and could probably see the blush undoubtedly rising on his cheeks. But there was one thing that he needed to double check.

“You know I’m—”

“Asexual?” He filled in after Eddie cut himself short. “Yeah, I do.” Steve was back to messing with the ring on his hand, looking at it with an expression Eddie still hadn’t figured out. “And I think…” He paused, frowning a little. Eddie kind of wanted to bite him. “It might apply to me too?”

Eddie rolled closer to Steve and pressed a kiss to cheek, feeling the heat rising the longer he stayed there.

“Thanks for telling me,” he mumbled against Steve’s cheek. He pressed another quick kiss before settling back down. “Feels good to know, doesn’t it?”

Steve’s laughter was light, giddy. He rolled onto Eddie this time, hugging him as close as possible.

“It really does.”

Eddie knew they would talk come morning, and they would define just what they wanted and were to each other. But for now, cuddling and laughing under the night sky with ridiculous Greek stories was all Eddie wanted to be doing.

#Stranger Things #Eddie Munson #Steve Harrington #Steddie #Asexual Eddie Munson #Asexual Steve Harrington #eddiemonth #day 6 #WeresWriting #This got so sappy #and not at all what I was originally going for #I wanted a RWRB reference. Ended up sort of there anyway #(Orion is really only visible during winter I didn't know that)

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dxliqhted · 1 year

Text

♡ . TWO,

of lovesick! a xiao x cupid!reader

the sun was beautiful here, lightly trickling down her hair and skin, adding the softest glow as she once again aimed her arrow.

a swirl of pink gathering at the heart shaped point to signal the potion working,

this time she pointed it directly down to the innkeeper and the chef, both of them smiling far too much, surely their cheeks would hurt after they parted, that is-if they even did.

love, has a unique way of showing in a person. when the said person would do anything to catch the other's attention even if it meant picking up a fallen quill, they'd do it just to be acknowledged and seen by those particular eyes.

or perhaps when the said person would do anything to just talk to the person. an argument, and agreement, a ramble and even just a greeting everyday. the key was consistency.

if not, then there was no love to begin with, it required effort.

and here, with these two, efforts were all that showed from the workaholics.

the arrow was drawn and now all that was left was waiting for a touch, whether it was a simple touch or graze of the arm, a gentle touch was all that was needed for the potion to work.

a branch snapped behind her, and she drew her arrow down, at first she assumed she was caught by a worker but the unnatural gush of wind with the sound felt all too familiar, "adeptus."

"cupid." he sighed, dropping his body onto the chair near the corner of the balcony, "cupid? i prefer being called by my name, not title." she watched him, seeing as he adjusted onto the chair to his comfortability, manspreading would be the word.

"is there a reason you're here?" he asked, his hands crossed over his chest, but not angrily. in fact, the adeptus seemed relaxed today.

"just doing my job, as usual." she turned back taking advantage of his calm mood to complete the job then leave. "are you aiming at the innkeepers?" he asked, to which i didn't answer truthfully,

"..don't know." "how could you not? don't you research beforehand?" he asked, only this time she didn't answer, "cupid."

"you're awfully chatty today aren't you," she smiled dryily, "could it be that the conqueror of demons has finally found his match?" she lifted a shoulder as she looked back at him, his brows lifted for a moment before furrowing as they usually did.

"that's ridiculous." he sneered, lifting off his chair and approaching her, and to be quite honest it showed how scary the adeptus actually was when mad, "you're right, it is."

he leaned against the railing, the same railing she sat on with her legs swinging off the sides.

"adeptus-"

"do not love. they fight, got it." she recalled, facing the adeptus with a smile before turning back abruptly, he glared at her before turning his attention to the keepers, "why haven't you arrowed them yet?" "arrowed?" she laughed, "you mean shot, then no, because i have to wait until they share a touch,"

the adeptus hummed before pulling away, "you'll be here all night if you wait then, they're strictly professional around each other." he states, "for them to touch is nearly impossible unless it's required."

"is this what you do in your free time, adeptus? spy on people?" she raised a brow, "cupid, i live here."

oh...well,

she looked around again, "interesting.." the place like empty, but the then again she didn't expect him to be the decorative type,

not over small things like these.

