#which yeah it is sweet but in the length of me typing this out she has made 5 (five) comments abt her bf it is non stop no other | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nastyaromatherapy · 7 months

Text

"Fuck Maddy" (18+)

Nate fucks you at a party in a way to get back/over his ex.

to the anon who sent me an Ethan request, i see u 🫡

pairing - nate jacobs x fem!reader

one shot length, 1.3k+ word fic

warnings: PIV, swallowing spitting, delusional ass reader, teensy bit of drinking

You had a crush on Nate Jacobs since eighth grade. But it was nothing special. Who didn't? He was cute, played football, and came from a respectful family. What was there not to love?

You've had your eye on him since you were 13, and you were now a senior. Still no luck with him. Your friends would always tell you to give up, especially after he started dating Maddy Perez. She was the hottest most confident cheerleader in school. But there was a party coming up and you knew they were fighting. You knew it was your time to shine.

You didn't tell your friends because you knew they would obviously not approve. "Y/n, what the fuck were you thinking?" You could just imagine their scolding.

So, you got one of your guy friends to drop you off, one that was semi close to Nate. They played football together. You never considered him because he was sweet, kind, medium ugly, not the best at football just not your type.

The two of you enter the party and quickly go your separate ways. You wore a skimpy dress which kept hiking up whenever you took a step. You took a scope of the cars and didn't recognize any of them except for Nate's silver truck. You rushed inside to search for your parasocial boyfriend. And then there he was in the kitchen, downing shots like a champ.

You rubbed at your waterline just in case, trying to erase as much flaking mascara and eye boogers as possible. You approached the island with a smirk you've practiced for awhile. "Can I take shots with you?" You ask him confidently. "No," he gawked, making a face. You kept your face straight, you've been teaching yourself things about Nate. One thing was to not take the stuff he said to heart. He chuckled when he noticed your never changing expression. "Okay yeah, sure."

He knocked the stuff off of the island, making people gasp and groan at his arrogance. Typical. He laid you on the cold surface, lifting up your dress. "Body shots," he said with a smirk. Everyone cheered his name as he poured the bottle of liquor down a line on your body, from your chest to your naval. He's quick to lick it up and he stares at you coldly as he does so. God was he hot, you felt heat build up in your core. Your cheeks flushed, and you sat up on your elbows after he finished slurping the drink and everyone stopped their cheers.

He smirked and walked off through the crowd, probably going to talk to McKay or something.

Nate's friends started to egg him on. "Yo, that girl was fine as hell hit that before I do, shi," and "I heard your girl Mads was getting around, fucking some bitch in the pool," "Shit that's my mom's pool!" It all started to get to Nate's head. You were hot, sure, but you weren't Maddy. But if Maddy got to fuck a bitch, why couldn't he?

He found you dancing on the dancefloor with some of your guy friends and approached you. "Y/n, right?" He asks with a smirk. "Yeah," you giggled out, a little tipsy. "Care to dance?"

You agreed and started to dance as he joined in. The two of you inched closer to each other, and soon the dancing became grinding. You could hear his groans, even over the loud music. His eyes flicked to out the window where he saw Maddy all over some random guy. "Come on," he said, dragging you by your wrist. You stumbled behind him and he led you to a bathroom.

He threw his lips onto yours, groaning into your mouth. He knew you were just a random girl, but he imagined you as Maddy. His girl, not a random one. You knew that, but you didn't care, this was your chance with fucking Nate Jacobs.

He reached his hand up your skirt, finger pads coming in contact with your damp panties, making your breath hitch. He smirked against your lips.

He slipped his tee off, exposing his fit torso. He's quick to take off your dress as well, leaving you in your matching set. He reaches down to grab your ass, and sits you onto the countertop. He reconnects his lips with yours hungrily, tilting your head up by the back of your neck.

He pulled away and grabbed your tender thighs, spreading them open. He slipped your panties off and crouched down to be eye level with your pussy. He licked a stripe up it, not breaking eye contact, before plunging in two fingers then standing back fully up.

Your eyebrows curled upwards as you looked in his eyes. He bit his lip, focusing on his movements, fingers curling inside your wet cunt. Your dreams were becoming a reality. He slowly left his mouth agape and continued to finger you, your legs inching wider and wider.

You felt that knot build up in your stomach, moans starting to escape from your lips. You didn't care how loud you were, no one would hear you or care. Your sounds just made him hungrier and he thrusted faster. Wet squishy sounds filling the room. With a final moan coming from you, you cum around his fingers, thighs clenching.

"Fuck," he mutters to himself, pulling his fingers out of your cunt and sticking them into yet another wet and warm hole: your mouth. You took his fingers and gagged on them as he chuckled to himself. His fingers were salty, and it could've been because of your unconditional attraction, but you found it intoxicating. He pulled them out of your mouth, a string of spit following after it, making you pant slowly.

He looked down at you while biting his lip as he started to unbuckle his jeans. His pants dropped to his knees, followed by his boxers, leaving his cock free. You just so badly wanted to suck him off, practically salivating. But he had other plans. He spread open your aching thighs once more, lining himself up to your gaping opening. He leans in to the crook of your neck, teeth grazing on your shoulder as he slid in, your pussy swallowing his length whole.

You whined when he entered you, gripping on the faucet and the edge of the counter. He started moving in and out, slow but deep. He breathes loudly in your ear, sending shivers down your spine and making your hairs stick up erect. Your moans in his ear make him greedier, speeding up, hitting that same spot inside of you repeatedly. The two of you stayed silent for most of the time, letting out grunts, groans and moans but no words. Just focused on the pleasure of the moment.

The mirror behind you started to cloud as he started to get close. You could feel him twitch inside of you and him getting louder. You clenched tighter around him, wanting to feel that sweet cum inside you, but again that's not what he had in mind.

He picked you up off of the counter, still inside of you, before finally pulling out and putting you down on the ground in front of him. Your mouth watered being eye to eye with his throbbing cock, covered in your wetness before taking it into your mouth, sucking him sweetly. He groans as you work your tongue around his shaft as your throat takes his tip, gagging when it hits your esophagus. He throws his head back and starts to buck his hips in and out of your mouth before cummings down your throat. You pull off of him and regurgitate the semen, letting it drip down his cock and your chin to the floor.

He pants, wiping sweat off his forehead before removing yourself with your heavenly mouth.

He pulls his pants and boxers back up and grab his shirt from the floor. "Yeah, fuck Maddy," he says before leaving the room.

#nate euphoria #euphoria x reader #euphoria #smut #euphoria smut #nate jacobs x y/n #nate jacobs x you #nate jacobs smut #nate jacobs #nate jacobs x reader #nate jacobs fic #nate jacobs fanfic #euphoria fic #euphoria imagine #nate jacobs imagine #jacob elordi #jacob elordi fanfiction

2K notes · View notes

marxo-fm · 1 month

Text

Take me to Church

✯ John Price x f!reader | Playlist

Summary: A reader who’s so religious that she doesn’t even think of anything close to inappropriate, until she meets her dad’s best friend, Mr. John Price.

Words: 4.7k

Warnings: MDNI 18+, mature themes and language, age gap (reader is 25 and Price is in his early 40’s), religious trauma from Catholic variety, dad’s best friend, loss of virginity, pet names, slight aftercare in the end, fear of getting caught from reader, smut, assurance, fingering, reader isn’t all that clueless but super inexperienced, protected PIV, oral (fem! receiving), reader has some troubles with masturbation (failure to finish), Price teaches the reader how to feel good, praising, no descriptions of readers body, race, skin color, ethnicity, hair type/length and body type.

A/N: Currently don’t know wtf I’m doing with my life and how this absurdity came to mind, but aye, I’m all here for it. This was so…..!? Yeah. Also big shout out to Hozier, my icon. Side note: I truly apologize If this fic is rough, I will edit it soon but it’s mostly because I haven’t written in a hot minute, due to school and shit, but I’m back now—and I’m proud of this!

—

The breeze kisses your skin as you soak the sun's warmth on a Friday afternoon. The grass is green, and the clouds are out, summer has just begun. You feel yourself start to come back, you were struggling but now that’s over—for a bit. You look over as you watch your dad chopping wood. Usually, he has his friends helping out, but you guessed they had things to do, which explains why they weren’t here.

You memorized their names.

There’s Gaz, Simon, a man who goes by the name of ‘Soap’—which you find funny and you’re not sure if that’s his real name or if it’s just a nickname—and then…John.

Mr. Price. Or so you call him. Sir or Mr works just fine. But you never explored your unknown and strange feelings for him. How you always felt so shy around his dominating presence, or how his voice sounds like honey and sins. You prayed at night and asked for forgiveness when thinking of such thoughts you’ve never thought of when you see John.

Until one day in high school—in health class—they taught about intercourse and other things that left you baffled and quite scared. Anxious. Curious.

You’d get scolded by your Catholic parents when you asked such things, they say it’s too early to get into these topics, or that you should wait until marriage. Your parents are good, but you always follow their rules. You never once disobeyed, only minor times but you always asked for forgiveness.

You’ve always been a good girl, but Mr. Price always makes the fire in your belly grow. And that fire burns through your veins in an excruciating need for something so sinful. Maybe it’s the devil on your shoulder, but you never fight it off, and that was bad.

“Hey honey, ought to help me out here? The jerks I call my friends are out busy somewhere, c’mon, I’ll teach ya.” Your father motioned his hands as he walked to his area where he chops his wood, you’ve never done this before, but you’re excited. He gives you his axe, and you almost give out due to how heavy it is. “Can’t carry it like that sweet pie, hold it strong and firm.” He instructs.

You do as he says, squinting your eyes to look at his face of approval, “I think I got it.”

He nods and you bring the axe up to your shoulder, and you bring it down with every ounce of strength.

You chopped it.

“Attagirl, that’s one hell of a way to chop down wood.” A man with a deeper voice and a southern drawl said from right behind you, you turn around and the blood rushes to your head.

It’s John.

“Oh…Mr. Price,” you stammer, and you feel a rush of embarrassment plastering your cheeks.

“Y’know ya can call me John, right? Good job raisin’ her pal, she got manners.” He chews on his toothpick as he takes the axe from your hands, and the contact leaves you feeling vulnerable and so flustered. His rough hands that he used to work, chop wood, and fix things felt oddly familiar on your soft skin.

“We taught her well, ain’t that right darlin’?” John looks over his shoulder, his flannel covering his bulging biceps and that itself makes you feel thirsty for cold water.

“Yes, Dad,” you replied softly, “Well, I’m just going to head on over back home to help Mom out. Want anything to drink John?”

John looked at you momentarily, the way his name slipped out of your sweet mouth left him speechless. His eyes gaze over your white dress that sits just above your knees, it feels like he is undressing you, but he’s just wondering how and when the hell you looked like this. Of course, you were always beautiful, but there was something special there.

A spark.

“No ma’am.” He waved his hand and went back to work. You watched as his forearms grew bigger when he swung that axe down.

Forgive me for my sins.

You mumbled before you opened the door to your home and walked in.

—

“My baby’s such a bad girl, aren’t ya? Takin’ me so well.” John praises as he thrusts into you in sinister motions like he’s been deprived of something so good for such a long time, that it almost drove him over the wall.

How you felt so good, so welcoming, as his thrusts became deeper and faster. Touching parts of you that you didn’t even know existed—nor could feel. It was an out-of-body experience like your soul had ascended, and you didn’t know whether it was real.

Until your alarm woke you up. It wasn’t real, but gosh did it feel real. You’re sweating, and your heart is running a marathon, as you regain your breath, you feel like you committed a crime. A crime so punishable that it could result in a death sentence.

You grab your rosary and you rock back and forth, praying and asking for forgiveness for ever dreaming about him. Your parents always told you that you wouldn’t have a good spot in the afterlife—a place called hell—if you thought of or committed any acts of sin. Especially anything and everything related to dirty inappropriate thoughts or worse, sex. Commit any of these before marriage, and you have a spot ready for you down below.

You feared for your life, even though it was impossible for anyone you love to know. They won’t ever know you have thoughts about John, or how you feel warmth between your legs when you picture him touching you in places you can’t please. Or how you picture him shirtless chopping wood, grabbing your waist from behind as he helps you hold the axe properly and swing it down. It was oh so shameful of you. Dirty, bad, sinful.

But you feel as if enough was enough, you’ve been good for far too long, that you deserve to feel good about yourself for once.

It was the perfect time, six thirty in the morning and both your parents were sleeping away, not knowing their good and obedient daughter was yearning to touch herself.

You lock your doors for safety as you scurried back to bed, you lay down on your back as you skim your fingers down your chest.

Deep breathes in and deep breathes out. You don’t know how to do this, but you’ll give in anyway. You sigh as you pull your shorts down, with your underwear as well. You drew circles around your belly before trailing down to your heat. Soft gasps escaped your mouth at your sensitive touch. Sensitive and swollen from the dream you just had.

You close your eyes, rubbing circular motions on your most sensitive area as you picture John doing this for you instead. Rough and hard-working hands aiding you. A coil in your stomach tightens, urging you to untie right then and there, but you can’t get the motions to stay the same.

You winced as you pushed your finger deeper, your back arching in response. You don’t feel anything, no pleasure, only pain and emptiness.

You want to scream in the agonizing torture of being so close yet so far away. You pull your shorts back up as you go inside the restroom to wash your hands.

You committed acts of sin and weren't pleased, and now you feel nothing but guilt and insecurity of not knowing how to do something right.

—

The next day, the same place you were before. Outside on your dad's truck watching his friends help out with work. John wore a tight brown tee that accentuated his muscles, he's a retired man, but you could see every ounce of blood, sweat, and tears in that body of his.

You blush, thinking about it. About what could be hiding under his shirt.

He catches you eyeing him but you quickly divert your eyes back to your book. John smirked, telling your dad he'll be back in a second and wants to talk with you.

"Ya watchin' me, sweetheart?" He smiled, taking a cigarette out of his pocket. You watched as he did so, fearing that he'd ask you to take a puff, though you never would. "I...I was just trying to learn how you chop your wood, sir."

A deep chuckle escapes his mouth, "Y'know I can teach you, doll," the new nickname had you unable to face him, but he loved seeing you flustered. He took a puff and you nodded, "Come on over to my place, your dad won't mind. I'm not at home much, anyway. S'good to learn y'know," he went on as he walked closer to you, his southern accent becomes deeper as he goes, "You'll have the privacy that you need, to read your books and pray." He knew how religious you are, heck, he's a good friend to your parents.

"I don't know if my father will let me go, with a man nonetheless." John looks back and then back to you, "It's only me, angel."

You decide to ask your father, just in case. You don't want to go behind his back, even if John is family. You walk on over, building the courage to ask your father if it's okay to go over to a man's house, a man you yearn for.

"Dad, is it okay If John takes me to his house? He's gonna teach me how to chop wood." Your dad looks at you momentarily, before speaking, "Of course honey, just because I want you to help an old man out here and there. 'Aka' me." You tried to keep your cool, to not look so eager about going over a man's house.

John smiled, the thought of having you all to himself at his place gets him straining against his jeans. He loves it when you eye him as if he doesn't know or sense when you drool over him.

"Here's your room, sweet thing, if ya ever need anything I'm just a shout away." He sets his tools down and walks to the kitchen, his jeans shaping his toned legs and shirt sizes too small. Butterflies invade your stomach, merely at the thought that you'd be sleeping under the same roof as this man, and willing to teach you something you're so interested in.

"Can't believe your dress is that short, doll. Your mother let you out like that?" He eyed your white dress that sits just above your knees and shows more skin than the dresses you usually wear. "You know, Mr. Price, I'm an adult now."

"Course you are," he takes a sip of his beer, "but I ain't take you as the one to dress like this. Can't say I don't like it."

You smile, flustered at the way he just complimented you. You can't deny that you like it, you love it. It sent a rush of arousal through your entire body, and he noticed the way you crossed your legs.

"Damnit,"

"What is it?" You asked curiously, not knowing that John saw the way you squeezed your thighs together. He wants to ease the need and desire that coursed through you, but he doesn't want to screw it all up.

"Nothin', now come on outside."

"Now, you're going to hold it just like this," he instructs, pushing his hard body against your back as he holds your arms. You could feel the hardness of his strain on your back and you scream internally, unable to form coherent thoughts.

You made this so hard for him, so difficult to the point where John himself forgot what he wanted to teach you.

"Easy," his calloused hands left your arms and snaked their way along your waist. Your stomach flipped at the action. Goosebumps flare over your entire skin, his manly scent entering your nose and taking over your mind. You swallowed, and continued.

"Now raise your axe, and swing it down."

You did just so, and you successfully chopped the wood.

"That's it, angel baby, look at ya. Such a good learner."

"I am, aren't I?" You slightly bit your lip, John cursed himself and cupped your face. "Mm, damn right you are." John wondered deeply if you were such a good learner in other parts as well. Price cupping your face was a first, but his calloused hands that signal just how much of a hard worker made the intense throb between your legs grow.

You wake up with your blanket suffocating as you struggle to fall asleep, again. You tossed and turned, repeating everything and every touch he gave you. You try to stop the need and the burn in your belly, you really do, but it's hard when you don't know how to fulfill your need. It became so bad to the point where you stood up and walked to the kitchen for water.

He wasn't in his room, he was out for the morning. A busy man and you're so silly for thinking he'd be home, even when he informed you he wouldn't be home every passing hour.

But oh how much you needed him. In ways, you couldn't forgive yourself for it.

You sit down, as quiet as a mouse, waiting patiently for him to come back just so you can confess your dirty sins. Maybe he'll forgive you for them, or maybe he won't show you mercy.

You try to occupy yourself, laying down on the couch and turning on the TV, still in your nightgown. You pull the blanket over, ready to watch a cooking video to learn a few things.

But it hits you that you're actually able to do something about the heat in between your legs, now that nobody is here. The house was quiet except for the TV playing.

Your hand trails under the blanket, lifting your nightgown as you reach for your soaked underwear. Shameful how you're soaked even when he's not around, John really leaves his mark on you. You let out a sigh as you reached your wet and sensitive clit.

