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velvetures · 1 year

Note

Hi!!! I saw your post about taking some requests so I thought that I'll give it a shot. If it's possible, could you maybe do a Captain Price one? I haven't seen a story about him yet on your page, so I hope that this request can finally add one to your masterlist.

So here it goes: A Price x virgin!reader one. I feel like he's the type of guy to be really gentle and slow when he realizes that the reader is inexperienced, mostly due to his calm and caring nature. But once they start to get comfy, he'll get kind of rough in some way? And aftercare, I just know that this man would be an expert at it. Would help in washing them up in a tub or even cooking them a meal after. I could see that he's also a sucker for cuddles and just being close to them in general.

So yeah, I really hope that you'll consider this request and possibly write something out of it. If not, that's totally okay!!

Side note: I just wanted to say that I love your stories and that it brings me comfort, too:))

I Knew, Sweetheart

A/N: I'm so sorry this is so fucking looonngg!! I just couldn't get it right and I ended up going for "better is more" in the hopes that it'll hide the god-awful writing. :( Anyways, please don't burn me at the stake. It's my first Price fic, and I've still not got his voice or character dialed in. Summary: Reader is Price's gf, and while they've been together for a little while... sex hasn't come up. Nor the fact that the reader is a virgin!. Reader goes about bringing it up a little unconventionally, and things progress. T/W: virgin!reader, fem-reader, NS/FW 18+ ONLY, p-in-v sex, fingering, unprotected sex (don't do that IRL), established relationship, a little bit of an age-difference?, cursing?, first-time anxiety?, aftercare, probably missed something else. proofreading is for people w/ friends of which I have none.

John Price set himself apart from most of the men that he often worked alongside when it came to matters of his personal life and the ways in which he operated. A lot of people would often make jokes, saying it was nothing more than his being an “old man” who couldn’t adjust to the newer ways of life. But fuck, he wasn’t that old when it came right down to it, and yes he liked going along with the traditional ways specifically when it came to relationships, at least when he had the chance to. He’d been a lot younger at one point, not seeing how detrimental his actions could’ve been affecting the women he associated with or spent a few hours in bed with just to leave without another word sent their way.

Captain Price knew he’d made many mistakes when the heart was involved. He threw away a lot of advice he’d been given growing up -some good and some bad- all because he thought he knew better or had enough intelligence to figure it out as he went. Much of that changed when he started realizing that he wasn’t fulfilled in the slightest. For a few years, he was bitter over the emptiness. Not understanding where it came from or how the fuck he could get rid of it. Unraveling layer after layer like a frayed pair of jeans, John kept questioning how he’d come so far just to be that alone. Praying his mistakes hadn’t destroyed his chances of finding a little sliver of humanity outside of his work to motivate him. Keep him sane in the most bitter of hours, and soft when everything and everyone else around him kept adding brick after brick into never-ending, emotionless walls.

Then you showed up out of nowhere, sitting on a barstool in one of the pubs he frequented when he had some time away from his work. Close to home and nowhere near busy enough to call a bar or club; John immediately thought you looked like you’d taken a wrong turn and wound up in an old man’s hangout. It took him a few hours of watching out of the corner of his eye to finally weigh the options of being shot down, or possibly making something out of a whole lot of nothing. His offering to buy you a drink led to taking a few puffs off of his cigar outside. From there he learned just about everything about you within the first few weeks of seeing you or calling here and there.

You liked to talk, a lot. Something John was thankful for since he developed a bad habit of just staring at your pretty face instead of listening like he knew too. Fuck it made him feel ten years younger. And that was something else that made your relationship feel unusual to the Captain. More than six years in age difference didn’t sound all that significant on paper. Yet it was more interesting than either of you thought it would be initially. Aside from just simple pop culture references and enjoyment of music and other low-stakes things, your lives were on different paces. John was stable… at least as stable as his work allowed for. While you’d finally got the job you’d been dreaming of, and hadn’t been working for a full year when you met him. Everything all together challenged John, and you as well, with figuring out what you wanted from each other. How you planned -or wanted to- go about making that happen. And if being serious was something that you shared an interest in.

A few months of going on dates and John walking you home was traded for him sharing half the dresser drawers in his bedroom with you. He was gone nearly all of the time, which put a damper on things but he liked having peace of mind that you were safe and in his home. Besides, it was a short drive from his house to your work and you could stop paying half your paychecks on rent and start saving it up for anything you really wanted. At least… anything John hadn’t already bought or given you. Well… there was one thing John hadn’t given you. And it began gnawing at your mind harder and harder every time he went away for a mission and came home without the slightest inclination to do more than give you a kiss.

John Price still hadn’t asked or hinted at wanting to have sex with you.

At first, you thought it was refreshing. Seeing a man old enough and patient to understand that sex wasn’t just given but earned. Yet every time you thought there would be a moment after a date or a ‘welcome home reunion’ where he’d finally bring up the topic, your expectations fell short. Plenty of excuses floated around your brain, including the more rational ones: he was just very respectful. While others were much more self-conscious and saddening: he was getting it somewhere else, or he could see that you weren’t experienced. The age-old struggle of being a virgin past the age of eighteen.

Too old for half the population, and far too young and inexperienced for the others. Sheltered didn’t describe you. You had toys and knew how to give head as well as having been on the receiving end. But going “all the way” eluded you by some miracle or curse. Looking at John in comparison to yourself was just as attractive as it was intimidating. You knew better than to think he didn’t know his way around the bedroom. He was just too smooth. Far beyond any man, you attempted a relationship previously. You wanted to think he respected you, but at the same time, waiting for much longer for him to make a move just felt like another eternity you lacked the patience and confidence to endure. So after a long night of overthinking and wondering how you could even go about bringing it up, you made a decision that when he got back home from his latest mission, you’d be the one to bring it up.

God your hands were sweating. He was supposed to have been home two hours ago and there was still no sign of his truck in the driveway or a single message from him on the phone you had gripped between your damp palms. Everything had been just fine all day, until the sun began to set over the hillside in the backyard, leaving you less than six hours away from John coming through the door. Worried didn’t even begin to explain how your stomach was tied in knots with a low burning fire in your throat. John had been nothing short of perfect -save for being gone so often- and you knew there wasn’t a single reason for you to be so overwhelmed at the mere thought of being an adult and asking him to have sex with you. Of course… You made up your mind to omit that you’d never done it before and just hoped the Captain would be too preoccupied with something else to notice.

Noticing the details quickly got turned around on you when the front door creaked open on its hinges and you hadn’t the slightest clue that John was standing halfway through the threshold with bags slung over his back and a small look of curiosity on his face. His pretty little thing, sitting on the couch with her arms wrapped around her bent knees and a deep stare somewhere far away from the both of them. He had to admit it wasn’t the first time he had caught you sitting with your eyes “comfortable” as you liked to call it; however, it was the first time he’d seen you wearing something quite that lacy for no damn good reason before.

Some kind of black, strappy, and frilly little number. It hardly left anything to the imagination, and John had to force himself not to go into deep thought about how you’d even got into the thing without instructions. It made your figure that much more eye-catching, and after staring at nothing but rain and mud for two weeks you were a sight for sore eyes. Even a Captain had to admit his biggest weaknesses to overcome himself and improve, but he wasn’t sure in that second if he could ever overcome -much less forget- how divine you looked. Honestly, he didn’t even know you owned it to begin with. But by the way, you kept spinning your phone in your hand, he had the vague gut feeling that you had something on your mind. A little more than dinner or fussing over the possible injuries he could’ve sustained while gone.

