#ducking sunny day outside

[blobee]

Jesus Christ so green

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

48 / 1.1k / shark mermen Ghost and Soap + lionfish mermaid reader, courtesy of @porcelainpot :)

...

The moment you and Soap lock eyes, you push yourself up off the soft sea floor. Tendrils of sand, gold in the sun, trail after your tailfin all the way back into the tangle of reef coral you’ve claimed as your home.

Soap laughs behind you.

Why is he so obsessed with this? This stupid game he plays. Ghost—who rolls over near the sunny patch where you were just lazing together—doesn’t care when you’re around. You don’t bother him; he doesn’t bother you. But Soap won’t leave you alone. He all but ignores the clear warning signs all over your body—the auburn striping your tail; your bright, fanlike fins; the enormous fuckoff venom-coated spines running the length of your dorsal line, arms, and ear fins.  

You scowl. Every time you think he won’t find you when you venture out into the reef, every time you let yourself relax after the day’s hunting is done, he turns up. Watching you the same way he’s looking at you right now: too fucking closely. His eyes flash with mischief and lock onto your fins through the sparse gaps in your coral cave.

“Think she bites?” he asks Ghost.

Ghost grunts. “Most things do.”

“Saw her lookin’ at you like she might want to take a piece home.”

“Doubt it.”

“Doubt you’d feel it if she did. Could hardly kill a minnow with those wee teeth. Don’t know how she hunts with ‘em.”

You duck down back into the entrance of your cave with a flick of your lacy tail. He’s talking loudly enough for you to hear on purpose. “You’re never getting close enough to find out,” you snap.

Soap’s smirk stretches into a grin. You took the bait. “Can’t hide in your cage forever, can ya?”

Ghost rolls back over. “She’s got more sense than the ones who swim toward you.”

“Oh, piss off. Fleein’ from a predator is what prey fish do. It’s a natural response.”

You lurk a little further outside your cave. “I’m not prey. I’m just as much a predator as you sharks.”

This time, Ghost is the one who scoffs. “Sure you are.”

Soap swims up closer to your hiding spot, eyes roaming over your form. You bristle instinctively and raise your spines in warning as he drifts closer. But it doesn’t drive him away. If anything, it seems to draw his interest even more.

“Ya’ve got an impressive display, I’ll give it that,” he says. “But you’re a scrap compared to us.”

“So? I don’t need size to defend myself.” You fan your fins up higher, emboldened as you rise with the current.

Soap grins even wider at the threat display. You’re all barbed fins, colorful scales, and angry pout. His gaze reflects the challenge you’re issuing him. “Careful sayin’ that. I’ll chase you if you tease me.”

Ghost lets out an irritated growl at Soap’s flirtation, knowing very well Soap only says these things to get a rise out of you. “Those spines aren’t just for show, Soap. You know what lionfish venom feels like. Bet hers is worse. Might kill you. You think it's worth dying just to prove a point?"

“I think spines break as easy as they sting.”

Anger surges through your chest. “Brute,” you snap.

Soap laughs. You don’t seem to notice you’ve drifted some distance away from your hiding spot, but he has. Ghost shifts, side-eying both of you more closely.

“I’m just curious, gorgeous.” His senses sharpen with the thrill of your threat display and your anger. Of course he thinks it’s sexy. The more you insult him, the more he wants to see what it takes to earn more than just that sharp tongue of yours. “Think touchin’ you might be worth the sting.”

“You’d be wrong.”

“You’re cute when you’ve got a problem with me. Gnashin’ like a miniature barracuda.”

You puff up a little more, daring to swim closer. You’re smugly satisfied when he backs away a little in response.

“Try it,” you bluff.

Soap’s eyes drop down, tracing the length of your fins, and he grins. He’s just as aware of the lethality of any lionfish's wicked barbs as he is of their beauty, but he doesn’t seem particularly deterred by the threats of this particular mer wielding them. “Bet you wouldn’t bite me too hard.”

“Soap.” Ghost’s voice is calm, but a warning lurks in his tone. “Don’t provoke her.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Soap replies without looking away from you. “Bet those spines are brittle.” He reaches forward to touch one.

You hiss and whip your tail away on instinct, darting back. Your spines are still raised in defense. But your rational mind doesn’t want to risk him getting any closer. You don’t want him to know what happens if he's stung--that your venom is a faulty mimic of a true lionfish. He needs to think you're dangerous and keep his distance. And you need to keep your pride intact.

Soap hardly notices how upset you are. He’s thrilled to provoke an interesting new reaction out of you. Before he can reach out again, though, Ghost grabs his wrist and jerks him back, forcing him out of your personal space.

“Don’t be an idiot. You’re not fast enough to avoid a sting.”

“You’re no fun, Ghost.”

“Fuck off,” you snap. Your heart is pounding. He got too close, way too close.

You retreat while Ghost has ahold of him, slipping down into your small den and out of sight. Soap calls after you, but he’s not surprised when you don’t come back out.

Soap rips his wrist out of Ghost’s claws with a muttered curse. At Ghost’s hard look, he snaps, “Like you wouldn’t do it too.”

“That’s not the problem. She’s a pincushion. You go pissing her off too much, you’re going to wind up full of poison.

“Aye.”

“And it'll probably kill you. Hurt the whole time doing it. It’s all fun and games until you’re dying because you just couldn’t help but poke a pretty fish.”

Soap scoffs. “You’re exaggerating. No sting can kill me. It'll hurt a little an’ I’ll be fine.”

Ghost gives Soap an unimpressed glance. “And if you're wrong? You think you’re strong enough to fight off a neurotoxin.” He snorts. “You want to test that hypothesis?”

Soap glances back at your den with a frown.

“Keep your bloody distance,” Ghost mutters, giving Soap a shove back toward the center of the reef. “She’s no prize.”

Soap gives in and turns back toward the reef, turning a restless corkscrew in the water. Still, the smirk reappears on his face. “Aye. Little nightmare, isn’t she?” He sighs. “All bite and no kiss.”

...

[part 1 ] / part 2 by porcelainpot here!! <3

more mer au / more Soap / masterlist

[thewolvesofthenorth]

Chapter One

Chapter One of Man of Honor

Series Masterlist ❖ Main Masterlist ❖ House Of The Dragon Masterlist

Rating: 18+ Word Count: 3k+  Summary: Things change, but not necessarily for the better. Warnings: Angst angst angst, language, fluff, slow burn

⟸ Previous Chapter ❖ Next Chapter ⟹

Four years after Cregan had sworn his oath to you by the heart tree, she entered your lives.

Arra Norrey.

A noblewoman of House Norrey. She was everything you wanted to be. Brown hair that flowed down her back, honey brown eyes, and a beautiful smile that could capture any man’s attention. And catch their attention it did. Particularly the attention of one man.

Cregan.

That was when everything changed and life as you knew it was turned upside down.

At first it started out small. Cregan and Arra would go out on horseback and upon returning, Cregan would talk endlessly about how great of a rider she was and how he had not expected such skill from someone like her. He’d speak of her love for poetry and songs, mentioning that you should ask for her to sing sometime because her voice was so beautiful. He would bring up miniscule things like how she wasn’t the fondest of the cold, even though she lived in the North. How her needlework was impeccable. The list went on and on.

But then the comparisons started to happen. Cregan would say things about her and then mention how it reminded him of things you would do and how similar the two of you were. Other times, he would make comments stating how different you were from each other. He would offhandedly say things like “Arra sings all the time, why don’t you ever sing?” or “Arra said she learned how to make this delicious duck soup and offered to make it sometime. I’m sure she’d be more than happy to teach it to you.” You were sure that Cregan did not mean them in a malicious way, but those comments had begun to slowly chip away at your self-esteem.

You never sang around him because you hated the way your voice sounded and were always too nervous to sing for others. You knew how to cook, but you also knew how to hunt and survive in the desolate lands of the North. You knew how to skin a rabbit and take down a boar with one shot through its eye. You even knew how to wield a sword and do it while on horseback. You didn’t need some noblewoman from some noble house within the North to teach you anything. But even knowing all those things that you could do that Arra couldn’t, you still felt insignificant when compared to her. She had become the apple of Cregan’s eye, and nothing you did or could do, would be enough.

Over time the distance between the two of you grew and eventually you hardly spent any time at all, his time and energy spent towards Arra and their budding relationship. And then came the news that shattered your heart and solidified the future between the two of you. Cregan and Arra were betrothed. A meager year after she’d entered your lives, and they were now to be married in six moons.

You remembered that day as clearly as a crystal on a rare sunny day. Cregan had approached you with a wide grin on his face and said that he and Arra’s parents had spoken and decided to betroth the two and bring two great houses in the North closer together. He had sounded so elated at the news and told you that he was anxious and hoped he would make a good husband. You had reassuringly smiled at him and told him that he would make a fine husband and that Arra was lucky for such a match. On the outside you presented a cool and collected close friend, but inside your heart was crumbling.

Forgotten was the oath you’d both spoken to each other beneath the weirwood tree all those years ago.

Forgotten was the promise of a future together.

Forgotten was the childhood pledge he’d made to you about becoming the Lady of Winterfell and holding Cregan’s heart, that privilege was now Arra’s.

It was now a mere dream that would no longer come to fruition and your heart grew heavy at the revelation that you had lost your chance at happiness with him. That night was the first time you had cried yourself to sleep since the death of your parents, and Cregan was not there to comfort you like he had been so many times before.

As time went on, you began to distance yourself from Cregan more and more, your heart not being able to take seeing him and Arra constantly interacting. Every time Cregan approached you to go hunting or spend time in the godswood, you’d declined, saying you had other duties to tend to or had promised to spend time with Sara, and you both knew how Sara was.

At first, Cregan had thought nothing of it, believing your excuses, but as time went on, he noticed how you would avoid making eye contact with him, and how you’d somehow slip away when he would enter a room. He’d had enough of your avoidance and wanted to confront you, but you had a talent of becoming invisible and made it impossible find for him to find you. So, he resolved to do the next best thing: speak to Sara about your behavior. The two of you were always close, though not as close as you and Cregan had once been. That had changed since Arra had arrived.

Sara had become your confidante, listening to you talk about Cregan when he and Arra grew close, and had even been there to hear your confession of your feelings towards Cregan. She was the only person who’d known about your and Cregan’s words in the godswood that day and had kept silent when you spoke of your heartache over the broken promise. She listened intently, and as much as she wanted to give Cregan an earful for his obviousness for your feelings, not once had she betrayed your trust. However, after weeks of your avoidance, Cregan had gone to her, she did not hold back on chastising him.

That afternoon, Cregan had watched you abruptly end your conversation with his sister and stealthily disappear as he approached, something that had begun to irritate him. He had quickened his pace, hoping to somehow stop you, but it was no use, you’d once again slipped through his fingers.

He let out a small huff and Sara turned to look at him, an eyebrow raised at his demeanor.

“Care to tell me what you’re so worked up about, Cregan?” Sara asked, already knowing what the answer would be.

“I just - ugh - that damn woman,” he began, his voice laced with irritation. “She’s been avoiding me, and I have no idea why! But YOU clearly do.”

Sara hummed in thought before responding in a teasing tone.

“So, what if I do?”

“Tell me why. What have I done to illicit such treatment?” Cregan grumbled.

“You really don’t know?” She quipped back as she folded her arms across her chest.

“No! I wouldn’t be standing here asking for you to tell me if I knew, now, would I?” He retorted in annoyance, his patience beginning to wane.

“Wow,” Sara said as she shook her head. “You really are as thick as the hide on a cow, aren’t you?”

“I don’t have time for your petty insults,” Cregan snapped. “Tell me.”

“Well, I’m sorry your lordship,” she sarcastically replied, finding amusement from his rising temper. “It’s not my fault you’re my idiot of a brother who can’t see what’s right in front of him.”

“Enough with your riddles, please,” Cregan spoke, his tone changing from annoyance to a small plea.

“If you must know, it’s because of YOU.”

“Me? What have I done?” He questioned, confused as to what he did to cause such treatment from you.

“It’s more what you HAVEN’T done, dear brother,” Sara stated, pondering her next words carefully. “Do you not remember?”

“Remember what? What have I not done that I was apparently supposed to do or be doing?!” Cregan exasperatedly exclaimed.

“You’d think that something as big as this would be something you wouldn’t easily forget,” she began. “After all, Starks do not forget their oaths.”

Cregan let her words sink in, unsure of what she meant.

What could she possibly be talking about?

An oath?

What oath?

I never made - oh.

“Oh.”

“Oh. Is that all you can say?!” Sara asked, the dumbfounded look on Cregan’s face enough to ignite her anger.

“I - we - we - we were children!” Cregan answered. “It was nothing but a game the two of us played! Just like any other game.”

Sara scoffed at his words.

“Maybe for you, but for her it was never a game,” she shot back. “Do you often make a habit of swearing oaths beneath the heart tree? Oaths of a false future?”

“Sara - I - again, we were children.”

“All of the North knows how serious oaths made in the Godswood are to be taken. Even children know not to do such things. Especially beneath the heart tree! Not oaths of marriage! And ESPECIALLY not oaths of marriage that are sworn to the old gods. You were both far from children when you’d spoken those words to her, and you know it.”

Cregan recoiled at her harsh tone, surprised that they had not attracted any prying eyes from how tense things were.

“But - but - I don’t understand,” he softly said. “What does that have to do with any of this?”

“You fucking imbecile!” Sara seethed. “It has EVERYTHING to do with this. You’re betrothed to another, with no thought to how it would make her feel. Not only that, but ever since Arra arrived, you’ve done nothing but ignore her. And even worse, compare her and Arra! Are you really that blind? Do you not see the hurt you’ve caused the poor girl? The pain she has had to constantly endure everyday seeing you with another woman? THAT is why she avoids you. THAT is why she wants nothing to do with you. Her heart breaks every time she sees you, Cregan. She sees the way you look at Arra and wishes you’d look at her like that. She has spent the last year suffering in silence because of YOU. YOU made an oath to her that you would take her as your wife and make her the Lady of Winterfell, but now that oath has been forgotten. I am just a Snow, and for that I am glad, because I would be ashamed to be a Stark who forgot an oath. Even one made as a so called child.”

“I - I did not know of her fondness towards me,” he whispered, his heart clenching at the Sara’s words.

“That’s a lie and you know it,” Sara spat out. “She has stood by you through everything. Your brother’s passing. Your father’s passing. Getting Winterfell back from your uncle and cousins. Every moment since childhood, she has been there, and you doubt her feelings for you?”

“I did not know she felt that way,” Cregan answered, looking down at his feet. “Felt more than just kinship.”

“Anyone could see that she felt more than kinship towards you. All the damn North could see it! Can you really say that you did not feel the same way?”

Cregan hesitated to meet his sister’s eyes. He could feel them burning a hole into his skull, and he was sure that had he not been the Lord of Winterfell, she would have struck him by now. Although he doubted that would prevent Sara from raining her wrath down upon him, consequences of hitting a lord be damned.

“I - I do not know,” he softly spoke as he finally looked at his sister. “What do I do?”

“That, I cannot answer for you. You must decide that for yourself, dear brother. If you really don’t feel anything for her, then go through with the marriage to Arra. But if you do feel more than you care to admit, then that is something that you must figure out on your own,” Sara said as she patted his shoulder and walked away.

Cregan watched as Sara walked into the snow-covered courtyard and a lump formed in his throat when he spotted you in the shadows on the other side. He let out a sigh as you met his eye and then unsurprisingly slipped into the darkness to hide away. At that moment Cregan realized that that was the first time you had met his gaze in a long time. For exactly how long it had been, he wasn’t sure, but it had been long enough that he felt an emptiness sweep over him when you tore yourself away from his vision and faded into the darkness.

Cregan spent the next several days mulling over everything Sara had told him. Apart from speaking to his council regarding preparations for the upcoming winter and updates regarding the Wall, Cregan spent most of those days alone, often opting to go riding or sit in his study in quiet contemplation. Much of that was him going through every memory you two shared, trying to figure out where things had changed for you. However, during the evenings, in the solace of his chambers, he found himself just thinking about you.

Who you were as a person and how you had grown so close over the years. Arra had of course taken note of his sudden change in demeanor, and he had made up excuses like having important business to attend to with the maesters due to the coming winter being predicted as a longer and colder one. Arra had not pushed the matter, knowing that he had a lot on his shoulders as the Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, especially when he was still quite young.

Some nights sleep would elude him, his thoughts weighing too heavily on his mind to allow him rest. On those nights he found himself wishing he could speak to you about everything. To confide in you as he once had. To talk about what he had done wrong and how to fix it. One such night, as he laid in his bed blankly staring at the ceiling, his thoughts drifted to a memory where you had been exceptionally happy.

- FLASHBACK -

It was the afternoon before your fifteenth name day, and Cregan had been teaching you how to shoot. You had always been an avid learner and that morning you’d begged him to teach you the ways of the bow, and he had finally relented when you told him it could be his gift to you. He had rolled his eyes at your antics but nonetheless grabbed a bow and told you to meet him in the practice yard.