It's not easy when you struggle to please yourself, it's so disappointing, honestly. Today was no different.

There is this creeping guilt, but it always hits you the most just when you creep up the tip of the mountain, only for you to fall off when you realize what you're doing.

You can't stop thinking of him, shoulders aching and tears urging to escape when you're so close to reaching the end, only for it to be unsuccessful.

So, you close your eyes and let out a deep breath. Spreading your legs further as your fingers plunged into your aching hole, you gasped. Picturing yet again, how he pleases his women. Of course, he knew how, he is well experienced and capable of pleasing a woman, to the point where she forgets her own name.

You're committing acts of sins in his own home, unforgivable and dirty. Because you were raised with the idea of being perfect, but no one is perfect. From the moment you're born and the moment you die--but the moment you die is the moment John Price fulfills your dirty little dreams.

He whispers in your ear telling you how to do this and how to do that.

'Just like that.'

'Those fingers are too light, darlin', lemme do all the work."

"Attagirl, in and out."

And you almost reached the top of the mountain, whispering finally as sweat buds trail down your forehead.

Finally, finally, finally.

Until you fell down the mountain you tried so hard climbing, when John swings open the door to the sight of his best friend's daughter getting off on his couch. You hurriedly pull your panties back up.

At that moment, you wanted to scream.

To run away.

To die.

He's going to tell your dad, and your entire body freezes. You can't plead for forgiveness when you're so far gone. No mercy will be shown when he kicks you out and tells your parents how bad their daughter truly is.

You sit straight as your body shakes in fear, you're unable to cry when you know your fate.

A sinful girl.

"John," you choke, "I-I am so so sorry, I didn't mean to. I really wasn't-"

"How long have you been at this?" Your heart drops all the way down as the blood from your face drains. "O..only," you struggle to speak as his deep brown eyes gaze at you, "It was only this one time."

You lied.

Another sin.

He stands in silence, shutting the door behind him as he takes big steps towards you. He hovers over you, looking down to see a dirty girl in front of him. As if you played this innocent and sweet girl, though you were, except in John's eyes you weren't. At least that's what you thought.

He takes your chin and pushes your head up to face him, you weren't able to look in his eyes, it was all too much.

"Look at me," he grumbled, you did just what he said. Not once resisting, although it was difficult.

"I ain't mad at ya, it's natural, honey."

Your eyes widened and your shoulders relaxed from the tension and fear.

"You're not going to tell on me?" You asked, Price chuckles.

"Course I'm not, I ain't no snitch, I'm a grown man." He bends on his knees, his thumbs rubbing circular motions on your exposed skin.

"Did it feel good? Sorry to have ruined it for ya' angel." It sure did feel good knowing you almost reached the top, it really did, but it felt better having John assuring you that it was all okay. "You don't have to be sorry--I was just..."

"Go on."

"Continue what I interrupted, don't let my presence stop ya," he signaled his pointer finger toward the door to his room, "it ain't comfortable here. No space to spread those sweet legs, is there?"

You shake your head, "Go on, unless you want me in there. I know deep down you do, doll, you can feel so much better." He's right, the moment you've been dreaming of, it finally comes true. How could you say no to John being in the same room making you feel good?

You almost can't believe it.

He suddenly picks you up from the couch, initiating a soft gasp from you when he opens the door and throws you on his mattress.

You balance yourself with your two hands when he undresses himself in front of you. Starting off with his shirt. You gasp once again, at the sight of his sculpted body before you. His chest was full of hair and his toned dad bod was the definition of perfect.

He gets on the bed and slowly crawls towards you, his head now in between your thighs. "I interrupted your time of need, sweet girl, let me make it up to you." He smiles before hooking his finger on the hem of your underwear, pulling them down all the way to your ankles. On display right before him, so shy you hid away, unable to look at the lewd sight in front of you. "That ain't gonna work for me, eyes over here." His fingers dug into your thighs, you did just as he said, looking at his eyes that continue to look at your pretty pussy.

"S'fuckin' wet."

It's a dream come true for John as well, to see you all wide open and soaking wet for him.

He places peppered kisses along your thighs, and you whimper as he stops. John makes his way up to your lips, biting your bottom lip before kissing you deeply and hungrily. Exactly like the dreams.

His stache brushing against your top lip only made it feel real, his tongue deep inside your mouth as your hands held the back of his head, pushing his mouth impossibly deeper. He's eating your face as if it were his last meal on death row. Like a predator catching his prey.

He pulls away from the intense kiss, the saliva leaving both of you.

Good God did he know how to kiss, you let him do all the work when you could barely kiss him back just as good.

His chest heaved, and he continued with his kisses on your neck and down your collarbone, pushing a soft moan out of you that drove John over the wall. "Make more noises, it's only the two of us, jus' let me hear ya." He cooed, his hands lifting your nightgown over your hips and then over your head. His eyes trailed over your breasts hidden in your bra. "Ah fuck," you sit up, allowing John to unclip your bra, the sight of your chest out on display for him made his mouth water. He grips your left breast with one hand while he sucks and kisses the other.

"Oh, John...keep doing that, please."

He kneads your breast, almost putting you to sleep with how good it feels, "mmmhm," you sighed, "you been wantin' this, and I'm sorry for waiting this long." He apologizes as he places kisses down your belly and finally makes his way back to being in between your thighs.

"No need...to be sorry," you breathe, tilting your head back when he swipes his tongue between your wet folds. The new feeling alone made your legs tremble, enticing a loud gasp from you. You start to rock your hips against his mouth as his deep groans vibrate through your entire nervous system. "Taste like fuckin' Heaven, oh sweet baby, I think you are heaven itself." Praise that had you dropping your jaw as he inserted his hot tongue in your hole.

You swore you saw Heaven.

Brows furrowed and back arched as he eats you like a hungry man, your hands gripping the sheets underneath you, and your legs spread further open inviting him in for more.

John inserts one finger in as his tongue continues to suck on your most sensitive area, and you let out the loudest moan you didn't think you were capable of ever making.

You died in this moment. And John swore he died in that moment, also.

"John," you pant, focusing on what could be your first-ever orgasm.

"I know, you're close baby, s'fuckin' tight, come for me." His words of encouragement suddenly break the coil inside your burning belly, the liquid seeping out of you as he continues to lick away every last bit from you.

He takes his finger and licks you away, which leaves you half-lidded.

"See? How hard was that? Like rippin' a damn bandaid off, does your wound feel better?" He teased, "It does," you say softly, still reminiscing what happened a few seconds ago. What you just felt, how it felt like fireworks exploding inside your veins.

"Such a perfect pussy, waiting to be full of me." He unbuckles his belt and unbuttons his jeans, you've never had sex, but you definitely never needed something more than now. You need him, to get to know him, even when you already do.

"Does it hurt like they say?" You asked nervously, watching as his jeans disappeared, leaving him only in his boxers. His thick thighs didn't do much justice in the dim light.

"When I do it, then it shouldn't be as bad, doll. Jus' a little pain, but if ya feel like it's too much, you jus' tell me. Hm?"

It makes you feel special with how sweet he treats you, he treats you with such care that it truly makes you dizzy.

He takes off his boxers and you almost lose all consciousness, his cock leaking with pre-cum and hard, you thought it was quite inhumane how big he is.

Sure you've explored your curiosity, but John, he differed from all of them.

"Poor thing needs some love and I'm going to show your pussy what the definition of love is." You grew heavy with desire, "ya need me to use a condom, sweetheart?" he asked, you nodded, simply because you weren't on the pill.

He opens his drawer and pulls out a condom, ripping it off with his teeth and spitting a piece of the wrapper out.

That was a sight for sore eyes.

He slips it on his thick cock, the condom intensifying every vien, it left your mouth dry like a Sahara desert.

How was that going to fit? Was all you were thinking about, but you were so sure he was going to make it feel okay.

He sets his heavy cock on your soaking entrance, teasing you while he moves his dick up and down your folds, you whine with need and John chuckles.

Was this the sinful thing that would literally damn you for eternity? How could something so dirty feel so good?

He brings a hand of his to pin your arms down, while the other holds your leg close to him. Your brows furrow as he slowly enters himself into you. John grows concerned when he sees your lips pursed and your eyes shut tightly, a tear escaping.

He stops, and you stop holding your breath.

"It hurts don't it? Want me to stop?"

"Please, no," you gasp, "I...I want you to keep going."

He readjusts your hips, before proceeding to continue, "You sure, honey?" You nod and whisper a hundred times yes before he thrusts deep inside of you.

"So fuckin' good for me, fuck!" he shouts, he loved the way your cunt fluttered and wrapped tightly around his cock.

The silence in the room was filled with his groans and loud moans from you, so lewd and so dirty. But you're too far deep to leave now, you're ready to die, happily.

"My," he thrusts, then pulling away and thrusting back in deeper, "gorgeous," you gasp when he continues his rhythm of thrusting and being so close to pulling out before he thrusts impossibly deeper again, "Girl." He breathed.

He brings his fingers to circle your sensitive clit, and you feel it happening again. It's more intense and heavier.

Your walls wrapped tightly on his cock, initiating that you're indeed closer than you have ever been before. "Mhmm," he moaned, and it was such a sweet sound you so badly wanted to hear again. He grabs hold of your legs, bringing them closer to your head, thrusting at a deeper angle that you can feel in your throat.

"That's it, baby, that's my fuckin' girl right here. All mine, gimme one more." He stopped as you cried out his name over and over until it became engraved in John's brain. He silences your cries with his lips as your legs shake around him.

"You did so well for me, your pussy jus' needed some medicine to be cured, got you coming all over my cock." He begins to move again, to finish himself this time. Your pain turns into pleasure and familiarity when he pushes himself in and out.

"John, that feels so..." He groans loudly at the way you watch his cock slide in and out, it was obscene but also surreal, "look at you, fuck, gonna make me cum just lookin' at me like that."

Which you felt so good about, it's all you wanted.

He pants as he reached a certain point, chest heaving as you can feel his cock twitching inside of you.

John pulls out, and there's sadness in your heart at the emptiness. Your heart thuds loudly that your first time to be with a man you dreamed about, it feels euphoric. You felt ecstatic.

He wipes away your dry tears and your hair away from your face, that drowned in sweat and tears.

John admired you the second he laid his eyes on you till now, he never knew the definition of perfect until this moment.

"Can you teach me how to feel good?" You asked as your hand roamed his broad shoulders and his back. And fuck, did John love that.

"Course' baby, on top of the choppin' the damn wood lessons," you both laugh, "I got all the time in the world, for you."

Your heart ached, he whispered sweet nothings before he carried you into the bathroom to clean up the mess.

Then you nestled under his arms and his body heat, his chest, and arms hugging you as the two of you slept the day away.

It was worth every waking second, and now you can sleep peacefully.

A/N: Y'all, wtf. Gnawing at the bars of my enclosure. Need him.

This lowkey needs to be edited some more now that I’m reading it, but I’ll definitely do that later…

515 notes · View notes

thinemoonshine · 2 months

Text

𓆰𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓋𝑒𝓈 𝒻𝓁𝒾𝓉𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒻𝒶𝓁𝓁 ♡𓆪

cha hyun su x female reader genre: romance, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort(?) type: series (but can be read as oneshot- open ending) word count: 1,857

part 3 of series ◄◄ ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ part 5 of series

౨ৎ ⋆｡˚ synopsis: despite the quarantine room being now destroyed due to the increased rate of intrusions by monsters into the apartment—which meant there'll be less restrictions between hyun su and (y/n)—the distance that was once erased between them is now greatly felt by the former- and it wrecks him for not knowing the reason why. (y/n) on the other hand, is unable to tell hyun su the reason behind her actions, that is...without mentioning what his monster told her ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚

"(y/n)," Cha Hyun Su calls. "Are you going to keep sitting there...?"

The other looks at him and smiles awkwardly. "Uh, yeah! Is there something wrong?"

Hyun Su fiddles with his fingers that are situated on his criss-crossed legs as he steals glances at the girl who's an arm length away from him. "I don't know... It's just, you're a bit— far..."

His sad puppy look sends a sharp pang of guilt through her and her heart's gnawing at the bars of its enclosure- demanding to be let out.

"Oh... I just thought you'd like the, uhm, space," (y/n) says awkwardly and Hyun Su's eyes droop more than before, making her heart to begin to file its teeth.

"...Thanks," he quietly responds, evidently insincere as he brings his knees to his chest to hug them.

An awkward silence follows.

Followed by more silence.

...And more silence.

(y/n) can almost hear her heart going ballistic- jumping off the walls and screaming a ray of curse words for hurting the one person she promised never to.

But whenever she wants to get close to him, the memory of what happened before with Hyun Su's monster, restrains her.

"He likes you too... maybe a little too much. He thinks he doesn't deserve you, thinks you're better off with someone 'normal' who won't threaten your life," the monster scoffed as if finding the whole thing hilarious. "And yet, just one touch from you and he's tingling all over- craving for more like you're his oasis in the desert."

(y/n) said nothing- no, couldn't say anything. She was rendered speechless by this sudden, shocking information that she had a hard time believing. Never once did Hyun Su ask for her affection, and even if he did reach out to her, it was always momentary; came and went in a blink.

"So, so much, it wrecks him inside. He feels secure with you, comfortable, happier than ever, but at the same time you taunt him so much with your sweetness that it's venomous. But I like you because of that. Makes it easier to tamper with his mind."

His confession filled (y/n) with dread. All this time... had she been only making things harder for Hyun Su? He had been on war with himself for so long- and she was only adding fire to it.

"Hyun Su," she sighs out from the weight in her chest and he looks at her with a slow turn of his head. Oh, his poor face. BADUMP! "Are you bothered by me?"

Her questions feels like taboo from the way he panics- shaking his head vigorously, making his fluffy hair shake as his lips tremble to say many words at once.

"No! Not at all! I-in fact, I like you!" He blurts and his widened eyes as well as gaping mouth express his own shock from the unexpected confession. "I... like it when we spend time together."

He mentally pats himself in the back at his skillful save.

Skillful... Maybe the skill is the friends he made along the way- which is none.

If anything, his 'save' only reinforces his confession. And even when she won't say it, she can't hide the glee on her face from the blush on her cheeks.

"I like it too," (y/n) chimes and Hyun Su smiles shyly behind his knees- constantly stealing glances before shuffling a bit closer.

She stifles a laugh at this which doesn't go unnoticed by him and he flinches, afraid he's been caught.

He looks at her who deliberately turns away to hide the amused grin on her face, unaware that her not meeting his eyes causes an uncomfortable clench in his chest.

"...Did I do something?"

Hyun Su's abrupt question wipes the grin off her lips and she focuses on him.

"Do what? What do you mean?" (y/n) asks curiously and he slowly slides closer with his hand reaching out to hers on the floor- the tips of their fingers touch and when she doesn't stray away, he gently clasps his hand over hers.

Hyun Su's now sitting right in front of her, slightly towering as he sits on his heels- looking down at her with a tilt of his head. "I feel like you're avoiding me... But I don't know why. Can you tell me why?"

His unforeseen bluntness steals her breath away and the fact that he's cornering her against the wall doesn't make it better.

"I'm not avoiding you. I'm just like always," (y/n) denies with a slight scoff, as if finding the situation ridiculous and this stirs him- unnerving him. It's so obvious she's distancing away. Usually, she'll take the space right beside him, leaving no gap; she'll hold his hand to draw pictures or fold his fingers, making shapes; she'll touch his face, cupping his cheeks as she gazes at him with the most endearing eyes; play with his hair and everything else.

Yet, she says everything's as it always is? Lies.

Or maybe, it is- and he's just gotten greedy. She's been spoiling him with so much affection that he's forgotten the way things always were. Yeah, that's why. That's all there is to it. Of course.

'But I don't want it to be,' his head rejects and presses her hand against his cheek. "Really? Is that really true?"

(y/n) gapes at his newfound boldness and she almost chokes on her own saliva when she wanted to answer. "Why wouldn't it be?"

"Because you...don't touch me anymore," Hyun Su softly says- more of a whimper than it is a declaration and he rubs his cheek against her soft palm. 'I've gotten greedy.' "You don't...want me anymore."

"I never said that!" (y/n) argues, now afraid that his brand new confidence is going to deplete and he'll return to his former small, self-loathing character. "Hyun Su, why would you say that?"

"Am I wrong?" He snaps and for a slight instance, (y/n)'s sure she saw the white in his eyes shift to black- only for a moment. Not enough to confirm anything.

She moves her hand from his cheek to his jaw- thumb hovering over his luscious lips before she caresses them. It's as if her touch is a key- unlocking him and his mouth parts as if granting access.

The words of his monster resurfaces in (y/n)'s head and she ponders before making a decision. "Hyun Su, I met... your monster."

Her words shock him yet he refuses to move, not wanting to stray from her gentle hold. "What? When?"

"When I visited you at the quarantine room before it got destroyed," (y/n) confesses and turns to the corridor that's been barricaded with anything they could find: debris, broken furniture, bricks, etc. Now, the only places they can stay at is the lobby of the apartment and a few resident rooms that are on the same floor.

Most of the time though, Hyun Su and (y/n) stay in the lobby- the other residents find it more comfortable that he's out in the open while they are the ones who get the safer private rooms.

"...Did he do anything?" Hyun Su asks and his hot breath steams against her thumb still pressed on his lip.

(y/n)'s reticent. "He told me that I was giving you a, um, a hard time- and that, he likes it whenever I'm close because you're... easier to tamper with."

He says nothing, but the quiet that follows display his understanding to the subject despite the lack of details. But he soon, speaks- albeit hesitant. "Just that? N-nothing else?"

Should she specify what the monster meant by a 'hard time?' Would that make Hyun Su understand why she's distancing herself? She groans internally, feeling more and more like she's in some shoujo manga.

"He told you, didn't he?" The timid character in front of her suddenly questions, dispirited, and he pulls away- now further away from her as he sits with his knees to his chest. "I'm sorry... I'm disgusting. I thought I could hide it, hold it in but I got greedy and— No... no. I'm sorry. I have no excuse."