"well under what circumstances would they touch?" she asked, the adeptus looked at her deep in thought, before looking down and shaking his head, "drop a leaf on one,"

"a leaf?" one of her brows rose, seeing as the adeptus curtly nodded, "about a day ago i saw the innkeeper help the chef clean from the fallen leaves that managed to stick to his back from when he came back from his hunt."

the cupid's eyes quite literally lit up, "xiao, you're a genius.." she turnt back looking down at the couple as they again shared another laugh, "i might need more of your help though..."

she took another quick peek back to see the adeptus deadpan at her, "please?"

he grunted before nodding shortly, "that tree, can you use your vision to blow the leaves from the branch?" "what makes you think this branch would do the trick?" he asked, already stepping over the fence and onto the roof to approach the branch, "i have faith in it."

he glared only before finally using his skill. the sunset colored leaves rustling with the impact before finally detaching and fluttering down, straight to the couple. she leaned over the fence to see it all take place, but the leaves were fluttering too far.

as if in sync to her thoughts, another rustle and grunt were heard on your opposite side, followed with more fluttering leaves, she looked to see the adeptus with his spear in hand, watching at the leaves blew by.

"oh my.." the faint femme voice said, cupid instantly looked over the edge again to see both the innkeeper and chef looking up at the falling leaves coming in both directions.

"look at that," the chef said in disbelief, before straightening, "oh..uh, verr..."

the innkeeper looked up at him in question, as he scratched the back of his neck with embarrassment, "i might need your help again..." he turnt and the innkeeper could barely hold in her laugh, "oh, yanxiao...just stand still,"

there, she gently plucked each orange leaf from his back and onto the ground. xiao, stepped beside the cupid, "what if this fails?" he asked, seeing her already aiming downwards, "ever been hit by an arrow? same concept, if the touch isn't there-the arrow doesn't mist." she let the string go, the black arrow lightened with a pink flame at its point heading directly to the innkeeper's hand before disappearing with the slice. both their movements halted, her touch transfering the potions effect onto him with a soft glow before disappearing into his clothes.

the chef turned slowly to see her with a smile, "come now, i don't think we ever sat down for some tea..." the innkeeper laced her arm around his, dragging him along back into the inn, slowly disappearing from the cupid's view from the balcony.

she felt a glare on her which only enhanced her smile wider, "see xiao? it-"

but once she turned, the adeptus was gone, only a falling leaf left in his place, swirling in the sweeps of the wind.

authors note:

so ik the inn keeper and the chef aren't together but i found out verr is actually married AFTER i wrote this...I DIDN'T KNOW SHE WAS MARRIED 😭

still... i ship it, its cute imo..🫶🏼

home | chapters | carrd | prologue

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peachy-panic · 9 months

Text

Family Line - Chapter 1

Remember a couple of days ago when I put out a poll asking if anyone would be interested in a whumpy wlw/sapphic story? Well, here is this thing.

Tagging a couple of people that expressed some interest - but let me know if you want to be on an actual tag list (assuming this story goes somewhere :)) @hold-him-down @thecyrulik

WARNINGS: BBU/BBU-Adjacent, predatory men, death in the family, fucked up family dynamics, rich people shit

Against her better judgment, Dallas Radley stepped into the elevator. Watching the metal doors slide shut grated on every survival instinct in her body, but taking twenty-seven flights of stairs was out of the question—not that she hadn’t briefly considered it—and the longer she drew this out, the more time she put between herself and a flight home. So she took a breath and did her best to ignore the hair-raising prickle on the back of her neck.

She just wanted to get this over with. More than that, she wanted to have never been involved in the first place. But of course, even in death, her brother succeeded in dragging her down with him.

“This place is a shit hole.”

She didn’t need to turn around to sense the sneer in her stepfather’s expression. Dallas flicked her eyes to the side, though, just enough to catch the line of him in her periphery. She rolled her neck, hard enough that a ripple of cracks were audible in the small space, but she didn’t grace him with a response.

One hell of a shit hole, she thought. The luxury apartment building was a glittering circle jerk of sterile-sleek decor, a doorman in a suit worth more than Dallas’s entire wardrobe, and amenities that no one ever used. And she had only just seen the lobby. But of course, in his eyes, it was beneath her brother’s name, and therefore a disparaging mark on the whole family.

Dallas had no doubt her mother would have agreed. The two of them were probably duking it out in hell about it that very moment. Really, Jared, they’re going to mention that godforsaken embarrassment of a place in the obituary. What will people think?