“Waiting on someone?” He asked lowly, trying his best not to startle you too much. Right away your eyes locked on his and widened. Almost like a little rabbit cornered by a fox and no hole to scurry into. He watched a flash of sudden panic overtake you and how quickly you reached for one of the throw blankets at the end of the couch to hide behind. Price chewed his tongue, forcing himself not to smirk at you at the moment. Wanting so badly to tease you a little bit for looking so sexy in that bodysuit, but acting nothing short of the little shy church girl getting kissed on the cheek for the first time.

“J-John,” Your voice sputters on his name a bit, forcing a smile to his face. He couldn’t help it after being away for this long without the chance to hear you even over the phone for a few minutes. “You’re home a little late.”

He nods, guilty. “Delayed flight. Weather kept us from movin’ out on time.”

Careful, he dropped his bags off at the front door without the slightest concern about how long they’d sit there. More important things were swirling around in his head. Trying to decipher if you were planning something and just backed out, or if you just needed a little bit of coaxing to not be so shy. Hostage negotiation wasn’t something he thought would ever come in handy when it came to interacting with you, yet John found himself rounding around the chairs on the other side of the living room from you, and planning each step he made to ensure he didn’t spook you. That lingerie wasn’t for nothing, and he desperately needed to know what you planned on doing with it.

He licked his lips, taking a steadying breath. “What’s under the blanket, sweetheart?”

You swallowed thickly, “N-nothing… I thought - I hoped it’d look nice,” Fumbling pathetically for an excuse, you finally spit one out all under the very soft and lightly amused eyes of one John Price. “It doesn’t fit.” The second it left your lips, you internally cursed yourself.

John’s eyebrows raised, instantly grabbing onto that loose thread and pulling on it. “I’m sure you’re wrong about that…” He came closer, standing just in front of you on the couch with his hands on his hips. “Come on, why don’t you let me have a look? I’ll give you a second opinion.” His words made your heart stutter, and you weakly shook your head in response.

“I should just return it.” You mutter, scooting over to the side of him and attempting to sneak off with your protective blanket.

You’re not even close to getting away from John when he chuckles, one arm curling around your shoulders and the other getting a firm grip on the material you’re hiding under. Naturally, you don’t exactly fight to get away. But a furious blush breaks out over your cheeks and neck, feeling the preverbal trap tightened around your throat. He’s turning around and sitting down on the couch with a nonnegotiable silent order for you to take a seat straddling his lap. That alone is enough to drive you up a wall with anxious feelings. Not that you’d never sat on his lap before -actually it was quite common- but under these circumstances, there was a lot more than just a little bit of heat passing between the both of you. Very slowly, John found the edge of the blanket and slipped a hand under, searching out for your skin and eventually landing on a little bit of the lacy material stretching in a high cut over your hip. You can actually see his eyes darken, tracing along the hemline and mentally picturing what was under his fingers. Touch alone was making you squirm, avoiding eye contact and trying to keep quiet so as not to embarrass yourself even more than you already felt.

“Oh, sweetheart… fits like a fuckin’ glove.” He whispers lowly, hand palming your asscheek and toying with the thin little string that disappeared into the cleft.

“It’d be a shame for you to get all dressed up… go through all this trouble… then not let me see your hard work.” His voice lulled slow and steady, swaying your fears just enough for you to feel your head nod up and down a couple of times before letting the blanket fall off your shoulders and pool on Price’s lap. The front of the bodysuit had been well-hidden up until now, with you sitting so lady-like in his lap. But the thin straps just crossing around your tits and holding them up without a single stitch of material covering them totally, John thought he’d been shot right through the chest. Between the innocent look in your eyes, and that damned outfit making you appear about as sinful as hell, he couldn’t keep from letting out a low growl and squeezing your ass just hard enough to make you gasp.

“This is what you were trying to hide?” His breathlessness couldn’t be masked, nor could the frequent shift in his eyes between your practically bare chest and eyes. John chuckled, hands drifting towards your hips and up to rest on each side of your ribs. Pushing your tits together just a little bit, almost bewitched by the sight of you like that on his lap. “Oh, you’re such a pretty girl…” He muttered, almost to himself.

Shifting in his lap, you tried to keep your growing arousal and nervousness under control. Each touch set you on fire, and with John moving this slow you couldn’t be sure you’d live long enough to see another day. It was too good feeling a man actually appreciated a woman in front of him. Not just finding the small bits and pieces he preferred and overlooking the rest. You knew being nervous was natural, but the more John rubbed and soothed, it was getting harder and harder not to whine or ask him for just a little bit more to satiate you. Right away, John’s eyes darted up to you, and something you couldn’t quite describe flashed through his eyes just long enough for him to lip his lips and sit up a little straighter, pulling you to sit straddling just one of his thighs.

“I think I know what you want, sweetheart.” He smiled so damn affectionately that it made your heart jump. “But just so I know… why don’t you go ahead and tell me, that way I don’t miss anything. I don’t like to disappoint.” Toying with the zipper of his sweater, you suck in a nervous breath to steady your nerves.

“I want you to, have sex with me.” You hardly whisper the second part, still drawing your own attention towards anything minute that could serve as a focal point with your body shaking so badly.

“Hmm…” His thoughtful hum sends shivers up your spine, and the feeling of his hands massaging your hips makes it hard to breathe. “So I was right,” A smile crosses his face. “Well then, how about you go ahead and take care of this.” He growls a little, his fingers slowly tracing over the barely-there strip of fabric covering your core, already soaking wet with your arousal. Your little moan slips out before you can even try to cover your mouth, and John’s fingers slip away like he was purposefully trying to be mean and deny you a taste of relief.

“John, please…” You whimper, hands resting on his shoulders hoping he’ll take mercy on you.

He just shifts down to rest against the couch a little more and bounces his knee a few times, sending jolts of extreme sensation right up your clit into your lower stomach. You didn’t get it at first… what he wanted you to do. But now you did, and John almost grinned when he saw the realization, followed by the shy look you gave him. Encouragement was needed, and he was more than happy to deliver. Slowly rocking your hips back and forth along his pants, purposefully having settled you on the side that his thigh-holster was strapped to, adding two extra ridges that instantly began working to overstimulate you. It was too good, and not enough. Pushing your inhibitions just a little further out of focus and forcing you to really focus on how nothing more than his thigh was getting you to a release quicker than any toy or trick you’d tried on yourself. Impeccable alone, it was his low voice right in your ear that made everything outside of John Price holding you on his lap disappear.

“Doin’ so good, sweetheart…”

“Making me feel bad for not helping sooner… If I would’ve known how needy you were.”

“That’s it, love. Keep going, want you to let go. Right on my lap, then I’ll take care of you.”

His lips suffocated your moans and whimpers, swallowing each little pleasure and claiming it as his own. John hadn’t taken his time like this in years, but damn it was special seeing you -his pretty little thing- so needy and whining his name. So sensitive to the texture of his cargos that he was actually wondering if you could withstand something more… purposeful. God, he hoped you could. He wanted to tase you so bad after feeling just how wet you were. Fuck, even the dark khaki color of his pants was getting darker with each little jerk and grind of your hips. Thighs twitching and clenching around him like you couldn’t get the right angle, and were slowly getting more pathetically and innocently frustrated. He needed you hungry though… wanted to ensure that this was done properly. And if it meant withholding from you just enough to make sure you were desperate, he’d bite back every urge he had to give you everything right away.