(y/n) watches as he sinks further into himself- shoulders hunched and fluffy hair now replacing his face with him hiding himself in his knees. "Hyun Su..."

"No. It's okay, you don't have to say anything... It's— I'm a monster," he muffles his words on his sleeves but they're all still discernible and it just breaks her to see him so crestfallen and desolate. He was fine, he has been fine and now...

Hyun Su's fingers that are curled tightly on his elbows loosen when he feels a hand on his head, gently patting and he slowly, heavily, lifts his face up towards her.

But as soon as he does, he's instantly captured into a kiss which steals his breath- literally and figuratively. (y/n) gives him no space to breathe and when she pulls away, he's left panting like he's ran a marathon.

"Oh, shoot! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! I just, I hated that I couldn't be more honest and ended up making you hurt. You don't deserve the blame for anything, you're not to blame. I mean, it's just... biology? I feel it too- all the time!"

And at that moment, she feels like she should've just shut her mouth up.

Panting Hyun Su with ears and cheeks in a fiery red, furrows at her with confusion, before he gasps at what she means- now turning redder than a beet. "Y-you— Me—"

"Yeah! Yeah, I am! I'm crazy about you! Sure, I started off accompanying you just because I wanted to but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't anticipating anything either. Why do you think I'm so touchy with you, anyways? I don't do that just because, y'know..." (y/n) trails off as her heart beats faster and faster each second, she might just explode.

Her bold confession causes him a short circuit and all the tingles and butterflies are making him sick- a sickeningly sweet nauseating feeling. He wants more.

"Are you sure?" Hyun Su mutters with eyes blinking up at her like a deer in headlights as she squishes him in her hands. His skin is unbelievably soft during these harsh times.

"More than ever," (y/n) assures and pecks his forehead which he indulges in with eyes shut and lips in a smile.

However, just as the petals start fluttering around them and the tint of the screen turns pink, a large crash is heard from outside before the barricade they've made on the entrance of the apartment begins to crumble.

The pair quickly stand as the other residents pour in the lobby at the commotion when all of a sudden, a monstrous arm-like figure pierces through their defense.

Hyun Su quickly steps in front of (y/n)- an arm shielding her from getting any closer to the collapsing wall. "Stay behind me, (y/n). I'll keep you safe. I promise."

(y/n) watches his look of determination from behind and a smile graces her face at his confident declaration. And as always, he's always stayed true to them.

'Always,' she echoes in her head.

#cha hyunsu x reader #cha hyun soo x reader #sweet home x reader #cha hyun su x female reader #sweet home #cha hyun su #fanfiction #cha hyun su imagines #cha hyun su fanfictions #sweet home fanfictions #sweet home imagines #monster hyun su #monster cha hyun su

78 notes · View notes

cleolinda · 1 month

Text

Weekend links, April 7, 2024

My posts

This week feels like it has been a hundred years long (not in a bad way).

Somehow we joined together to balance the seesaw just right so Ava Gardner and Jean Seberg could both go through in the Hot Vintage Lady polls (percentages rounded). Like, I’m wearing the Ava jersey and even I encouraged people to vote Jean when necessary. Honestly, I just wanted to see if it could be done. And it COULD.

Round three has begun. It is already horrific. This is the first round that’s really going to hurt because we spent the last one really getting down in the dirt and championing our ladies, or learning about actresses we’d never heard of before and getting attached to them. And now? We are reminded: memento mori. Everyone loses but one.

(I personally pitched in for Sara Montiel. “BUT JUST LOOK AT--” Yeah, I did, thanks.)

Reblogs of interest

April Fool’s Day: You were here for the Boopening, yes? The whole thing was that you only got badges for giving boops, not receiving them, which is a great way to not reward popularity contests, but also means that every last one of us was out here trying to figure out who to bap with a cat’s paw 1000 times. I said, listen, my notifications are already trash garbage today. I’ll take the bullet. Boop at will.

The Activity graph isn’t too clear on this point, but it looks like I had something like 65,000--hits? engagements? boops?--that day. Listen, I got the black paw badge too. We all did what we had to do in the Boopening.

A Shakespearean boop of goodly length: “And, Meowntague, come you this afternoon, to know our further pleasure in this case, to old Food-bowl, our common judgment-place.”

I had to go lie down awhile after a pun like “The Purrge.”

I had just gotten up from that pun and then I had to go lie down again.

Account security gothic

The Canada griffin

Dinotopia nostalgia

Two pairs of spectacles, one made from slices of emerald, and the other from slices of diamond

An old favorite: Cerberus as a puppy, guarding the gates to heck

I feel like these two posts have the same energy: Time cops will not let you travel back to the Titanic and bloodthirsty gazebos are currently in a dormancy period.

The birds are still troubled

PSA: The best sunscreens for your face

Video

A collection of various American Indian/indigenous American languages, including Navajo, Tlingit, Lakota, Colville Okanagan Salish, Cherokee, Yucatec Maya, Greenlandic, Mohawk, Yup'ik, and Mi'kmawi'simk.

A trans health-and-wellness fundraiser (Mercury Stardust, Point of Pride, and friends) kept getting banned off Tiktok due to assholes. Here’s how to donate; I saw a few “here’s how they helped me” notes, so it seems like these programs are both legit and effective.

You think you’re going to sit staring at this video because Chocolate Guy is weaving chocolate. Then you get into it, and it just keeps going.

“Too Sweet” is doing hilariously well on the charts for a song that didn’t even make the album proper. Hozier’s bees would like to thank you for your support.

I know I said that Stevie Nicks would make you sing backup on your own haunting, but late in this 1997 live performance of “Silver Springs,” she makes Lindsey Buckingham, the man she wrote this song about, look her in the eye while she belts it at him. This specific performance was released as a single (I was there, Gandalf) and nominated for a Grammy. Watch the video and you will see why.

The Women Those ‘Evolution Of Beauty’ Videos Leave Out

I don’t really know how to describe this rubberhose-style cartoon of Cab Calloway as a singing nightmare clown. Betty Boop is also there. “You just described it!” No, I really didn’t.

How movable type worked 1000 years ago, from scratch.

Unrestrained seasonal yak fun

A snowy raven photoshoot

The sacred texts

I don’t know how to explain this double Sacred Text about ominous dreams that comes with its own comic, except to say that they’re so iconic that I first saw both posts in lo-res Pinterest screencaps.

April Fool’s: The ultimate sacred text.

Personal tag of the week

Wet beast Wednesday, which had both a headshake stickflip and bears on a swan boat.

#weekend links #odds and ends #linkspam

32 notes · View notes

biifresh · 2 months

Text

Colby part 8.1

warnings: sexting, masturbation (m and f), cursing

words: 726

I woke up by the sound of shuffling in the room, I opened my eyes and saw Colby packing and I remembered it was today that Colby was going to Romania to film a YouTube video. after we drove to the airport me and colby did our goodbyes. i watched him go in the plane while i stayed there feeling horny, getting back in our house. As Colby sat in my seat on the plane, he couldn't help but feel a bit nervous about this whole thing. colby never been out of the country before without me, let alone travelled all the way to Romania for work. But he knew deep down that colby could handle it. his phone buzzed in my pocket, indicating that he had received a message. ''hey baby how is it going'' i texted him. His heart skipped a beat as he read her text. It felt like an eternity since colby last heard her voice, even if it was just over the phone. he quickly typed out a response. Feeling a sudden urge to connect with her, colby replied almost immediately. his fingers flew across the keyboard as he typed out a quick response. "Hey babe! It's smooth so far. Just sitting here thinking about you and everything we've been through together. Missing your cute ass already." hit send and eagerly awaited her response, hoping she would be able to ease some of the anxiety building up inside colby. he chuckled at her playful teasing and smiled to himself. It was great to have someone who could keep me grounded during moments like these when he started to get too anxious or overwhelmed. colby replied with another message, trying to maintain a lighthearted tone despite the nerves still coursing through my veins. "babe I got so hard just by thinking of your sweet pussy and ass" Colby hit send and crossed my fingers that she would find my message reassuring and know that no matter how far apart we were physical, our bond remained strong. Then Colby had an amazing idea (obviously) to go in the plane washroom and Facetime me, when he called i picked up he was already stroking his cock. he let out a low moan of pleasure when Colby heard her voice, realizing that she had answered the call while he was already pleasuring himself. his heart raced faster than ever as he continued to stroke my thick length, anticipating where this intimate conversation might lead us. "Fuck yeah... I'm stroking my dick right now because I can't resist thinking about how sexy you look in those tight jeans and that crop top. Makes me want to come just thinking about how close we are... but not quite close enough." I looked around nervously, making sure nobody was nearby before whispering more explicitly, "And speaking of which, I'm gonna need you to help me finish off soon." I glanced down at my throbbing member, "Can you help me out?" Colby said and i immediately stripped down showing my my pussy how wet it was '' yeah baby i can help you out'' i said in a flirty tone. his mouth watered as I saw the image of her standing naked in front of her camera, her pink pussy glistening with arousal. The sight made me even harder, if possible. "Goddamn... You look so fucking hot..." he whispered, unable to take his eyes off of her delicious pussy and round ass. he wanted nothing more than to reach through the screen and grab hold of them both. colby stared in awe as she expertly fingered herself, her movements graceful and sensual. colby heart raced faster than ever as he watched her body undulate with pleasure, her tits swaying gently with each thrust of her fingers into her dripping pussy. The sight was beyond erotic, and colby couldn't help but groan aloud as he shot a massive load onto the plane's walls. "Fuuuuuccckkkk... Yeah, that's perfect," he grunted between gasps of pleasure, "Just like that... Fuck... I'm cumming for you, baby. So fucking hot watching you play with yourself." when i saw him cum it immediately brought me over the edge and came around my fingers. after we caught our breath we cleaned ourselves up and said our goodbyes and i wished him good luck for his video in Romania.

#colby brock #colby #sam and colby #colbysmut #colby brock x reader

30 notes · View notes

butmakeitgayblog · 9 months

Note

may i— [starts vibrating in a very calm and collected way] may i ask how that spanking in cruel intentions go?

'Green?'

You stare at the message with a cheshire grin that you haven't been able to wipe off since 37th and Park.

The ride home left you just a little bit giddy because, good fucking god, you love this woman. Even more so when she's trying to play rough because she's kind of terrible at being demanding. With you, anyway. Even when she's out for blood she always lets you keep one hand securely on the reins, and something about that knowledge, that power she gives you, feels so fucking hot.

And truth be told you'd kinda known you were in trouble since the moment you'd woken up.

If you're being entirely honest with yourself, there were signs since this morning when she'd kissed you goodbye. Just sweet enough to completely and utterly fuck your makeup.

If you're being even more honest with yourself, which you personally loath to be, the idea that she was pissed off at you for your loss of control the night before enough to seek vengeance kind of got you off...

But yeah, the signs had been there. Her curt dismal of your offer to fuck her before work as she'd rolled out of bed to shower alone. The one word answers when you'd asked what she wanted to do for dinner. The resounding silence when you'd asked her how her meetings were going, and the follow up inquiring if she needed anything. She hadn't answered a single one. But she'd made sure you'd seen that she'd read them, and that sick little piece of you had hoped it'd all meant something.

Which is exactly why you practically squeak in delight as you type out your answer.

'Emerald'

'Chartreuse.'

'Hunter, Absinthe, Viridian, my love. And all the shades that make up your gorgeous, breathtaking eyes'

You practically cackle at the middle finger emoji she immediately sends back.

And send a quick pic of your tits cupped in a new bit of lace as a meager peace offering.

Her reply takes several moments, and you're about to ask if she'd started the fun without you, when the three dots mercifully pop up again.

'Keep that on.'

'Everything else can go.'

You've almost tossed your phone aside when her final text comes through.

'And, Darling? I suggest you don't test me on this one.'

Fuck, you really do love her.

It feels like an eternity before you hear the distinct click of her heels on the heated hardwood floor of your apartment. It's enough to kick your heartrate up a few million notches as you scoot down further into the mountain of pillows on your bed. You drape an arm above the fan of your hair and the other low on your belly, legs crossed oh-so-demurely at the ankles because you're a classy goddamn lady after all.

The double doors to your bedroom pop open with her usual grandiose flair and her face is all shades of a hot bitch on a mission.

She stops short at the sight of you. Eyes tracing the stretched out length of you. Mapping the landscape from your tits still cupped in your pretty new bra, to the starkly naked expanse of you the rest of the way down.

The way her gaze darkens makes your thighs squeeze together in an attempt to quell the sudden ache.

"Well. Don't you look comfy."

"Hey, baby." You twirl a lock of blonde hair innocently between your fingers and wriggle your toes against the sheets because you're just so happy to see her. "Have a nice day at work?"

Her eyes snap back up to your face.

You love it when she actively has to remind herself that she's supposed to be mad at you.

She doesn't answer, and that's okay. You weren't expecting one to begin with. Instead she walks over to the edge of the bed and waits, looming over you like a statue. And of course you play your part of the dutiful, doting wife. Slinking up onto your knees, fingers trailing along the lapels of her suit jacket until you have enough leverage to slip it free. You mindlessly toss it in a heap on the floor without ever breaking her gaze, smoothing your hands over her chest, up her neck, gathering her hair to lay over one shoulder.

"These look amazing on you," you whisper with a light snap of one of her suspenders, biting your lip around the pleased little smile that you really can't seem to help. "You know what they do to me."

That infuriating flick of her brow owns your ass by this point in your marriage. And what's worse, the little shit absolutely knows it.

She holds your eyes and thumbs off the suspenders one at a time to hang loose at her hips, deftly undoing the buttons of her shirt to pull the material free, and all you can do is watch. You quite literally have to swallow with the way your mouth sudden fills with saliva at the sight of her standing there like that. All wild curls and perfect little tits wrapped in black scraps of lace. Face far too hard, too commanding, too lethal (in your not at all humble opinion) for a woman with such pouty, fuckable lips.

Your eyes drop to those fingers that start undoing the belted buckle to her suit pants. She unzips them, lets them fall slack, only the generous curve of her hips and thighs managing to hold them up. And you can just make out... can just manage to see—

"Fuck, Lex." You lick your lips at the hint of perfectly manicured curls that peek out from beneath. "Seriously?"

Only your wife would dare to go pantieless in a three thousand dollar suit.

She hums and reaches out to card her fingers through your hair. "Unfortunately, someone made sure I was too sensitive to wear my usual set."

The accusing lilt of her words makes you smile.

Because... Guilty as charged.

You'd known as you'd sunk your teeth into the plumpness of her ass the night before that anything too tight against the skin would be out. You'd seen the suit she'd picked for the next day and lost her head with her despite it. Had let go and marked her up so pretty it'd been a wonder she could sit in her office chair at all. You sway a bit just remembering her moans. All her hisses and quiet yelps. The way she'd jumped at a few particularly punishing scrapes of your teeth before grinding her clit harder against the mattress. You'd left her ass so bruised and beautiful it truly was like an art piece.

It wasn't your fault she gets off on wearing skin-tight garters and lingerie under all of her fancy business suits.

Her hands slip down and cup the back of your neck as she steps in and roughly kisses the smirk off your face. All teeth and tongue and bites to your lips that taste just a but like a reprimand, but really they just leave you gasping in moans into her mouth. You hold her wrists as she kisses you like she's been thinking about it all, like she's pouring every bit of her anger and devotion into with filthly swipes of her tongue.

It's only when pulls back with a wet pop that you can manage to suck in a few desperate breathes.

"I love you." She whispers it against your lips so gently you feel it more than hear it. And you kind of adore that she can't help breaking character just to be soft for you.

You also know this is her way of giving you one final chance of backing out.

But after waiting for this for the better part of the afternoon? Seriously. Fuck that.

So you whisper your own words of devotion and flick your tongue at the little divot that splits her supple bottom lip, feeling the way her hands fist tighter in your hair in acceptance of your answer.

She kisses you again, something softer, entirely sweeter.

The way she leans up to peck your beauty mark before pulling away feels sinister.

And you know you're right when her hands start to drag you downward, guiding to lay on the bed, her touch firm and unyielding in how they tug at your scalp until you're scrambling to lay propped on your elbows. You're a half second away from asking what the hell it is that she's doing, when she removes one hand just to shove her pants down her legs a bit further.

Fuck.

You can smell her you're so close. Can scent the tangy richness of her arousal that clings to the swollen lips of her slit. It makes your head spin to know she's getting off on this as much as you are. You glance up to see her watching you. To see that severe line of her jaw hanging open as the fingers still threaded on your hair fist tighter.

You already knew what she going to do, but that certainly doesn't stop you from letting loose an obscene moan when guides your face right where she wants you. It's a bitch to hold eye contact in this position as she tilts her hips forward, watching you with eyes half-lidded with lust. You open for her obediently, letting her press her cunt to your lips. Lick forward and let her use you for her own selfish pleasure. Work to kiss and suck away the strings of wetness that coat the hood of her clit, as she gasps and rubs shamelessly against the lapping of your tongue.

The fingers in your hair clench with every roll of her hips as you lick into her and feel the way she drips down your chin. Her lips twitch with a smile as she watches you. Something predatory and dark as she fucks herself messily on your mouth. You do your best to match her rhythm, moving with every rock of her hips and feeling her clit pulse against the flick of your tongue. You let your moans rock through her and revel in the way her eyes flutter and roll, sucking harder as she pets your cheek with only her fingertips.

She lets her head tip back when you wrap your lips around her and suck. "That's my girl. Just like that."

You didn't think you were the one in this relationship with a praise kink, but after this... you kinda don't know...

Her breaths turn heavy and her stare is primal as she ruts and builds against your tongue. The thick swip of her eyeliner only adds to the feeling that you're being used by this woman gone feral. Because you love it when she just takes from you. Uses you however she wants.

When she reminds you exactly who owns you.

Because these are the glimpses of the Lexa that existed before you two were you two. The pieces of herself you'd spent years only getting to hear in obscene moans that bled through your bedroom walls. This is the Lexa that always fucked rough and left her conquests a needy, sweat soaked mess. This is the Lexa who takes what she wants, and doesn't give one single fuck, and you really don't get a chance to see this version of your wife nearly often enough.