You had been so carefree back then and Cregan smiled as he remembered the way your eyes had lit up when he appeared with a bow and quiver of arrows. He had started by teaching you the basics, how to hold the bow and draw the arrow back to the proper position, and how to aim. At first, you had struggled, unable to draw the arrow far enough and maintain the hold to aim, so Cregan had come up you to fix your form.

“Your feet should be shoulder width apart with your shoulder pointed to the target,” he instructed, moving your feet into the proper position and your shoulder to line up with the target. “Good, now keep your back straight and push your hips forward. You should be comfortable enough to hold this position for a while. Your inner elbow should be parallel to the ground and when you draw the arrow make sure to pull your shoulders back and lift your elbow. Now bring the arrow back toward your face until the bow feels tight, but keep your arms relaxed. Don’t tense.”

You followed his instructions as best as you could, but he noticed that your stance was still a little off, so he went to stand behind you and pulled your shoulders back, before placing his hands on your hips, shifting you ever so slightly to bring your pelvis forward. At the time he had taken note of how you had sucked in a breath at the action but thought nothing of it as he held your waist and told you to release the arrow. You’d both watched with bated breath as the arrow soared through the air and landed dead center of the target. You jumped with glee and turned to face him; a giant grin plastered on your face.

“I did it!” You proudly exclaimed.

“That you did, my lady,” Cregan replied, your infectious smile drawing one of his own to his face. You continued to jump for joy and expectedly planted a kiss on his cheek, his face growing hot at your act of affection. You then turned back to the target and nocked another arrow, unaware of the blush that graced his face and continued spread across his cheeks and down his necks. He couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride as he watched you shoot arrow after arrow into the target, his smile staying on his face the entire time.

- END FLASHBACK -

Cregan abruptly sat up in bed at the memory. He’d remembered the way his body had reacted at being so close to yours. How he’d felt a tingle in his fingertips when he placed his hands on your hips. He recalled the way your body easily shifted into position as he moved you into place. He remembered how you moved with such grace as you kept shooting, your skill improving with each arrow.

As Cregan continued to think of the events of that day, and the more he recalled, the clearer things became. Not just for that day, but for every day before and after that.

The way the sun illuminated your eyes, showing a hint of mischief behind them, had always captured his attention. The way the cold bite of the North would reddened your nose and cheeks had always made him chuckle in amusement.

The sweet melody of your voice, especially when saying his name, had always made him feel warm inside.

The way you smiled so much brighter - a special smile reserved just for him - when seeing him had always made his heart thump loudly in his chest.

And the way your small hand always seemed to sit so snuggly in his large ones had always made his breath hitch.

It had always been there.

The way your cheery and sweet temperament balanced his more serious and brooding nature.

The way the two of you always worked so well together when it came to hunting or matters of running Winterfell.

The way you each knew when the other was having a bad day and needed extra comfort.

The way you could both communicate with just one look.

The two of you had always fit so perfectly together, like pieces of a puzzle, or two sides to a coin.

It had always been there.

And it had always been seen by those around the two of you. 

Except for him.

Until now.

Cregan’s eyes widened in realization. Your feelings were not one sided. Far from it. He felt the same way for you as you did for him.

You loved him.

And he loved you.

⟸ Previous Chapter ❖ Next Chapter ⟹

[pinkroseblooms]

obsessedloner!Choso/chubby!f!Reader) pt.1

Summary: modern day college au! Choso pines over his cute classmate. Ngl this is super self indulgent, probably OOC, with lots of fluff and smut, borderline crack really. Enjoy!

Warnings: stalking, unhealthy behavior, p in v sex, unprotected, possessive/obsessive behavior, smut, and etc. Choso is clingy and borderline yandere.

wc: 4.2k

You’re a sweetie pie, friendly to everyone but seemingly not close to anyone. You wear cute dresses and blouses, and have adorably round cheeks, so plump and cute, with a warm smile that puts every person you speak with at ease. Choso on the other hand, though not socially inept per say, simply doesn’t put much effort into socializing with his classmates or really any person outside his tight knit circle. All Choso really needs is his family and a couple close friends, the ones he’s had for years. He doesn’t need to win any popularity contests and with his pale, nearly translucent skin, inky black hair, and somewhat somber expression, Choso had something of a reputation for being creepy. Walking down the street, zoned out eyes and a thin lipped frown, it wasn’t uncommon for a person to double take, wondering if they had seen a hulking onryo in physical form.

And so, when he met you, Choso was at a loss. Suddenly everything he did seemed so awkward and stilted. He was fumbling over himself attempting to make your acquaintance; from being assigned to class projects or during group discussions, of which Choso found himself hanging on your every word with rapt attention no matter how boring the subject material actually was, he could never seem to find the right thing to say. It was a miracle when he was able to speak at all, outside of strictly school related topics. 

On a mild sunny day, it was a classmate had ultimately been the one to indirectly help Choso make a connection. They had pointed him out to you, who had been sitting unaware on a blanket in the campus courtyard with a book and a snack, Your peaceful, cozy study session outside was interrupted when a classmate came by to say hello and warn you of the strange man watching you from the smattering of trees and bushes surrounding the area.

“He’s always staring at you.” They winced as Choso ducked further behind the large oak he was half obscured behind. “What the hell? I can call security for you.”

“Oh it’s Choso.” you beamed in his direction, waving one of your arms over your head. “Hey Choso! Wanna study with me?”

Unsure if he was hallucinating, Choso ventured from his spot, steps heavy as he walked briskly to where you were camped out on the grass. Your classmate gave you a strange look. "Will you be okay?”

“Aw, he’s just shy.” you told them, your smile widening as Choso lingered a few feet away from the edge of your blanket.

“Uh huh. Alright then” 

With a shrug, they left you and Choso alone; for a few seconds, neither of you spoke.

“Hi.” Choso looked from you to the retreating classmate, and back to you again. “Can I sit down?”

“Sure!” you patted the spot next to you. “Are you hungry? I have some cookies in my bag, made them myself.”

You chatted with Choso about nothing in particular; he mostly nodded or gave one syllable answers as he munched carefully on the cookies you offered. He heard you talk about baking once or twice before; granted Choso is pretty neutral on most desserts but ever since hearing about your casual hobby, one of his favorite fantasies was you gifting him with sweets made with care: chocolate on Valentine's Day, a special cake for his birthday, or maybe you wearing nothing but a cute apron in his kitchen while he pinned you over the table and-

Well, maybe he's getting ahead of himself.

“You know, you could have just come over. How long were you gonna stand there?” you asked after Choso finished the cookies; you had brought extra, hoping to see him around campus again. Nothing said, "let's be buddies" like sharing homemade goodies, right?. “Besides, someone might think you’re stalking me.” you joked.

Choso hadn’t exactly meant to follow you; he really had intended to come over and greet you properly, ask if he could sit or if you wanted to get a coffee, something. Every time he tried to approach you, Choso ended up lingering near you, telling himself he would say something, a hello at the very least, but his feet would end up feeling like lead blocks and his palms would get clammy. Besides, you looked so content to be alone typing away on your computer or leisurely reading a book in your lap. What if you thought he was annoying? What if the only reason you treated him nicely in class was because you didn’t want to be rude and you secretly thought he was an off putting weirdo? Just imagining you looking up at him with apprehension or disgust made Choso’s resolve crumble. By the time he found an ounce of nerve to take a few steps toward you, you were already heading out of the library or the courtyard or the campus cafe and he was left feeling stupid and cowardly. Besides, of nothing else he could be near, just in case someone unwanted came along to bother you. Choso would put a stop to that easily.

“Sorry. I was going to, but you looked busy and…yeah.” Choso scratched at the bridge of his nose, nail grazing over the tattoo; his stomach flipped, remembering how you complimented it the first week of classes. No one else really talked to him but everyone seemed to like talking to you. He had been so surprised, he hadn’t even said thank you, just nodded and averted his eyes back to his notes. “I didn’t want to bother you.”

“You don’t bother me. Actually,” you pause before taking out your phone. “I was going to ask during our next class: do you want to exchange numbers?”

Choso looked up at you, stricken faced and back straight. “You were?”

“Sure, this way we can make plans to hang out.” you explain casually, smoothing out your skirt as you shifted toward him, contact list open and ready to add his name. With that brief movement, your skirt hiked up higher over your thighs just well past your knees; Choso bit the inside of his cheek and prayed you didn’t notice his gaze flicker downward. It would take less than a second to reach over, feel the exposed skin, squeeze with his rough hand, and then he could get a better idea of how it would feel to have his head trapped between your quivering thighs while he-

“You mean it? So," Choso gazes at you hopefully; his eyes are so intensely fixed to yours that you almost feel the need to look away. "We would see each other outside of class?”

“Yeah, let’s get coffee or something. Also, if one of us is already busy, we can just reschedule. Or, you know, we can just text each other whenever. No pressure.” you gave him a thumbs up. “Sound good to you?”

“That makes sense.” Choso types his number into your phone; the pads of his finger are thick and he’s trembling a little, so he has to redo it twice. “Um, can I sit with you? Like, right now, I mean.”

“Of course.” you nod and scoot over a little to make more room for him on the blanket. “By the way, that song I heard coming from your earbuds the other day, it sounded good; what was it called?”

Choso was wrong, assuming approaching you would be the thing to test his will power and courage the most. Now that Choso has your number (he put a little rabbit emoticon by your name, his cute chubby bunny) he has to rein himself in from messaging you every fifteen minutes and even then he knows he texts you too much. Even so, no matter how many messages Choso sends, you never seem annoyed. Weeks go by and Choso has gone from sending you brief inquiries about the class material and when the next day off is to regularly texting you good morning and goodnight, links to videos he thinks you’d find funny, songs that remind him of you, pictures of ramen from the new spot he and his brothers had gone out to eat at, even an occasional selfie that had been taken about a dozen times until Choso felt confident enough to send it.  And that wasn’t getting into the questions, unprompted and random, about your favorite color, food, time of day, your family, your birthday, your preferred sleeping position.

You can’t lie, the attention is flattering and you find your heart seize up whenever Choso is brave enough to approach you first, when he starts cracking jokes, bringing you coffee and snacks every class, and finally volunteering more and more info about himself without your prompting. You want him to share things about himself with you, to feel comfortable and at ease. It took a little time and careful coaxing, but it was well worth getting to know this fiercely strong yet oddly gentle man. Choso who seemed to operate on a completely seperate set of rules and morals than most people yet still tried so hard to please you, as if it were his life's mission to do so. You never felt so curious about someone or so determined to have them be a part of your life.

In a short amount of time, Choso has become your shadow, always scrambling to pack up his notes and pens to follow you when you leave the room, practically bounding at your heels when you say you’re going off campus for a meal or shopping. He insists on accompanying you, offering to foot the bill, carry your bags; if you so much as sniffle, Choso is urging a packet of tissues and a bottle of tea into your hands. He knows it’s a lot, but he can’t help himself and you’re so quick to return the favor, to pay for him, bring him little gifts, check up on him if he’s looking particularly tired (usually because he was up all night stalking your socials and planning your next “date”)

You say one nice thing to him and Choso wants to shower you in praise; he doesn’t care if it’s excessive. Sure, technically you’re not his girlfriend, but in Choso’s mind, you might as well be. Besides, he’s happy just making you happy. So when the day comes where you put it all out on the table and ask him to be honest about what his feelings are, Choso is surprised he even has to spell it out.

“What are we?” 

The movie has been paused and you put aside the bucket of popcorn Choso had just made fresh for you with extra butter topping along with the pack of your favorite candy as a surprise gift for movie night. You’re sitting on the edge of his bed, fiddling with the hem of the band t-shirt Choso had lent you when he accidentally spilled coffee over your pretty new blouse. You never did give it back and Choso had never asked for you to return it. This is the first time he’s ever seen you so hesitant. 

“Listen, Choso, I like being your friend, I really do. I’ve never gotten this close to anyone before. You’re very...special to me, but I haven’t been completely honest with you.” you admit quietly. “I really, really like you, as more than just a friend. I’m sorry if that makes things weird. I know when you care for someone, you go all out, so maybe I’ve been misunderstanding this whole thing. I just had to tell you. You deserve to know. You’re such a great guy, I hope you’ll consider still being my friend.”

“I love you. Be my girlfriend.” 

Choso’s tone is so blunt and matter of fact, you’re almost startled into silence. 

“Oh. You love me?” 

“Yes.” 

"Oh." you repeat, still a tad taken aback. "I guess I was worried over nothing. I figured you might have a crush on me, unless I was mistaken, but I...really didn't expect this. Choso, are you sure? When you say love, you don't mean like a friend; you mean, love in 'that' way, right?"

Choso nods, pretty much looming over you; his outward expression is stoic, but you recognize the way his hands clench at his sides and his posture stiffens as him trying to calm his own nerves.

“I do. I meant it exactly how it sounds. I always wanted more, but I didn’t,” he shifts from one foot to the next, unsure whether it would be okay to sit next to you. “You aren’t scared of me? It’s really not…too much?”

Choso’s blood runs cold as you abruptly stand; you’re leaving. It’s too much too soon. Your patience has run out. You think he’s an overbearing freak and you’re going to run away, block him, avoid him. His eyes widen as you stare at him resolutely and it takes every ounce of strength he has to not crumble at your feet and beg you not to leave, to just give him a chance to show you how happy he could make you, the lengths he's willing to go to have you love him.

"I, I'm sorry." Choso steps forward, as if to block your path. "Just hear me out, one more time, plea-"

“I think I love you too.” you say softly, reaching for him slowly and cup his face in your warm palms; Choso brings his large hands up to cover yours, like he's trying to get you to squish his face. “I want to be with you.”

“Are you serious?” Choso exhales shakily. “You really love me?” 

You nod and lean forward barely a centimeter. “You’re really just too cute; can I kiss you now? Am I moving too fast?"

The words are barely out of your mouth before Choso wraps you into an almost painfully tight bear hug, your face is squished into his chest, arms trapped to your sides as Choso mutters softly into your hair.

“Are you really mine?” Choso asks quietly, his deep voice cracking a little as he drops onto the bed, cradling you like he’s afraid you’ll change your mind any second now, caging you with his whole being. “I know I get carried away. I just want to keep you safe. If I could, I’d keep you by me all the time. Is that wrong?”

“I don’t mind.” you smile into his sweatshirt and inhale his scent deeply. “I know you’re not a bad person. I know you wouldn’t hurt me.”

“Never!” Choso looks scandalized and you can’t help giggling a little at his bulging eyes and gaped mouth. “I’ve never had a girlfriend before. I’ll try to do my best; if I ever hurt you, even by accident, you can hit me.”

“But I don’t wanna do that.” you tell him with a pouty frown. “Aways so extreme. How about we just talk and apologize or something?” you wriggle out of his strong iron band like arms enough to look him in the eyes properly. “Choso, you’re kinda squeezing too tight, can you…?”

Choso immediately loosens his hold, but he doesn’t give you any additional space. “Sorry.” he mumbles, nuzzling his nose into your hair. “Can we still stay like this for a while?” 

“Oh shoot, I was going to make a joke about you taking my breath away.” you grin impishly and return the hug with your newly freed arms. “So, about that kiss? Not that we have to! I guess we’re already moving pretty fast.”

“Not fast enough.”

"Huh?"

Choso’s eyes flicker to your mouth and his tongue darts out to lick his own bottom lip briefly. “Can we?”

“What?” you have to gather your thoughts as Choso sits back; your legs are on either side of his hips now as you find yourself propped up on his lap. He’s looking at you with a familiar intensity, but you can’t help feeling a little nervous; after all, it’s the first time you’ve been this close to each other, in this kind of position.

“Wanna kiss.” Choso’s words come out faintly slurred, despite not having a drop to drink all night. The movie that had been playing on his tv is still paused, the only source of light in the room. Choso had one hand on your lower back to steady you; the other was on your hip, his thumb rubbing circles underneath the hem of your shirt. “I’ll be gentle.”

“Okay. Thank you.” you offer him a smile before leaning in again, pressing your lips to his lightly, once, twice, three times, until Choso apparently decides chaste pecks aren’t enough. He groans into your mouth, the tip of his tongue wet and broad, tentatively licking as you part your lips wider. He’s getting loud now and suddenly his hands are gripping your thighs; you gasp, but it’s muffled by Choso’s mouth fully over yours as he rocks his hips. He’s grinding into you, hands rubbing your thighs and waist, traveling up your body to your chest. He loves how your plush tummy feels, how his fingers easily sink into your thighs. Choso has the sudden urge to bite into your chubby cheek.

“Choso,” you manage to break the heated kiss only for him to switch to nipping and sucking at your neck. “Wha-what are you-?”

“Can we keep going?” Choso pants, resting his head on your chest. “Please? Can I touch you more? Please?” he’s groping your breasts, staring at them almost in awe. “I want to see them. Can I…?” Suddenly, a look of dread overtakes his needy expression and he draws his hands away back to your waist. “Is it okay? If you don’t want to, I’ll stop. I just,” he breathes in and out shakily; you can feel him, pressing in between your legs. He’s hard, moving frantically, like he's not in control of his own body, rutting against your plump ass and pussy to feel some relief, frustrated he can't feel you completely with stupid clothes getting in the way. “Sorry. I want it so bad, I’ve never done anything before, so…but I can wait, I just get so worked up and you feel so soft, I'm s-sorry-”

“It’s alright, I’m just surprised: I've never seen you like this before.” you confess as you run a hand through Choso’s hair; it’s still a bit damp. He showered before you came over for movie night; you don't think he anticipated this, but then, Choso’s been surprising you all evening. “Are you ready? I'm okay Choso; you’re making me feel good. I didn’t think you would want to go farther than kissing, but if you're up for it,” with a teasing smile, you spread your legs and rub against him. “Do you want to fuck me tonight, Choso?”