John knew right away that you were a virgin. Either by just his ability to read people or by the way that you didn’t particularly use sex appeal to draw him in right when you first met. You weren’t innocent of how you looked though, and always dressed and acted much to the benefit of being seen as the valuable woman Price always believed you to be. Yet it didn’t escape his curiosity as to how you’d been able to slip through the grasps of so many disrespectful and predatory men who would’ve done anything to have taken their chance at you. Fuck, he was thankful beyond belief. He hated thinking that you could’ve needed to experience pain or discomfort at any point… but he never asked you simply out of respect and the knowledge that at some point the topic would come up. Only, it didn’t come to fruition quite like he expected. In fact, he never imagined that you’d had your first orgasm with him riding his thigh while sitting on the couch in his house. He wouldn’t change it for a goddamn thing, though.

In the moment, he’d wanted nothing more than to hear you. After hearing so many little whines and pleas for his help, he knew you’d sound so beautiful. But his own intentions fell to desire when he crashed his lips to yours, taking those cries of pleasure for himself. There would be plenty more to come for him to bask in the sound of. The first one though? He needed it. It was his to taste and keep forever. Alongside the taste of your pleasure, he relished in your shaking legs and the harsh bite of your nails digging into his shoulders hard enough to feel through two shirts. He felt your desperation just as deeply as his own, and while his cock straining against his zipper was not totally lost to his attention, John could easily stave off his own needs to make sure you were satiated just as thoroughly as deserved for coming on his pants like the good little things you always were.

“Good girl… You did so good for me, sweetheart.” His rough voice rumbled against your ear as his kissed you softly.

Petting your hair and rubbing his other hand down your quivering thigh. As much as he wanted to keep you right here and not disturb your come-down, he wanted you in bed. Needed to see you laid out like he pictured when jerking his cock after weeks of pent-up stress needed a release. Fuck he wanted to take you slow in his bed and wake up in the morning with you wrapped around him and the smell of sex on the sheets. Before you could really even catch your breath, John had you spread out on the bed with him staring down at you almost astonished. You were just as affected, seeing the heavy outline of his dick parallel to his zipper and ending just at his belt. His eyes caught your lingering, and he chuckled, biting his tongue with his back teeth before squeezing himself and shrugging like it wasn’t the hottest thing you’d ever seen him do. The little gasp you let out only gave him that much more confidence to keep teasing you as much as he’d been.

Slowly, painfully, stripping off one piece of clothing at a time and letting it drop to the floor. Eyes locked on yours like he was getting off to how you reacted to each little inch of skin that was bared to you. If you didn’t know better, you would’ve thought he enjoyed all of the attention on him. When in reality, he was just mesmerized by how in awe you were of him, looking like a war-torn soldier with his scars and hardened body. You were holding your breath for the moment he pushed his underwear down off his hips, standing downright predatory with his fist tight around the base of his thick and glistening cock. If you ever had a moment of hesitation about doing this with John, they dissolved in that single moment. Because your next movement was to reach your hands out, wiggling your fingers for him to come closer.

“What would you like?” He asks, coming to stand at the foot of the bed just out of your reach.

“You.” You answer a little plainly, making him chuckle.

“Not quite specific enough, sweetheart.” His eyes drop to your body hugged in that black outfit and he bites at his cheek. “But as much as I love you in that, I’d like to see you take it off.” A very easy request. Had it not been for your inability to reach the little snap at the back that kept you tied into all of the lace and straps. So, you very politely raised up and sat on your knees with your back to John and gave him the sweetest look you could manage.

“Give me hand, Captain?”

He nearly ripped the fucking thing off.

The moment he had your seduction tactic of clothing balled up in his fist, he felt the first little surge of his common sense holding him back a little bit. Base instinct screamed for him to sink into you as quickly as possible. But feeling your hands rub over his chest and your shy little kisses to his neck reminded him of circumstance. Pinned against your belly, his cock twitched in response to your teeth grazing accidentally over his collarbone. You were about to whisper an apology when John wrapped a hand around your throat to tilt your head up and suck hard just under your jaw. He liked when you did that… The thought gave you a little bolt of satisfaction. One that progressed into your hands sliding down his stomach until your fingers curled around his thick shaft, earning a warning sound of a moan deep in his chest.

“So fuckin’ soft…” He murmured against your shoulder, kissing it hotly and slowly rocking his hips against your hands. Teasing himself. Edging closer to try and raise a little bit of resistance so he wouldn’t spill his load on the bed long before he was damn well ready. Your silky little hands spreading his arousal over his length only lasted for a few minutes before John was pulling you away with heaving breaths and a flush breaking out over his cheeks.

“Too much?” You ask a little giggly when he lays you back and crawls up to kneel between your spread legs.

His reaction is one of raised eyebrows and a devilish kind of smile that makes you feel like you just made a little too accurate of a joke to be laughing. John gives you a little warning ‘tsk tsk’, shaking his head like he could try and hide the lust and affection swirling in his dark eyes at the sight of you giggling, and all spread out for him like a five-course meal the Queen of England couldn’t afford to buy. A wiser man might’ve believed himself worthy of you, enough that his dirty hands could touch you and try to give you pleasure in the way they assumed to know best. Yet John leaned over you with the knowledge that he was one of the most unworthy men on the planet, and you had so much grace and love inside of you that it didn’t matter. One little touch and you could cleanse him of every blood stain he’d not been able to clean or sinful act of revenge he couldn’t resist committing. Above all else, you’d decided in all your innocence of the world that you trusted him with your body as much as you’d already handed over your heart and mind.

John kissed you. Hard. With everything he had to offer in return for the invaluable

With that, he’s, hauling you up against him. He wants you laying right on top of him so he can sleep soundly with you right against him. He’s very quick to give you more praise and ask again if you’re feeling okay mentally and physically. You mention feeling just a little insecure, despite all of his very purposeful care throughout the whole process, but Price won’t have it.

Right away he’s kissing you softly, hands rubbing over your back and butt affectionately. Letting you know just how special he feels that you trusted him, as well as just how lucky he was to find someone like you in the first place. Holding the back of your head and gently cradling you against his lips; Tongue licking into your mouth and groaning softly when you mirror his movements, even going far enough to nip at his tongue. Using that same little hint of him enjoying your teeth on him. Just like before, you’re met with another warning sound of a growl, and John is pulling back and moving his head between your legs with a careful watch on your reaction.

“Can’t wait any longer, sweetheart.” He kissed your inner thigh sweetly. “Please let me taste your sweet little pussy.”

His words shock your body, and your head falls back with the little bit of erotic pleads overwhelming you. God, it was making you drip onto the sheets feeling him so close yet waiting for your answer. Pathetically, you couldn’t get the word ‘yes’ out of your mouth for a few long minutes. Just enough time for him to lovingly suck bruises onto your inner thighs and mean you scream out his name, squirming under his hands to try and get some real relief.

John takes pity on you, stopping long enough to let you catch your breath. “Come on pretty girl. Just say the word… I’ll make you feel so fuckin’ good.”