And just when you feel her thighs start to quiver with how hard you're gonna make her come...

She yanks her hips away from your touch.

What... in the actual... fuck—

"Aw," she breathes in a valiant attempt at composure. The shake in her voice gives her away. "Did you honestly think it was going to be that easy?"

She leans down until she's eye-level with the world class scowl you're sending her way, and gives your hair gentle, reprimanding tug.

"After the shit you pulled last night? Making me come is the least of your worries."

She drops a peck your nose and releases you with a toothy twist of her grin, and she doesn't even spare you the courtesy of watching you petulantly swipe away the blot her chapstick. In fact, she doesn't pay any attention to you at all as she goes about giving herself a look in the mirror beside your table, only pausing long enough to run fingers through her hair in a half-hearted attempt to tame it.

It's a beautifully hopeless vain dream of hers that you hope she never, ever achieves. The wild mess of her hair is at least... one eighth? of the reason you love her.

You sigh and rest your chin in your palm.

Math never was your subject.

The click of her heels sound like gunshots as she wanders over to her side of the bed on trembling legs and casually pulls the third drawer open from the top. She ingores as you shift to follow her. Crawling on hands and knees like her lovesick puppy, and it doesn't escape your attention that her slick still sits heavy on your lips and chin.

You gladly breathe her scent in with every quickened breath.

You wait patiently and watch her rifle through the contents of her goodie drawer. Stopping to pick up that little riding crop that makes your heartbeat pick up, and roll it between those ungodly, beautiful fingers... only to gingerly set it aside with a dismissive hum.

The whine claws its way out of your throat before you can even realize you've fucked up.

Her head snaps to you at the sound, face hard and eyes wide. Blown pupils shining with a delicious threat of murder.

"Fucking excuse you?" she whispers, her voice the crack of a whip now.

It's all instinct that makes you make go soft. Supple. Submissive, in how you relax into the sheets and bare yourself to her completely. You stretch out flat on your belly and flick your hair back from your face, so innocent looking it has to be hilarious, and you almost purr at the way her eyes turn glassy as she looks at you.

Like you're once again her good girl. To have and to hold. Like you're her own little slice of everything sugar and spice, contained in one oh-so-pliant body.

"Nothing, baby." You wiggle your ass just for good measure. "Just ready for you to touch me."

And oh, losing that battle will most certainly be worth winning the war if her face is anything to go by. Because she melts soft around the edges. Lips curling into an angelic smile. Serene and eternally gentle, the sweet living picture of the kind of girl most would dream about taking home to their mother.

She breathes an exaggerated sigh of relief that would probably sound harmless to an amateur ear.

But you? You know your wife far better than that by now.

"That's exactly what I was hoping to hear."

She goes right back to her rummaging, shifting aside this and that, before letting out a triumph, "Ah, here we are," and producing a shiny new bottle of.... baby oil?

You really can't help the way you frown as she wiggles it in the air like it's some kind of special prize. When you'd spent the day picturing all of the potential twists in her plans for retribution, the one thing you certainly hadn't envisioned was...

Well.

That.

"You look disappointed. That hurts my feelings." She pops her bottom lip out in a frown despite looking entirely too pleased with herself for your comfort.

You're just about to reassure her with a lie that 'no! Of course you're not!', when she gracefully pushes down the pants that still cling to her thighs until they pool at her feet and allow her to step out.

Her fingers snap and then she shoos you to move with nothing more than a lazy flick of wrist. It's almost embarrassing how quickly you roll out of her way as she climbs onto the bed. She looks so prim and proper with her legs tucked neatly beneath herself, as though readying herself for prayer, with her heeled feet just hanging off of the bed as she settles on bended knees.

"Oh that's cute," she laughs when you immediately try to straddle her lap, stopping you dead in your tracks with a palm against your chest. All traces of niceness fall away from her face as you pout and consider giving in to your inner brat. "What did I say about testing me?"

Her words fall like a slap. Flat and demanding. Because in the distracting onslaught of that face and that hair and, god, that fucking body mixed with the sweet tangy taste of her slick still fresh on your tongue, you had, indeed, forgot.

You'd forgotten this was her vengeance.

Both her reward and her reprisal.

You'd forgotten this was her goddamn payback for letting you having quite so much fun.

Fuck.

Better women than you probably wouldn't feel quite so turned on from watching her take a second to get everything ready. The way she fluffs a pillow and places it beside her as a 'thoughtful' place for you to rest your head, makes you hate how your wife can manage to turn beating your ass into such a production.

(That's a lie. You fucking love it.)

You take the hand she offers to keep you steady when she motions her hand across her lap as though to say, "Well, go on then." Send her one final pout when she chastely kisses you, and you have to bite your lip to quell the groan that aches in your throat as you drape yourself across her legs.

It feels like Christmas and your birthday all rolled into one.

"See. That wasn't so hard, darling," she coos, her hand rubbing soothing circles on your lower back. Her fingers slip over the swell of your ass and gently kneed the skin there. "I don't know why you have to make things so difficult."

You snort and shoot her a look over your shoulder. "Oh like you're one to fucking talk."

She clicks her tongue in disapproval. "Attitude. If you can't shut that pretty little mouth of yours, I'll have to fill it with something else."

The pulse of arousal that rocks through you is enough to have you clenching around nothing. You know she feels the shiver that zips down your spine and the way your thighs squeeze to relieve the ache.

Not that you'd ever admit to any of it.

"Is that a threat?"

"More like a promise."

"Now who's the savage?"

Her smile's razor sharp when she blows you a kiss. "We are what we are."

You mourn the loss of her fingers rubbing circles over the lower dip of your back, but all your arguments die on your lips at the click of the bottle being opened. She doesn't waste any time shoving your head back forward, not letting you watch - only feel - when she tips the cool liquid over your skin. You jump at the chill of it which makes her laugh because she's a bitch, but a merciful one at least, thankfully. Because the next second her hands are back on you, warming the oil up as she spreads it across your skin. Massaging it over your ass, over and between the tops of your thighs, curling her palms around your hips to cover every inch. Her nails scrape gently across your back and ribs, leaving warm patterns of red in their wake, looping infinities that you'll hopefully be admiring tomorrow.

Your muscles relax until you're liquid. Until you're so loose and hazy under her touch that you think this wouldn't be an entirely bad way to nap.

She leans over your shoulder. Face nothing but angelic softness that radiates an distinct eerie calm.

Her eyes flit back and forth between yours as she watches you laze on her borrowed pillow, aand the way she looks at you with so much unfiltered love makes your heart pound.

"Take a deep breathe for me, darling."

Oh.

You guess she's ready to start now.

Your do as you're told and let your eyes fall closed, taking in a slow, deep pull of her perfume. The blow of her hand against the slick of your ass cheek makes you jump, makes you yelp as you strain against the fingers that suddenly wrap tight around your throat.

You know she's watching you closely in the quiet that follows. Know she's gauging every twist and twitch of your face. The second smack smarts more than the first, which somehow surpises you, and it pulls a filthy moan from deep in your chest.

This isn't your first time letting her spank you as "punishment" and with the luck of the devil, it certainly won't be your last. But, fuck, the oil adds an extra sting to every blow of her hand that you hadn't expected; it has writhing in her grasp within seconds. She aims her hits all over your ass. Never lets you know where the next one will be as she hums her little sounds of approval.

Lifting up just enough to turn your head to look back, you nearly come at the sight of her watching you. Seeing how her eyes sparkle, hooded and dark as they rove the length of you, fluttering as she lands another slap that makes your ass ripple.

The fingers around your throat squeeze in perfectly timed intervals with every spank. Stealing your breathe away when you rock forward on the particularly ruthless slaps. It's more possessive than anything, not even coming close to actually keeping you from breathing, but fuck all does it still manage to make your head spin whenever you feel her grip tighten. She bites her lips to swallow her moans. Chokes them down so she can hear your sounds better as she spanks more searing heat all over your ass and trembling thighs.

Your chest grows tight each time she takes a break. Each time she slows down just to let the ache linger. Letting her palm and fingers trace the battered skin that feels deliciously on fire. You squirm at the tickle and the burn of her touch, fighting the urge to rut shamelessly against the thighs under your waist, but she pins your hips firmly in place with queitly commanded, "Behave."

There's just something about the way Lexa always takes her time with you. The way she knows exactly what to do to make you shudder and break. It's in how she massages the reddened cheeks of your ass one at a time, as though this is how she always intends to worship you.

Another spank is hard enough that you feel it thrum all the way to your clit. It feels so good it has you biting her pillow to stifle your yell, but that just earns you another one. She wants to hear your every moan. Every yelp. Every needy sob of ecstasy. And god help you. You're weak for her. You've never been good at denying her anything.

Your entire body shivers when her touch trails down the cleft of your ass and slips through the mess between your thighs. "You're so wet," she breathes in a light, throaty rush as her fingers slide along the length of your slit. "I think you might be enjoying this a little too much."

Her fingers bump the base of your clit and you nearly buck right out of her grip. "Oh fuck, yes, baby."

You can practically feel her smile at that. "Who knew my wife was such a little slut."

Hearing such filth from Lexa's lips will never fail to make you needy, you're sure of it, because there's just something so goddamn addicting about it coming from such a normally prim and proper mouth. She's eloquent in her everyday life, often stoic to a fault, but when she's fucking you like this you love that all bets are off.

It makes your eyes roll back in your head because fuck yes you are her desperate little slut, and you really, really need her to remind you of that sometimes.

She rips another moan from your chest when her fingers pull back and slap the length of your slit. "I can feel you getting even wetter," she laughs and roughly massages away the sting. "So fucking predictable."

You're sure your face burns as red as your ass at the way you rut your hips back into the touch. "Fuck off, Lexa."

All the little smartass does is laugh at you and spreads you open just to watch you drip.

Sweat pools at the base of your back when you rise onto your elbows, feeling the hand at your neck slip down to shove aside your bra and cup your breast. She pinches your nipples until they're hard enough to ache, stopping only long enough to lick the pads of her fingers before tugging them in alternating strokes while you whimper.

The hand between your legs never stops moving. Only teases you until you feel like you might pop. Coaxing out more dribbles of your slick and dragging it down to brush feather-light circles around the very tip of your clit.

You give yourself over to her entirely, give her exactly what she wants, letting your moans flow out of you in obscene trails and hisses. You know she loves it when you're loud, always says she could come just from listening to you getting fucked, and right now you'll do anything to convince her that you deserve to get off.

You jog your hips on her next sweep up and nearly cry out when she takes pity on you, feeling the tips of those gorgeous fingers stroke against the tight ring of your entrance with purpose, like she understand exactly what you need. You spread your legs further in supplication. Press your tits further into her hand. Wiggle your ass and send her a smile to let her know you're ready to take whatever she's got planned for you next.

What you don't expect to feel is another spank cracked right across the flat of your ass, the blinding spark of pain catching you by surpise before she sinks two fingers deep inside you without a single word of warning.

The shock of being so full sends you toppling face first into the pillow, heat zapping along the skin of your ass cheeks as she fucks you from behind. You fist the sheets and clench around her fingers, helplessly suckling her thrusts in deepest, and you give up any hope of every breathing normal again. You moan so fucking loud each time her fingers bottom out you're sure the damn doorman can hear it.

Her fingers scissor and twist just to make you feel the stretch. Each time you start to feel the embers of your climax ignite she changes the rhythm, alternating between slow, smooth strokes and fucking you so roughly your legs shake. The oil and slick dripping out around her fingers makes the most delicious sounds each time she thrusts.

And you love knowing just how much this is getting her off. Love hearing all her coos of "Good girl" and how you're taking your punishment so well. Love hearing the wet slaps of her palm against your clit and feeling the vibrations carry you higher.

Because her spanks lack the fire from before, more sound and squeezing than anything at this point, as she works to wring out just as much pleasure from you as she did pain. Her moans meld with yours each time she sinks back in and feels your walls grip at her fingers to keep her seated inside. Mercifully she seems to hear you. Seems to understand how desperately you need this game to be over. Seems to twitch with the exact same need to come as you do.

'Fuckin' bottom...'

The thought comes and goes when you feel her teeth sink into the swell of your ass, her fingers curling over and over against that sweet little spot inside of you. Her thumb rubbing slippery circles over your clit and she tugs your nipple just right.

She has you coming around her fingers in seconds.

The pulses of your climax slams through you in pleasured waves as she strokes your inner walls all the way through it. Even the tight clamp of your thighs around her wrist doesn't stop her, doesn't change the way she curls her fingers and presses tight against your clit. Your walls ripple around her strokes. Spilling enough to feel it drip down your thighs. You come hard enough for it to almost be painful, but in the most delicious of ways, and you kind of think you may have blacked out for a minute.

The next thing you know you're laid flat on the bed, or at least that's what you think. You're fairly sure the lump of her legs is no longer half-holding you up on all fours. But you can't really feel any piece of your own body, save for the burning across your ass and thighs.

So, who the hell knows.

You drift in the haze of post-orgasm bliss. Boneless. Careless. Just a puddle of come and white noise. It takes several minutes for you to come back to your senses. Or maybe it's a year.

Again. Who the hell knows.

All you do know is that the next thing you feel is the tickle of her fingernails gently scraping patterns across the length of your shoulders. It's a feat to pry one eye open - the one not buried in the downy fluff of her pillow - just to see a galaxy of green staring back.

The sight makes your lips tug up into a lazy smile. Because now she's just your Lexa again.

"You gonna survive?"

You grunt and manage to flop onto your side. "Jury's still out."

That you earns you a pride sweetened kiss.

She hears your hiss at the feel of the bedsheets rubbing against your ass like they're made of sandpaper, but it only makes the little shit smile wider. Your pout does the trick, and then she's scooting as close as she can get, pressing a kiss to your forehead to soothe you. This whole marriage thing really is too easy.

"You need anything?" she asks in the queit aftermath, arm drapped over your waist, fingers still looping neverending circuits along your spine.

You're not one who ever needs much aftercare, always feeling content in the safety of your wife's arms, so you shake your head against the pillow to let her know, "Maybe later. Right now I'm okay."

"Yeah?"

"Mhm. I'm sure." You hum and nudge your leg between hers, because right now all you want is to feel closer. And when a thought suddenly occurs to you, you can't hell but chuckle and let your eyes blow wide. "You really went for it with the whole 'slut' thing this time."

Her teeth bite down on the plumpness of her bottom lip, and you don't think she could look any cuter than she does in this moment. She wiggles herself tighter against your chest. "I know."

"You're such a fiend."

"Aw, poor darling. Did it hurt your delicate feelings?"

"Yes," you say, and fail to hold back the ridiculous wattage of your smile. Because the truth is if you could rewind time and record it as your ringtone, you absolutely would. "Terribly. You should kiss it and make it all better."

She raises herself up to lean on an elbow and looks so lovingly down at. "Oh, Clarke... I'm not even close to finished with you yet."

Your hips cant at the silent promise for more punishment despite feeling so thoroughly spent. It thrills you every bit as much as it fills you with dread because you know she'll make good on it. The bruises that already litter your backside prove it. Your ass is on fire and your bones feel like they're made of gelatinous goo, and you know that look on her face means you're not going to be sitting right anytime soon.

She kisses your cheek, your chin, licks her way up your jaw, niddles filthy little promises to the lobe of your ear. Her hand nudges for you to roll onto your belly because she doesn't seem to understand that you're nothing but a puddle of come, oil, and goo. "Lexa."

"I think it's only fair, love," she hums, already painting strips of arousal along the curve of your hip. "What with all you put me through today, darling, you can't say I don't owe you. Unless... Unless you're saying you're tapping out? Because I could always just go and take care of myself—"

You laugh comes out more as a snort as you stop her from rolling away, just like she knew that you'd do. A sigh is all you have to brace yourself for the pain that you know is sure to follow, and hope she's still worked up enough to come with only a few punishing ruts.

Her smile can only be described as wolfish and predatory as you gasp out a breath when she pats your backside approvingly. The sting makes you bow into the bed and shoot her look of death.

"Has anyone ever told you you're a sadistic bitch?"

She shrugs and leans in to kiss the scowl from your lips, and straddles your ass because, after all, she owns you. "Once or twice. But you love me anyway."

God help you. You do.

#sassymajesty #cruel intentions au #idek #happy sinday #hope it's ok I've lost all ability to judge this thing 🥴#cruel intentions snippet

75 notes · View notes

verosvault · 2 months

Text

🚨SPOILERS FOR FANTASY HIGH JUNIOR YEAR EPISODE 6🚨

Dimension20 "Fantasy High Junior Year"

Episode 6 "Party Politics"

Timestamp: 1:48:10

Video Length: 4min. & 27sec.

Learning about Bakur from Lydia (‣Pt. 1 | Pt. 2)

Lydia: "So, what's up? Ragh texted me to let me know that you kiddos had some questions about the gem. Happy to talk about it."

Riz: "Right. So we had a similar experience. There was a god who got really angry, and a bunch of red sort of orbs came out, and they took people over. And those people became consumed with rage and began trying to kill the god. And then one of the red orbs jumped into someone who looked at me and said, 'Ragh Barkrock.'"

Brennan: "She[Lydia] looks at her son. You see there's a sort of narrowing of her barbarian eyes as she scans her son to be like, 'Doppelganger?' You know, is there something? You know-"

Ragh: "What?"

Lydia: "That's my boy. Okay, who said Ragh's name?"

Riz: "Kalina"

Lydia: "This is the-"

Riz: "The Shadow Cat"

Lydia: "The Shadow Cat, Okay."

Adaine: "But she's not bad now, or not not good?"

Kristen: "She's a familiar to a god who's now died, so I don't really know what that makes her."

Adaine: "She did say, 'I preferred you when you were the Nightmare King,' which is..."

Riz: "After she was taken over."

Adaine: "... rough. Yeah, that's true."

Kristen: "When you, and stop me if this is too personal-"

Lydia: "It's all right."

Kristen: "Was your personality changed at all when you took an orb to the chest, or was your things different than this?"