Choso can’t speak for the moment, so he nods his head rapidly, cheeks flushing, brows furrowed as he rocks his hips in time with you, nearly bucking you right off his lap from the force of it. 

“Hold on.” you slowly lift your shirt over your breasts; you hadn’t bothered wearing a bra and from the way Choso lets out a ragged curse, you think he appreciates that. “You definitely want to keep going? Here, you can play with them; it’ll feel better if you get me all wet first. Go ahead, touch me all you want.”

“Does this feel good?” Choso’s thumb lightly rubs back and forth across one of your pert nipples; he’s practically salivating as you keen and whine, back arching, your hands gripping tight onto his broad shoulders. “Can I use my tongue?” he slowly moves forward to the other side, lips parting already, eager to know how your skin will taste.

“Oh god, yes!” your voice pitches higher as Choso gently circles the tip of his tongue around your nipple before suckling it; his hand gropes at your other breasts, pinching and rolling his thumb and forefinger carefully around, sending shocks of pleasure through your body. Choso's looking up at you through his eyelashes with a hooded adoring stare. You look like a dream come true, writhing on his lap, his shirt pushed up to your neck; he’s been dreaming of this, having your tits in his face, his hands, in his mouth, imagining how they’d feel, what your skin would feel like on his tongue.

After a few minutes, Choso releases your breast from his mouth. “More.” he demands in a low, hoarse voice. “Want more. Wanna see it…wanna see your pussy now.” you move up on your knees so Choso can slip your shorts down past your thighs. His fingers trace the cloth of your panties almost teasingly but really he just wants to savor every moment of this. Choso feels how wet you are through them and gulps. He's so close. He’ll get to feel you soon, feel how hot your insides are, how hot and wet your pussy will feel on his throbbing cock. Hurriedly, Choso yanks off his own sweatpants, barely taking a second before he has you on your back, head propped up on his pillow and recently washed comforter. He hoped it would be like this someday, that you would be here for him like this, naked, legs spread, his shirt still pushed up to show off your cute tits, your shining eyes basically begging for him to split you open on his cock. He’s happy you’re his first time; if Choso has his way, you’ll be his first and only. 

“I want to fuck you while you wear my shirt.” Choso strokes himself, from his base to his pink, leaking tip, settling between your thighs. “You’re mine now, right?” he asks, grunting as the thick head of his cock prods at your soaked pussy; he’s teasing your clit, loving the way you toss your head back, the way you’re actually dripping as he bottoms out. The feeling could knock the wind right out of him if Choso wasn’t so determined to have you just as overwhelmed and needy as he was feeling right now.

“Is this okay? Does it hurt?” Choso pistons his hips, holding your thighs open as he moves inside you; you manage to shake your head before letting out a shrill wail as Choso begins grinding into you as deep as he can. He’s rambling, greedily grabbing at you, holding you open, kissing and biting all over your exposed neck and breasts. “Fu-fuck, you feel so good! So soft and warm, I can’t get enough….wanna cum deep inside. Does it feel good? Am I making you feel good, am I making this pussy feel good?”

“Yes, yes, yes!” your nails drags over his shoulders and back as you struggle not to go limp from the force of his thrusts. “Choso, want to cum, touch me, please, I can’t take it anymore!” 

“You’re gonna take it. Gonna make you cum all over my cock.” Choso mutters; he’s slowly lapping at your hard, oversensitive nipples, salivating, completely lost in the way your pussy is clenching and the sweet pain of you scratching him, the burning red lines surely visible against his pale skin but he’s happy to let you mark him up. “Like this?’ he reaches down, still holding one of your legs up slightly while his free hand rubs his fingers over your clit. “Fuck yeah. I felt that, felt your pussy gush again. Go on, go on,” Choso grinds himself into you as he rubs your swollen clit, steady and quick. 

“CHOSO!” you scream as your body spasms; the sheets underneath you are damp and your body is hot and tense. The way he's stimulating every one of your most sensitive places is driving you crazy, you can barely think, just feel and listen to Choso’s low, raspy voice egging you on. “Oh god, please! I’m gonna-” 

“Yeah, cum on my dick. Cum all over me, you look so fucking hot right now, so cute...my chubby bunny.” Choso’s lips form an oddly soft grin as he watches you come apart; he feels it, feels you cumming around him, your pussy suddenly impossibly tight as you shake and sob. “Sh, sh, you’re okay.” his touch is slower, gentle on your clit, letting you ride out your orgasm. He thinks you’re so precious, twitching and whimpering as you come down from the high. “Shhh, relax. I’m going to move, okay? Can I?” 

Somehow you hear him through the haze and your rapidly beating heart and you nod. “Ye-yes, I want it. Keep fucking me.” you carress his cheek, smiling weakly. “Keep going, cum in me Choso. It's okay, I love you.” 

That’s when what little self control Choso had left snaps like a twig.

“Thank you." Choso wraps your trembling legs around his hips, anchoring you to him whole he shoves his cock as deep as he can inside you. Your mouth falls open but you can't even scream; somehow, it's like Choso’s gotten even harder. "Oh fuck thank you, I can’t believe it, can’t believe you’re letting me, thank you, thank you so much!” The headboard is knocking into the wall; all you can do is cling to Choso as he moans and babbles under his breath, rams his cock in and out of you like a man possessed. “Mine.” Choso has you wrapped in his arms again, pressing your limp ragdoll body to his. Your voice is too weak to let out more than little whispers of moans and frail, broken cries. “Fuck, you’re really mine.” Choso smiles down at you, cheeks flushed and eyes glistening with affection; he’s so close to cumming but he doesn’t want this to end. “Wanna keep you here with me all the ti-time, in my bed, gonna fuck you until you can’t go anywhere. Heh,” Choso kisses your temple with a satisfied, drunken smile as he strokes your fucked out face almost reverently. “You like that? Your pussy just got so tight. Let me, okay? Let me just take care of you from now on.” he picks up the pace again, molding you to him, kissing you as you go light headed; you may just pass out from this, but you don’t care, too busy getting swept up in Choso’s pleas and whines as he gets closer and closer to his own release, though he's the one at your mercy.

“Can I? Can I really cum in you?” he stutters, more begging than asking but either way he’s already losing himself in the sensation as his cock twitches and throbs with overstimulation. “Yes, yes, more, wanna stay like this, deep inside, gonna cum, gonna cum, shit, I’m gonna-!” Choso’s jaw clenches tight and he buries his face into your neck with a long, rough sob, rocking against you until he’s sure every last drop of his cum has been spilled deep inside your aching pussy. He has you in another deathgrip of an embrace but you melt into his arms, smiling dazedly as Choso brings your hand up and presses a loving kiss to your palm. 

“Sorry...I got carried away again, didn't I?” 

“You don’t look very sorry.” you pant, poking his tattoo lightly and let out a soft laugh. “I don’t think I’ll be able to sit up for a bit.”

The bridge of Choso’s nose crinkles and he does look a bit guilty now. “Sorry. I’ll take care of you. Hang on, I’ll get a towel.” 

“Mm, thank you.” you kiss his forehead. “You made me feel really good, I’m just super worn out. Could you bring me some water?” 

Choso nods and quickly stands up to fetch what you need; he’s still a bit dazed himself. When he comes back into the room, you’re still wearing his shirt with nothing else; he can see his cum slowly dripping down the inside of your thigh and has to stop himself from mounting you again. It’s obvious you’re tired and besides, there’ll be plenty of time for round two tomorrow morning when you’re waking up in his arms. “Hey,” Choso murmurs as you settle in under the covers with him. His finger lightly traces a particularly large love bite on the side of your neck. “Are you really mine?” “Choso, you really do worry too much.” Still, you can’t help but smile; he’s staring again, waiting raptly, looking absurdly innocent and almost childlike as he gazes at you beseechingly. “I’m all yours.” you kiss him tenderly once more before snuggling into his chest; Choso inhales sharply and has to fight back the tears stinging the corners of his eyes. He could die of happiness right now but then he wouldn’t get to have more kisses. 

“Come over for dinner tomorrow? I want to introduce you to my family.”

“I’d love to.” you sigh, content as Choso’s hand strokes up and down your back. “I can bake something.”

“Would it be too soon to say you’ll be their sister-in-law?”

“Hm, let’s hold off on that for a while.”

“Okay, I can wait.” Choso smiles, kissing your head gently. “Do you want to have kids?”

“Choso.”

“Sorry, right.” 

“It’s alright.” you murmur sleepily. “Talk later, sleep now.”

“Okay….can we do it again when you wake up?”

“Yes.”

[crabsnpersimmons]

Happy Moon Festival! 🌕

there's a bunch of holidays today, Mid-Autumn Festival, Tsukimi, Chuseok and more! all dated on the day of the brightest full moon!

and since i had some time, i thought i'd draw all my moons and some yummy festival sweets (all prepared by chef Moon of course!)

some intros to all the moons and the dishes below the cut

some intros:

Moonie's from my chibi AU, "Rain or Shine". a rambunctious little guy who loves playing with his Sunny

Moondrop's from my hairdresser AU, "New 'Do, Same You". a Moon in a glamrock-style casing, who's pretty chill but insecure

Mooncake's from my restaurant AU, "Have You Eaten?" a hopeless romantic chef who loves cooking yummy foods!

13's from my dystopian AU. he's a sheltered, naive little Moon bot who is curious to learn about the world outside the palace

Miel is from my idol AU. she's an ex-Moon bot, turned nanny bot, turned rapper of an idol duo (she sings too tho!)

and the menu:

tsukimi dango are plain Japanese dumplings made of rice flour and glutinous rice flour, resembling the full moon

mooncakes are Chinese treat with various skins and fillings, but traditionally they are a pastry filled with lotus seed paste and a salted duck egg yolk to resemble the full moon

songpyeon are a Korean rice cake with various types of fillings—red beans, dates, sesame seeds, honey, and more!

[roosterforme]

Daddy Would Say Yes | Rooster x Reader

Summary: After you manage to embarrass yourself in front of Rooster, he still makes it clear he wants you to ask him out.

Warnings: Fluff and swearing and calling Rooster Daddy

Length: 2500 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This was written for a request! Check out my masterlist for more!

If you were lucky, Friday nights at the Hard Deck were just a little hectic. If you were unlucky, you were responsible for splitting up fights. And if you were very unlucky, you had to dodge grabby hands while you served up drinks at the bar.

But you still loved your job, as crazy as it was. Especially when you got to throw some of the guys with grabby hands 'overboard'.  

But tonight was Friday the 13th and a full moon. So you were certain your luck would either be very good or very bad today. 

You decided to use the time before your shift started to take a walk along the beach, since you'd be trapped behind the bar for hours later. It was beautiful out, sunny and warm with a little bite to the windy air along the water. And as you neared the stretch of beach in front of the Hard Deck, you were beginning to think this might be your lucky day after all. 

The aviators, whom you recognized by their specific drink orders, were all out playing beach football. And the guys were shirtless. You felt your pace unintentionally slow down as you enjoyed the view before you. 

They were running around and kicking up the water along the shoreline, all laughing and playfully fighting to control the football. As you got closer, a few of them casually waved to you, seemingly recognizing you from work. 

"Holy shit," you muttered, looking at the one called Rooster and nearly choking on your own saliva.

"Heads up, babe!" he shouted to you, and luckily you managed to focus just in time to catch the stray football that was headed your way. "Nice catch!" he called out, making your cheeks warm up.

"Thanks," you said as Rooster ran over to you to retrieve it.

"You wanna come play?" he asked with a smile. You held the ball out to him, and his fingers brushed yours as he took the ball from you with a wink.

"No, I'm having a good time just watching," you promised him with a grin.

"Are you bartending later?" he asked, backing away very slowly as everyone started calling for him.

"Yeah, I'll be serving up your Heinekens all night long."

"See you then," he said with a salute in your direction.

You licked your lips as he turned back to the game. You didn't move as you watched Rooster's muscles flex when he waved his arm to try to get Coyote into position. He was so tan and buff, and maybe even more handsome outside in the sunlight. 

"You should just ask him out," Phoenix told you from a few feet away. "He's single."

You scoffed at the idea of it. "No way he'd say yes. He's a full snack. He's such a... Daddy." You were mortified as soon as the words left your mouth.

Rooster stopped and looked at you over his shoulder, his eyes taking in your entire body. "Daddy would say yes!" he called before throwing the ball to someone else.

Phoenix laughed heartily as you ducked your head in embarrassment. Instead of waiting to see what either of them had to say, you turned and power walked down the beach.

Once you were far enough away that you couldn't hear the aviators, you turned back and looked at them for a second. There was absolutely no way you'd be able to ask him out without embarrassing yourself further, so you headed toward the sidewalk, opting to walk back home a different way. 

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

The bar was packed, and you were overly warm in your Hard Deck Staff tee shirt and cutoff shorts, but so far there had been no fights and no rowdy guys. So the night was looking good. 

And then Rooster arrived, and the night was looking great. He strutted in wearing a colorful Hawaiian shirt like he owned the place, which yeah, the aviators kind of did. You watched him hang his sunglasses from his white tank he had layered underneath the button down, and then he met your eyes. 

It took you a second to realize that the pint glass you were filling was overflowing onto your hand. "Shit," you muttered, handing the very full glass to the man who had ordered it. After you added it to the tab, you looked up to take another order, and Rooster had somehow squeezed his way up to the bar. 

"Hi," he rasped, a smug smile settling into place just below his mustache. 

You just narrowed your eyes a bit and asked him, "Can I get you a Heineken?"

He leaned his forearms on the bar and nodded, saying, "I love that you know my drink order."

"I know everybody's drink order," you replied, leaning on your forearms as well. But that was a mistake, because now you were dangerously close to him. You could see amber colored flecks in his brown eyes, and the slightly raised lines of his scars were so close, you could kiss them. "Phoenix drinks Moscow Mules. Payback likes Miller Lite. Hangman favors an old fashioned. Fanboy likes mojitos. And Bob always asks me politely for a ginger ale with no ice."

Rooster laughed and smirked at you. "You sure know how to make a guy feel special."

You just shrugged and pulled a bottle of beer out of the fridge and uncapped it for him. "Add it to your tab?" 

"Please," he replied, taking a sip of his beer and settling into a vacant stool. You took some more drink orders, occasionally glancing his way. He looked so good. 

"You're going to hang out at the bar tonight?" you finally asked him as you sliced up some more limes, handing a cupful to Penny where she was working on the other side of the bar. 

He just ran his fingers through the condensation on the bottle. "Mmhmm. Hey, didn't you have something you wanted to ask me?" You looked up at his face, but he was the picture of innocence. You were pretty sure he was referring to you asking him out. You closed your eyes and bit the inside of your cheek, still mortified that you had called him Daddy. 

"Nope. Can't think of anything I needed to ask you," you managed to say with only a slight tremor to your voice. 

"Well, I can wait here until you think of something," he replied, nodding to Payback when he came up for another Miller Lite. 

"Aren't you going to the pool table with your little friends?" you asked, nodding after Payback as he walked away. 

"Not right now. I'm still waiting for you to ask me your question."

You were flustered now, trying to mash up mint leaves and pretend you weren't listening to him. 

"Are you gonna ask me?" He was a little quieter this time, and when you met his eyes, he didn't seem to be teasing you any longer.

"Not right now," you told him as the woman next to him ordered four gin and tonics. "But maybe later."

"Right," he replied with a pout, picking up his half empty bottle and heading for the pool table. The vacant stool was filled immediately, and you already kind of missed having him so close. 

You watched him pick up a pool cue and laugh with his friends while you shook and poured the drinks. 

"Can you hand me that Tito's?" Penny asked, breaking your focus away from Rooster. 

"Sure thing," you replied, handing her the requested bottle of vodka from your side. You took a few more drink orders, and then Rooster was back up at the bar, in another empty seat. 

"It's later. You got something to ask me yet?" 

"No," you said with a laugh as you collected his empty bottle. 

"Nothing? That's a damn shame," he told you with a little smirk. "How about you get another beer for Daddy. Maybe that will jog your memory."

You looked at him and bit your lip, desire pooling low in your belly. He really was making it clear he wanted you to ask him out, but it might be fun to play around a bit first. 

"Okay, Daddy."

As soon as the words were out of your mouth, he popped out of his seat with wide eyes and a ridiculous grin. 

"Where are you going?" you asked, reaching for his arm across the bar as he started to move.

"Gonna come back there and kiss you. Can't expect me to just stand here while you say that to me."

"No Daddys allowed behind the bar," you told him quietly with an innocent look on your face. 