“Yes, yes, yes… please. I need more!” Your airy pleas fall like angel’s trumpets on his ears, as his mouth descends hungrily onto your cunt.

Licking through your slick folds and growling your own name back against your core with the sweet and alkaline flavor. Your hips buck up and you cry out, feeling his tongue lash over your clit for the first time and right away he’s got one forearm over your hips to hold them steady with the other hand held tight with his fingers intertwined with yours. His mustache tickles against your skin and you can feel him resting his head against your thigh, almost like he’s getting comfortable for an extended stay with his tongue in your cunt.

Another orgasm is ripped from you without warning less than ten minutes into John’s unyielding assault on your sensitive clit. And it’s this time that John ensures your thighs can’t wrap around his head for the sole purpose of hearing your loud and raw scream of his name. Blissed out, and shaking once again, John smiles against your pussy; Lapping up any remaining release he’d missed mere seconds before and feeling the dull pressure of your heels digging into his back.

“God, you’re so good for me sweetheart,” His praise blows cool air over your folds and you jerk a little, whining when you feel his lips return back down to you. Slowly, teasingly, he began all over again just as he did the first time.

It takes a couple seconds for you to realize he doesn’t plan on stopping. But when you do, crying for him to stop when he begins using his thumb to tease your clit while his tongue fucks slowly in and out of your clenching hole. John almost laughs, darkly and amused with your little cries and moans. Feeding off of your pleasure just to give it right back to you in the direct motivation of making you come on his tongue and fingers this time.

“F-fuck - John! Sh-shit,” Your stuttered voice falls into an unabashed groan when he teases his finger at your entrance, and slowly slides it deep into your fluttering pussy, squeezing around it tightly. Hungry for more, and weeping with each small curl of the digit hitting on your upper wall.

Your eyes roll back, and you attempt to push John’s head back to try and ease the stimulation, just to feel his hand holding you back and in place. It’s maddening, feeling so good that it’s almost bringing tears to your eyes, having already come twice -more than you typically gave yourself- and no sign of him letting you escape.

God, John was pushing you to the boundary of everything you knew about your own body, as well as giving you the first, raw, experience of just how good sex could be. Lifting your head up just to try and get a small glance at him, you catch the sight of his eyes, fiery and intense looking right back up at you with your own come soaking his mustache and the entire lower half of his handsome face. You clench around his digit again, being pushed that much closer to the edge just at the visual alone.

Your third release came as quickly as the first two, this time resulting in the delicious stretch of John’s three fingers pumping in and out of your cunt, literally slurping up your release; Almost dragging it out of you like he couldn’t stand the thought of not swallowing every drop. He whispered your name so gently as he came to rest on his forearms overtop of you, kissing your forehead with his wet lips and feeling his hair stick against your sweaty forehead.

“Sweetheart…” his tone had softened to the smallest whisper you’d ever heard from him. “Are you sure you want this? We can stop here if you’d like.”

Opening your eyes to see his handsome face and the slight of his hair in a total mess, you knew getting away with not mentioning your lack of experience was impossible. Your John… wasn’t nearly as unobservant as you’d wanted him to be. Without more than a tired little smile, you nodded. Raising your head weakly just far enough to kiss him gently, tasting yourself against your lips and feeling the slight quiver of his breath.

“Please, I want this. I want you John.”

Initially, no matter how much he’d taken care to prep you there was still a deep stretch as his thick cock began slowly entering you. Sweetly, he worked you through each little discomfort, giving you kiss after kiss and running his hands through your hair. Distracting from the little sting that had never been present with your toys, and praising you until his hips pressed flush against yours.

“Fuucckkk yes,” Price couldn’t hold back the loud groan as he looked down to see your pretty little cunt taking every last inch of his dick and squeezing so hard he could barely think straight.

“Takin’ my cock so good… Such a pretty girl, my good little thing…” His murmurs and curses slowly devolved the further you progressed.

Your body slowly adjusted to the intrusion and the gentle thrusts John made the moment you began squirming and pleading with him to move through your little hiccups. The unusual feeling of John moving inside of you slowly began to coax moans and praise from your mouth every time the crown of his cock rubbed deep against a swollen, textured, spot inside of you that built up pressure so quickly that you needed to wrap your legs around his hips to keep them from shaking uncontrollably. Each stroke got harder and harder, with John eventually pounding his cock deep inside of you, moaning and using one arm to wrap around your waist to hold your lower body still so he could bring both of you closer.

“J-John…” Your voice jolted with each snap of his hips as you tried to warn him.

Feeling that familiar yet almost destructive power of another climax rushing through your lower body. Convinced you didn’t have enough left in you to come again, you felt tears pricking your eyes, overwhelmed with immense pleasure skyrocketing you towards a final orgasm you kept denying until John’s fingers reached between you and expertly began rubbing tight circles around your clit, violently tossing you into whited-out vision, and muted hearing.

Above you, John found his own release and shared it at the same time as yours. Fisting the bedsheets to keep from grabbing ahold of you too tightly and bruising you; his cock getting squeezed so tightly from your climax that it was almost painful to stay seated inside of you. With so little arm strength left, he fell nearly full-weight on top of you and only propped himself up by his elbows to keep from suffocating you.

Utterly wrecked, and feeling more than you’d ever experienced more than you’d felt in your life, it took minutes before you could open your eyes and actually have enough of the mental capacity to realize that John was gently stroking your head, kissing your forehead and your nose, and holding you tightly to him as the strong muscle jerks and twitches in your body began to die out.

“You here with me?” Low and comforting, you smile dazedly with your eyes heavy and trying to focus on him.

You merely nod your head yes and give what you assumed was a ‘mhmmm’ but might’ve sounded more like a small animal being choked or drowned. Naturally, John’s lips spread into a very happy and amused smile, cupping your cheek with his hand and pressing a kiss to your lips softly.

“Come on, sweetheart…” John whispered, pulling your head up to his chest and gently easing himself out of you with a low sigh.

You’re once again lifted up and whisked away, this time, into the bathroom just off to the side of the bedroom where John carefully sits you down on the edge of the bathtub and starts running hot water with the lights dimmed low. Certain he’s got everything for your bath within your reach and the water is high enough for you to really sink down into in and relax, he gives you a soft kiss and promises to return after just a couple minutes.

He returns before you even work up the desire to wash your hair, and immediately takes over the task of getting you cleaned up himself. In between the lulls of soaps, and conditioners, John will pose quiet questions, asking how you’re feeling and wanting to know if there was anything that hurt you physically or was bothering you mentally. His care was intense and very personal, giving you much more confidence and comfort after having such a draining experience. Of course, you felt fantastic throughout, but when he asked if you were tired, there was a feeling that he already knew you were and expected you to tell him how he could best support you.

Other than letting your head rest against his chest. Leaving not one inch of your body neglected, from your face to your feet. Throughout the process you watch through sleepy eyes, seeing a very peaceful sort of look on his face while soaping you up and helping you rinse off and step out of the slippery bathtub into a warm towel you could only assume he’d thrown in the dryer just for your comfort.

Holding the towel around yourself, you peck him on the lips and smile, too tired to really say anything of real value. However, you’re certain John understands by the way his arms wrap you up and hold you tight to his bare chest while running his fingers through your wet hair, helping get out some of the little tangles your conditioner couldn’t quite take care of alone.

“I love you, John. More than anything.”