Lydia: "No, I mean, I was, It was, you know? I have a relationship to my rage, my anger. The fiend that is in this gem knows my fury, and my anger keeps it at bay."

Fig: "Who's the fiend?"

Lydia: "The fiend was named Bakur."

Kristen: "And you know it's still in there? You can feel it?"

Lydia: "I can feel him. I'm hurting him constantly."

Kristen: "Oh, okay."

Lydia: "I am battling against him constantly."

Kristen: "Oh, okay."

Ally: "I give her the Help action." 😂

Lydia: "That's very sweet." 🥺

Kristen is rubbing Lydia's neck 😭✋

Lydia: "Okay." *Takes Kristen's hand off* 😭✋

Kristen: "Ah!"

Riz: "What is everyone doing?"

Kristen: "People don't touch each other's necks enough, really. You hold a lot of tension there, I think."

Lydia: "Mmm..."

Riz: "The god that was releasing this rage also said, 'I thought you were dead,' to whoever is involved with this."

Lydia: "Okay. Weird. Bakur was the right hand- was a pit fiend, was the right hand of a fallen god, a dead god."

Fig: "Who? What was their name?"

Lydia: "We don't know, they're fallen. They fell a long time ago."

Fig: "Do you have sort of a playful antagonism with Bakur? Sort of like, you know the TV show 'Luther'?

Kristen: "You think you could ask him?"

Fig: "You know Idris Elba and Ruth Wilson in 'Luther'?

Siobhan: "oh yeah."

Lydia: "Yeah, it's not exactly like Ruth Wilson. Umm..."

Murph: "Stop bringing up 'Luther'! 😂🤣💀😭✋

Fig: "Can you communicate with Bakur in any capacity? Can you intimidate Bakur into giving you a name or anything like that?"

Lydia: "I know that Bakur is not allowed to even say the name."

Fig: "Ah."

Lydia: "Listen, the sorcerer and the cleric that I traveled with in my party knew a lot about this kind of stuff, and I'm afraid that I ended up being the one who had to tie up all the loose ends, but it was not my bag, necessarily."

Kristen: "What was the cleric's name?"

Lydia: "Well..."

Brennan: "And here, all the talk about being personal, you see that she[Lydia] gets emotional."

Lydia: "Cormyr and Rana were my two...were my friends. Rana was a cleric of Osmir, who's a god of magic and secrets. Bakur could say the name of the god, but they could only say the name in certain instances or types of ways. And it had to do with the fact that gods... There's rules against loopholes, if that makes sense. That's one of the things that Bakur couldn't talk- like- Because the god was dead, Bakur can't talk about them, right, or something like that."

Fig: "Like if Bakur was to talk about them, then it would be resuscitating to the god?"

Lydia: "That's the idea, right?"

Fig: "Like what happened with the-"

Riz: "Yeah, the Night Yorb."

Gorgug: "But if the god's not dead-"

21 notes · View notes

thejakeformerlyknownasprince · 1 year

Note

Screw it, can we just get a script for part of an episode of A-town at this point?

[For those of you just tuning in: A-Town is the shitty postwar sitcom inspired by the life of Jake Berenson, to the eternal annoyance of Jake Berenson. The main character is a kid named Brandon A., who lives with his nuclear family — mom Dr. A, dad Mr. A, sister Daisy A. (secretly a yeerk named Zeptron 420), dog Mopsy (secretly Brandon's friends in morph) — in Southern California at the height of the war. Brandon secretly leads a team of alien-fighting shapeshifters that consists of him, his best friend J.J., his cousin Trina, his sometimes-girlfriend Crystal, Trina's sometimes-boyfriend Liam, and Liam's stepsister Gina.]

We open on the spacious kitchen of a large suburban home. Mr. A sits reading the paper and smoking a pipe inside, while his son Brandon sits at the same table with a large set of schematics spread out in front of him. Dr. A, in a lab coat overtop a house dress, walks into the room.

Dr. A: Brandon, what's that?

Brandon: *throws himself bodily over the map* Nothing!

[cue laugh track]

Dr. A: Is that... Dear sweet heavens above, it is!

[The camera pans up to show Brandon is clearly failing to cover the floor plan for a Blade ship, and that Mr. A is now craning around the side of his paper to see what the commotion is about.]

Dr. A: Honey, our son... is doing... *loud gasp* Dunces and Dragoons!

Mr. A: *drops his pipe on his paper in shock* *lights the paper on fire, must hastily tamp it out* Dungarees and Dingbats? My own SON?

[cue laugh track]

Brandon: Mom, Dad, I would never! I'm just... I'm only... It was... *directly to the camera* I have no choice — they think I'm playing Dunkin' and Dragnet! *to Dr. A.* There's this alien invasion, Mom, and me and cousin Trina are two of the only six people who have the power to —

Mr. A: *very high pitched* It's affecting his mind already! Look at him, he's lost the plot!

[Cut to a set that looks like the waiting room for a dentist's office. Brandon's older sister Daisy is standing near the front of a queue that stretches the length of the room. Like almost everyone else in line, she is wearing a t-shirt for The Gathering; hers is bright pink and cut into a crop-top, paired with a pink miniskirt and platform heels. The walls are adorned with posters that have slogans like "Do your part for the Yeerk Empire today! If you see a suspicious animal: slay, slay, SLAY!" and "Don't forget to sign up your host's friends and family for our Eternal Member perks program!" Visser Six-Hundred is at the front of the line, typing names into a computer.]

Visser Six-Hundred: Next!

Daisy: Um, hi? I'm Daisy, and after you guys lured me into the Gathering by promising I'd get to meet shirtless Tom Welling — which still hasn't happened, by the way — you stuck my head in a pool and then this total jerk named Zeptron 420 took my body? And anyway, Zeptron never showed up after that last feeding, and I was just wondering...?

Visser Six-Hundred: Not my problem.

Daisy: No, I get that Mr. Welling is a very busy man, but I don't think I'm supposed to go anywhere without Zeptron controlling me?

Visser Six-Hundred: Also not my problem. You have any idea how backed up we've been around here since the kandrona shortage started? Leave now, check back in next cycle, and if Zeptron's not back by then we'll call you.

Daisy: Okay, but...

[camera pans to Daisy's face; the actor, does a very convincing job of realization dawning on the world's silliest airhead]

Daisy: K-thanks-bye! *runs for it*

[Cut back to the A family kitchen. Dr. A is taking Brandon's temperature.]

Dr. A: Looks normal to me. Maybe he isn't getting Durkins and Drainage syndrome yet.

Mr. A: Yeah, if anyone has brain rot it's that darn dog. Thing ain't right, I'm telling you.

[Cut to Mopsy, a fluffy grey-and-white terrier. The dog is currently staring intently at a copy of For Whom the Bell Tolls, which is propped open on the floor.]

Dr. A: What do you mean, ain't right?

Brandon: Yeah, Dad, 'ain't' isn't a word!

[cue laugh track]

[Cut back to Mopsy, who has clearly overheard this conversation and has attempted to hide the book by sticking it underneath a laptop computer, and is playing innocent by staring at the screen instead.]

Mr. A: Just look at her! She's playing Minesweeper!

[The camera zooms in on the screen, revealing that this is in fact the case. An extreme close-up of one of the dog's paws moving across the computer track pad is paired with a shot of the screen going to Xs as she hits a mine. A dog's upset whine is heard.]

Brandon: Come on, she's not even doing well.

J.J.: *in voiceover meant to indicate thought-speak* You try avoiding mines with these tiny paws, loser!

Dr. A: You know, maybe we should get that checked out.

J.J.: VET? Not the vet!

Brandon: *out loud* Don’t be such a baby! Get control of your morph, man!

Dr. A: Then again, maybe the Dungenous Drags are getting to him.

Brandon: Uh, I mean...

J.J.: *runs for it* Bye!

Brandon: I mean, after her!

[While Dr. and Mr. A chase "Mopsy" around the house, J.J. maneuvers Brandon into being the only one in the room when he demorphs. Brandon has to hastily morph into Mopsy to avoid being found out. Trina and Liam stop by Brandon's house to ask Brandon a question, and Brandon maneuvers Liam into being Mopsy just as Mr. A is pulling out the pet carrier. But then human Trina rushes into the room, creating a diversion by claiming a "hairspray emergency", and Mopsy runs off. It's at that point that the B plot intersects with the A plot.]

[Daisy walks into the house. She's wearing black skinny jeans, fingerless gloves, and rainbow hair extensions. There's pop punk music blasting from the giant headphones slung around her neck.]

Mr. A: Get the— *watches Mopsy escape out the front door* Dang it!

Daisy: Dad, you might have noticed I’ve been going through some changes lately. Like I’m becoming a whole different person.

Mr. A: Honey, at your age, it's perfectly normal.

[Mr. A pulls out a box of tampons, seemingly from nowhere, and hands them to Daisy.]

[cue laugh track]

[Liam-as-Mopsy runs around the side of the house, now pursued by J.J. Trina is running after J.J.; together they complete two entire loops of the house. Meanwhile, Brandon is on the phone inside, everyone else passing by in the background. There's presumably an unseen swap, because Liam-as-a-human is seen chasing a different Mopsy, pursued by an enraged-looking Trina who is now holding a knife, while she is in turn pursued by Gina, who appears to be trying to talk her down. There's no audible dialogue, but we cut to Crystal on the other end of the phone, standing in her living room.]

Crystal:... got it! *hangs up the phone* *yells up the stairs* Hey, Mom?

Crystal's Mom: *enters the room* Yes, Crystal?

Crystal: You're looking a little unwell. Why don't you...

[Crystal touches her mom's arm. We hear the tinkling piano notes used to indicate someone is being acquired, and glitter effects briefly fill the screen.]

Crystal's Mom: Now that you mention it...

[She passes out onto the couch, apparently as a side effect of being acquired. This has never happened before, but with this show it's generally best to avoid asking too many questions.]

[Cut back to the A house. Daisy and Dr. A are standing in the kitchen.]

Daisy: Mom, do you ever feel like the whole world's out to get you? Like, do you ever suspect there's a giant conspiracy of alien invaders who are...

Dr. A: *distracted* Oh honey, did you get passed up to be Prom Queen again?

[Dr. A drops a kiss on Daisy's head, before running off in pursuit of Mopsy, who has gotten ahold of the knife and is trying to use it to pick the lock on the back door.]

[Cut to the exterior, where Liam and Brandon are watching the knife blade repeatedly stab through the door six inches off the ground.]

Brandon: You cheated on her again?

Liam: *sighs* Yeah, I cheated on her again.

[Cut back to the interior. Cue ominous music, as the chase speeds up. We see Trina-as-human again, gloating over who we can only assume is Liam-as-Mopsy. They struggle, and she makes an exaggerated face of shock as the dog is meant to have bitten her. Mopsy goes running off again, only to be caught by J.J. There's a scuffle, they roll behind the bushes, and a human Liam emerges holding J.J.-as-Mopsy. Brandon comes running outside with an expression of horror, and Gina dive-tackles both Liam and J.J.-as-Mopsy. Using extreme close-ups, we get only tiny hints of the scuffle, but the human J.J. and Liam would suggest that Gina has now ended up as Mopsy.]

[The montage sequence becomes something straight out of Scooby Doo, with all of the characters sprinting between doors and various mini-encounters including one where two copies of Mopsy are seen backing into each other and yapping in horror, running off in opposite directions before Dr. A can see their error. Why anyone is bothering to morph the dog at all remains an open question.]

[The montage ends with a clang as Mr. A shuts the door of the pet carrier on a Mopsy. The camera pans to a scratched and dirt-covered Brandon, then Trina, then Liam, then Gina... It's J.J. in the pet carrier. As the camera pushes toward J.J.'s fluffy little face frozen in an expression of horror, there's a smash cut to Crystal-as-Crystal's-mom standing in a vet's office talking to a middle-aged woman.]

Crystal: No, I did not lose your hamster — I know exactly where he is. I left him in the same room as Mr. Tyrus's ball python, and... *leans around a door frame to look off camera* *winces at what she sees*

Middle-Aged Extra: Y-yes?

Crystal: You can still see him... He's that big lump right in the middle...

Middle-Aged Extra: *screams* *faints*

Crystal: *to the camera* Brandon better hurry up. If she thinks that's bad, she should see what I did to the parrot.

Parrot: *off camera* And f[bleep] you too, you [bleep] [bleep] [bleep]!

[J.J.-as-Mopsy gets loaded into the car. The music is getting ominous, and all is looking lost, when suddenly Daisy runs out in front of the minivan.]

Daisy: Mom, Dad, I can't take it anymore! I've had someone inside me, and his name is Zeptron!

[Thus, the day is saved and J.J. is snatched from the jaws of a routine pelvic exam by Mr. and Dr. A cutting the vet visit short to instead rush Daisy to the doctor for remedial Sex Ed. Only Brandon realizes what she's talking about, judging by the expression on his face, but the camera doesn't linger there. Instead we see the minivan pull up to the vet at top speed. Mr. A gets out only long enough to thrust the pet carrier into the arms of Crystal-as-Crystal's-mom, and then the car drives off. It screeches to a stop at a near-identical office, only the poster of a dog wearing a stethoscope out front has become a poster of a uterus wearing a stethoscope. Dr. A walks in, dragging Daisy by the arm and shaking her head.]

[Cut back to the vet's office, where J.J.-as-Mopsy licks Crystal-as-Crystal's-mom on the cheek. Cue laugh track. Cue awww sounds.]

[As the credits fill half the screen, we get one last scene of Brandon standing outside Daisy's door. He's obviously nervous, rehearsing a conversation. Brandon leans against Daisy's door and it swings open, causing him to stumble into the room. Cue laugh track.]

Brandon: Hey, Daisy? About what you said earlier...

[Daisy is sitting with her back to the camera. When she does turn around, we get a slow reveal that she's back in pancake makeup, blond hair, and a pink sundress. She has the Myspace page for The Gathering open on the computer in front of her.]

"Daisy": *long pause* Yes, Brandon? You are my human brother, and I am happy to assist.

Brandon: Uh. *slow close-up on his face, as he clearly realizes what has happened* Never mind.

"Daisy": *another long pause* I'm sorry to hear that, Brandon. Human minds are often imperfect, are they not?

[cue laugh track]

[credits fill the screen]

Announcer: DON'T GO AWAY, WE'LL BE RIGHT BACK

#animorphs #a-town #long post #postwar headcanons #animorphs ficlet #jake berenson #<- kind of but not really #allusions to purity culture #allusions to the bubblegum misogyny of mid-2000s pop culture #'PART of an episode' you say #bold of you to over-estimate my self-control in this way

176 notes · View notes

havin-fun-imagining-twd · 11 months

Text

Scary as a sleepy kitten

When - 10 or so minutes after He hasn't been himself, which takes place during the Chupacabra episode of Season 2

What - the finishing touches on Daryl's medical care, how Andrea's handling almost mistakenly killing the guy. You assure her that he's about as scary as a sleepy kitten right then. Then, there's digesting big bro Shane's descent from morality along with Daryl's simultaneous growth in it. Bonus is a hint regarding the Greene's barn. So sad there aren't any barn cats in there anymore, wonder what happened...

Genre - a little angsty, a little fluffy, a little found-family.

Who - You, Mangy Hick (that's Daryl), Patricia, Andrea, Papa Dale and his not good book, and sweet little Beth (who's got the same headcanon from the Fabulously Confident Reader stories about liking choose-your-own-adventure books)

Perspective - 2nd person, and 3rd Daryl

Pronouns - did GN again this time

TWs - some language, otherwise you just have a brief blow-up. The day's been something else, y'all

Length? - 10-15 minutes

References - when Daryl made that funny in Like a traditional Sunday dinner, the incident with Ed as seen in "Deserved" Part 1 but mostly Part 2 and its cooldown in It's not the end of the wo - oh. There's the continuation of big brother Shane's descent, a slow progression in a bulk of the chapters. Be sure to check out Invisible Tugging Strings, Part 1 and Part 2 , then Spell your last name, please. as well as He hasn't been himself

Official Masterlist here (find fabulously confident reader there!) and the Chronological Slowpoke Masterlist here

have fun and happy reading!

Apologies for the lengthy delay, slowpokes, my brain has been on power-saver for about a month, might could be evident in the chapter, too XD

...........................................

“Guess I'll just move this arm like a robot—oh-ho, check it, I can still do the tomahawk chop, y’all!”

And yeah, then his friend proceeds to make barely one and a half chops before wincing. The slight pout that forms afterward makes him want to smile, it’s damn cute.

“Hurt more than I thought it would.”

The twangy blonde lady looks entertained. “Tell me why, Y/N.”

Their pout turns more embarrassed. “…Movin’ the forearm requires these here muscles.”

He liked that their accent revved up more with the blonde lady—sorry, her name’s Patricia, he knows, got it.

“Which affects what?” Patricia asks.

“My shoulder and chest.”

“Which are injured and got irritated something serious today, along with what I’m fairly sure is maybe your C6 and 7, maybe the T1, whenever you first got hurt.”

“Yes, ma’am,” they mumble.

Stop thinking Y/N looks cute. Also, what were those letter-number things?

Sighing, his friend stares at their upper arm.

So, during the, like, he doesn’t know, 5 minutes or whatever it was when the old man helped him slump to the bathroom so he could finally take a piss, Y/N’s upper arm was wrapped to their torso to prevent them from hurting it more. They keep overdoing it, and they keep taking their damn sling off, so Patricia made a compromise, he guesses.

And after doing a modeling-pose type thing with their wrapped arm and asking who was wearing their gauze better, them or him, Y/N immediately tried to do the tomahawk chop and move like a robot and why is he finding that so damn cute right now?.

Patricia winks at Y/N. “Name some of the muscles up there and I won’t put the rest in a sling."

You

“Ooh, bicep, tricep,” basics out of the way. “This, um, one of these over here is the brachialis, this is the deltoid, the teres major’s under here.” You got that muscle wrong on an anatomy midterm back during college and never forgot about it. “This here is the trapezius.” Because the dudes who do the trapeze at the circus got real big ones (or at least that’s how you remember it). “And, well, the clavicle is this bone, so the bone under it is the scapula, which means right about here’s the subscapularis muscle,” that she said you may have hurt, “Oh, duh, then ‘the major one is the pectoralis.’ And—”

“—Okay, no sling.”