You watched him tip his head back and groan, the veins in his tan, muscular neck straining. He looked at you and shook his head. "You're just teasing me now, baby," he said, reaching out to stroke your cheek. You were instantly melting into his touch, biting back a soft moan. 

You saw several people trying to flag you down to order drinks. You held up your hand and let them know you would be right with them, just as Penny turned your way.

"Rooster, we're busy! Quit flirting with my best bartender," she called out with a smile. 

"Aww, come on, Pen!" he whined loudly, still touching you. "She's so pretty!"

Penny just laughed, but you ducked your head away from him in embarrassment as someone else further down the bar wolf whistled. 

Rooster watched you open another beer for him and slide it across the bar, but you could barely meet his eye. He took the beer in one hand and then reached for your wrist to gently keep you in place. 

"I'll be at the pool table. You better have a question for me before the end of the night, baby."

You just nodded and bit your lip again as he walked away. You stole a few glances at each other, but you didn't have a chance to stop by the pool table. The bar was swarmed with too many people for you to take a break. 

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

Bradley glanced at you from time to time. His body had felt alive when he touched you, and your voice made him smile every time you spoke to him. He was going to be very disappointed if you didn't ask him out. He wouldn't mind if you happened to call him Daddy again while you were at it. 

Jesus, you were adorable and funny. Bradley never gave you much thought romantically until earlier this afternoon, but he was definitely thinking now. Sure, he liked looking at you, but probably most of the guys here did. He'd helped carry a few handsy guys out of the bar for you since you'd been working here. He knew you could draw a crowd. But now you were drawing him in, and he wanted your attention in the worst way.

It was nearly last call, and Bradley hadn't been back up to the bar. Things were finally quieting down, and most of his friends had already left. He gathered some empty bottles and glasses in his hands and walked them up to the bar to save you a trip. 

Your eyes found his right away as you wiped down the bartop. "Thanks," you whispered with a smile when he set them down. 

"I'm heading out," he told you, nodding toward the door. Your eyes went a little wide as he added, "Getting late. Maybe you'll think of something to ask me another night."

"You're leaving already?" you asked, planting your elbows on the bar and leaning toward him. 

He laughed. "Yeah, it's almost last call. Can't hang around all night."

You were chewing on your lip, and he found himself leaning toward you as well. What would you do if he just kissed you? He wondered if you'd move away or move closer. 

When Penny crossed the bar and leaned on her elbows next to you, Bradley could feel himself blushing.

"What did I tell you earlier, Rooster? Now I'm going to put you to work," Penny said with a wink. She turned toward you and said, "Take him back with you, and have him carry the heavy stuff." 

You slipped out from behind the bar and took Bradley by the hand, and he would have followed you anywhere.

"You're in trouble," you sang over your shoulder. "Now you have to carry all the heavy bottles back to the bar for me." You nudged open the Staff Only door and led him inside. 

He waited until the door shut behind him to tell you, "I don't mind one bit. I actually think I could help you with a lot of things."

He couldn't help the smile that spread across his face as you turned toward him with your eyebrows raised and your lips parted. "Okay then, put those muscles to work, Daddy," you said softly with a slight tremor in your voice that made him wild. "You like flaunting them so much, I'm sure I'm not the only one who notices."

The smile fell off his face as he backed you up against the wall. He was so turned on by you. "You gonna keep calling me Daddy?"

Your voice was still soft and unsure now. "Unless you don't want me to. Did I make you uncomfortable?"

He leaned on one forearm next to your head as you waited for him to answer. "Do I look uncomfortable to you?" he whispered with a grin, swiping his thumb across your bottom lip. 

"No," you replied, leaning a bit closer as he withdrew his hand from your mouth. You had his heart racing now.

"Too bad you forgot your question," he murmured, dipping his mouth a little closer to yours and reveling in the little sound you made. 

"Rooster?" 

"Ask me, baby."

"Do you want to go out to dinner with me, Daddy?" Your voice was teasing, but your eyes were sincere.

He grinned at you, watching you buzz with anticipation now. "I'd love to," he whispered, tipping your chin up for him to kiss you softly. In an instant, your arms were around his neck, and your body was flush against his. When you moaned softly, Bradley slipped his tongue between your lips and tasted you. Your warm, welcoming mouth was soon open and gasping for air as Bradley worked his lips and mustache down along your neck.

"Tomorrow night? My treat," he whispered, next to your ear.

You agreed and then kissed him hard, your fingers threading through his hair. After a few minutes of making out and nearly knocking over a shelf of expensive tequila, Bradley picked up a heavy crate of liquor for you. When you hooked your fingers through his belt look and led him back to the bar like you did this all the time, he tried his best to hide his smile. 

But the grin that Penny bestowed on the two of you was so smug as Bradley tried to distract you from restocking the bar by nipping and kissing your neck.

"I knew this would be my lucky night," you told him with a smirk as he wrapped his arms around you. "I'll bet tomorrow will be even better."

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

Thanks for reading about Daddy Rooster!

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[rad-batson]

Billy who can still perform the same amount of magic as Captain Marvel when he’s his kid self, but due to the limits of his mortal body, he would literally burn up from the inside if he does too much or doesn’t allow himself to cool off first.

For a long while, he didn’t even notice. To be fair, it’s not like the wizard had time to give him the whole run-down before dying, and he never mentioned anything about performing magic outside of the Champion’s form. But sometimes, weird stuff would just happen out of nowhere?

He’ll only perform magic unintentionally when he’s extremely emotional. Not for everything, like “Man, I wish I could fix the holes in my socks.” But if he’s had a super bad day, and he just needs a good cry, he sees his hole-ridden socks and thinks, “Goddamnit, why can’t I just have nicer socks?” suddenly, they’re good as new! But he also feels the urge to lie down for a nap.

Some cops are sniffing around his neighborhood, and Billy is praying that he’ll be left alone. He doesn’t want to get kicked out of another semi-safe refuge. But right when the cops are about to discover his hideout, they’re called back to their precinct. Without warning, Billy’s chest feels hot. He suffers dizziness spells for a few hours and needs to wait a day before he’s back on his feet.

The real tipping point, however, is when he walks to school and it starts pouring with rain. He’s already had a rough morning so he just curses and ducks into the next bus stop. But before he can take cover, it’s sunny again, and out of nowhere, he’s running a dangerously high fever. He almost collapses in exhaustion. His hair is literally smoking, and that’s when he realizes what’s going on.

Now, Billy needs to be extremely careful with his emotional state. If he even thinks of something he wishes could happen, he might die. That’s why he can’t use too much magic, and it’s also why he talks to himself out loud so much. It’s easier to catch himself if he’s constantly reciting his inner monologue.

Later on, he gets some help with regulating his magic. Maybe John Constantine comes in and goes, “Okay buddy, we need to get you some breathing exercises,” because he’s in genuine mortal danger if he does. Maybe Billy tests his luck a few too many times and has to go MIA for a week because if he turns into Cap one more time, he'll burst into flames the moment he turns back.

But idk I am just so fascinated by the idea that this preteen who is literally the Champion of Magic harnesses the ability to level mountains while knowing nothing about magic because he has no real mentor, but he’s holding the potential to cause an avalanche if he sneezes the wrong way at the risk of his own life and he doesn’t have a clue.

[hier--soir]

sun don't set

ellie williams x f!reader

rating: sfw, not explicit summary: life in the little house is calm - quiet. days pass in a blur of fruit and sunshine and companionship. slow mornings, afternoons, and evenings. ellie is slowly rediscovering her love for music, and on that journey, she writes a song about you. warnings/tags: late twenties ellie, set years after the events of tlou2, no spoilers or discussions of plot points in tlou2 - except perhaps the description of an old injury but the way it happened isn't described, established wlw relationship, food and eating, brief description of skinning animals for food, soft soft soft ellie. word count: 1.3k masterlist a/n: this short little thing poured out of me after a nice sunny day and it's maybe one of the softest, sweetest things i've ever written. a slice of life type thing based on the happy ending i hope ellie got x [ALSO the song ellie sings is ronnie's song by odie leigh]

The little house lives in the basin of a valley, circled by sycamore boughs and juniper bushes.

A shallow stream trickles close by.

In the mornings, you eat berries drizzled in honey, sipping warm tea while watching the water. The air is still and quiet, filled only with the sounds of the dribbling brook and teeth sinking into ripe fruit. The first rays of sun arrive and they are safe and warm against your skin, and time moves slowly. Gently.  

You sit on the patio in chairs that she built. Ones that creak and whimper as your weight settles upon them; rickety wood and worn old nails. On the armrest, hers or yours, fingers catch and hold. Thumbs and indexes and pinkies looped together.

In the afternoons, she peels an orange. Spindly fingers tear thick skin, pulling apart perfect segments of flesh – one for you, one for her, one for you, one for her. Together you bite and chew and swallow, jaws and mouths and teeth working in sync. In the silence, you relish the feeling of tasting this together. That burst of juice across your tongues. Wisps of pulp that catch in the cracks of your incisors.

When it’s warm you splay out on the grass, stretching and purring like two cats in the sun. She’s a calico, splotches of white and brown and beige, and you’re a tabby, mottled streaks of burnt orange – wiling away what’s left of your nine lives together.

In the evenings, she returns from her walk. Some days empty handed, others with rabbit or duck or deer trailing behind her. On those days you sit with your knees pressed together, sharp knives peeling back hair and skin and feathers. You eat as the air turns cooler and the sun sets over the hill, an almost endless—always wondrous—burst of oranges and pinks that taint the sky before it turns to black.

Often, you turn in first. Tuck yourself away inside the little house, swathed in blankets; keeping her side of the bed warm. Alone, she reaches for the guitar. Takes it outside and closes the door behind her, so that those soft melodies won’t carry to your ears. With heavy eyelids, your ears pique and strain, eager to listen. But she must stray further than the patio, for you never hear a thing.

Time passes and she joins you soon enough. Her long limbs coil around yours beneath the covers; cold toes press into the skin of your calves. Her hand on your back, those fingers tracing a tickling portrait. The tip of your nose rests in the base of her neck and you breathe in the scent of pine and rosemary and honey on her skin. In the darkness, sinking into her warmth, you feel tenderness thicken the lining of your throat. And together you sleep; at peace knowing that another morning awaits you.

Ellie found the guitar in your fourth year together. Deep brown, layered in dust, the sound hole and fretboard decorated with cobwebs. She didn’t say a word as she slung it over her back and carried it the entire way to the little house. Didn’t offer any explanation when she stashed it away in an empty room. And when you caught her one night, long after sunset, wiping away the dust and tightening the strings, you didn’t ask any questions. Didn’t ask if she was thinking about him – you already knew the answer.  

“It’s hard,” she told you one morning, lips and chin shining with berry juice. “Learning how to play again. How to play… like this.”

Your fingers ghost over the palm of her left hand, splayed on the armrest of her chair. Tracing lines and scars on pale skin until you reach the shortened stumps of her ring and pinkie finger.

“Sometimes the hardest things,” you pick up her hand and lay a soft kiss to each finger, lingering a little longer on those two. “Are the things most worth doing.”

She hums a short response, eyes trained on where your lips touch her skin. Then her hand cups your jaw and brings your face to meet hers, and she smears the taste of blueberries into your mouth.

It’s not until a morning in your fifth year together that you hear it for the first time.

She wanders in from the chicken coop, white and brown eggs cradled in the well of her palms. The wind tousles that short auburn hair, loosening it from behind her ears, and carries her voice through the door to you.

“She’s my… I’m… she’s a coffee cup, I’m tea.”

Your fingers still against the page of your book, and you glance up as she walks through the door, still murmuring under her breath.

“What’s that?” you smile.

“Eggs?” She holds them up, eyebrows pinched defensively—secretively.  

“Ellie,” you laugh. Dog ear the page of your book and tuck it away on the kitchen counter. She nestles the eggs carefully into a bowl and sidles up beside you, hooking an ankle neatly around yours.

“It’s nothing,” her nose brushes against the apple of your cheek, lips chapped and dry from the morning air as they lay a kiss to your jaw. “How do you want your eggs? I’ll make a fire.”

Months pass after that, and you hear it as she bathes. Hear it as she hangs your socks on the clothesline.

“She’s the salt,” she sings faintly. “And I’m the sea.”

Hear it as she builds her arrows, hunched over the table, tired fingers fiddling. Hear it grumbled through a mouthful of mint as she brushes her teeth.

“She’s a dog, and I’m her fleas.”  

One day in Summer you walk together, following that little stream all the way to the lake. You hear it then too. Softly, under her breath, your hand held loosely in hers as the sun turns her shoulders pink.

“If she’s creamer, then I’m jooooe,” the voice you love purrs, her thin lips pursing and parting as she drags out the vowel. “Sun don’t set, wherever we go.”

And then one night, as the two of you sit admiring the sky and all of its pinks and blues and yellows and oranges, you abandon your chair for hers. Slink two steps across the patio and into her lap, welcoming the way her arms drape around your shoulders. She kisses the bone at the top of your spine, the sloping side of your neck, and watches the sky from over your shoulder.

And then she sings quietly, her voice a delicate and hoarse thing against the back of your head.

“She’s a pistol.” A breath in and a breath out. “I’m a bow.”

“Is that from your song?” you ask, voice a hushed whisper. Scared to break the softness of the moment; the sunset trance that rests in a warm shroud over the patio.  

��Hmm?” she murmurs. You feel her lips trail the shell of your ear, the edge of your jaw. You shiver and go lax in her lap.

“Will you sing me your song?” you say louder, eyes focused on the waning horizon.

“My song?” Ellie laughs. One of her hands slips from your shoulder to play with the hairs at the nape of your neck. Twisting a strand around her finger and tugging gently. “It’s your song, babe.”

“Well, I’d like to hear it,” you murmur, and you can hear the smile in your own voice. “Properly, I mean.” Feel the heat that rises in your neck at the mere thought of it. Your song.  

“What about…” she says, fingers thrumming a beat against your stomach now. “What if I sing it for you in the morning? I think it’ll be warm. Sunny. We can see if those strawberries you planted are ready to eat.”

You consider it for a moment—her lips stained pink; eyes bright as she croons your song in the morning sunshine.  

“With the guitar too?”

A pause.

“With the guitar,” she agrees.

You nod once and turn to kiss her. Smile into her mouth.

“Okay,” you whisper. “Strawberries and my song in the morning.”

thank you for reading! x

[lilacfiresoul]

spring, april 1 -- @jegulus-microfic -- 619 words

They’d slept with the window open last night.

It was partially Regulus’ fault; the clocks had turned forward an hour, and he’d been up late, perched on the sloping roof watching the stars pass by, without realising twelve o’clock had turned into two, bypassing one am completely and hurtling Regulus into the next day without a moment’s breath.

One of the best things about living in a small village, in the middle of rural England, is that the light pollution staining the sky from distant cities doesn’t touch here, and Regulus can stare up at the sky and see stars twinkling back.

He’d climbed back inside shortly after, drowsy, completely forgetting to close the windows and curtains as he’d fallen back into bed with James.

Now, as Regulus is pulled from sleep by the sounds of birds chirping, the full onslaught of the sun hits him square in the face as he opens his eyes. Squinting, blinking away bright impressions on his irises, he lifts a hand up to block the light as he leans over to check the time.

Nine o’clock.

Spring is definitely here, and it’s not holding back.

James is still sleeping, on his stomach, his face turned towards Regulus, one arm curled up underneath the pillow to bunch it closer to his cheek. The bedsheets are gathered around his waist—clearly, he got too hot in the night and kicked them off—and the sunlight plays across the surface of his back, ducking between the divots of his spine, smoothing over the slope of his shoulders.

Regulus stares at him, James’ lips slowly parted as he breathes, eyelashes dark against his cheeks. Rays of sunlight dance between the strands of his hair, and he is a Greek god sleeping after a weary battle, Achilles or Apollo, racing with his chariot to pull up the sunrise, every muscle and bone sculptured from pure gold.

“I can feel you staring,” James murmurs. He doesn’t open his eyes, nor move, but he inhales deeply, his back rising and falling with his breath.

Regulus presses his lips together and doesn’t even try to stop his blush of embarrassment. “Can I not stare at my husband whilst he sleeps?”

James cracks open his eyes then, just one, to grin at Regulus before closing it again, snuggling further into the pillow. His voice comes out soft, tired. “Bit creepy, don’t you think? Stalker-ish.”

“We’ve been married for two years,” Regulus reminds him.

With a noise of contentment, one of James’ arms comes out from under the covers to drag Regulus over to him, pulling him into his body. Regulus is all too happy to settle there, tucking his face under James’ chin, breathing in the smell that is just purely James that he can’t describe to anyone else. James, in turn, presses his cheek into Regulus’ hair, his fingers moving to slightly trace lines down his back. It makes Regulus shiver.

“Oh, the window’s open,” James comments, voice still laced with sleep. “Did you leave it like that?”

“Yeah, I forgot to close it.”

One of their neighbours outside starts mowing their lawn, the repeated growl of the motor infiltrating into their bedroom for a few seconds before it purrs to life.

“It’s nine o’clock, you know,” Regulus tells James gently.

James hums, still running fingers along Regulus’ back. “So?”

“So,” Regulus continues. “Don’t you want to get up? It’s sunny out today.”