Never one for reading the room—or for giving a fuck what the room had to say—Charlie continued. “He could have taken over any one of our properties. I told him a hundred times.”

The problem with the penthouse being on the twenty-eighth floor was that this elevator ride took for-fucking-ever, and she was increasingly doubtful they would both make it out alive.

“Have you considered,” she said as flatly as she could manage, “that his distance was intentional?”

His answering silence was somehow worse than his speaking. It was the kind of quiet you felt like the tip of a blade at the back of your neck. Still, she resisted the urge to turn around.

“You haven’t changed a bit, have you?”

She was sure it was just in her head, the way his voice sounded closer. There had been no shuffle of dress shoes on the tiled floor, no warmth at her back, but she could feel it anyway.

Don’t turn around. Don’t give him that.

The elevator bell broke whatever seal that had vacuumed the air from her lungs. She pulled in a breath, forcing her legs into unrushed, even strides through the open door. The clinking of metal on her boots followed her down the short hallway, making it easier to ignore the soft pad of dress shoes trailing behind her.

Jared’s apartment was hard to miss; it was the only entrance on the floor. Dallas reached into the pocket of her leather jacket, fingers closing around the key card the building manager had given her. Despite the rush to get this done, she couldn’t help but pause. She had never seen Jared’s home. She hadn’t spoken to her brother in years, and it was even longer since she’d seen him in person. She didn’t let thoughts of her family bother her anymore—at least that’s what she told herself—but there was a haunted feeling in seeing the place he lived for the first time once he was already dead.

No point in stalling, though. Before Charlie could come to a stop behind her, Dallas swiped the key in front of the sensor and pushed inside.

Jared’s apartment was, unsurprisingly, massive. Floor-to-ceiling windows made up three out of the four walls, with a spiral staircase near the center leading up to a lofted space. The only real blessing was the bare-bones approach to minimalist decor. The place looked barely lived in, like the museum of a home rather than someone’s actual apartment, but that would prove helpful in the unloading process. The less time she had to spend in the same room with Jared’s father, going through her dead brother’s shit, the better.

Charlie wasn’t even supposed to be a part of this. The only reason Dallas bothered flying home in the first place was because she was almost certain that Charlie wouldn’t. He had been overseas on a business trip when the hospital called him, and had so graciously passed along Dallas’s contact information. (She still didn’t know how he got it in the first place, but she made a mental note to change her number the second she landed in Vancouver). Jared was dead before Dallas even got to the airport, and Charlie had surprised her by showing up at the funeral.

Sure, in a perfect world, it wouldn’t be surprising for a father to show up to his only child’s funeral. But the world was a far stretch from perfect, and her family was even further.

And now, despite not helping with any of the arrangements—the cremation, the ceremony cost or the planning—he insisted on helping manage Jared’s estate. Dallas shouldn’t have been surprised.

“It shouldn’t take long,” Charlie commented with the air of someone who knew what the fuck they were talking about. “I can have Miguel arrange the transport of the large furniture pieces tomorrow morning. We’ll take it to the upstate property. It can go in the guest house.”

“What about the furniture that’s already there?” she asked, running her fingertips over a cashmere throw blanket on the back of the couch.

Charlie shrugged. “We’ll throw it out. It’s a few years old, anyway.”

It really should have been none of her business. She shouldn’t waste her time engaging in conversation that wasn’t entirely necessary, but she couldn’t help herself.

“There’s a donation center twenty minutes away. They do their own pickup.”

He wrinkled his nose in a way she really should have seen coming. “So a twenty-five thousand dollar sectional can go to a secondhand store? Seems a bit of a waste.”

She didn’t bother pointing out the hypocrisy. Instead, she rolled her eyes and made her way toward the spiral staircase to check out the bedroom. As she stepped off the last stair, her feet skidded to a halt beneath her, nearly knocking her back down. She grabbed onto the railing to balance herself.

“Holy shit,” she yelped. Because there was a person curled up in the center of Jared’s king size bed. The woman had her back to the doorway, long, red hair strewn behind her like a flood of fire. Her form was still and silent, the only indication of life in the steady rise and fall of her ribs.

“What is it?” Charlie trailed up behind her a few seconds later, more curious than concerned. He came to a stop by her side, taking in the discovery for himself. “Oh.”

Dallas blinked, calling on a distant memory. A piece of mail. A wedding invitation. A flash of bright red hair in a photo with her brother, looking up at her from the trash can before the lid dropped shut.