Phew. “Thank you!”

“For now, anyway. Meanwhile, Hersh is givin’ me a look, let’s get to cleaning our friend, here.”

Him

The funny part is, as Patricia left, she made a face and said, “I don’t remember most of the muscle or bone names, I just took Y/N's word for it. Now, Daryl, don’t go gettin’ out of bed, stay put.”

Now he’s finally laying down, nothing else to be done to him. He’s so damn tired.

He’s scrubbed up, too. Got a big-ass bandage over his head, wrapped all around. That was a trip; Patricia and Y/N washed his head and neck over a bowl. He counted the seconds til it was over, half-listened to whatever they were chatting about to distract himself.

Once he was bound up like a cartoon character and given instruction to not get it wet, Hershel came back and walked him to the bathroom again, this time to clean everything else off.

There was a little stool thing in the shower, with the shower hose on the ground instead of hanging. “Don’t get your head or the bandage wet. There's a waterproof cover over the dressing on your side that you'll have to remove when you're finished. Now, I imagine you prefer total privacy, but if you need the help, I can assist, or I can get your friend Theodore, if your prefer.”

“M’fine.”

The simple response “I’ll be outside the door, Daryl,” surprised him. Made him feel stupid and ashamed and comforted all at the same time.

And he…he needed the damn help. Ain’t like the old guy hadn’t seen his back already, anyway.

Still, the old man mostly stayed behind the shower curtain at his request, and he didn’t see his junk or nothing, Daryl made sure to keep himself covered.

Part of him felt like some pathetic little cat getting a flea bath.

Today was something else.

So goddamned tired…

You

Not 15 minutes went by since he was escorted to the washroom and now he’s fast asleep under the sheets.

Lori and you stayed inside with Carl (and Daryl), and Carol and Rick brought in plates of food into the house for the four of you.

Carol cooked up some jerky with an egg for Daryl as a special treat with the rest of his meal. Menu for tonight is peanut butter sandwiches (sort of, they’re on saltines), hard-boiled eggs (not soft-boiled, you checked this time), with sauteed field greens.

Your poor friend must be ravenous, but it looks like tiredness won this round. He looks so different asleep. Sweet, even. It's silly, but his light snores almost sound like purring and now you're thinking about kittens.

Another moment in the quiet, and you figure you shouldn’t stand there like a weirdo anymore.

Well, his egg and the peanut butter sandwiches will keep until he wakes up, and the jerky and egg will taste great either way, but his portion of sauteed field greens won’t be nice cold. You’re only a little bummed when you slide your portion of little sandwiches onto his plate and take his portion of greens. He’s earned extra treats, he can have all the peanut butter he wants after what he found today.

You inhale deeply. Exhale slowly. Close your eyes and ask inwardly for help after offering more thanks that he came back alive, and found concrete proof of Sophia.

It’s nice to be in the quiet. It feels safer better to be away from Shane right now, too. You aren’t sure what you’re going to do about the sleeping situation other than tell your brother to set up his own tent.

You also take one of the cracker sandwiches, it’s been a rough day. But when you start to nibble on it…your appetite is gone. Which is so dumb, dude, you’d been stoked at the thought of chowing down when you were high on Daryl being okay and having found Sophia’s doll.

Daryl’s chest rises and falls. You listen to his light snores, and find it, as Amy would’ve said, “interesting,” (but understandable) that your stomach has a few butterflies at seeing him so peaceful and still.

You miss Amy. Which prompts you to consider that you should check on Andrea. Earlier, Dale had come in and asked a bunch of questions for her because she was too ashamed to see people. From wherever she is right now, Amy is probably hoping you’ll help comfort her big sister.

Patricia stops you before you exit the house through the side-door. “Been meanin' to ask, I heard you tell your brother to get out, earlier. Everythin’ okay?”

That question was unexpected, words aren’t working for you. You shake and nod at the same time, which is weird, so, you open your mouth to fix it, but nothing formulates.

After a second try, all you can stumble through is “I don’t know, ma’am,” before ungracefully scooting outside.

After 5 minutes of polite conversation on the steps, mainly between you and Dale regarding Daryl’s status, Andrea is still dumbfounded that she’d almost killed someone.

“He’s really okay?”

“He’s bandaged and resting now. You only winged him, but the falls he took earlier did the most damage, Andy.” You’re trying not to be angry with her, but failing. Which sucks, because you know she was trying to protect the group…

But that she still shot it even though it was against Mr. Greene’s wishes and she knew that indicates an unhealthy variety of pride. One can't be having that kind of attitude with a firearm, it ain't good. And Daryl was almost a casualty because of it.

And like, come on, there were five of you running toward her target, it was dangerous for her to attempt to shoot from that angle! Doesn’t she understand that’s irrespons—ugh, and isn’t Shane supposed to have been doing gun safety shit with her? Isn’t that his whole wannabe jarhead schtick—great, now you’re more upset about Shane!

“I’m glad you’re enjoying those, ” Dale tells you, nodding at your cracker and chuckling. “They’re the part of dinner I rushed to help make, this evening was…something.”

He shrugs, and you remember how Daryl grunted that today was ‘somethin’ else.’

“I suppose having spread the peanut butter on crackers was a small step up from offering it on spoons to everyone,” he muses.

You can’t help but hum, a spoonful of peanut butter sounds scrumptious right now. Makes a good breakfast or snack, too.

“Did Daryl eat enough?” Andrea worries. “Does he need anything?”

“He was asleep when I brought him his supper, but I left my portion of the crackers—minus this one—on his plate.”

“Come to think of it, I’m not sure he’s a fan of peanut butter,” Dale thinks out loud. “I offered him some for breakfast one morning, and now that I recall, he backed away from it.”

Not like peanut butter?

“—Oh my God, what if he’s he allergic?” Andrea breathes.

“Nah, he ate a peanut yesterday. I was havin’ one of the little packets for lunch and he tried one, he can’t be allergic,” you assure them. And surely he doesn’t not like peanuts. That would be so sad!

It gets quiet.

Andrea stares at her feet.

“I can’t believe almost killed him.” She inhales and buries her face in her hands. “I shot someone.”

And Dale is only meaning to ease her discomfort and add some levity—but whether it’s because of the new bond you have with Daryl, or maybe because here’s something of a flashback hitting you from how you’d had to actually shoot a living person a few months ago—when Dale jokes to you, “Like I told her, we’ve all wanted to shoot Daryl,” you become livid.

After two shallow breaths of your inner tea kettle screaming, this sentence: “Guess y’all will want sunshine over here to work on her aim, then,” seethes out as you stand and book it to the fields.

The past several days especially has shown you how wrong your initial conclusions about that man were. He’s a work-in-progress, make no mistake, but shit if he ain’t working on it!

Unlike your brother, who keeps getting worse, who just tried to flirt with Lori by saying he didn’t care about a missing, abused little girl—the same little girl Daryl was willing to almost die to find!

Horrified at Shane and about today; confused, embarrassed, overwhelmed, in pain, overtired, and therefore angry about everything, you walk, hyperventilate, and finally, quietly, start to cry.

Then you accidentally drop the peanut butter cracker and cry harder.

The light swish of your boots in the grass starts to crunch when you reach the sandy part by now-boarded-up well. You walk faster, neither wanting to be near the two-part walker inside nor in the area where apparently, Daryl dumped Merle’s ‘hard stuff,’ as he slurred to you earlier during his trauma assessment.

Soon you’re by the rocks you’d climbed the other night. You step up and sit on a lower one and sniffle another minute or so until the worst of it seems to have spilled out.

When will you get a better handle on your temper?

While you’re busy wallowing in self-pity, you notice Dale’s watch ticking and are reminded that you have to return it.

You stand.

Trudge back with your tail between your legs.

He and Andrea are still on the steps.

“I’m sorry. I let my anger get the better of me,” you tell them softly.

Dale waves you over. “Come back and sit if you like, kiddo. It’s been a long day.”

“It’s been somethin’,” you mumble. “And you aren’t a bad shot, Andrea, I was being snotty.” About an inch to your left and he’d have been a goner, you leave out.

“I’m glad I wasn’t as good a shot as I’d hoped,” she sounds ashamed to say. Her head is still hanging low when she makes a one-sided smile and taps the spot next to her. “Will you be helping with shooting practice tomorrow?”

“If that’s still on, yeah.” Shane was enlisting your help with that, which means you’ll have to act civil…ugh, why worry about tomorrow, tomorrow will worry about itself. You take the watch off, hand it to Dale. “Here you go, Mr. H.”

“Ah, very good. I would hate to start losing track of the days, then we’d really be in for it. Let’s see…an hour until it’s time to wind her up.”

The breeze carries the smell of woodsmoke with it. You lean against Andrea for a moment, she leans back.

Then Shane comes into view.

When you catch his eye, you shake your head in warning in case he’s thinking about coming over and schmoozing with the others as if he didn’t just f—tomorrow will be better. Things will be better in the morning. He’ll apologize and things will be better and you’ll all have a good day and maybe Sophia will be found.

“Y/N, how about we talk later tonight?” Dale murmurs.

Did he see the face you made at Shane?

Best change the subject. “If we do, is it finally my turn to borrow that awful book I’ve heard so much about?”

“The Case of the Missing Man is not an awful book,” he chuckles back, then shrugs. “Maybe Jimmie Herron’s style isn’t everyone’s cup of tea. My Irma didn’t like his work, either.”

“Y/N, it’s really not great,” Andrea drones.

“Glenn said the same.”

“Amy had me read it so we could, um,” her gaze grows teary. She closes her eyes for a moment, then smiles and shakes her head. “‘Share the trauma.’”

You smile and shake your head, too. That sounds like Amy. “She finished it up in my tent while I was knocked out with a migraine, first thing out of her mouth to me when I woke up was how lame it was. Told me you had first dibs.”

“Then I lent it to T-Dog”

Oh, right. On the first half-week of the trek to Fort Benning, his nose was stuck in it. “He plowed on through it, didn’t he?”

“He wanted the torture to be over.”

You and she snort, Dale just chuckles again. “After you finish it, only Rick, and our young Carl—oh, and, uh your br—and Shane, they’ll be the only ones to not have done so.” He points his finger as if an idea just popped into his head. “But both Jacqui and Lori thought it was good.”

“Bless their hearts, they loved watching soaps, though, what does that tell us?” you giggle to them.

Dale lifts his hands in surrender. “See me later, troublemaker, I’ll lend you my ‘awful’ book and we can talk. I’m gonna hold you to it.” He looks at Andrea. “Young lady, will you be alright?”

“Yes. I'm just not ready to face anyone yet.”

“You know where to find me.”

She rests her arms on her knees and slouches again, stare fixed on nothing much. You go to rest your arms on your knees, too, and are immediately reminded that that particular position is a no-go for you right now.

“Y/N, after what happened with Ed, when did the feeling of wanting to hide go away?”

“Mine was an easier situation," you quietly point out. "And it wasn’t just me, Shane was the one who—" you grimace at the memory. "You were there.”

“Mm.”

To answer her question, “But I guess it wasn’t til, y’know, I faced people again that I got I didn’t have to hide. Shane's sense of 'duty' helped, too. But after I talked to Carol, saw Sophia smile at me, when I knew they were on my side, I didn’t mind so much about the rest.”

“Pretty sure everyone was on your side with that,” she mutters. “For what I just did…”

“Pretty sure even Daryl will, um, well th-that you were tryin’ to protect the group.” …oof.

She lifts her eyebrows. “You aren’t good at lying, Y/N.”

It wasn’t a lie, per se. “Objectively, you were tryin’ to protect the group.”

“I wanted to feel in-control and like I could do it.”

Oh.

She admitted that? If only your brain could come up with something heartfelt or whatever the situation called for to convey how much humility from someone so confident and self-assured means, instead of this: “I wanna be on your apocalypse survival team.”

A sigh leaves her, and she simply asks, “Just let me know how furious he is with me. I'm dreading how he’ll be when he’s up. I'm a little scared, while I’m being honest.”

“Hm?”

“Daryl.”

“You’re scared of him?”

She eyes you. “We’ve all seen how he can fly off his handle. He waved that knife at Rick and your brother, the axe at Jenner.”

Oh, right. That didn’t even consider cross your mind, that she’d be scared of his reaction to...being shot in the…head. Man, your brain is not working.

It can’t even configure a response again, now you’re just shaking your head like a confused mute.

“You don’t think I have to worry, Y/N?”

“No,” you answer truthfully. “You might would feel better if you saw him, he's probably up an eatin' dinner by now."

"I think now's too soon."

"Trust me, he’s holed up in bed now, he’s about as scary as a sleepy kitten.”

“Kittens have teeth and sharp claws,” she dryly states.

Your mind immediately hops to the exciting fact that you have yet to meet the Greene’s barn cat(s) as you stand and lead Andrea inside through the side door to get to Daryl’s room, waving to Beth reading her book as you pass.

“Beth, this is Andrea. Andrea this is Beth. She’s the one who made the pudding for Carl. She’s Mr. Greene’s youngest.”

Andrea smiles and goes in for a shake. Beth shyly waves, the returning of the handshake ending up as an awkward afterthought.

Sweet as she is, leaving her in peace is probably what she’s hoping for (the poor teenager’s home and front yard is full of wounded strangers).

And you almost make it through the full sentence before gasping in delight when you see what book she has.“We’re just checkin’ on Dar—is that a choose-your-own-adventure book??”

Him

There was this loud noise in another room, woke him for a second. Y/N’s laugh stuck out from the other sounds.

While falling back asleep, he remembered how he'd made them laugh really loud when he ripped that $20 bill that night at the CDC. How they’d belly-laughed so hard at his dumb, tipsy-ass joke had felt so damned unexpectedly good.

He’s back asleep before the amount of pain he’s in can really register.

You

“I’ll bring it over after I talk to Mr. Horvath. He’s the older man in our group, I love him to pieces, you probably saw him in his bucket hat?” you tell Beth.

Jimmy apparently has been poking fun at her reading choose-your-own-adventure books to pass the time because they’re ‘for kids,’ so, lending him The Case of the Missing Man was decided to be the best way to get back at him.

You hope y’all didn’t wake Daryl, it’d gotten a little animated for a minute. To make up for it, you tiptoe when you trek down the hall to his room, Andrea and Beth behind you.

Beth left something of hers in there before he was brought in, but she was hesitant to go in there (which you praised, teenage girls and unknown older men don’t mix). Anyway, she was hesitant because she’s a little, um, well, kinda intimidated by him.

Andrea invited her to join you two, citing “Y/N says he’s as scary as a sleepy kitten right now.”

At his door, you knock lightly and call his name. Wait for an answer, try again.

Upon listening more carefully, his snores sound through the door and let you know he’s still asleep. Slowly, slowly, you open it.

As subtly as you can, you step into room and pull the sheet that had fallen down back over his shoulder before the girls see the scarring.

Daryl stirs, then grunts something incoherent as he flinches, blinks, and tries to turn toward you.

“It’s just me,” you hush. “I was fixin’ your sheet, it’d fallen.” You tuck the sheet down over his shoulder, gently and slowly. “You’re safe in the Greene’s house. Go back to sleep, sweetheart.”

His muscles relax and he’s back to snoring before the pet name is finished slipping out of your mouth.

Still standing beside him, you watch his side rise and fall, rise and fall. Reminds you how grateful you are. He really does look so helpless and sweet right now.

You notice Beth peeking back and forth between you and him, but she quickly looks away.

Poor buddy. If the man is this tired, he’ll rest better with closed curtains. He’s big on privacy, besides. Carefully, you start to draw them shut. Andrea joins.

Once they’re all pulled closed and the room is dimmer, she puts her hand on your arm and gently pulls you back into the hall, Beth leading the way. You make sure the door doesn’t make too much noise as it shuts.

“Thanks,” Beth whispers.

“Scary as a sleepy kitten, right?” Oh, that reminds you, “Y’all don’t have a barn cat or two, do you?”

“N-not anymore.”

Aw, that’s sad. “I’m sorry, little one.”

“Oh, um—d-don’t get too close to the big, shuttered barn, okay?” she rushes to add.

Before you can both nod and tell her ‘of course,’ she then stumbles through, “There’s—it’s—the, um—it’s just not real safe!”

She looks so freaked out and nervous that you forget you’re supposed to respond.

Lucky for you, Andrea, smooth as ever, assures her “We’ll let Carl know not play around there,” and starts to chat about how she “steers clear of old barns” ever since she spotted “the biggest rat I’ve ever seen come out of one at a company retreat,” while Patricia comes downstairs hugging to her side what looks like a wedding photo.

Beth scurries away, you make eye contact with Andrea, then Patricia gets your attention.

“Sweet pea, about tonight,” she begins, hands pressed together with her fingertips toward you. “Daryl’s gonna need to be checked on—”

“—Of course. I’ll stay with him. Please do me a list of what to check for and how often?”

“Will do. Try and borrow that big watch again, you’ll need it. Prolly will do well to have somebody else, maybe Carol to help. I'll go find her. You know, there’s an old air mattress in the attic, I’ll have Jimmy fill it up. Just go grab your sleeping bag,” she tells you.

“Thank you!” You’d been hoping for a way to avoid Shane all night. Is this a gift from above or something?

A reminder of, “Don’t use your injured side to carry your sleeping bag in,” from Patricia sends you on your way outdoors to retrieve your stuff.

The air is cooling off as the sun sets. The sky is a hazy orange-pink.

“Y/N, I didn’t realize,” Andrea says, slowly walking beside you.

“Realize what?”

“You two.”

You, too? Is she talking about your shoulder, maybe? “What’d I do? Do you mean my wrapped arm?”

She peers at you, head tilted to the side. “You and Daryl,” she softly clarifies. “It was Dale who wondered first, after you had to excuse yourself.”