He drops a kiss on top of your head, rocking your weights back and forth in the dimmed light of the bathroom. Admiring your little form in the darkened silhouette of his much larger one.

“I love you too, sweetheart.”

“You’re my best friend.”

He chuckles, finding that so very endearing.

“You’re mine too.”

yeah... the "you're my best friend" part, me and my husband do that <3 so.... that's a thing.

#john price #captain john price #captain price #mwii #cod mwii #john price x reader #john price smut #captain price x reader #captain price smut #velvetures #velvetures writes #velvetures answers #cod #anon <3

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firewasabeast · 1 month

Note

Bucktommy prompt - maybe something fun and summery? beach day or Tommy knows a guy who lets them use his pool for the day or a cook out in the backward, could be just the two of them or them dragging Eddie along to cheer him up or the entire crew. Just something fluffy and happy!

this is... not what you asked for. Although it does include dragging Eddie along. But, I still hope you enjoy!

“Tommy!” Eddie greeted, a little surprised to see the man at his door. “What are you doing here? Did I miss your call?”

“Uh, no. I'm kidnapping you, apparently?”

Eddie raised his eyebrows. “You're what?”

“Kidnapping you,” Tommy repeated with a nod. “You have to come with me.”

“I don't understand what's happening.”

Tommy sighed. “Listen, man, Evan told me I had to be the one to come to the door. Said you'd fight him more than you'd fight me. Told me to tell you we're kidnapping you and taking you to a spa thing.”

“You're not supposed to tell him where we're going!” Buck's voice rang out from the driveway. Tommy took a step back so Eddie could poke his head out. There was Buck, sitting in his Jeep with the window down.

“What the hell are you doing, Buck?”

“Ugh! Just get a change of clothes and get your ass in the Jeep or I'm gonna have Tommy hoist you over his shoulder and shove you in the trunk!”

“What?!” Tommy exclaimed. “Yeah, I will not be doing any of that.”

“You're my muscle, Tommy!” Buck yelled.

“Okay, Buck,” Eddie took a step out onto the entryway, “you can just take your Jeep and your spa and your,” he motioned to Tommy, “your muscle someplace else. You're nuts!” He went to head back into his house, but Tommy placed a hand on the door before he could shut it.

“Please just come with us,” he practically begged. “He's had his clipboard out for two days and it's usually cute and, if I'm being honest, kinda hot-”

“Gross.”

“-but this time it was just terrifying. His checklist was seven pages, Eddie. Single spaced. Help me.”

Eddie glared at him, but his shoulders fell and he relented. “Fine.” He stepped back out and pointed at Buck, “But I'm doing this for Tommy, not for you!”

Buck smiled brightly. “Don't care!”

*****

They were quiet for the nearly hour long car ride to wherever Buck was taking them. It wasn't until they pulled up to some giant pop up tents in the middle of the desert that both Tommy and Eddie realized they had both been duped.

“What the hell is this?” Eddie asked.

“This is a meditation retreat.”

Tommy stared over at Buck from the passenger seat. “You said we were going to an overnight spa.”

Buck nodded. “It did include the word 'spa' on the initial brochure I received.”

“You've got to be joking!” Eddie exclaimed. “Are you clinically insane?”

“Not officially.”

“Evan.”

“Come on, guys! It- It'll be fun,” Buck said, turning off the car. “This lady told me all about it on a call. I checked everything out. They've got different activities in each of the tents, tons of food, a trail to go on. We can connect with each other and nature.”

Eddie's eyes drifted between Buck and the keys in his hand.

“No,” Buck warned.

Eddie lurched forward and grabbed for Buck's keys, nearly elbowing Tommy as he and Buck got into a cat fight for control of the car.

“Give me the keys, Buck!” Eddie yelled.

“No! This is for your own good!”

“Guys-”

“Buck, I was promised a spa day!”

“I promised nothing!”

“Guys-”

Somehow in the chaos, Buck managed to open his sweatpants and drop the keys inside. Eddie stopped, pulled back just enough to turn to Tommy. “You get 'em,” he instructed.

“Excuse me?”

“It's nothing you haven't touched before!”

“I am not grabbing at my boyfriend's dick to get the keys, Eddie.” Tommy opened the passenger door and stepped out, leaning down to face the other two. “Let's just get this over with and we'll be home tomorrow.” He slammed the door and headed for the trunk to get their things.

Buck smirked over at Eddie. “Are you ready to transcend?”

“Sleep with one eye open, Buck,” Eddie warned, scooting over to the door to get out. “One eye open!”

*****

After dropping off their things to a tent that they'd be sharing with nearly 40 other people (something Buck apparently didn't know judging by the look on his face), they headed to the meditation tent.

“I heard this is a great way to lower your blood pressure, increase pain tolerance, and reduce anxiety,” Buck whispered as they entered the space.

“All true,” a woman with the softest voice they'd ever heard greeted them at the entrance. Her nametag read Shawna. “We do like to warn that transcendental meditation can, while very rarely, cause anxiety symptoms, physical pain, dizziness, depersonalization, and derealization. All temporary, of course.”

The three men shared looks, then slowly backed out of the room, with Buck explaining. “I think we'll, um, look around and uh, try this later.”

*****

Next they headed to the 'cleansing center' which turned out to be a mud pit that everyone was entering sans clothes.

“This does not look sanitary, Evan,” Tommy said, grimacing at the thought of where all that mud would end up.

Eddie shook his head. “I am not bathing nude in mud with either of you.”

“It didn't... They didn't mention this online,” Buck admitted.

“Maybe you should start with some refreshments.”

Tommy jumped when he realized Shawna was right beside him. “Oh God! You are quiet.”

She smiled gently. “A lot of our newest members are often thrown off by some of our methods here. But we have a tent over there with delicious food and drinks. You could start there.”

*****

Leaving Shawna behind, they walked to the refreshments tent. There were two tables with food spread out over them, along with cups of lukewarm water.

“Mung bean salad,” Eddie read off an index card beside a plate of food. “You brought me out to the desert for mung bean salad, Buck?”

“That can't be all they have.” He pointed to something in front of Tommy. “What's that?”

“Garlic vegan-parmesan white beans,” Tommy read. “It's like eighty-five degrees out here and they've got garlic parmesan beans?”

They moved down the line until Buck stopped at something else. “Okay, this! How about fifteen... bean... casserole. Why is everything bean?”

“Because beans are a great source of protien.”

“Jesus!” Tommy jumped again, Shawna beside him. “Seriously, do you glide or something?”

“You know what,” she said, placing her hands on her hips, “I think I have the perfect place for you three. Come along, follow me.”

Reluctantly, the group followed her to yet another tent, this one empty. She gestured for them to sit on these little towels that were lying on the ground in a circle, and once she closed the tent doors she joined them.

“I'm sensing tension between you three,” she began. “When we sense tension in a group, we like to take you here to the reflection tent and have conversation.”

“There's no tension,” Eddie insisted tensely.

Buck scoffed. “Yeah. Okay.”

“See,” Shawna motioned between them. “There's the tension.”

“I'm actually pretty fine,�� Tommy said. “Can I go?”

Shawna shook her head. “If one part of the throuple has an issue, then you all have an issue.”

Eddie snorted at that one. “We are not a throuple.”

“Oh.” The softness of Shawna's voice broke for a second. She cleared her throat to recover, “You're not?”