Neither of them move. James just sighs, pulling Regulus closer. “Five more minutes.”

It’s around one in the afternoon when they both finally get out of bed.

[blughxreader]

Platonic Yan!Superman

Summary: An afternoon-in-the-life of Superfam's kidnapped darling CW: post-kidnap, chains. relatively tame, Clark is a good daddy. ambiguously aged reader. ft, mommy lois. WC: 624

When it comes to you, Clark's strength and self-control sit in a precarious balance.

It takes monumental discipline not to break people's ear drums from the blast-off towards home or to flatten Smallville's crops when landing too suddenly. The frenzied excitement at seeing you after a long day makes him forget his powers, but he's generally mindful.

---

Clark landed in a gust of air that rattled the house, hand on the doorknob before the windows even vibrated. It took him a second to remember to be human.

Clark inhaled deeply through his nose and went through his checklist.

Human strength?

Breathing?

Feet on the ground?

Calm and collected?

Warm air and the delicious smell of dinner greeted him like a hug. Clark took a step inside, carefully measuring the weight behind each step until he comfortably distributed his usual 235 pounds. Tension bled from his muscles when he narrowed in on your frantic heartbeat upstairs.

"Hi, baby," Lois called from the kitchen.

Clark migrated towards her voice, spotting Lois at the table with her head ducked behind her computer screen.

"Hi, you." Clark smiled.

His eyes skirted over the pot of soup simmering on the stove as he walked to the table. With feather-light fingers, he guided Lois's face up for a kiss. Comforting serenity did away with the last of his nerves, and Clark took a second to appreciate how perfect his family was.

They parted, faces lingering close.

"So..." Clark started, voice an absent hum. Your heartbeat seemed to echo through the house, but Clark knew only he could hear. "Mind if I ask how your day was, then get back to you in a few minutes for the answer?"

Lois rolled her eyes with a smile, pushing his chest away. "Go on, you awful worrier."

Shooting her a sheepish grin, Clark hurried out of the kitchen towards the stairs.

Finally. Clark worried about you at all hours of the day. Thoughts of you escaping or accidentally hurting yourself were an ever-present concern, despite his thorough precautions. Worrying wasn't all he did, though. Clark also just longed to see you.

Clark's foot landed on the squeaky step, followed by your sharp breath from down the hall.

It was no secret that you didn't want to be a part of their family, and Clark understood. He did everything to make himself as predictable and gentle as possible, hoping that one day you would be happy to hear him come home.

Clark carefully approached your door, listening to you move. Thumpthumpthump, your pulse fluttered.

Rasping a knuckle on the door, he said, "Kiddo?"

He didn't wait for an answer. Time slowed as the door slid open, revealing you in all your precious glory.

You were sitting at your desk, back straight and hands in your lap. Despite your fear, your face was as pleasant as you could make it, save for the small quivers in your tight smile.

Clark’s eyes crinkled from his smile. “Hey, kid. I missed you.”

“Hi,” you said meekly, rising to greet him.

Clark crossed the room with more speed than he intended and swept you into his arms, pulling you off your chair. The chain around your ankle rattled at the disturbance.

Your shaky arms wrapped around Clark's back, and his heart swelled with love. His sweet kid. His unending joy.

Clark kissed the crown of your head, drawing out the hug for as long as possible. He looked out your window, seeing sunny, blue skies past the iron bars that caged the glass.

Now that he thought about it, it was beautiful weather on the flight home.

Clark settled you down on your feet, arms still wrapped around your small frame. With a smile that matched the sun's light, Clark asked, "Want to sit outside and wait for Jon's school bus?"

For more yandere superfam content, visit my batfam & superfam masterlist!

[noxposting]

Another year, another @phandomholidaytruce ✨

Merry crisler @datawyrms ! Hope you like it!! It's also on AO3 with an extra chapter

Something's Wrong with Danny Fenton

The realization that something was seriously wrong was like falling asleep; slowly, and then all at once.

There had been no catalyst, no trigger to speak of.

Miss Jones had been sick and, this late into the school year, they hadn't bothered to provide a replacement. Most of the class hadn't even bothered showing up anyway; with finals so close, they were either asleep of studying.

Cal would have done the same, was it not for the absolute chaos at home. The twins were off school for the summer already, and they made sure to make their presence known to every single resident of the house. Usually starting at 6am. Cal didn't feel like he got to choose whether to stay home or not.

This is how he found himself here, sitting in a mostly empty classroom, gaze unfocused as he soaked in the rare moments of quiet. In front of him lay an opened biology book, as he lied to himself that he was going to use this time to revise ahead of exams. Instead, the sketch of a duck wearing sunglasses was guiltily staring at him from the page margins.

His gaze had wandered to the window, towards the school-yard of Casper High. Today was a rather rare sunny day; it was early summer, but even during the heart of the hottest season there was a never-ending, persistent chill that seemed to choke the entirety of Amity Park.

Cal, of course, knew exactly where it was coming from.

It was a little bit difficult to live around here and not know about the ghosts.

He pushed his glasses up his nose nervously. He didn't have any particular strong feelings about ghosts, really. He had gotten used to them, in a way. But, truth be told, he was not a fan of the spine-chilling coldness that seeped through everything in their presence and lingered after they were gone. The way the town seemed never to be able to escape this coldness anymore bothered him, but there was not much to do other than suck it up.

Which was why rare days like today were a pleasant, welcome surprise to the locals. He could see his classmates lounging around in the grass outside, soaking up the sunlight like starving sunflowers, and it brought a warm feeling in his chest. Cal was always more of a people watcher, standing in the side and absorbing situations rather than getting involved.

He tried to ignore the tense feeling in his spine that made the hair at the back of his neck stand.

Also, he was studying. He looked down at his book and a second duck that had joined the first and was silently judging him, this time wearing a dapper top hat and a little bow-tie.

There was no haunting chill in this classroom. Right. He didn't want to go out and miss the time to relax.

His let his gaze passively wander around the room. There were only four others in there with him, all in different states of mental non-existence. Eleanor and Sally-Anne were sat opposite each other, heads close over the desk as they gossiped, their whispers providing a subtle background noise through the quiet room. Jonathan (the one with the glasses, not the one in the football team) was focused on the book in front of him and Danny, at the back of the class, looked to have fully dissociated, eyes glazed over. Now wasn't that relatable.

Cal sighed. Suddenly the chair felt a bit stiff, his shoulders a bit tense, so he pulled his arms behind his back in a big stretch. He couldn't help the groan that left his lips as he felt his joints pop. Grabbing the back of his chair, he twisted around -first the right side, then the left- to relieve the tension.

The tension, as if to spite him, stayed.

He got up, cringing at the scraping sound his chair made as it slid back, and he could see on the edge of his vision that his movement had caught the attention of the two girls. When he didn't say anything, they returned to their conversation.

Cal went around his desk towards the window and looked outside, once again marveling at the sunshine and trying to ignore the goosebumps travelling down his arms. He did briefly debate the merits of joining the rest of the glass out in the grass once more, but the peace of the quiet classroom was too tempting for his foggy brain. Still, he didn't feel like sitting in a chair for the next forty minutes. Looking around, he spotted a few unattended markers on the teacher's desk, and paused, a thought forming in his mind.

His fingers were itching with misplaced adrenaline, and he figured what the hell.

Pointedly not allowing any awkward embarrassment to brew, he approached the desk, grabbed the black and green markers and approached the blank class whiteboard.

Cal had always liked to draw. His mom said it's because his hands can't sit still (but she liked it, really, especially when he made her custom-made mother's day cards every year). The twins had no opinion about it, until his sister got her first celebrity crush and begged him to draw the poor guy with cat ears.

No ducks with accessories this time.

She later posted it online with a humble brag about how she had 'finished it really quickly, what do you guys think' but, considering she had barely hit double digits in age, Cal had let it pass.

The validation of elementary kids was not in his radar, exactly.

He never followed any particular theme -his illustrations were usually random, without much thought. He liked letting his mind and hand take him wherever, and that often led to either randomness or, as was often the case for his bigger, more planned illustrations, a lot of inspiration from his environment.

Was it a surprise that he had produced so many drawings of ghosts?

As Cal was suddenly, once again, very aware of the subtle chill (not quite a presence, but it existed and it came from somewhere), he figured that one more addition to his ghost collection wouldn't make any difference.

Even if he wasn't used to drawing on a whiteboard, he still felt the long, controlled strokes of the marker come naturally. His preferred style was either completely colorless (which had absolutely nothing to do with his tendency to draw during class, thank you very much) or with minimal color; he knew how to manage negative space to his liking.

He had to admit, the subject he had chosen was pretty perfect for the whiteboard; all high contrast black and whites.

Getting lost in the process was easy for Cal; applying long strokes across the board and thick filling to the black outfit allowed time and tension to pass him by, almost. The hair would be tricky; making sure the black marker was used faintly enough to translate the light, luminous color was a mission, and Cal was nothing if not a perfectionist when it came to his work. All aspects to a drawing needed to come together for a good result, after all.

But for this, the most important part was the eyes.

Cal tightened his grip around the green marker. There could be only one color on this drawing, and it had to be the eyes. Sadly, a green whiteboard marker would never be quite the toxic green that he would have liked, but it was the principle that counted.

As he placed the last detail on the hair, fade enough to be as close to the bright white of the real thing, he uncapped the green marker. There was a sense of gravitas in the movement, the start of the final step to this work.

Or maybe Cal was just pretentious about it, who's to say.

"Wow, Cal, you're so good!"

The sudden voice made Cal jump and, even worse, almost draw a green line straight through the board and the almost finished drawing. He turned around to realize that everyone in the room was staring at him.

Maybe he should've thought this would happen, but he felt the heat on his cheeks rise nonetheless.

It was Sally-Anne who had spoken, turned around on her seat where she was facing Eleanor. Both were smiling. A few desks ahead, Jonathan had abandoned his reading and instead was looking at Cal with interest, head resting on his hand.  

Cal avoided all their eyes, fidgeting with the green marker instead "Um, thanks. Just a hobby, no big deal."

Sally-Anne raised her eyebrows. "Are you joking? This is amazing! It's like, the best Phantom art I've ever seen!"

Cal blushed even harder. "You're exaggerating, but thanks."

Eleanor gasped "Oh my God, no one better erase this! Quick, I need a picture!" she swiftly pulled out her phone and paused. "Hey Cal, can you like, put a signature somewhere on that? I need to take a pic."

Cal breathed out, muttering 'no problem' and obliged.

A stutter sound came from Eleanor's phone "Awesome! I'll send it to you if you want!"

Cal refused and Eleanor shrugged, sending it to Sally-Anne instead.

Soon everyone went back to what they were previously doing and Cal was happy to be ignored. Walking over to the teacher's desk to put the markers back (and maybe look for an eraser, if Eleanor and Sally-Anne didn't kill him first), he was suddenly aware of that ever-present yet so distant chill and his head snapped up towards the room.

At that moment, he locked eyes with Danny Fenton, and Cal froze.

It was impossible to pinpoint what was wrong exactly, which made things worse. Danny Fenton looked as he usually did; tired, bruised, head resting against his hand and unruly hair falling in his face. Yet there was something just wrong. His pallor was pale, unnervingly so, the bluing bruise against his cheek and graze on his lip contrasting dramatically against his skin. But his gaze was so sharp that Cal was sure that Danny could see right though his skin and into his brain.

It happened slowly, and then all at once.

Worst of all, Cal now knew where that ever so familiar chill came from, and he was almost shocked he didn't recognize it before. The aura of the dead was practically oozing off Danny Fenton.

Time felt like it was slowing down as Cal was locked in by those eyes, a shade of blue so cold it was painful and, for the first time, Cal realized that he was seeing Danny Fenton.

Cal wasn't sure how long he was trapped under that gaze. It felt like eons, but it couldn't have been more than seconds. As he felt his brain melt under the realization that something was frighteningly wrong with one of the people he knew, something happened that shocked him out of his spiraling.

Danny smiled. The faintest, most tired lift of lips, yet it was enough to transform the aura of wrong and that trapping stare, like deciding to let free an animal that was going to become dinner.

Just like that, with a movement so simple, the chill was passive again. Cal smiled back.

Feeling like he was floating, Cal went back to his desk. He took a seat as the bell rang and his classmates soon started filtering in, all of them taking a moment to show various levels of awe towards his drawing.

Throughout it all, Cal kept his head tilted and one eye, watching Danny's reaction. To anyone else, he looked like he had just woken up from a nap, groggy and unfocused. But Cal now knew better. He had realized the wrongness, and knew there was more hidden behind these icy eyes.

He didn't know what, he didn't know how. He didn't know when it had started, or why, but there was one thing Cal was sure of.

There was something very wrong with Danny Fenton.

[charlottelie]

oh, lucifer?

chapter i. (or, selkie sees a snake) ✧･ﾟ

tags: reader uses she/her pronouns, fem!reader, reader is a trapeze artist, sinner!reader, reader works at lu lu world, no use of y/n, ducks galore

.

You hadn’t meant to. Your guiding philosophy in life and afterlife had always been ‘Ask for forgiveness, not permission’, and it seemed so sound a maxim that you were usually slightly bemused when you found yourself in the unfortunate position of actually having to ask for forgiveness. Upon your arrival in Hell you had thought, Well, I certainly didn’t mean to end up here. Upon your arrival in Lu Lu World you had thought, Well, I wouldn’t say I exactly intended to join a Hadean circus. You hadn’t meant for either of these moral catastrophes to come about—that is, your sending yourself to the Other Place and your working at a fairground—but, despite all your good intentions, here you were. Rotten luck. 

You also hadn’t meant to be late for your act again, but here you were, late as always. You dusted your hands with chalk, briskly clapping them more out of habit than anything else as you examined your makeup in a misty mirror someone had propped up outside the dressing rooms. A poster on the wall, framed by peeling paint, announced your act in proud block capitals: Selkie, the Flying Seal! They had put you right before the interval. Did that make you the star performer? Third-best, at any rate: best were the acrobats, Belladonna and the Bedbugs, the grand finale, and second-best was Sunny’s balancing act, which opened the show. You could hear someone approaching, and fast. Your boss, no doubt, come to gently encourage you to get the fuck onto the stage. 

You looked at him mildly: Didier, who insisted it was pronounced ‘Didi-AIR’, tall, half-imposing, mostly composed, rarely generous, currently furious beyond belief. 

“Selkie! Where the fuck have you been? You’re on in thirty seconds! Ten, nine, eight—” 

You liked to think of him as sort of a lost soul, someone you’d taken under your wing, although, of course, he had been the one to take pity on you and hire you in the first place, and, of course, it was your soul that was on the line. “I’m sorry, Didi-yur,” you said quietly, and he scoffed. As you watched him thoughtfully, compassionately, he grabbed you by the shoulders and half-pushed, half-led you onto the platform—surely a textbook case of abuse in the workplace, if you weren’t in Hell—and you gave him a final glance of serene benevolence before, at his command, you whipped around, stepped into the blazing golden lights of the great circus tent, waved to the crowd, flashed a smile, and leapt from the platform into the open space before you. 

The breathless silence. The hot dusty air. The rush in your stomach like an oncoming wave before you lightly caught the bar another performer had flung towards you, adjusted your grip, and neatly somersaulted to another swing. Here a half-turn, here a straddle whip, and here, at the very peak of the motion of the trapeze, you let go, and hung impossibly in the air for a second before you plummeted, as you were wont to do, and were caught by another trapeze artist. Of course the dizzying leaps and the melodramatic plunges were part of the act. You knew the movements, the swings and the sways and the somersaults; you were, admittedly, at home here. The onlookers roared in delight; your heart, admittedly, soared. But as you spun, leant back, shifted your weight, glanced at the audience, you noticed, about three rows from the front, an unprecedented, unsolicited, indeed undesirable arrival: the strangest demon you had ever met. Or, at least, the strangest demon in the past three days. 

The fine kettle of fish was this. Belladonna, Sunny, Pell-Mell, the clowns, the knife-throwers, the knife-throwees, even the Bedbugs, bless their hearts, had all signed their souls over to Didier. He had expected the same of you when you had been given the job. But you, unused to asking, used to getting, were not prepared to quite merrily hand over the one thing that had guaranteed your continued existence to a man in a slim red tie. And so you had taken on a different sort of contract—which could have been hot, but, regrettably, Didier was not inclined to make such exchanges. You were simply paid far less than what you needed. That was all. The prosaic truth. He had you under contract, but nothing so poetic as a soul-binding one. You simply sewed your own costumes, went without breakfast. You scrounged around for whatever you could whenever you could. You had taken up residence in a formerly-disused caravan with the structural integrity of a multivitamin capsule. 

You had found there was little glory in starving, little romance. It was the banality of it that struck you, when you sighed weakly after your taps wouldn’t turn on, or Didi cut off your electricity, or you found you would have to choose between food and heating. It was the endless rolling of the cold and empty days that you suspected would grind you down in the end. But of course they were punctuated by your dazzling nights, your whirling wheeling flights through the grandly lit top tent that drew so many to Lu Lu World. And of course you were resourceful. 