Me and Daryl? “What’d we do?” Perhaps she's referring to the search today? Andrea isn’t one to not speak her mind plainly, you wonder why she’s not being more succinct. She doesn't know about you having shot that guy. Dale has an idea, but he's tight-lipped about it.

“So, you and he…?” she trails off.

So, you start to fill her in about the search. “Before Daryl found the doll, we’d—”

—OH WAIT, now you get it!

---------------------------

(for those wondering, the tomahawk chop is something Georgia Braves fans do)

> Masterlist link here

and our teeny tiny taglist :D

@spenciepoo338 @its-freaking-bats @whistlesalot @buffy-the-assbutt-slayer @dreamingaboutthewonderland @kwazii-kat @darylsmavis @outlanderhornet22 @battinsonrobs @dontputyourfckingdrinkonmytable @multiifandomhoe @writingmybeloved @boomergirl123 @iheartathena0 @moonliight-luv @suniloli

(inbox is open if you would like on or off the taglist, slowpokes. Please don’t feel bad or nervous if you don’t want to be tagged anymore, just let me know, we’re all friends here and your comfort level is important!)

70 notes · View notes

1waveshortofashipwreck · 4 months

Note

Hiii my love, can I ask for a ship? Sorry if it’s long or formatted wrong, thank you in advance 🫶🏼🫶🏼

I’m a female (she/her) , i have big heart, i’m funny, I like to relax, and I can be a bit of a grandma sometimes when it’s just me around the house, but otherwise i’m quite energetic . I love to chill and listen to music. I can have a bit of a short temper at times (I just think it’s because I don’t put up with peoples bs LMAO), I can also be very stubborn, i’m very loyal, like VERY loyal and I will always stick up for the people i love and go above and beyond to make the people around me happy. (which I think that can also lead me to being hurt or misused by friends)

I can be a little emotional at times, maybe a little dirty minded too lol, i love to cook, i’m a dog lover (really just an animal lover at that), and i’m competitive and passionate. I’m a very driven person and if it’s something I want to do i’ll make SURE it gets done. I Make up my own rules and I don’t give into unfair ideas that are put up around me. I lead with my heart and my emotions and if that gets me into trouble then so be it. i also LOVE scary movies, true crime, all that stuff, i’m also a SUCKER for reality tv 😭 (tlc does have some good drama though)

I would say I’m charming and it’s more of my words and my smile that gets the guys. I’m a bit of a germaphobe and maybe little ocd. Imma southern gal who’s very short, (5.0) I think I have more of an innocent look (despite my wild attitude LMAO) I have big brown eyes, wavy light brown hair, big lips, only like a couple light freckles on my nose ( you can see them better in the summer) , button nose, and an olive skintone that has paled over time, I would say I have more of a petite/hourglass figure but I think my chest is what catches people’s eyes (Im a size DD LOL) I have high standards, I can be very sympathetic, and I also can usually tell when people are in pain or when their vibe is off in general. I usually just joke or “laugh it off” and I can be very deadpan when something bothers me, or if it’s something that really hurt me I usually just shut down and become cold or distant. i’m an INTP, My hogwarts house is Hufflepuff ( even though I honestly thought I was a slytherin for so long 😭) My love language is physical touch for giving and acts of service as receiving (it’s really just the little things and showing that you care about what I’m saying or just being thoughtful). I grew up with brothers so i love watching sports and playing them (We grew up in a very competitive household lol) i’m very very family oriented, I’m a sagittarius, I like to play the piano, and read and write in my free time. and In the summers I love to fish and swim at my boathouse. And springtime is my favorite season.

For a guy, I wouldn’t really care about looks or any of that! I don’t have a type at all 😅 Just someone that can take care of me right. Sorry if this is long! Love you, Em!!!! 🩷🩷🩷

MY LOVE NEVER APOLOGIZE FOR THE LENGTH OF AN ASK I THRIVE OFF OF IT AND I LOVE YOU SO MUCH!!!!

Alright so this one just kinda came to me out of nowhere while I was reading your thing and the more I read the more it just seemed to fit!! I ship you with…

Floyd Talbert!!

Song from my playlist that reminds me of y’all - Crazy Little Thing Called Love by Queen

How you met

So you both were in the pub in England where Buck and everyone were playing darts

Tab was just being his usual flirty self until he saw you

You were out just having a blast with your friends and he saw your smile and just

That's it he's Sold

So he sauntered over to you to try and put on his usual charm but your own way with words and just how PRETTY you are completely threw him off

So yeah sweet boy stumbles over his words and when you call him cute he just

Talbert.exe has stopped working

Suddenly your friends call you over so you give him a little wave before walking off but not before he asks you to dinner

Cue Talbert sneaking off in the middle of the night to see you whenever he can so y’all can sneaky make out like a couple of teenagers

How he knew he loves you

Ok so I picture it happening maybe you met up with him in Paris while he had some leave time

You and Tab and your friends were all out drinking and having a good time

Until someone bumps into one of your friends and gives them a glare

Like “watch where you’re going asshole”

And because your hands are rated E for Everyone of course you try and go to town

Until Talbert holds you back because he doesn’t want you to get hurt

Just… seeing your passion and loyalty to your friends, how much you cared, the fire in your eyes…

Something just clicked for him, he knew then and there he was in love with you

He tells you as he walks you back to your hotel room, standing outside the door, arms wrapped around your waist

He’s worried you won’t believe him because of his flirty reputation, but the look in his eyes when he says he loves you makes your heart just MELT

Of course you say it back because who wouldn’t

Before his leave is up y’all make the decision that you’ll go back to Kokomo with him after the war

A conflict and how y’all resolved it

So it’s after the war, both of y’all had long days, already on edge

Tab comes through the door and, instead of the welcome home kiss you always expect, he just goes straight to the kitchen, right passed you

You follow him because you’re worried about Tab, like, this never happens?? Tf??

You knew Tab had a temper but this felt different

You ask if he’s okay and he just stays silent

You ask him again in a quiet tone, “Floyd, talk to me.”

“Why should I? You don’t tell me everything. Why should I tell you anything?”

It just comes out of nowhere and cuts like a knife

Tab kept ranting, and you’re able to gather that apparently, a coworker that loves to get under Tab’s skin mentioned that he saw you at a bar flirting with a bunch of guys (literally never happened, you’ve been at home taking care of Trigger all week cuz he was sick)

Just… 1) the fact that it’s a lie… 2) the fact that Tab believed him??? Did he really have that little faith in you and your relationship????

The fight just blows up out of proportion, tears are shed, voices go raw, feelings DEFINITELY get hurt

Finally y’all just hit a wall so you just take Trigger out for a walk without saying a word

During the walk your brain just goes a million miles a minute

You thought your relationship was deeper than this?? Has it been like this the whole time but you just had rose colored glasses on??

You didn’t want to go home, but you knew Trigger was getting tired, and it was getting dark.

When you walk in the door, you see dinner on the table (your favorite), and Tab waiting for you, his eyes clearly red and puffy

“I… I can’t begin to say how sorry I am…”

He just looks at the floor ashamed

Tab takes a moment before quietly explaining that, when his coworker said what he did, it just hit different…

Tab never told you this, but he really doesn’t feel like he deserves you

Like, in Tab’s brain, you could go and pick someone ten times better than him, so why don’t you?

Tab got so scared, but he didn’t want to show it, so he got angry

By the end his cheeks are stained with tears, still looking at the floor

He’s so shocked when he feels your arms around him

“Floyd, you’re the silliest man I know”

At first he’s super confused, but you explain how much you love him and how you can’t imagine your life with anyone else

He just lets out a sob of relief and kisses you with the most love and passion you ever felt

Honestly it was rough but you’ve never felt closer to Tab than in that moment

Your Happily Ever After

Always taking care of Trigger together

Trigger needs a bath? Floyd “accidentally” aims the hose at you and starts a water fight

Trigger needs a walk? You have his leash on one hand, and Floyd’s butt in the other

SUPER romantic relationship, like, y’all are just constantly flirting with each other and it’s simultaneously disgusting and adorable

A silly headcanon about your relationship!

Ok but hear me out…. Once a week, y’all have a self-care night and it’s SO CUTE

Y’all help each other put on face masks, give each other massages

You just love to help each other relax and feel refreshed and rejuvenated after a long week

Sometimes Trigger gets in on the fun and y’all give him a little paw-ssage and he is in heaven

Honestly just being in that space with the two boys you love most feels like heaven to you

Aaaaaaa thank you for being my first ship Mac!!! Hope you like it ❤️✨

#ask #ship #ithinkabouttzu #band of brothers #band of brothers ship #floyd talbert #floyd talbert x reader #band of brothers x reader #hbo #hbo war #easy company #my writing #help emily write #making waves

12 notes · View notes

spacerangersam · 14 days

Note

Could you tell me more about some of your ocs???? (Only if you’re up for it tho)

I’m always down to gush about my ocs! But I do have a lot of them, especially with the story I'm currently working on, and I don’t always know what to say, so sorry if this is a bit all over the place. This isn’t even everyone, I left out a few like the main antagonist, Irene and a few other side characters for the sake of this not being essay length but yeah. Here are some of the main guys:

(also, unless otherwise specified, they're all welsh)

Simon Huw Taylor, 32, tenant of flat no. 6, he/they, bi and ace (maybe on the aro spectrum, but idk. It’s none of my business).

He’s the main character of my story, Where the Lost Souls Meet. He’s a pretty quiet guy who likes to keep to himself, much to his own detriment. He’s been travelling around all his life, never really interacting with people his own age, leaving him with mediocre socialising skills. He can see ghosts, has been able to since childhood, and is a mortician while doing psychic ghost stuff on the side. His mum could also see ghosts and she also did the ghost business, which is why he and his parents were moving around all the time, basically living in their van/hotels). To honour her, Simon uses her maiden name for ghost work (meaning his name is then Simon Huw Hughes, which I just thought was cute). She died a few years back, his father even earlier, leaving Simon the last of his family line and all alone in the world.

His whole life revolves around death, which isn’t healthy but Simon would rather die than go to therapy and actually address his problems, so it stays that way for a while. He does try to quit smoking though, so that’s something. He is also a liar. Dear god does he love to lie about everything and anything, to everyone. Well, I say loves to lie, he doesn’t really love it. He does it both to keep himself safe and to keep others from worrying about him. Honestly, he’s fine, he’s functional, and he definitely has family who loves him. Just don’t ask to meet his ‘sister’. He also tries to protect people by keeping a certain distance from them, not wanting to hurt them like he’s been hurt because of [REDACTED], which is why he kept moving around even after his mother died. But he desperately wanted top surgery and so stopped in this town with a well-known trans-safe doctor to get it done, and unfortunately for him landed in a manor turned flat filled with people who very much would like to be his friends, please.

He has no hope for the future, no plans, having a fairly pessimistic look on life because of [REDACTED], and is basically just waiting for the day he finally dies. Again, will he do anything about this? Maybe, eventually, at some point.

He doesn’t like / struggles to watch TV and movies, his ideal night involves doing puzzles and maybe a spot of reading, he loves puns and he’s a vegetarian. I love him and his terrible coping mechanism. Go king, communicate absolutely nothing and never let people share your burdens.

Also, his neighbour dies in front of him during an argument one day, which isn't great, going on to haunt Simon in a distinctly violent fashion, which is the thing he's desperately trying to deal with in the story.

more losers under the cut

Charlie Tops, 35, tenant no. 5, he/him, trans bi+ace. He’s a very sweet guy, very open, with major himbo energy, just without the muscles. He makes the best tea and the worst coffee. He writes kid's books in the vein of Winnie the Pooh / Peter Rabbit, taking over the job after his grandfather passed, now writing them for his own daughter, Lottie. But Lottie’s getting older and losing interest in those types of books, and so he’s losing interest in writing them and having a mild panic over what he’ll do next. He’s kinda obsessed with taxidermies. His flat is quite literally filled with them and no one likes it, nobody wants to be in there, and the vibes are way off (except Will for, who thinks it’s very interesting, actually).

He’s deeply in love with Simon and they have a thing. An unexplained, deeply intimate thing that neither talk about, mostly because Simon can’t communicate for shit (which he feels deeply guilty about, and he keeps telling himself that he’ll break it off but can never quite work up to it), and Charlie’s worried if he asks, Simon will end it. He really struggles with Simon’s whole silent martyr ordeal even outside their thing because even if he doesn’t know the extent to which Simon is trying to hide his problems, he knows there is something being hidden, but again, is worried about pushing too hard and losing him completely. It’s messy, but they’ll work through it.

He can’t see ghosts but does know about them, unlike the other Woodward tenants, and feels a bit left out /awkward about the whole thing. He had an amicable divorce from his wife Irene after he realised he was ace, she realised she was aro, and that they were both trans, the two staying friends and her staying on as the illustrator for his books. And as I mentioned earlier, he does have a daughter, Lottie.

William Isaiah Beaton, 30, tenant no. 7, he/him, gay, English. An archivist for the local museum who moves into the manor in chapter one, and comes off as a tough, rude ex-vet. And that is true, to a certain extent. He is rude, and an ex-vet. But he wasn’t in the army for long, he got mowed down by a car on base like, two weeks after arriving, leaving him with a permanent injury to his leg. He feels he failed to live up to his father’s expectations, and in shame, never told the truth to his father about having to leave the forces. Will has… a lot of complicated feelings about that, and his relationship with his father, and his relationship with his religion. He works some of that last one out with help from Penny.

It’s a bit of a spoiler, but whatever- he can see ghosts. He doesn’t realise that’s what’s happening though and instead is fully convinced he’s just losing his mind, and that crash did irreparable damage to his head. Nah though, just ghosts. Has a guilty love of werewolf media and cake, and cares a lot about bugs and plants (he even ends up taking Simon’s plants off him, because Simon kills every plant he owns, without question). He has limited zero social skills and finds big groups overwhelming, but nevertheless, he will be dragged into this friendship group (if Penny has any say in it, at least). He came to Hangar for a reason, though he doesn’t say why.

He also definitely fancies Simon and has no idea how to handle that. It’s the first time he’s fancied a man (or at least, a man-adjecent person) who isn’t straight, and that coupled with the fatc Simon actually seems to like him is just a lot for him to process. The two of them bond over their shared loved of history / interest in the history of the manor.

I should make it clear: this isn’t a love triangle, this is poly thing.

The ghouls:

Florence Blossom (left), 40, and Gwenllian Baker (right), 42. Both were performers in a small acting trope who died in 1941 (though not at the same time or in the same way, funnily enough) in the manor Simon lives in. They love each other very much.

Florence is a bit judgy, loves a good moan, and is very anxious about everything and everyone, always. Her anxiety tends to make her come off as a bit snappy. She can control the lights.

Gwen is a bit vacant, with her head absolutely in the clouds at all times. She struggles a bit with empathy and reading the room, leading her to be mindlessly cruel sometimes. She never means it though and genuinely cares about Simon and Florence, and will look after them both in her own weird ways. she can lock, unlock, close and open doors

Now back to the living:

Agatha Jeorme, 55, tenant no. 1. She’s kinda like if an angsty teen was stuck in the body of a middle-aged woman, and we love her for that. She’s the daughter of the landlord and hates it. If she had any other skills / if her father had helped her get a better opportunity elsewhere like he did with her brothers, she would have jumped on it. But instead, he gave her the job of looking after Woodward. She hates him, deeply. She often shovels off small jobs onto Simon because she knows he won’t say no, and is having an affair with the next-door neighbour’s wife. I kind of made her sound like a bastard, and she is kinda, but a fun one I hope, and she does learn to be less of a bastard as the story goes on.

Gwynfor Geraint Jones, 34, tenant no. 2, he/she, bigender, aroace. Just a chill guy who loves rock music and slasher movies. She’s in a QPR with Adam, them being the first two to move into Woodward. this isn't entirely related to his character, but he's called gwynfor geraint after two twins i went to primary school with. their names always stuck in my head, in so i thought i'd put them to good use.

Adam Diana Keats, 36 tenant tenant, no.3, she/her, aroace trans woman, Scottish. She’s a librarian with a love of reading, especially poetry, and a bit pushy, a bit bossy, but ultimately well-meaning. She’ll drag Simon out of his room but with the intent to encourage him to mingle and hang out with the Woodward crew, you know. She hates Will on sight. There’s more I could say, but that would be spoilers. also, despite her dark academic vibes, she does love a good animal print

Penny Sion Seagrove, 29, no.4, she/her, lesbian. A tired, friendly gardener who would love it if everyone would get along and be friendly. She sometimes sticks her nose in places she shouldn’t to figure out people’s beef with each other (cough, Adam and Will, cough) to see if she can find a way to squash it for them, which doesn’t usually work. She tries anyway. She’s Catholic, shares Simon’s love of puns, and is dating Alice.

Alice Rhodri Blackwood, 30, she/her, trans lesbian. She lives in town with her best mate Mickey. She’s a loud, cheery, extroverted goth with an interest in witchcraft who can also see ghosts. She has slightly different opinions about ghosts and how they work from Simon, but she’s still his go-to when he’s having ghost issues.

Mickey Dolores Palmer, 29, she/her, English (Yorkshire). Idk what her deal is, and she just is, you know. A very nervous, clumsy, mousy person who works at the local museum. She tends to jump to conclusions and is not a fan of ghosts. Unfortunately, she can also see ghosts, so that’s not great for her. She's doing her best.

god i wrote way too much for this, sorry asdfghj. but uh, also, i did a voice claim video for some of these losers, if you're interested. also,t hank you so much for asking. i do love talking about these idiots

#behold: them #thank you for asking and once again. omg im sorry it's so long #i got a bit carried away

8 notes · View notes

pigeonwhumps · 3 months

Text

Helpless

Immortal Cannon Fodder masterlist

Taglist: @painful-pooch @i-eat-worlds @a-funeral-romance @rainydaywhump @extrabitterbrain @wolfeyedwitch @fuckcapitalismasshole @ghost-whump @whump-tr0pes @rainbowsandwhumperflies @whumpinggrounds @febuwhump

Febuwhump day 1: Helpless

Phoenix receives a secondment request.