Buck shook his head, pointing around the room as he explained. “I'm dating him, he and him are good friends, and he and I are best friends. At least, we're supposed to be.”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “Oh, come on, Buck.”

“Alright.” Shawna stretched her arms out to stop them. “Let's take a breath and readjust our inner monologue.”

“I actually have a question,” Tommy said, raising his hand.

Shawna nodded. “Please, lead the way.”

“Yeah, alright. Are you actually a certified therapist or...?”

Shawna smiled, although a bit coldly. “I believe life gives me all the certification I need.”

“So that's a no then.”

“Tommy,” Buck warned through gritted teeth. “Eddie needs our help, so that's what we're going to do.”

“I do not need your help, Buck! I don't even know what you're talking about. Everything's been fine.”

“Ha! It has not been fine, Eddie. I mean, look at you!” he exclaimed, waving his hand up and down in Eddie's direction.

Shawna and Tommy both looked over at Eddie, seemingly confused.

“Buck,” Shawna instructed, “why don't you tell us exactly what you mean?”

“The mustache,” he clarified. “It's a cry for help if I ever saw one.”

Tommy ran his hands through his hair. “You brought us here because of a mustache?”

Eddie glared. “You cannot be serious.”

“I am very serious. First Christopher left, then Gerrard came, you- you started working out more and more, and finally the mustache appeared. That's when I knew something had to be done.”

“Who is Christopher?” Shawna asked.

“He's Eddie's son,” Tommy explained, “that Evan helps take care of a lot, and I was starting to get to know.”

“And he left?”

“Because he,” Buck took over, “started a relationship with a lookalike of Christopher's dead mother.”

Eddie shook his head. “It was not a relationship.”

“It was a something-ship.”

Tommy was beginning to take pity on Shawna. Poor woman looked in way over her head.

“And Gerrard?” she asked.

“Gerrard was my old captain at the fire station I used to work at,” Tommy said. “He got transferred for being an asshole, but now he's back and he's currently their captain.”

“But not your captain?”

“No, because I transferred.”

Shawna paused. “But that's where you met your boyfriend and your friend?”

“Oh, no, I met them years after I transferred when I agreed to fly them through a hurricane to find their captain-at-the-time, who also used to be my captain, after their cruise ship got caught up in the storm.”

Shawna stared off into the distance. “I'm not sure life certified me for this,” she murmured.

“Let's get back to my mustache,” Eddie demanded. “There's nothing wrong with it.”

“Cry. For. Help,” Buck replied pointedly.

“His mustache doesn't even look bad,” Tommy defended, turning to Eddie. “It doesn't look bad.”

“Thank you, Tommy. See, Buck, Tommy likes my mustache!”

“Tommy also likes fanny packs. He's not the best for advice on fashion.”

“Hey!” Tommy folded his arms over his chest. “Fanny packs are convenient and they've made a comeback.”

“Fanny packs are just fine,” Eddie agreed. He held up his hand for a high-five, which Tommy returned.

“So now you're both ganging up on me?”

“No one's ganging up on you, Evan. We're just confused as to why we're here. Especially me though, because I'm good with both you and Eddie.”

“I thought we were good too!” Eddie exclaimed.

“We are good,” Buck reassured, “but you're not good. I- I don't know, Eddie. You're home all the time, you don't do much except work out and brush your mustache-”

“Brush your mustache?” Tommy questioned.

“-and I wanted to do something that got you out with your friends for a little bit. Something different. Maybe you find yourself in the process.”

Eddie took a breath, relaxing a bit at Buck's reasoning. “Buck, I appreciate you trying to help me, and I admit that I haven't exactly been social lately, but do you really think coming here is what's best for me?”

Buck glanced around the tent. Dirt under their feet, sweat dripping off their clothes, hunger pains already starting from the lack of edible food. “Probably not. Besides, the uh, the research I did online didn't mention like any of this stuff. I'm pretty sure we're at a cult right now.”

“It's a way of life,” Shawna interjected on deaf ears.

“Pizza and beer at my place?” Tommy suggested. “We'll have a movie marathon and, you know, air conditioning.”

They all began to stand.

“I'll get our stuff,” Eddie offered.

Buck nodded. “I'll start the car.”

“Thanks for all your help, Shawna,” Tommy said, sending finger guns her way. “You really... You did something.”

Shawna simply waved at them as they left, not even trying to get them to stay.

She needed to head to the meditation tent, stat.

#bucktommy #911 #tommy kinard #evan buckley #eddie diaz #idk what this is im sorry #prayers going up #prompts

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rottmntsimp · 5 months

Note

Hey! Love your writing! if reqs are open, would you be willing to write rottmnt Casey Jr x reader? Maybe something fully and/or cozy, like them having a lazy night or doing some housework or something? There’s such a drought of CJ content :c

Leisurely Love [Domestic Headcanons]

Pairing[s]: Casey Junior x Reader A/N: Finally posting after months of writer's block!! 💪 Anyway, sorry the order's a bit scattered 😅

Casey Junior

💖 - GAH I LOVE DOMESTIC HEADCANONS OK

💖 - Starting off with the kitchen <33

💖 - I've said this before in one of my earlier headcanons, but CJ does not understand the concept of good food. To him edible = food, regardless of taste or texture. "What do you mean it's burnt? It's still food!"

💖 - If you like cooking, you're in luck! He'll gladly be your personal taste tester!!

💖 - And with enough effort, care and love, my boy will be cooking you a small meal in no time!!

💖 - He definitely has a habit of hoarding things he likes

💖 - Back in the apocalypse, keeping things was a risk on its own, especially when you never know when you're gonna have to move.

💖 - But now that he's safe, my boy will keep anything and everything. You guys will probably have a drawer or two dedicated to things that remind of him of his family from back in the apocalypse, you, or just something really pretty :]

💖 - Baby boy loves gardening! Or at least getting to watch the plants grow :]

💖 - He doesn't exactly trust himself to care for them, seeing as the last few he tried to keep withered within a week.

💖 - But if you're into gardening or keep a pet plant, he'll gladly let you keep some around the house!! Hell, he might even help with planting some outside if you really wanted.

💖 - Animals, oh boy...

💖 - Personally, if not for the apocalypse, I feel like CJ would've LOVED dogs-

💖 - But due to his experience with the Kraang, some of them shaped like animals...best to say it'll take some time for him to warm up to them.

💖 - My boy has warm hands. How do I know? I just do.

💖 - If you have cold hands, believe me when I say he is never letting go.

💖 - He's not much of a cuddler, or so he claims. There's an underlying fear in his head that he might accidentally kick you or push you away in his sleep, so he chooses to instead just fall asleep facing you. It comforts him to wake up to the sight of you, messy or not.

💖 - Daily reminders that his life is not constantly at stake? Yes please.

💖 - Favorite place to kiss you? Your forehead <3 [We love a gentleman 😌]

💖 - If you're terrified of bugs, fear not!

💖 - Casey will kill them in the blink of an eye, maybe even pick them up and leave them outside if you ask.

💖 - When it comes to cleaning, he doesn't like to throw things out, as I said earlier.

💖 - He's the kind of guy to organize the mess instead of actually cleaning up. "Messy? But I know where everything is!"

💖 - When he discovers music, it's like his eyes had just opened for the first time. Help him go through this journey please.

💖 - Introduce him to your favorite artists, help him find his type.

💖 - Eventually, this will become "your" thing.