In your life you had always been willing to bend the rules. In your death you were no different. You had the right kind of mind for business, and your business was, up there and down here, remarkably effective. Any con, put-on, cutup, cantrip, flimflam, ramp or scam anyone could think of, you’d done it. You once stole a woman’s shoes and sold them to her husband’s mistress for twice the retail price. Double-joke was on her, because purple was not her color. Only yesterday you had sold a sweet-looking sinner an ‘astral lightning rod’ meant to attract ‘negative interdimensional frequencies’ and channel them into their neighbors’ houses. The lightning rod in question was a refashioned rake you had found in the bins outside the gift shop. To put it plainly, as it were, if it had to be said, you were a, quote-unquote, ‘scammer’, though you and yours would never call it that. You hadn’t meant to end up in this trade, after all. You would like to think you had an entrepreneurial mindset. 

This entrepreneurial mindset had landed you in a stall (without a permit, obviously) in the Lu Lu World food court, having donned a wig and taken on the persona of a charming Texan aunt. Here you sold separately heart-shaped chocolates you had bought in bulk, meticulously unwrapped, and meticulously re-wrapped in shiny pink paper, to whichever passing demons or sinners appeared lonely or gullible or both. You told them all these chocolates, if consumed, would make anyone fall in love with them. To a pale imp in a band T-shirt you had sold three for five times what you’d paid for a box of eight; to a fishlike sinner whose disinterested girlfriend had abandoned him for the fairyfloss stall you sold five at, you told him, fifty percent off (which was three times the usual price). They had told their friends; their friends had flocked to your stall; soon afterwards, your original buyers had come back for more. But now there was a lull in business, as there usually was at this time of the afternoon. So when you noticed a duck demon – literally, a demon the size and shape of a duck, albeit a cartoonishly cute one – with an odd gait and a faraway look in his eyes, you were thrilled to have once again hit the jackpot.

You called him over excitedly. “Hey there, friend, what’s got you looking so glum?” That caught his attention. Hook. “You know, I see all sorts of people come through here. But ain’t none of them got such a positively chap-fallen look on their faces—not to insult you, gorgeous.” He was watching you with wary curiosity. Line. “Come on. Don’t you wanna tell old Mrs. Appleby all about it?” Sinker. 

“You’re not married,” he said. Sinker? That was strange. 

“What?”

“You’re not married. You’re not wearing a wedding ring.” Was he one of those? A flirt? Read: creep? Those were often easier to sell to. 

You pointed at your sign. Mrs. Appleby’s Apple-licious Treats. “Mrs. Appleby. That all that ambiguous?” you said, which won you a small smile from this bizarrely fluffy, bizarrely yellow duck. He flew surprisingly gracefully (you, the Flying Seal, knew what made a graceful flight) towards your stall, perching on the countertop just in front of your merchandise. And as he did so, you felt a dull crackle of power in the air, but, habitually incautious, you ignored it. Perhaps an Overlord-adjacent was taking a piss behind the neighboring food truck. Something like that. 

“It’s just heart-shaped candy,” he said. Usually demons looked like they’d just crawled out of a monsoon drain. Not this duck. He looked like a dapper gift-shop-plushie, the kind that comes with a sweet tag with their inevitably adorable name, written beneath it, Please look after this [relevant animal]! 

“Just heart-shaped candy? Why, this is the best heart-shaped candy you’ve ever had the good fortune to feast your eyes upon! ‘Why is that, Mrs. Appleby?’ Why, I’ll tell ya!” He seemed to be enjoying himself, not least because he hadn’t left. “This chocolate is magic!” That earned you another smile. 

“Really? Is that so?”

“Sure is. Straight from my distant uncle Asmodeus. Just eat one, wait three hours, and you’ll be feeling sprightly as a spring lamb. Two’ll have all the hens—or the men, don’t look so dejected, whatever you prefer—running after you like you’re catnip and they’re a litter of kittens.”

“Hold on now. You’re trying to sell me chocolate…chocolate-ified love potions? Love potion-ified chocolate? Love-ified—” 

You waved a hand at him in pleasant dismissal. “Now, don’t you overthink it, honey. I just saw you needed a helping hand and Auntie Appleby thought she’d take a”—you surprised even yourself with this one—“quack at it.” For a glorious moment he struggled between delight and disappointment. Then he laughed, genuinely, and smiled at you with something like satisfaction.

“Two’ll make me catnip. What’ll three do?”

You paused, then shrugged nonchalantly. “Well, I ate three, and look at me now.” 

And after that it really had been sinker, and you’d sold him a box of ten and wrapped it up in pink parchment and given it to him in a pretty heart-shaped bag with added glitter. You wondered if he’d realized he was being fleeced. There was an air of irony about the way he treated you, but you were pleased to play along. A sale was a sale.

Naturally, though, you tried not to encounter people you’d sold something to after you’d sold it to them. You’d been a little careless today, telling them to wait only three hours. You’d thought that’d be enough to get them out of the grounds, but this duck was persistent. As usual, you hadn’t meant for this to happen. He still had his heart-shaped bag. He was sitting smugly in a seat far too large for him. Did he recognise you? Could he recognise you? The Flying Seal was a far cry from homely Mrs. Appleby. It could have been a coincidence. Perhaps he just liked the circus. It wasn’t strictly unusual to re-encounter your customers. But he was watching you intently, you realized, before you had to maneuver yourself into the arms of your closest friend in the circus, your counterpart, Pell-Mell, the Soaring Fiddler. And then, still incautious, you let the strange duck slip from your mind, and flung yourself from the catchbar again. 

Lucifer had decided to visit Lu Lu World less out of curiosity and more out of boredom and a vague sense of duty. It was, after all, his theme park. He’d been reckless, coming as a duck, but who’d guess this out-of-place, out-of-sorts waterfowl was the Lightbringer himself? Besides, he’d wanted to watch the circus. He hadn’t quite known what to expect. Perhaps he’d expected to be disappointed. 

But now he watched you in what seemed your most natural state. Flying, entertaining. Even without the wig and the bizarre Texan accent he recognised you (he, of all people, knew what made a good trick, a good show). He saw how you fed on the crowd’s cheers like they kept you alive. It was miraculously complex and miraculously simple. You were happy they were happy. He watched you as you rose and dove through the air as your namesake might through water—easily, happily, unembarrassed—and the lights, your smile, the spectacle, recalled to him, dimly, as if seen through rain, something he had felt a long time ago. 

You landed delicately on the platform opposite the one you had arrived from. “Selkie, the Flying Seal!” the ringmaster declared triumphantly. You winked mischievously at the audience. Did you realize they were thrilled with you? Could you realize it? Did the whole performance require a level of obliviousness? You caught the outstretched hand of your fellow performer, a small, slender girl sporting a glossy bob, and lifted her onto the platform. The two of you gave a final bow, and you, beaming, looked not down at the audience but up at the distant lights. 

Lucifer decided half-consciously that he ought to come back.

[milliesfishes]

Hello 👋 I've read all your writings. I'm in love. 🫶 I was wondering if you could write something with reader and Billy, where Billy leaves town because he dosnt want her to get in trouble despite there love for eachother and when he comes back after a few weeks reader is like seeing someone else? Like a little bit of jealous Billy.

I think you're an amazing writer. Anyone who can make me cry while reading is literally the best. 🥰

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚𝓫𝓲𝓵𝓵𝔂 𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓿𝓮𝓼 (𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓬𝓸𝓶𝓮𝓼 𝓫𝓪𝓬𝓴)𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝓯𝓮𝓶 𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓻 𝔁 𝓫𝓲𝓵𝓵𝔂 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓴𝓲𝓭 tw: abuse (thank you love you <3)

Knowing you had turned Billy's world upside down.

Your wealthy parents were friendly with Tunstall, supportive of his cause. They had invited the Regulators over for dinner one day, a sunny Tuesday in April.

At the table outside, Billy had stood up to greet your parents, shaking hands with them and nodding politely.

"And of course, you must meet our daughters," your father said, gesturing behind him. He introduced your sister, who was on the arm of a man your father pronounced her fiancé. Then they moved aside, and he saw you.

Angelic and bright with the prettiest smile he'd ever seen, Billy was nearly knocked straight off his feet at the mere sight of you. He'd greeted you the same as the others, the way his eyes never strayed from you the only marked difference.

All throughout dinner, he could barely focus on anything else. You were ever the sweetheart, chatting with everyone and laughing clear as a bell. You were the lifeblood of the gathering, the one nobody could take their eyes off of. There was a gentle innocence to you he'd only really seen in children, that look of hope and goodness that the world hadn't stripped away yet. It was disarming to see it in a woman, but no less endearing.

He instantly wanted to protect you.

After dinner he'd cautiously approached you in conversation, pleasantly surprised when you engaged. It was like being brought to life. His heart beat a steady rhythm, his mind racing. Every word that escaped your pretty lips had him entranced.

Over the next bit he pursued you like a bee to pollen. You were more than amenable to his attentions, and in practically no time he had you in his arms, looking up at him adoringly with eyes reflecting the night sky. You were wholly his, and he gave himself to you.

At first it was a never-ending parade of joy. Kisses, late night meetings, lazy afternoons spent under the trees. Billy'd had flings before, sure, but this was different. You awoke him in a way he hadn't anticipated. The pure joy he gained from simply looking at you was elating.

He told you so one day, while he had you in his lap in a grassy field of flowers. "Think you're the best thing to ever happen t' me sunshine," he muttered, ducking his head to kiss your cheek.

You turned in his arms, and he let himself fall back so he was flat on his back with you on his chest. Giggling at the sudden movement, you smiled softly, leaning up for a kiss.

He chuckled at your expression and obliged, giving you a little peck. "You're adorable."

Looking up at him with doe eyes, you rested your chin on his chest. He held one of your hands in his, stroking the skin of your knuckles. "I love you, y'know?"

Billy smiled at the confession, bringing your hand to his mouth for a kiss. "I know. And I love you too."

He had never loved anyone in this way. Sure he'd thought he had, but now he knew this was different. This was special.

The bliss was short lived.

Things were tense between gangs in Lincoln County. Billy found his life in danger nearly every day, and he'd come to you after dark broken down and exhausted. Of course you were good to him, better than he deserved, he thought. You'd kiss his forehead and, thankfully, keep your questions to a minimum. The more this happened though, the more he began to doubt.

The difference between the two of you made him uneasy. He did not think highly of himself in comparison to you, and the idea of you being too good for him was one that he found heartbreaking, but accurate. You were the sun, his sunshine. And he was all that laid in the darkness. He did not find it compatible.

Billy grew guiltier and guiltier every time he saw you. He knew that by simply holding you he was putting you, and by extension your family, in danger. He'd promised he'd never hurt you. But his presence was hurting you more than his hand ever could. How long would any of this be able to go on before you were harmed?

These thoughts plagued him whenever he closed his eyes at night, clouded every moment he spent with you. Every kiss felt like a betrayal- he'd made you fall in love with him, and he would be devastated if you had to pay any sort of price for it.

And that's why he left.

Giving Tunstall his regards and a message for you, he saddled up his horse and rode into the sunset, though the mere thought of you in the distance behind him would have been enough to make him turn around. He chided himself. It was for you. He needed to do this for you.

Six months of only starving for you went by. He knew no other thoughts, fantasized about nothing else. In every dusty town he rode through, he couldn't bring himself to touch another woman. It would have felt wrong, for he'd left his heart in a two-story house in Lincoln County.

It was agonizing, being alone like this after he'd known such a love. Billy had never before had a problem flying solo, but after everything, it cracked him until the gleaming, sharpened want wrapped itself around his heart and whispered the only solution.

He had to go back.

Billy had never gotten out of town faster, never ridden against the wind in such a way. All the while he was imagining what it would be like to hold you again, to kiss you. His body ached for your soft one, how it had fit against his in all the right places. How could he have ever left you to begin with? He'd found an angel and left her in the desert.

When he got to town, the first thing he did was rent a room and get cleaned up. A friendly woman at the front informed him there was a gathering tonight in the square and he silently rejoiced. For certain you'd be there, you'd always loved events like that.

Billy made himself presentable, donning the blue striped shirt he knew you loved and making sure he was mostly clean shaven. His heart beat for the anticipation of seeing you tonight. He imagined your reaction- would you be happy or angry? Or somewhere in between? He cursed himself for the millionth time for ever leaving in the first place.

When the sun was low on the horizon he made his way over, the sound of fiddles beckoning him to the crowded square. Men and women were dancing in the center, and more were off to the side, chatting and mingling.

Instantly he began to look for you, peering over the sea of people. Every time he saw a woman with your same hair color his heart would beat a little faster. He made his way through the crowd, hoping desperately he wasn't wrong, and you were here.

Then he spotted your sister, and he felt a rush over him. It felt like a lifeline. Even if it wasn't you, she surely knew where you were.

Making his way over to her, he called out to her. When she turned to see him, her eyes widened. "Billy?"

"Yeah, I'm here," he said breathlessly, not wanting to go through pleasantries. But the gentleman in him kept him polite. "How're ya?"

"Fine," she said warily, studying him. "We haven't seen you in months, what...?"

"Long story," he nodded, still scanning the crowd for you. Giving up, he looked at your sister earnestly. "Look...I...." he sighed, looking at his boots. "Is...is she here?"

Your sister studied him for s second, the corners of her lips quirking up in a sad sort of way. "Yes, but-"

"Where?" the word was out of his mouth before she could finish and he realized that, apologizing. "Sorry. Where's she at?"

She pursed her lips, turning to where everyone was dancing and nodding. Excitedly, Billy scanned until he saw you, directly on the other side, talking to one of your friends. His eyes lit up. "Thank-"

"Wait," your sister reached her hand out, stopping him.

He was confused, looking at her then back at you. "What's-?"

Now there was a man at your side, your friend nowhere in sight. You were smiling as you talked to him, and he put an arm around your waist, leaning in to give you a long kiss.

Billy's heart dropped into his stomach, his blood running cold. All his other senses were blurred, zeroed in on the sight of the man kissing you. And you were letting him.

He looked back at your sister after what felt like forever, hoping for some kind of explanation. She looked apologetic. "They've been with each other for about a month."

Billy shook his head, feeling like the earth had swallowed him. He didn't know why he was so surprised. You were beautiful, charming, sweet. Men lusted after you like locusts on grain.

Your sister watched him sadly. "I'm sorry Billy, but you were gone for a long time. She didn't know if you were dead or alive or ever coming back. And then John swooped in...made her feel special..."

The reality of it hit him hard. How could he have come back after months and expected you to just be waiting for him. It was selfish, stupid of him. He looked at your sister again. "'S he alright?"

She shrugged. "He's not my favorite person I've ever met. Our parents aren't fond of him either. But I suppose he treats her well."

This information surprised him. Your parents were friendly people- they didn't seem like the type to dislike anybody. Saving that for later, he nodded. "She love him?"

There was a pause. Your sister turned back to Billy, seeming to be questioning whether or not she should say something. Apparently, she decided to, because she said, "After the way she was with you, I doubt it."

A spark of hope lit in him, and he said, "What does that mean?"

"I think," your sister started, and he nodded. "She was broken after you left. We could hardly get her out of the house. And he just happened to be in the right place at the right time. Since she was in such a sore spot emotionally, he was able to take advantage of that and now he has her."

Billy contemplated this. "I see."

Your sister touched his arm. "My advice would be to talk to her. Win her trust again. Show her that you still love her and remind her of why she loved you." She half smiled. "The way she loved you before...that doesn't just go away."

Billy slowly nodded, thinking about it. Then he looked down at your sister again. "Thank you. 'S good to see ya." She gave him a real smile and nodded over to where you were standing, stepping back.

Catching her hint, he made his way through the crowd, thankful you weren't with him anymore as he approached.

The second you spotted him, your eyes went wide. If you had been holding anything, you would have dropped it.

He stopped a couple feet away from you, shifting on his feet and giving you a sheepish grin. "Hiya, sunshine."

You were stunned. He could see the mix of emotion on your face. Disbelief, sadness...and maybe he was making it up, but he thought he saw a hint of relief. "What are you doing here?"

"Came back," he stated simply, unable to stop looking at you, taking in your little details. Your hair was a little longer, your skin a little more freckled. Beautiful, as always.

Still staring at him, your lips parted, somehow finding your words. "You left."

"I know," he breathed, taking another step toward you. Now you were within reach, and he reached a hand out, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. You let him, and he could have sworn you leaned into his touch just slightly. "I know I did, but..." he tried to find the right words. "You're all I've been able to think about, baby. Since the second I started runnin'."

"Billy, I'm...I'm..." you shook your head, looking so unbelievably sad that it broke his heart. "I'm with someone else now."

"I saw," he said plainly, and you looked down. "'S he a good man, sunshine? Treatin' ya right?"

You hesitated and he frowned, rubbing your cheek with his thumb. Opening your mouth to respond, you started to say something, but then you were looking at someone over his shoulder. He followed your eyes, only to see that the other man was back.

He said your name and you turned away from Billy, going to him. The man put his arm around your waist and Billy felt the bitter taste of jealousy sting his mouth. "Who're you talkin' to?"

You looked at Billy, then back at the other man. "This is Billy."