“Jessica?” she said.

“No,” Charlie said. “Jessica died. Three years ago. I’m glad to see that the therapy I paid for went to good use. He clearly found some… uncreative coping mechanisms.” With more force than necessary, he tapped the leg of the bed with his shoe, jolting the girl. “Alright, sweetheart. Time to get up. Free stay is over.”

The girl startled awake, the line of tension in her back pulling taut like a puppet in strings. She scrambled up and onto her knees, and when she turned to face them, a stunned silence fell over the room. Dallas’s eyes narrowed in on the thin, metal band around her neck.

This girl in her dead brother’s bed was a Companion.

His Companion.

“Jesus, Jared.” The breathy sound Charlie made could only be described as bemused, and it set Dallas’s blood on fire. “That makes more sense, I suppose.”

The girl didn’t say a word, but the panic emanated from her like heat from a furnace. Her eyes—a preternatural green behind copper lashes—were wide and terrified, rimmed in red and puffy from crying. She was wearing one of Jared’s oversized Cornell tees, which draped to the tops of her thighs.

“It’s okay,” Dallas said without really knowing why. She supposed she just wanted to say something—anything—that might take some of the fear out of her expression. “You’re okay. We’re not going to hurt you.”

The girl’s eyes snapped to her when she spoke, but they retreated back to Charlie as she parted her lips, opening and closing them twice before pressing them tightly together.

“Hey,” Dallas said, pulling her focus back to her. It made her stomach turn to say the words, but this was far from the first time Dallas interacted with someone in the system. Unfortunately, she knew how this worked. “It’s alright,” she said. “You can say whatever you want to say.”

She hesitated another couple of seconds before she softly cleared her throat. “You… Jared? You know Jared?” Her voice had a rough, raw edge to it, as if she hadn’t spoken in days.

“He’s my brother.” Dallas caught herself, grinding her teeth. Was my brother, she corrected internally.

“He…” The girl blinked, dazed. “He didn’t come home. He hasn’t… he didn’t…”

“You didn’t call the police?” Charlie snapped. “Or anyone?”

The girl shrank back from his tone. “I’m sorry,” she said. “He doesn’t allow—I… I don’t have a phone. I’m not allowed to leave without him.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Dallas said quickly, stepping between her and Charlie. She shot him a glare he didn’t seem to notice. “But there is something I need to tell you. About Jared.”

****

Dallas sat on the couch across from the red-haired stranger, the quiet heavy between them. The only sound was the faint carry of Charlie’s voice from the loft as he spoke with whatever fucking WRU representative he had on speed dial.

He hadn’t seemed surprised, exactly, to discover an enslaved woman in Jared’s apartment, but he didn’t clearly hadn’t known about it in advance. In all likelihood, he was probably a little bit proud. And Dallas… Well, it was hard to be disappointed in someone for whom your expectations were already below ground level, but some part of her had wanted to hope for more from her brother. They had grown up around Companion workers—in their home, in their parents’ company—and they knew how fucked up the system was. Even if he never admitted as much out loud.

Dallas had been involved in the anti-contract system as a teenager. Never as much as she wanted; a protest here or there, a few letters to congressmen and reposts on social media. She had tried to get a little more into it in college. But since graduating, work kept her busy. And, as ashamed as she was to admit it, moving to Canada had been something of a mute switch for her. The system had been outlawed there for more than a decade, and it was easy to become complacent in a place like that. To pretend it wasn’t happening at all just because it was no longer happening in your own backyard.

This… made her reevaluate that inaction.

The girl was curled into herself, her arms wrapped around her legs in the corner of the sofa. Dallas had found a pair of joggers in Jared’s closet and shed her own leather jacket for her to wear. That particular pairing looked a little strange, but it was better than having her sit half-naked in the living room. In front of Charlie.

“Are you hungry?” Dallas asked, unsure of how to fill the silence. It had been years since she was in the same room as a contracted Companion, but it filled her bloodstream with the same uneasy buzz as she remembered.

She looked up at her, blinking her red, puffy eyes. The answer was apparent in her silence.

“Have you eaten?” Dallas tried carefully. “Since Jared’s been away?”

Her pale fingers tightened in the fabric around her knees. “No, Miss Radley.”

“Dallas, please,” she corrected gently. “Or Dal. Let’s find you something to eat, yeah?”