Set in the future, when Brynn has joined the team and Phoenix (just about) knows that their treatment by Abbie and co was abuse.

803 words

CWs: immortal whumpee, dehydration, PTSD, past abuse, accidental self-neglect, implied future return to abuser, low self-esteem

Phoenix can barely read the words on the screen anymore. They just look like... disjointed letters. Black and white, spelling out something so clearly only they don't know what it says.

They remember, though. The short assignment message, sent straight to their inbox. Short and not so sweet. Seared into their brain.

Team assignment. Starting on: XX/XX/20XX. Length: Two months. Seconded to a team led by Abbie Graham aka The Spark. Request Phoenix Costello aka Firebird for the job.

They don't know what the job is. They know why they've been requested, because it makes sense, they worked in that team for five years. But they don't know anything else.

They should tick the 'yes' box. That's what they should do. They're not typing a reason in the 'no' box, they're not letting anyone else go. They wonder if Abbie herself requested them. They wonder what she'll do to them while they're there.

It's only temporary. At least it's only temporary.

It's there in stark black and white. It seems, somehow, like it should be a bigger thing. Colours, red, big and bold. Everyone should know. Not just... stark black and white, a brief, normal assignment notice.

Someone taps them on the shoulder and they spin round, heart pounding, wondering if Abbie has–

No. No, it's just Kai. They breathe out a sigh of relief. It's not Abbie.

Not yet.

"You, um, you scared me," they say hoarsely, trying to muster a smile. "What, um, is it?"

"You're scaring us," replies Kai. "You haven't left your room in a week, you haven't answered Joseph's messages, haven't even looked at anyone's we know who has their read messages on. I know your door's on red, and we were respecting your privacy but... it's been a week with no sign of you. Santhiya said you're alive. She also said you seem distressed, but she wouldn't go in further just in case. What's wrong?"

"I– it– um, I–"

Phoenix gives up. They can't articulate it, they'll never be able to articulate it. They gesture helplessly towards the screen.

Kai reads the words (the stark, black and white, unerasable words) and then swears violently. Phoenix flinches.

"Sorry. I can see why... well. Have you moved from this chair in the last week?"

Phoenix, legs tucked up to their chest, arms back around their legs, shakes their head. They didn't realise it had been a week.

"Let's get this answered and then move you, yeah? Which way are you going to go?"

It's a perfunctory question and they both know it. The 'no' box is there because it's legally required. But they're not required to make it easy.

"Yes," whispers Phoenix. But they don't turn, and their hand doesn't move. They can't click the button.

"You want me to..."

Phoenix nods, and Kai does so.

What kind of a hero are they if they can't even click a button?

"Okay. Think you can move at all?"

Phoenix tries. Nothing happens. What will Abbie do if–

"You need to calm down, Phoenix. You still have a week. Take a deep breath for me and hold onto my hands. Arms down first, then your legs. Then up. Arms, legs, up. Okay?"

Phoenix nods. Arms, legs, up. Easy.

Why can't they do this on their own? Abbie's going to kill them.

Arms.

Legs. Ouch, those are painful and take a long time to move. They flex them tentatively, then more so when they're not quite so painful.

Their feet hit the floor and they wince. Ow.

They push down on Kai's hands as they move to stand, and dizziness overwhelms them. Oh, fuck, fuck. Something warm is holding them now and all the sensations are coming back. They're all tingly and sore and wobbly legs and dizzy and they need the toilet and their stomach cramps and aches and they're all nauseous. Their mouth is dry and their head hurts and they're exhausted, everything blurry. And they're cold and sticky and they probably smell.

"Hey, easy, easy, I've got you." Oh. Oh it's Kai holding them. "When did you last drink anything?"

They shrug. Their brain's all foggy, they can't think.

"Fuck. Can someone call Aaron? Urgently?"

Phoenix flinches at the volume of the last part. "Sorry. Sorry. Got to make sure Morfydd hears. I know your healing means you can last longer without water but you'll die soon if you don't get help."

No. No they won't. They won't die at all, that's the point of them. But they lean against Kai until they're moved, led down with their head propped up, and then they start moving really fast.

"What happened?" asks... Aaron, they think it is. They don't know who he's talking to but they answer anyway, voice a dying, defeated rasp.

"Couldn't even... click a button."

#febuwhump2024 #febuwhumpday1 #whump #whump writing #immortal cannon fodder #phoenix oc #kai oc #immortal whumpee #hero whump #hero whumpee #hero caretaker #hero whumper

11 notes · View notes

tragiclilb · 2 years

Text

☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ YOUR NAME ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾

(Alex can’t get your name out of his mouth)

(Warnings: fluff, lots, horrible amounts, drinking)

(A/n: Yes I know this should have been more than a oneshot unfortunately i’m a little bitch who refuses)

(Words: 1858)

“Please I swear it will be fun!” He said pulling me into his room.

“Alex, you said that the last party. And we know how that turned out.” I said giving him a telling look.

In the past 4 months he’s had a track record of bad party experiences. He for some reason couldn’t leave a party with out making a girl mad. Each girl seemingly not only furious with him but me as well after. I just have learned to assume it’s because I’m his best mate but, it still always felt a bit odd.

We would go to a party, he would get shit faced, and 2 hours later I would have a girl storming up to me, saying I should deal with him. And I was not looking forward to spending my Friday like that this time.

“Please I’ll do anything. I just need you there.” He said giving me a pouty look. His dark, shoulder length hair falling in-front of his face. Sometimes he’s just so exhausting.

“Oh fine. But this is the last party, I swear.”

“Thank you! Well, we better get going, we’re already late.” He smiles wide and drags me to the car.

“So you sleeping over at mine?” I make sure to ask ahead of time. Knowing I’ll be driving home.

“Yeah, sounds good.” He nods pulling his jacket back in place after the buckle tossed it around. He starts the engine and rolls away driving down a few streets to the house party.

We pull up and immediately I can see it’s already packed. We walk in, the music pounding are ears. It’s some trashy pop song that came out last year. We both looked at each other and laughed a bit at the sound.

“I’ll go get us some drinks, okay?” He yells over the noise.

“Okay sounds good.” I say and he walks away to the kitchen.

I wander around for a while looking to see if I could finds anyone I know. Old friends from when we where in school always tend to show up at these things.

I search around till at the stairs I see Emma, one of my said school friends. She meets my eyes and runs down the stairs her long blonde hair swaying behind her. She was still as gorgeous as ever. She was the type of person in school who everyone was drawn to. She was insanely popular, but kind as well. It’s almost annoying.

“Hi, how have you been.” She smiles.

“Pretty good actually, I’ve been traveling around with the boys for a while. Where back in town for a break though.” I explain and she nods smirking to herself.

“You still hopelessly in love with turner?” She laughs and I fight the urge to smack my hands over her mouth.

“Shhhh, he’s somewhere around here, also we don’t talk about that. It was years ago.” I say looking around panicked. Hoping he didn’t overhear.

“Okay okay, I’m sorry, it was a sweet crush though, you where head over heels.” She giggles, just then I feel a tap on my shoulder.

“For who?” Alex asks innocently, obviously already multiple drinks in.

“No one, just an old school crush.” I say covering for myself. He looks at me with suspicious eyes. He probably noticed he was staring to long so he shakes his head looking down. The drinks obviously getting to him.

“Hey come on, let’s do shots.” He says getting out of his momentary funk grabbing my shoulders.

“Alex, I’m staying sober tonight, you know this. I have to drive you home.” I say and he sighs loudly.

“Your no fun.” He runs his hands through his hair letting go of me and walking to the counter. He takes 3 more shots and scoffs. I feel bad so I walk over to him leaning against the counter next to him. He puts his hand out for me and I grab it. He fiddles with my fingers. Picking at my nail polish which I’ll just have to re apply later.

“I’m sorry for dragging you along, I know you don’t like this stuff.” He says turning to look at me.

“It’s okay, I’m pretty sure I go anywhere you go anyways.” I say jokingly and he smiles to himself getting pink in the face. Probably the alcohol heating him up. He looks back up to my eyes.

“You…. You have really pretty eyes.” He says looking dazed. He makes it so hard to forget about my feelings. He loves to say horribly sweet things when he’s out of it. It’s another reason I didn’t want to come to the party. It hurts hearing him say things I wish he actually felt, only for him to go try and make out with random girls a few minutes later.

“Yeah yeah okay, I’m gonna go get you some water.” I say and go to the back yard looking for a cooler.

Much to my dismay the cooler happened to be In the front yards for some reason. So after 10 minutes of traveling between people and searching for it, I found it and grabbed a few waters. I’m about to walk back in the kitchen when Emma walks up to me.

“Your not gonna believe this. Alex just tried to make out with me. I mean he didn’t hide how insanely drunk he was so his oddness makes sense.” She says looking uncomfortable.

“Oh god I’m so sorry.” I apologize for my best friends behavior.

“You know, he said something weird.” She enquirers.

“Huh?”

“He asked if He could call me your name.” She says funnily.

“Are you kidding?” I say shocked.

“No I swear. I mean he seemed so upset when I walked in the kitchen. He was downing a drink and I asked if he was okay. He kept asking where you had gone.”

“He so dramatic, I told him I was getting water.”

“He was probably to out of it. But I swear he sounded like you used to in school. Him getting all gushy about you.” She laughs. “I swear he’s just as infatuated with you as you where with him. Asking to call me your name and such.” She explains and my eyes go wide. I mean that’s insane right? We’ve been best friends since children.

“Why wouldn’t he just say something to me about it then?” I ask tuning my hand across my face, stressed. I wouldn’t be lying if I said I still felt the same. Watching him over these past few years. Performing the way he does. Getting to sit on the side and watch him. The way his hair fell as he played the guitar. Or the smooth sound of his voice ringing through my ears. He’s entrancing really.

But he always seemed so out of reach when it came to my feelings. He was a star. Who had all the options he wanted. Groupies and such. Why would he want me? So I never acted.

“Well, why didn’t you?” She says giving me a knowing look. “I think you should go speak to him.” She pats my shoulder and sends me into the kitchen. I walk in and I see him hunched over the counter fiddling with an empty shot glass. I walk over taking the shot glass out of his hands, setting it down. I grab his hand and lead the pouting man through the crowd, back out to the car.

“Why are we leaving so soon?” He asks slurred.

“Sweetheart, your drunk of your ass.”

“That’s beside the point.” He rolls his eyes, a big yawn taking over a few seconds later.

He leans his head on my shoulder and without answering his question I drive back to my place. Somehow I get him upstairs into bed without him passing out.

“Darling…” he says his hair falling over his eyes as he lays down.

“Yeah.” I say in the doorway about to head to the couch.

“I wrote a song about you.” He softly grins.

“Oh yeah? Can I hear it?”

“Maybe one day.” He giggles to himself and I can tell he’s to far gone.

“Goodnight Alex.” I say closing the door and going out to the couch.

When I woke the next morning I saw Alex sitting in the chair by the couch. He was drinking something hot as I could see the steam from the cup. I sat up and rubbed my eyes yawning.

“Morning.” He says softly as I get up and walk to the counter boiling some water, and grabbing a tea bag.

“Morning.” I respond in the same soft manner.

“Could we talk about last night.” He asks as I sit back down.

“Yeah I actually wanted to speak about that.” I say and he seams nervous.

“Alex… why did Emma from school tell me you asked to call her my name, before kissing her?” I said being quite blunt with it. If I didn’t get it out now, I never would.

“I- oh god, I’m a mess when I’m drunk aren’t I?” He says trying to laugh it off.

“Alex, be honest with me here, cause I don’t understand how you can say all theses complements and being dare I say flirtatious one minute, and then going and asking to call girls my name if you don’t feel some way…. About me.” I say cautiously. If this goes wrong I’m losing my best friend.

“You’re not wrong.” He says awkwardly.

“I’m not?” I say a bit flabbergasted. But mostly relieved.

“You just… hypnotize me. I can’t explain it. I don’t even know why it took me so long to realize it to be honest.” He says tucking his hair behind his ears. His dark eyes where big, almost surprised at the fact he was saying what he was saying out loud.

“But these past few months, I keep trying to tell you, but I would say something and you’d shoot me down. I would go find some girl to take my mind off you. But it never works. Cause….. cause there not you.”

Oh.

“I’ve loved you since I was thirteen.” I say and I don’t think I’ve ever seen his face flash into a smile so big.

“Well that’s bloody good to hear.” He says.

“I’m sorry I didn’t say anything sooner, it’s just, you could chose anyone you wanted. Girls fawn over you. I just didn’t think it’d be me.” I say honestly and he gets up walking over to me.

“You daft woman.” He says scanning my face. I was confused for a second till he placed a hand to my cheek. His fingers ruff from the years of guitar. His eyes bore into mine making my knees week as he pulled me up. He placed a innocent kiss to my lips. It was almost like an apology for lost time we could of had if we where smarter. It was slow and sensual. His finger tips ended up in my hair as we pulled away.

“I’m infatuated with you.” He grins and I smile wide.

#Spotify #alex turner #alex turner x reader #arctic monkeys #alex turner fluff #alex turner angst

292 notes · View notes

the1northlanderprincess · 10 months

Text

Yeah, there’s definitely a problem

I have been in the Sarah J Maas ‘fandom” for four years, and only recently did I realize that there is, indeed, issues with her writing. It comes after starting Throne of Glass for the first time. I’m not going to do a deep, deep dive of criticisms, but I will address some general things that I found wrong in TOG.

Okay, let’s start with the numerous love interests Celaena/Aelin had. She had Sam, Dorian, Chaol, and Rowan, as well as other male characters who were either into her, or she into them. That’s, like, Mary Sue territory right there. Sam, Dorian, and Chaol should have been enough. Her relationship with Sam was the sweet, but tragic, first young love kind. Dorian could have been the attractive, fun flirtation type. And Chaol...poor Chaol. Chaolaena should have been endgame. Their relationship was solidly built like many endgamers. They had their issues, for sure (get to that in a second). This is likely going to be controversial, but the whole Nehemiah thing was blown way out of proportion. I understand that Nehemiah was her truest friend, but the lengths of resentment and antagonism there were unnecessary. Chaol was captain of the guard. He was not obligated to tell Celaena certain things. She shouldn’t hold that against him, or anyone, in that position, regardless if she’s in a relationship with him. And, when it was revealed that Nehemiah arranged everything, Celaena’s feelings should have lessened greatly.

Then there is Chaol’s hang-up with Celaena’s magic. Herein lies some of the inconsistencies. When she goes through that portal, it is described that Chaol was exhibiting both horror and awe. Awe, to me, does not seem like a negative reaction. Soon after, he tells her that he doesn’t care that she is an assassin or a Fae. It seems believable at that time. Is it possible that he was just saying that, or trying to convince himself? Sure, but it’s apparent he still loves her, and tells her as much. Maybe he was willing to try, to accept it. However, he does a 360, at times, during HoF. The characterizations in that book go back and forth. Drives me nuts. Don’t get me started on QoS. I’m only going to say it once: Chaol knew who Celaena was, and it should not have scandalized him by how violent she could be. And most of the time, he still cared for her no matter what.

It doesn’t take a genius to say that Chaol and Celaena have issues. He grew thinking magic was a bad thing, and that was only heightened when he became captain of the guard for an evil king. Also, being captain, he was against lawlessness, which she had represented. Celaena, on the other hand, had deep, deep trauma. So much so, she kept it hidden for a long time without talking about it. Super unhealthy. I might go so far as saying she has DID, or in the very least, PTSD. It didn’t help that Arobynn basically encouraged it, not to mention that in-book things happened to push her down further, triggering her. Had she been raised in a different foster home, it’s possible she could have dealt with those situations in more healthy ways. And, honestly, Chaol should have understood that the way Celaena turned out to be was not entirely her fault. She was, in fact, groomed by Arobynn.

Like I iterated earlier, Chaolaena has all the qualities of an endgame, more specifically, my OTP of book OTPs, Romitri. There is a headstrong, fiery young woman who must train with an older, respected mentor who gets rather annoyed by her antics. Slowly but surely, they come to respect one another and build a kind of camaraderie, and a strong bond. And they’re both stubborn, passionate people, with him being such a stickler for obedience to his occupation, it gets in the way of his own happiness. But eventually they overcome it, and enter into an all-consuming relationship, where they’re both willing to sacrifice everything for one another. Of course, there must be a conflict that will test the strength of their relationship. The conflict for Chaolaena comes relatively sooner than I would have liked.

If there had to be separation between these two, a book’s length would have been okay. They could have spent some time apart, working through their own crap. Then when their paths would inevitably cross again, things would obviously be a little intense. They could rip into each other to their heart’s content, until they get tired of fighting. Let it rest, cool tempers and whatnot. Maybe there is a bit more truth-telling, but with better level-headedness. That could ultimately lead into a makeout session, realizing that if they truly love each other (which they totally did), they can come to an understanding/compromise; can get through any problem. The going at one another did start right away in QoS, but then it went to heck. It was all right there for the taking. But noooo.

You know, if SJM really wanted Celaena to have a special relationship with Rowan, she could left it at carranam. Someone like no other who can handle her magic, but yet he knows his place before a queen; she is free to boss him around, and not have him question her. Perhaps he could be her capta of the guard. Or, she could have simply sworn him to the blood oath. If she had such strong ties to her cousin, why couldn’t Aedion be carranam? It’d make a lot more sense and would be more special. And the mating bond thing? The proof was there from the beginning that Chaolena was IT, and was formed. Why can’t have there been a bond between one normal person and a magical being? Also, I’m so ticked that Chaolaena was boiled down to a “healing” relationship. Like, no, it was more than that, and you know it.

I have heard that because of ACOTAR’s burgeoning success and popularity, SJM changed the narrative of TOG. But I don’t necessarily buy that. I looked at the publishing date for QoS and ACOTAR. Both are 2015. I don’t think fan influence could have been gauged so quickly. The inconsistencies already started in HoF before nosediving in QoS.

Nevertheless, SJM really and truly done messed up.

#anti sjm #anti rowaelin #I don't think I've ever used an anti tag before on here.#huh #go me

19 notes · View notes