"Ah," the man's tone was cold, and Billy knew he was suspicious. There was something off about the situation to him; the way he held you, the look on your face, the way you'd reacted when you saw him. He noticed with a modicum of satisfaction that your body didn't seem to fit into his near as well as it did Billy's.

Billy smiled tightly, nodding at the man. "'Scuse me." He made a hasty exit, not wanting to cause tension with him.

All the while he was wishing he got to be the one holding you. Your sister's words about still loving him were ringing in his ears. He didn't want to overstep with the new man in your life, but at the same time he wanted to at least see if what your sister had said was true.

The next day he stopped in a little field nearby and picked a bunch of wildflowers, remembering how you loved having them in your windowsill.

He arrived at your doorstep with a full fist of flowers, knocking firmly. You opened the door and froze when you saw him. "Billy."

"Mornin' sunshine," he greeted, half smiling at you. "Ya doin' anything today?"

You were still wide eyed, looking pretty as ever in a blue dress. But slowly, surely, you shook your head.

"Wanna go for a walk?" Billy requested, holding out the flowers for you.

There was a beat, and then you nodded, shyly taking the flowers. "Let me put these in water."

Billy nodded, leaning against the porch railing as you went inside. You left the door partially open. He waited patiently until you came back out, your hands behind your back as you looked up at him.

He offered you a charming smile. "C'mon, sunshine. It's a pretty day."

Offering his hand to you, he led you through the grassy fields into the forest, to the spot the two of you had always gone to before he left. You were quiet for a while, and he nudged you with his shoulder. "How've ya been, sweet?"

Smiling a tiny bit, you said, "Fine. I've been fine."

He noticed the hesitation on your part, but didn't comment on it, squeezing your hand instead. "Everythin' goin' good?"

"It's been fine," you repeated, looking down. "I..." You shook your head, then lifted your eyes back to his. "I missed you a lot, Billy."

He was somber, nodding. "Missed ya too, sunshine. It's been real hard to be so far from ya."

"So why did you leave?" you questioned suddenly, stopping and turning to face him. "I thought you loved me, I..." you seemed to realize yourself and your eyes fell to your feet.

"Hey, hey," Billy cradled your face in his hands, searching your eyes. "Baby...I did love ya. Hell, I ain't stopped. I left to protect ya..."

You looked so sad, your doe eyes piercing his. "Protect...me?"

"Yeah, sunshine," he breathed, thumbs rubbing your cheeks. "There was so much goin' on with the gangs 'n the rivalries...I couldn'ta stood it if ya got hurt causa' me."

This realization washed over you, and he could see it in your eyes. As you processed it, your hand came up to his wrist, the first time you'd touched him in months. You nearly gravitated into him, your faces so close together. "You should have told me."

"I know," he whispered, his forehead pressing to yours. "I know, sunshine. That was a bad thing to do on my part."

Bringing a hand to your face, you turned away for a moment, still taking it all in. He stood there, watching you, about to say more when suddenly he noticed the sleeve of your dress ride up as your arm shifted, revealing a dark mark.

Instantly he frowned, reaching out. "What's this?"

You jumped out of his reach, lips parted in realization. "Nothing."

His brow furrowed in concern. "Sweetheart-" Billy took your arm gently, his other hand sliding the sleeve up. There were bruises there, on your shoulder. Dark ones. Looking you right in the eye, he said, "What happened."

"I...I..." you struggled to find the words, biting your lip.

He shook his head, gently bringing his hand up to grasp your chin, thumb dragging your lip from your teeth. "None o' that. You can tell me anything, sunshine, honest to goodness. The hell are these bruises doin' on your arm?"

Casting your eyes to the ground, you looked ashamed. "He didn't mean to-"

"He did this to you?" Billy was immediately furious, but he kept himself calm as not to scare you. "Sweetheart-"

"It was my fault," you breathed, looking up at him. "I made him mad, I...I-"

Billy shook his head, cutting you off. He led you to a nearby tree, sitting you down on the grass and kneeling in front of you. This is why you'd been so on edge, why you'd been tense last night. "Where else did he hurt ya?"

"Nowhere-" you started, but he gave you a look and your shoulders slumped. You brought your hand to your thigh, then your hip. "Here."

"Can I see, sweet girl?" one of his big hands settled on your skirt hem. When you hesitated, he half smiled. "I've seen a lot more'n that from ya, pretty."

You took in a breath, then nodded, and he pushed your skirt up, leaning down to examine the large bruises embedded there. His rough thumb smoothed over your soft skin, and he hummed softly as he pushed your skirt up a little further to see your hip, reacting much the same.

When he finally looked back up at you, his eyes were soft but firm. "You ain't stayin' with him."

You opened your mouth, but he shook his head. "No. No buts. You don't deserve this, darlin'. Not one bit."

Hearing his words and watching him smooth your skirt back over your thighs was too much, and you buried your face in your hands, shaking your head.

"Baby," his face fell and he put his hands on the sides of your head, leaning in to press a kiss to your hair. "'S okay. 'S okay, I won't let him hurt you 'gain."

Pulling back, he parted your hands from your face, looking into your eyes. "You didn't do nothin' wrong, sweet. Not a thing. You're gonna be okay."

Wordlessly, you looked into his eyes and the earnesty and sincere feeling in his nearly brought you to tears. "I didn't mean to stay so long...I wanted to leave but I didn't know how...I've never..."

He understood instantly. You'd never left a relationship before. You'd only been left. The thought of it made him sad, and he nodded. "I understand, sweet. 'M sorry."

You shook your head. "Not your fault."

Billy exhaled softly, stroking your cheeks and keeping his bright blue eyes on you. "I shoulda been here for ya, sunshine. Should never have left to begin with."

You closed your eyes, something he didn't recognize playing out on your face. He nudged his nose against yours. "Sweetheart?"

"I just missed you," you said softly, opening your eyes. "I..." you made a little noise in the back of your throat. "I've loved you all this time. No matter how hard I tried I couldn't stop."

His heart leapt. "Yeah?"

You nodded, your eyes filled with tears. "I didn't think you were ever coming back or I wouldn't have been with him..." the rest of your sentence was lost to your tears and he cooed, bringing you into his chest to rest against him.

"It's okay, it's okay," he whispered, rubbing your back. "I understand. It's okay."

The two of you stayed like that under the trees for a long time, holding each other tightly, trying to make up for lost time.

Finally, after your tears had slowed down, he whispered, "I love you. I have all this time."

You sniffled, looking up for reassurance. He smiled, bringing your head back to his chest and pressing a firm kiss to it. "Never stopped, just like you. Ain't ever stoppin' neither."

Billy held you tight until the sun sunk back behind the hills, whispering sweet things into your hair, and you basked in the glow of his presence, knowing he'd never leave again.

come talk about billy here!

[yes-i-write-fanfiction]

Hey, remember that ask about humans are cute au with the kidnapped baby, can you do it for the autobots please. Also, I have a feeling that soundwave kidnapped the baby from the autobots.🤭

Raoul's sister was going to kill him. Slowly and painfully.

Now look, that sounded bad but honestly? He deserves it, he really does. Because what kind of fucking idiot loses a baby!?

This idiot, that's who.

Now, the day had started out great. Raoul and his little niece, Clara, had been strolling around town. Well, he'd been strolling, she'd been in the stroller that he had been pushing. Anyway, semantics. It had been sunny outside, the sky littered with small, fluffy white clouds that drifted on by in the gentle breeze. An ideal day day for taking your baby niece for a walk. Raoul had practically been on his knees, asking, no, begging his sister to allow him to take Clara out on a walk.

Please please pleaseeeee, it will be their first uncle/niece outing and will be a great memory! Not to mention that Clara barely knows him. They never hang out! How is he supposed to be the super fun awesome uncle he's meant to be if they never hang out?

His sister, either tired of his pleading or deciding that it was a great idea, finally gave him the okay, trusting that at the end of the day her brother would bring back her daughter. Neat! Raoul could totally do that!

He shouldn't have jinxed it.

Like Raoul said, the day started out great! Clara had been a real peach all day, happy as a baby could possibly be. Really, she was an angel. Didn't get fussy even once, not even when a truck blared its horn while passing by or when old ladies stopped to coo and fawn over her. She had taken it all like an absolute champ. One of the ladies had even allowed her to pet her dog! Kids love dogs! Great. Fantastic! Clara had been so happy. Raoul's sister would love to hear about it once she was done strangling him.

So far so good.

They had then gone to the park to watch the ducks. Another great hit, as Clara had clapped her hands and made some happy sounding gurgles. Raoul had even had the foresight to bring some bread to feed them, allowing them to get a closer look. One duck had practically taken the bread straight out of his hand, something which had made Clara squeal with glee. Man, Raoul had been so proud, feeling like the Best Uncle in the World.

After all that excitement, Clara grew drowsy and the Best Uncle in the World decided that it was now time for a nap.

Taking a seat at a bench that was conveniently placed in the shade of a tree, Raoul had tucked his niece in. She fell asleep after just a couple of minutes of him softly rocking the stroller. Awesome kid, really.

Now, here's where he messed up.

You see, Raoul may have fallen asleep. Just for a minute, he swears! He hadn't meant to, it just... happened. One second he was flashing a smile at a group of girls passing by and the next he was startling awake with a loud, snort.

He had looked around, mind still fuzzy from sleep and eyes bleary. He smacked his lips. Stretched. Checked the stroller. Yawned. Scratched his neck- Wait. Raoul turned his head so fast that it gave him whiplash.

The fucking stroller was gone.

Jumping to his feet and spun around in circles, Raoul desperately looked for the yellow stroller and his niece, hoping that maybe it had just rolled away on its own. The ground was flat but it was still a possibility in his mind.

Nothing. Zero. Nada. Zilch. It was just Raoul and a couple of waddling ducks. And unless ducks were organized kidnappers, they were just as confused as he was.

Now, Raoul would have liked to say that he reacted calmly and with grace. That he had immediately gone to the nearest police station and asked for help, organized a search party. Maybe found a phone booth and explained the situation to a 911 operator. That would have been the smart choice.

Raoul had never claimed to be a smart man.

What he did instead was spend about half an hour, running around the park like a headless chicken, screaming his niece's name while checking the bushes, searching the trash cans, even climbing trees just in case a bird had taken her. Strangers passing by had given him odd looks, with mothers telling their children not to stare at the strange man.

Not his proudest moment.

30 minutes later and still no Clara, Raoul finally decided that he needed help. And who you gonna call when you lose your niece in the park?

Your best friend of course.

Tracks arrived only minutes later with several autobots in tow. Raoul rushed towards him and the moment Tracks transformed into root mode, he slung his arms around his friend's leg.

"You gotta help me, Tracks! I can't find her anywhere!" he cried out, practically hysterical. "Someone took her and I am the Worst Uncle in the World for letting it happen!"

Feeling sympathetic, Tracks gently patted Raoul's shoulder and flashed him a reassuring smile. "It's going to be alright, pal. If someone really did take her then we'll find them real quick. She'll be back before you can say 'Vector Sigma!'"

For a moment, Raoul's felt hope surge in his heart. Then Bluestreak had to open his stupid mouth.

"Uh, guys? You might wanna look at this." The autobots and Raoul gathered next to Bluestreak who pointed at a footprint on the ground. A very big footprint. Raoul made a noise halfway between a squeak and a scream. "Unless we're suddenly in the business of stealing babies, I think we've got a decepticon problem on our servos."

"Bluestreak, shut up."

Raoul would have agreed with whoever said that but he was too busy imagining for what nefarious purpose the decepticons would kidnap an innocent baby. Ohhhh, his poor niece!

Meanwhile, back at the Nemesis;

"We should paint the nursery red. Like true decepticon optics!"

"You fool, that's the color of human blood! Not to mention the autobot symbol. Do you want them to grow up to be an autobot sympathizer?"

"Then let's go with purple!"

"The walls are already purple, idiot!"

"A different shade then! How about a softer lavender?"

"Booooring! What about orange?"

"Like the Ark? Pfft, fat chance!"

"I still say we paint it green."

"No, blue! Then we can paint little clouds too!"

Soundwave shook his head at the bickering between his fellow decepticons before once again focusing on the infant in his arms. Waving one big finger in front of her face, he felt his spark warm up with joy as she laughed and reached out to grab him. Such a fierce little child. She would fit right in with the decepticons.

[weemssapphic]

Lipstick Stains - Pt. 18

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Larissa Weems x fem!reader

summary: the sad, the sexy, and the scary.

words: ~ 3.1k | ao3 link in title

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The weather that Sunday reflected the mood of the day - it was pouring so heavily that you could barely see out of the windshield of Robin’s car as she drove you, Christin, and Cassandra to Jericho to attend Mayor Walker’s funeral. There was already a large crowd huddled outside, a sea of black coats and black umbrellas against the backdrop of a gray sky, rows upon rows of tombstones of Jericho’s only graveyard being beaten by the heavy downpour. 

It seemed that nearly all of Jericho’s inhabitants had shown up, in spite of the weather, and you recognized some Nevermore students and staff as well. You picked Larissa out of the crowd in an instant - towering over her students, hair so fair that she stuck out in the crowd. Biting your lip, you paused, taking in her somber expression - hidden behind large, dark sunglasses. You wanted so badly to reach out to her, to pull her into your arms and kiss her and protect her from the world - but then Cassandra gave your arm a tug, breaking your spell and leading you through the crowd to where Robin already stood with her family.

The eulogy was somber at best - the mayor was loved by many, that much was clear. At one point you glanced over at Larissa to see her gaze turned in your direction. You gave her a sad smile and she bowed her head, before turning her attention back to the mayor’s family. Glancing over the crowd of students behind her, you made eye contact with Wednesday, then with Enid, nodding at the both of them in acknowledgment.

When the funeral was officially over and the first few people started to either mingle or head to their cars, you asked your roommates to give you a minute and turned towards Larissa, who was already watching you. You pushed past a group of students to get to her, stopping awkwardly a few feet in front of her as your umbrellas prevented you from getting closer.

“Larissa,” you breathed out, shuffling your feet as you looked up at her, unsure of how to greet her with half of the school watching. 

“Hi, darling,” she whispered hoarsely, a sad smile tugging at her lips. She shifted her bag to the arm holding her umbrella and held out her free arm to you. After a moment’s hesitation, you lowered your own umbrella and ducked under hers, giving her a tight, one-armed hug and burying your face against her coat, taking a moment to breathe in the scent of her perfume as it engulfed you.

It made you indescribably happy, knowing that she was ready to stop hiding your relationship - it was a simple thing, but you could sense that it was a big step for Larissa. You could feel her gloved hand gently rubbing your back, her lips pressed against the crown of your head. 

“How are you doing?” you asked softly as you pulled away just far enough to look into her eyes - or what you could see of them through the deep black lenses of her sunglasses.

“I’ve been better…”

“I don’t know if you noticed but it’s not really all that sunny out,” you teased, earning yourself a chuckle.

“I’ve also looked better, darling.” 

“I think you always look good.”

Your comment made Larissa’s cheeks turn slightly pink and she averted her gaze, her blush growing as she smiled awkwardly at a small group of Nevermore students that seemed to be watching the two of you curiously and whispering amongst themselves. Despite that, her hand never stopped rubbing your back - you felt your own cheeks grow warm and reached up to straighten the collar of her coat.

“Is it okay if I kiss you?” you murmured hesitantly, biting your lip as you prepared yourself for a possible rejection. Larissa turned her attention back to you, her face unreadable for a moment as she thought. 

“Yes,” she whispered back, a genuine smile growing on her lips. She ducked her head and you met her halfway, pressing your lips to hers in a short, chaste kiss. Her lips were cold, as was her nose when it brushed against yours, yet you still felt a warmth spread through your body. When you pulled back, Larissa gently wiped a trace of lipstick off your lips with her thumb.

As you glanced away, you noticed a woman watching you. She had auburn hair and a fringe that hung into her eyes, which were framed by large glasses, and she wore a dark coat and red gloves. The look that she gave you was strange to say the least - she was frowning and her eyes were narrowed as she gave you a careful once-over, as if she was analyzing you. 

“Who’s that?”

Larissa turned to see who you were referring to - as soon as the woman noticed Larissa turning, her expression shifted to a smile, and you furrowed your brow.

“Marilyn Thornhill, one of our teachers at Nevermore. She’s the first normie teacher on our staff.” Larissa gave Marilyn a wave, which she returned before turning her attention to some students.

“How are you getting home?” Larissa asked you, turning back to you.

You bit your lip, reluctantly looking away from the strange woman and looking back up at Larissa. “I came here with my roommates, Robin is driving us back home.”

“Good…” Larissa cupped your cheek, looking at you with a hint of worry in her expression. “I need to get everyone back to Nevermore, please stay safe.”

You frowned. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Just be careful, alright?”