The girl unfolded herself and trailed softly behind her to the kitchen. She swayed on her feet, leaning one hip subtly against the counter as Dallas scoured the pantry for something more than olive oil and seasoning. She could see her brother never quite got over his tendency to order out for every meal, but at least she was able to scrounge up some bread and peanut butter for a sandwich.

“Am I going to be taken back to the facility?” The question from behind her was so meek, Dallas almost didn’t hear it.

She set the butterknife she had found slowly down on the counter, turning to face her. “I…” She swallowed. “I’m not sure what the plan is right now.”

At that moment, Charlie’s footfalls descended on the stairs. The girl’s posture went rigid.

“Well,” he said, walking over to join them in the open kitchen. “This certainly makes things more interesting.” He spared a glance to the girl, then turned his attention back to Dallas as if she wasn’t in the room at all. “Apparently he has been contracting this girl on a rolling basis for the past two-and-a-half years. They’re only three months into the current six month term.”

The girl’s eyes had found a spot on the countertop and hadn’t deviated since Charlie entered the kitchen. Dallas eyed her dubiously, the sense of dread crawling higher in her throat.

“What is their policy for this kind of circumstance?” Dallas asked.

“They have a couple of options. The first is a mortality clause, where fifty percent of the remaining contract fee can be recouped to the Keeper’s family upon early termination. The second is a transfer of title on her contract for the remaining duration. It only applies to legal or blood relatives and spouses, unless someone else is named in the initial contract. In Jared’s case, there was not.”

And there was the peak of the dread.

Their options were to return this girl to the nearest WRU facility to be abused and assaulted and repurposed for a new sick fuck to take her home, or for one of them to claim her for themselves like a piece of expensive art in someone’s will.

Charlie leveled his charming grin in Dallas’s direction. “I don’t suppose there’s any purpose in asking if your views on the system have changed since last we spoke?”

“Fat fucking chance,” she said. He laughed like she’d said something funny, then trailed his gaze back to the girl, who curled even further into herself.

“What’s your designation, sweetheart?”

Dallas tensed at the prospect of him speaking to her directly, but the girl answered smoothly and immediately.

“Domestic, sir.”

“And how old are you?”

“Twenty-three.”

That may or may not have been bullshit. WRU was known for not being entirely truthful when it came to the matter of age—in either direction, depending on the type of Keeper they were trying to appeal to.

“Have you been in the system a long time?”

There was the slightest pause before she answered this time. “Since I was nineteen,” she said quietly. Dallas’s fingers squeezed down around the handle of the butter knife.

“Hm.” Charlie pushed back from the counter, nodding decisively. “That could work out. Molly’s contract is up in a month, and I wasn’t planning to renew anyway.” He was no longer addressing her directly. “Some overlap could be good. She could show her the ropes. Okay. Yeah. I’ll have Miguel handle the paperwork.”

What happened next was never the plan. Was never even the realm of possibility until she suddenly felt her mouth moving without her permission and heard the words in her voice as if spoken by a stranger.

“I’ll take over her contract.”

Both sets of eyes turned to her, one full of apprehension, the other full of delighted surprise.

“Oh, will you, now?” Charlie lifted an eyebrow, and Dallas swallowed back the urge to fling the butter knife into his jugular.

Instead, she fixed her eyes on his, refusing to back down. “Are you going to fight me on it?”

He held her gaze for a few long seconds, and she was prepared for the likelihood that the answer was yes. It wouldn’t be a hard-won fight, and they both knew it. He was a wealthy, respected regular customer of WRU’s services, and she was an outspoken protestor who lived outside of the legal zone.

But then he broke with a chuckle. “Of course not,” he said. “I’ll even help you with the logistics, if you want. It can be a bit of a headache the first time around.”

“I’ll figure it out.”

“If you insist.” He raised his hands, backing off. “Let me know if you change your mind.”

Let me know if you need any help jumping off a fucking cliff, asshole.

As Charlie walked toward the staircase again, Dallas turned to the woman who would soon become her legal—if temporary—property, desperate to explain herself. But before she could, Charlie called out to her from across the room.

“Dal?” He smiled, his white teeth showing in a viscous smile. “Your mother would be proud.”

#bbu #like bbu adjacent?#Family Line: Dallas & Dylan #whump #whump writing #lady whump #wlw writing #wlw story #sapphic story

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