💖 - He will run over to you, excitedly rambling on about this new song he'd just listened to, before making you listen to it too, saying how "-you've got to listen to this!"

💖 - Lazy days consist of introducing him to modern culture!!

💖 - I'm talking memes, shows, films, games, everything- Hell, consider it a sleepover at this point, because my boy is willing to give anything a try. Show him the wonders of the modern world ♥

💖 - Now if we're talking about the FAR future? I'm sorry, but he does NOT want kids, adopted or not.

💖 - He saw how much of a handful they could be back in the resistance, and he'd be dead by the time he admitted wanting that.

💖 - If it's any consolation, he might become more open to the whole pet situation.

💖 - Regardless, indulge in the poor boy's hobbies and interests please. Give him some love and you're bound to get some back <3

💖 - Anyway, 11/10 roomie/partner ♥♥

Taglist: @lemme-be-cringe-damnit@sleepytime-fics@ray-of-midnight-storm@hamthepan@charismakat@flapajacker

#simps fics #rottmnt #rottmnt x reader #casey junior x reader #rise casey jr #casey junior #cj x reader #rottmnt casey x reader #save rottmnt #casey x reader #rise casey x reader #rise of the tmnt

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some-pers0n · 5 months

Text

Hi I made a crackfic for Arctic's death because I had a terrible, horrible idea inspired by that old fandom meme. I don't regret anything <3

"Aaannnddd...perfect!" Darkstalker stepped back. "All set and ready to go. Haha! Look at him! Clearsight, look, c'mon. Come see."

"Darkstalker, I don't think this is a good idea–"

"Shut up woman and come look," he bluntly said. "Come on, it's not like the camera's gonna bite you or anything. Neither is Arctic, but, eh, maybe that'll add to the drama. The kids love it when people get hurt, it's why they watch it."

He grabbed the camera again and pointed it at Clearsight. "It's rolling. Come on, babe, don't you wanna do it? For the bit? Ohhh it'll be such a funny thumbnail. Everyone's gonna click on it. Just stick your head near him."

"I'm not going to bite an innocent dragon..." Arctic muttered.

"HA! Oh but it's okay for you to do that to me. Not cool dad. Mid dad behaviour, tee-bee-haitch. To be honest. Tee-bee-haitch– you get it."

"Back in my day we just called somebody a 'loser' if they were a bad parent. Like, me? I'm a dead-beat dad."

"Yeah, that's true." Clearsight nodded.

"But I'm not...mid? What does that even mean?"

"Mannn you so did not cook. 'Dead-beat'? Yeah, you're gonna be dead as hell once I'm done with ya. Like for real done. Dead. Deceased. Ain't coming back from that."

"God just kill me now," Arctic grumbled.

"In a minute! Me. I'm God. It's me. Get used to it :)"

"What was that sound you just made with your mouth--" Clearsight began but Darkstalker cut her off. He couldn't bother to hear such a whiny, woman voice. He needed to pay more attention to the crowd that gathered.

"Hey, hey! Guys! Check this out! I'm a livestreamer. I do all of these cool things on Twitch and YouTube. Follow me! My handle's Darksalter. Like Darkstalker, but salty, cause of all of the noobs I own on my daily League of Legends streams."

The surrounding NightWings just blinked at him.

"Ughhhh. How about you guys being recorded, huh? You get famous! Right here, right now, this is a big deal. No cap, this is serious. This is gonna be a livestream to end all livestreams. There's gonna be like at least ten dragons watching!!"

"OH MY GOD!?" One dragon shouted. "TEN??? I've never seen anybody have that many, hold on! We gotta watch this guy!"

Immediately, the entire population of the Night Kingdom arrived. Even the queen (a closeted Darksalter fan, who was wearing all of his merch) was waiting for him. They all cheered and clamoured for him.

"Settle, settle! I know you're all such adoring fans. Believe me, I would love me too. Already do! Such a great, handsome, all powerful animus." He flexed his muscles. "Plus, the ladies love me." He glanced back at Clearsight, who had the most aggressively unenthusiastic frown he ever seen.

"But, but, we gotta wait a minute. First, I gotta mew."

"What does that even mean?" Clearsight asked.

Darkstalker did not answer. He brought a talon up to his snout and then traced the outline of his perfectly gorgeous jawline. I mean just look at that thing. Downright beautiful. Like, come on now. Look him up right now. Yeah, yeah! The thang of all time! That sweet, succulent jaw. Bro's been mewing since the day he was hatched.

[A/N: it is a pretty cool jawline]

He cleared his throat. "Anyways, enough talk. You had your shot for the thumbnail, so now it's all about me." He looked at the camera and enchanted it to float. It hovered above, pointing at him. "Three, two, one..." He clapped. "And we're live!"

The crowd cheered and roared as he did so. No omegaluls. No minus ones. He was an unboxing andy just about ready to tear open into his best work yet.

"Hey what's going on Stalker Gang! How are the stalkers in chat going? Can we get the hype train going?" He gestured to the crowd, which yelled and screamed louder. "Yeah!! Let's go Stalker Gang!!"

"Darkstalker...this isn't you." Clearsight sobbed. "You don't do this. You aren't like this!"

"Baby, I'm an influencer. It's my duty as Twitch's No. 27 streamer of all time!"

Clearsight cried more but Darkstalker did not care. He turned back to the camera. "Ayyy guys!" He clasped his talons. "So, today is a very, very special day, because we have a guest! That's right, my terrible, very uncool, incredibly mid father! Look at him. Blue pilled in every sense of the word. Even his blood's blue, which y'all are gonna see real quick." He pushed the camera directly in his face.

"Hey, hey, everyone!" He gestured to Arctic. "Can I get a 'boo' from you all?"

With his command, the crowd began to jeer at Arctic. A wave of rotting tomatoes came hurling his way, splattering against his face.

"And, with that being said, this stream is sponsored by Glep. Get a Glep. Now. Or else. You don't wanna be there when Glep is upset. That's how the last moon was destroyed." He stared silently into the camera for a minute, as customary with the Glep sponsors.

"NOW!! Let's get this going!" He pointed at Arctic. "You. Unbox yourself."

"Wh–" Arctic didn't have a chance to finish before he clawed at his torso and gutted himself. The crowd kept cheering and applauding and tossing money at Darkstalker.

"Woah woah, pretty messy, huh guys?" He raised an eyebrow. "Totally unpoggers. L behaviour. Boo!!" But when he turned back, he noticed that everyone stopped cheering.

"Bro, dude," one dragon began, "poggers is so, like, old man. That's so cringe, skull emoji."

Then, they began to dissipate. Quickly as they arrived, they left. He was cringe now. So cringe.

"No, NO! Wait! Come back! I'm still relevant! I'm still hip with the kids! I– I..." But it was too late. He was cancelled for being cringe. Everyone was bored by him. He was out-of-touch. He was out of time. He was out of his head when they're not around.

Behind him, he heard his sister, Whiteout, crying. He turned back to see that her favourite stim toy, a rainbow coloured pop-it shaped like a crewmate from Amomg Us, was lying on the floor. Things must be serious.

"Sis, are you upset at me?..." he muttered.

"Yes! You just unboxed our dad! My trauma points are like so high right now. I can't even..." She wiped her tears and kept crying.