Chalking Larissa’s worry up to the mayor’s death and the funeral, not to mention the stress she’s been under lately, you nodded. “I will be, I promise.” 

~~~

The poor weather continued through much of the following week, the rain rarely easing up for more than an hour or two at a time. Most of your time outside of lectures was spent studying, or adding little touches to your portrait of Larissa - you’d refused to show it to her, wanting to give it to her as a gift when it was completely finished. 

On Friday morning, you found yourself growing bored of staying inside and pouring over your textbooks, and you decided to start clearing out your closet and sort through your old clothes. As you went through your drawers, a piece of lacy fabric caught your eye - the lingerie set that Larissa had gifted you in New York. A warm, tingly feeling grew in your stomach when you recalled how Larissa had looked at you when you’d worn it - it gave you an idea.

Locking the door to your room, you stripped yourself of your clothes and put on the lingerie. You placed your textbooks on your nightstand and propped your phone up against them, turning on the front camera and taking a few minutes to find a good angle before hitting record.

“Hi, Rissa.” You sat back your heels, keeping your thighs pressed together. “I miss you today, I really wish you were here…”

Closing your eyes, you trailed your hands down your body, imagining it was Larissa’s hands caressing your breasts, your waist, your thighs. You slowly spread your legs, allowing your fingers to lightly graze your inner thighs and letting out a little whimper as you pictured Larissa watching you, touching you and getting closer to your cunt, which was slowly getting wet.

The whimper turned into a moan as you brushed against your clit over the thin lace of the panties. Sliding your fingers lower, you could feel how soaked you were already and you let out a deep groan. “I’m so wet for you, I wish you could feel for yourself.” You opened your eyes - it was weird and a little embarrassing to be staring back at yourself in the front camera of your phone, and you could see your cheeks turn pink in real time. But you kept picturing how Larissa would look at you, how her pupils would dilate and her breaths would come out shaky and shallow through plump, parted lips. How she would be aching to touch you, or herself.

The thought spurred you on, and you made a show of tugging the flimsy lace to the side, spreading your thighs as wide as you could as you began to rub slow, firm circles around your clit. 

Staring directly into the camera, you used your other hand to gently caress the top of your breasts, where the lace of the bra ended. With a little tug downwards, you freed one of your breasts from the bra, allowing your head to loll back as you squeezed it and began to play with your nipple.

Your moans grew in volume, becoming filthier and more pornographic as you worked yourself to your peak, all the while imagining that it was Larissa touching you, Larissa’s fingers inside you, Larissa bringing you over the edge. You came with Larissa’s name on your lips, feeling your slick drip down your fingers. Looking directly into the camera, you removed your fingers from your dripping cunt and placed them in your mouth, sucking them clean. 

“I miss you,” you whispered hoarsely, your cheeks still flushed and your chest still heaving as you blew the camera a kiss and stopped the video.

Watching the video back you felt a little embarrassed - but you hoped Larissa would enjoy it, and you opened your texts with her.

Y/N: are you alone?

Larissa: Yes. Why?

You giggled to yourself and sent her the video, before pulling on a t-shirt and shorts and slipping to the bathroom to clean yourself up. And then you waited, perched on the edge of your bed and bouncing your leg in anticipation as you tried to distract yourself by scrolling through social media.

More than 20 minutes passed - Larissa was taking longer to reply than you’d thought she would, and you were starting to worry you’d done something wrong. Biting your lip, you texted Larissa again.

Y/N: Riss?

Another two minutes passed with no reaction - then, suddenly, your phone began to ring. Because of course Larissa would choose to call you, instead of texting you back.

Your heart hammered against your ribcage as you picked up the phone and held it to your ear.

“Darling.” Larissa’s voice was gravelly and she sounded out of breath - you knew you’d gotten the reaction you’d hoped for.

~~~

Larissa’s day was shaping up to be mind-numbingly boring, her morning filled with paperwork and preparations for her afternoon meetings. As she sipped her coffee, reading the same document for the third time with her concentration slipping, she heard her phone vibrate inside the drawer of her desk. 

Y/N: are you alone?

Your text piqued her interest and she furrowed her brow, quickly typing out a reply. She was intrigued to receive a video in return - the moment she pressed play, she felt her face flush and her mouth go dry. She’d been right to buy you that underwear - it suited you, and it made her wet to see you touch yourself while wearing it. 

Biting her lip so hard she could’ve drawn blood, the ache between her thighs grew with each and every movement of yours. She wanted - no, needed - to touch herself. Not in your office, she scolded herself. She had a shred of dignity left yet and she was determined to hold onto it. Her resolve began to waver, though, and soon she found herself teasing the inside of her thigh, just above her knee. 

With a glance at her door - it was shut, and surely she’d hear if someone were to come down the hall - she pushed her skirt up just a bit and allowed her hand to trail up her thigh. Her fingers brushed against her underwear - ruined - and she held back a soft whimper. She began to touch herself in tandem with your own movements in the video, rubbing her fingers over her clit and  working herself to the brink of pleasure.

A knock on the door to her office nearly caused Larissa to drop her phone in shock - she fumbled around frantically, pausing the video and locking her phone before smoothing her skirt and shifting the blush off of her cheeks. 

“Come in,” she called out, praying her voice came out as level as she intended it to. 

The door opened and Marilyn poked her head inside the office, smiling softly. “Principal Weems, do you have a minute?”

Larissa straightened her shoulders, plastering a professional smile on her face even as she wanted nothing more than to say no and kick the redhead out of her office. “Of course, Ms. Thornhill, please come in.”

Marilyn stepped inside the office, revealing that she was holding a pile of papers. Larissa found herself suppressing a groan - she really did not have the time for even more administrative work.

“I don’t want to take up too much of your time, I just wanted to drop this off - Enid has requested to room with Yoko for the rest of the semester.” She stepped up to Larissa’s desk, handing her the paperwork. If she’d heard your video playing before knocking on the door, she was doing a damned good job at hiding it.

Larissa could feel a frown tugging at her lips as she glanced down at the forms - even the mere mention of Wednesday was enough for her to feel the beginnings of a headache forming. “And you’ve spoken with both girls?”

“Enid is adamant that she no longer wishes to room with Wednesday, and Wednesday is… well, Wednesday. She’s being a bit difficult as usual.” The redhead offered an apologetic smile, pushing her glasses higher up on her nose. 

“Well, thank you for trying,” Larissa said with a sigh, dropping the papers onto her desk and standing to escort Marilyn to the door when her phone buzzed again, the screen lighting up with a text from you - Larissa was briefly distracted as she peeked down at the text, her thoughts immediately pulled back to the video you’d sent her.

“Your girlfriend?”

Larissa’s head snapped up to look at Marilyn, her eyes widening like a deer caught in headlights. She had never spoken to any of her colleagues about her relationship - having it mentioned so openly and casually felt a bit jarring, and she felt her heart skip a beat. “Pardon?”

“The woman at Mayor Walker’s funeral? I just assumed…”

The principal felt her cheeks turn pink and she found herself nodding. “Yes, we’re together.”

Marilyn smirked as she began walking towards the door, with Larissa trailing behind her. “She’s cute.”

Larissa felt a smile creep up on her face even as her cheeks burned. Though she was unwilling to discuss her relationship further with a member of her staff, she nodded in acknowledgment as she leaned past Marilyn to open the door for her. “Thank you, Ms. Thornhill. I’ll have the paperwork processed this afternoon, you can tell Enid her request has been approved.”

Marilyn thanked Larissa and left, making her way down the hall. Larissa waited until she had rounded the corner before closing and locking the door, taking quick strides back to her desk and perching on the edge as she dialed your number.

“Darling,” she breathed out, sounding more out of breath than she’d hoped.

“Yeah?” You sounded like you were holding back laughter - it was honestly adorable to Larissa, and she found her cheeks growing redder still.

“You’re gorgeous,” she found herself whispering into the phone, her mind filled with the vivid image of you peeling your panties away from your cunt and fingering yourself. Her own clit was still throbbing with need. “You’ve really gotten me quite turned on, you know.”

“Are you going to do something about that?” 

Larissa could hear the smirk in your voice as you replied, and it turned her on further - but all she could do was groan in response as her gaze fell to the clock on the wall.

“Dr. Kinbott will be here soon, I’m afraid…”

“Oh, sorry,” you replied, not sounding very sorry at all - Larissa couldn’t help but chuckle.

“I should punish you for this,” she whispered back, her voice low and gravelly as various scenarios flashed through her mind - tying you up, edging you, bringing you to the brink of orgasm and leaving you begging her to fuck you.

“You know you keep saying that, but I’m starting to think it’s an empty promise.” The playful, almost taunting edge to your voice had Larissa’s knuckles turning white around her phone as her stomach began to flutter with butterflies.

“Well then I’ll have to make good on that promise soon, won’t I?” Larissa suggested, able to keep her voice much firmer and more seductive now. “I am a woman of my word, after all.”

“Are you free this weekend?”

Larissa smirked at your eagerness. “I’m all yours.”

~~~

The following day you found yourself packing a bag and rushing through the rain with your hood up, eager to get to your car and turn the heat on. The plan was to head to Jericho first and stop by the Weathervane to pick up some hot chocolate for Larissa, before making your way to Nevermore. You turned up the heat as well as the radio and started the drive through the dense, dark woods separating Burlington from Jericho.

Nearing the small town, the rain began to pick up, a light fog rolling in as the sky opened up. The rain was so heavy that you could barely see the road two feet in front of your car - you had no choice but to pull over to the shoulder of the road to wait out the worst of it.

The downpour pummeled the hood of your car and you leaned back in your seat, taking out your phone and texting Larissa that you’d be over a little later than planned, before idly scrolling through the photos on your phone.

As the minutes went by, you began to get an uneasy feeling in the pit of your stomach - glancing up at the road, the rain was beginning to ease off, though not considerably, and you looked back down at your phone. The uneasy feeling continued, nagging and gnawing at your insides. It almost felt like you were being watched, and a shiver ran down your spine at the thought - you gripped your phone a little tighter, biting your lip as you prayed that the rain would lighten up enough for you to keep driving soon. Dimly, in the recesses of your mind, you realized no other cars had passed you on this road for at least 20 minutes, but you quickly shook your head, not wanting to allow your thoughts to travel down a dark road. A shadow fell across the passenger seat - taking it for a trick of the eye, something to do with the falling rain outside the window, you shrugged it off. Until it happened again, lingering longer this time. You glanced out the window and your heart felt as though it had skipped about 5 beats, your stomach dropping with the realization that someone - no, something - was looking back at you.

x

Taglist: @littledollll @nlr-33 @mysaviorfalsegod @imlike-so-gaydude @rainbow-hedgehog @enchantressb @alder-saan @autumn-leaves-chasing-breeze @amateurwritescm @brienneswife @principal-weems09 @messynessi @larissaoftarthweems @anti-bright-places @lvinhs @catechristiesstuff @ladyzmilf002 @milfsloverblog @opheliauniverse @orangeisnttheonlyfruit @im-a-carnivorous-plant @alexusonfire @bigolgay @kimiinou @wastdstime @scream-queenlover @imprincipalweemspet @justcallmelittleone @willowshadenox @milfsloverblog @leftoverenvy @yahaqueen @peggycarter3 @lilfartbox1 @makemyworldworthliving @crow-raven-crow @mosscoveredcrucifix @opalthefrog @barbarasstar @giogwensversion

[treedaddymcpuffpuff]

🫧 ━━ JOHNNY UTAH X CHUBBY F READER IMAGINE𓈒

𓈒part II 𓈒tw: utah being a little shit 𓈒based on @tedsbogusworld’s 🤖

━━ in the morning, bodhi reams you out for embarrassing him

━━ he says that calling him a “spoiled little bitch momma’s boy who still pisses the bed” was just taking it too far

━━ you have to admit, that might have been overkill

━━ as usual, you’re fighting.

━━ you can remember a time where the two of you were thick as thieves, buddies, friends

━━ you can remember a time he used to defend you from bullies rather than join in on their ridicule

━━ you go to work with tears in your eyes, but you’re only crying because you can’t punch something

you like the aquarium. honestly, you could spend your whole life working here if it paid more than minimum wage.

your favorite duty, by far, is manning the touch tank and getting to see the excitement that ripples through children and adults alike as they slip their fingers over the smooth, sticky manta rays and get their hands abducted by the resident octopus.

you’re glad that you’re doing this today, especially after the nasty dispute with your once loving, protective brother.

however, the good mood isn’t meant to last.

bodhi’s friend, liz, is here. the new guy is hanging off her arm. it looks like they’re on a date, and you really don’t want to deal with being perceived, so you excuse yourself and duck into a nearby gift shop to regain composure.

it’s stupid, that you’ve become so afraid of bodhi’s in-crowd. You pride yourself on being brave—or at least you used to. swimming out past where you could touch, exploring for snakes and bugs, looking for sharks in the tides, riding the tallest drop rides at six flags.

you understand what the metaphor ‘a shell of what I once was’ means all too well. it’s just…they’re so goddamn mean. teasing you, calling you names when they think you’re not listening, playing stupid pranks that they know will get an explosive reaction.

and no matter how many pounds of pressure you tried to put behind your bite, it just seemed to always get worse. so now, you avoid them at all costs. and bodhi, too.

you peruse around the little gift shop, feeling the plushies and thumbing through the rainbow clusters of keychains. hoping they’ll be gone by the time you make it back out on the floor.

no such luck—in fact, lady luck herself seems to have some personal vendetta against you on this sunny day. you hit solid chest on your way outside of the gift shop, and look up to start an apology. that embarrassed look on your face transforms into a scowl when it turns out that—Jesus, what’s his name?—is smiling down at you. and it’s not a pleasant smile.

liz’s voice could cut diamonds, awful and grating as it is. “oh, hey, cutie. we were just looking for you. Johnny wants to meet your friends.”

“great, he can introduce himself.” walking away is the best decision right now. it usually is when it comes to assholes, but a wide hand circles the entire upper half of your arm to halt you. and your arm is not small, so, yeah, you're a little bit intimidated. will you admit it? hello no.

you swivel and face him like he’s not a foot taller than you and probably able to at least beat you in an arm wrestling match if nothing else, glare sharpened into a knife that you hope cuts deeper than it seems to; he looks humored.

“let me go.”

he stays silent and grinning, liz’s perfect henchman, and it inspires seething rage. the kind of fury that makes you forget you’re at work, has your vision turning black around the edges. “john.” of course, now that he’s pissing you off again you remember his name, because that’s all he’s done since you first met—make you angry. “your balls are in grave danger if you don’t get the fuck off me.”

“just johnny’s fine,” he tells you, tugging you closer instead of letting you go and heeding your threat.

you grab his wrist to try and pry him off, because fuck if you’re gonna let some city boy manhandle you around in your own territory at liz’s bitchy discretion, but queen insufferable herself cuts the tension with her sharp voice. “y/n’s in school to be a marine biologist,” she tells johnny, who’s too busy focused on tormenting you to pay attention to her. “isn’t that cute? still hanging on to those childish dreams.”

“oh, shut the hell up, liz, at least I’m trying to make something of my life instead of whoring around south bay and surfing.”

neither of them look phased. It makes you feel small, insignificant, stupid, humiliated, all of those nasty adjectives that you just can’t seem to get away from in daily life. maybe you would actually risk your job and hit liz—because you know she’d have to notice a fist—but johnny has both your arm and wrist trapped now, and his grip is not kind enough to permit escape.

liz looks bored. “so, come on, y/n, introduce us to your ocean friends.”

you glower at johnny, who still has most annoyingly and frustratingly not taken his eyes off you. “can’t do that unless you tell boris, here, to let me the fuck go.”

liz gives the command and her dog listens well. you briefly consider running, but after a once over of his long distal limbs, you know you wouldn’t get very far on the stubs you call legs without him catching up. ever defeated, you take them to the touch tank, waiting for a space to open.

liz’s entitlement makes a surprise appearance, of course, and she taps a sunburned family on the shoulder. “excuse me, we work here. just gotta get through.”

“no, we don’t work here,” you tell the confused father, “i work here, and take your time.” you shoot liz a glare. “we can be patient.”

“jeez,” liz sighs, although you win this round, and only after the family in front steps away do you lead them up to lean elbows over the rippling artificial tide pool, glowing with sea foam backlight, filled with pretty black mantas gliding along the sides and little crabs fighting under seaweed and tiny fish flitting about.

“put your hand in,” you tell johnny, motioning to the water. “this is what you came for, right? scared of fish, johnathan?”

he chuckles at you and shakes his head. “do they bite?”

what a pussy. “dunno, why don’t you ask the giggling toddlers over there forearm deep?”

was something you said funny? are you just a natural comedian? should you go into stand up comedy instead of marine biology? all these things you wonder while his lazy, devil may care grin widens.

his hand goes in, slowly, and god bless harold’s tiny three hearts, he crawls right up to the newcomer curiously.

johnny looks nervous while the little blue guy explores his hand. you chuckle, trying to be mean but actually finding it a smidge cute—okay, the octopus is cute. NOT johnny and his novel trepidation. nope. this man is not cute. he’s a fucking asshole.

harold wraps around his fingers, squeezes and grips between the digits, slides a tendril over his wrists and holds gently, saying hello. once you’re sure johnny’s trapped, you pat him on the back. “good luck, think he likes you.” then, you walk away.

“hey, he won’t let me go!” johnny calls after you, and you relish in that frustrated tone. feels good to win, yeah it does.

“he will by closing,” you say, not bothering to turn around, but also, and to your credit, not adding ‘asshole’ to the end of that sentence.