Darkstalker looked back at Arctic, who was dead. Very dead. He growled. "When I'm the alpha king of the world, everyone will be my fan. Everyone will follow me! Everyone will like and subscribe! You'll see, you'll all see!"

#sp-writing #wof #darkstalker wof #wings of fire

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wintermarmalade · 4 months

Text

A Name

It waited in front of the window watching all the people go by on the street. It had finished all of it's tasks for the day and was patiently waiting for it's clockmaker, Mags, to return from the market. Anyone looking from the outside might assume it was simply a porcelain statue. After some time, it spotted her messy dark hair in the crowd. It wanted to wave to her, but it knew she was too short to see much above everyone else, so it ran over to the door and waited. After a few moments, she swung it open with a bright "hello" and opened her arms, her doll jumping into her for a hug.

"Did you get anything fun?" It always loved when Mags got something new for it to cook with.

"No, just the basics this time, sorry."

"But what's that?" It asked curiously, pointing at a crumpled sachet sitting on top of her bag.

"Oh just a packet of seeds I found on the ground on the way home. Maybe that eccentric fruit vendor would trade me something cool for it, they like to garden."

"Seeds? Like ones that grow into plants?"

"Uh... yeah? That's what seeds do, silly."

The doll gasped, "Can we grow them?" It asked with a sparkle in it's eye.

The clockmaker gave her doll a sad look. "Trust me, I've tried. They don't do well all the way down here, too much smog and not enough sun. The water definitely isn't the best either..... plus I have no idea what these seeds even are."

"But.... we can try!" It looked at her with a dramatic, yearning expression.

She stared at it doubtfully, trying to resist, but caved and chuckled. "Oh, I suppose we could give it one more shot, just for you." She gave it a playful pat on the head as her doll starting hopping up and down in excitement. "Come with me, let's get the stuff we need together."

They foraged around her workstation until they found an old planter box full of brass bits and bolts and emptied it. Next, they dug into the back of her closet, finding a dusty container full of a grayish mush. "I made this compost forever ago out of used tea bags and ash from the oven, it's kind of the best I could do. It might be okay if we mix it with some dirt and gravel from the alley."

"I thought you said that burnt things were gross." The doll said inquisitively.

Mags giggled and replied, "Definitely gross for me, but it has nutrients that plants like, and it'll make the soil less acidic. The acidity of the ground out there is.... concerning."

*Nutrients? Acidity?* It had so many questions. She could tell her doll was confused, but curious. "Come on, I'll explain more outside." And so they went into the alley together and filled the pot with gravelly soil and makeshift compost while she described to her inquisitive doll the different types of soil and what plants needed in it. Once they were done, they took it inside and she taught it how to water and care for a plant. It had no idea they were so complicated, they looked so simple from the outside. She had her doll place the pot by the window, dig a tiny hole, and bury the seeds inside.

"When does it become a plant?" The doll asked.

"Well, it depends on what it is, and if the soil is actually good enough, but it'll take a couple of weeks at the very least."

"That's.... so long...."

"Yes, gardening requires lots of patience."

"I can be patient!" It assured. It had always been good at waiting for new tasks and holding perfectly still for long periods.

"I have no doubts that you will be." She said with a smile.

It enjoyed having the new daily task of making sure the seeds were watered and cared for. It checked to see if they had sprouted yet as often as it could, sometimes staring at the pot in anticipation for hours.

One early morning nearly two weeks later, a tiny leaf had appeared! It ran back into Mags' room and jumped on her bed to wake her up so she could see the amazing feat their seeds had accomplished. It hopped up and down as Mags shambled behind it, still not fully awake. Once she was in view, it dramatically jumped in front of the pot and spread out it's arms, as if presenting a masterwork of art. Her gloomy face lit up when she saw the teeny sprout.

"Wow, I'm impressed! You've done a wonderful job caring for it." She praised as she rubbed her doll's head.

It beamed, "It looks so happy!"

"It certainly does." She said with a tired smile. She wanted to remind it that the sprout probably wouldn't make it much further, but she didn't have the heart to stifle it's excitement.

Over the next few weeks, the porcelain doll continued to care for the sprout while Mags taught it how to tell if it needed more or less water or was malnourished. Their little plant struggled, it was often not as green as it should be and wilted leaves were common, but very slowly, it kept growing. The doll celebrated every time it grew a new leaf, tried not to cry every time they had to trim one that was too wilted, and spent many hours lovingly examining and encouraging it. The plant didn't really do anything, but for some reason, the doll still adored it. It was so small and pretty and it liked the feeling of taking care of something.

After a couple months had passed, not only was it still alive, but it was nearly 6 inches tall and had lots of leaves! Some of them even looked fairly healthy. Mags was bewildered, by all means, this plant should've died weeks ago. She knew that her doll partially ran on magic as well as clockwork, and could only guess that that might have something to do with it.

Another month or so later, they woke up to see that a gorgeous white and pink flower had bloomed.

"It's a flower it's a flower!" The doll exclaimed in wonder.

"It's a dahlia!" Said Mags, almost more excited than her doll.

It gently cupped the flower in it's tiny hands and gazed at it for several moments. It couldn't believe it had helped something so beautiful grow from just a few specks in an old dirt pot.

"Magdeline?" The doll looked at her clockmaker thoughtfully.

"Yes?"

"I think I know what I want my name to be."

Her heart jumped, "Oh? What are you thinking?" She tried to respond with a casual but genuine interest, she didn't want to put any pressure on her doll.

"I want my name to be Dahlia."

A huge smile grew on her face, "That's a gorgeous name! I would love to call you Dahlia! I think it's very fitting for you."

It let out a happy squeak at hearing it's name and jumped into her as she held it tight and spun around.

*Dahlia.*

#empty space #empty spaces #writing #dollposting #dolls #Mags&Dahlia

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be-my-ally · 1 year

Text

Splashing Around Ch. 2.

Chapter one can be found here.

So hello, welcome back to my lil cute, OC inspired a lot by Arlene (but also by my 50s dreams) cute kissing haven. I have to apologise for how short this is - it was taking me forever to finish the next section, so I've decided to break up what was one loooong chapter into two teeny tiny ones so his draft notice, army el, arguments and more kissing (basically all the good stuff I can't wait to share) to come very very soon!!!!

I am, for those waiting on smut, cooking up a few things but I've been very, very, very, busy the past few weeks and can barely think about like, making a cup of tea, let alone putting words together in a way that makes sense so hang tight, it's coming.

wc: 3k.

sorry it's so short & so late - I think I've been promising *something* for like a month now, @whositmcwhatsit @thatbanditqueen, @ellie-24 @vintageshanny @missmaywemeetagain @from-memphis-with-love but hey, here's something! I'm hoping it'll set me off writing and posting again.

shirtless elvis 1957 inspo pic:

c. July 16th - August/September 1957.

Elvis grabs a covered plate from the kitchen island, still dripping wet, before whisking it up the staircase to the side, depositing them both in his bedroom. Louise hadn’t been up this way yet, she’d briefly been shown around when he’d wanted to show off to her and the other girls; they’d all ended up piled onto his bed, stroking his hair and talking, but somehow the intimacy of going up these stairs, with him alone, made her feel like it was her first time witnessing this private space.

“Right, it’s uh,” He looks up and down at where she’s dripping onto the carpet, “probably for the best if you go on through there again.” He points through to the dressing room, “there’s uh, there’s towels and uhh, soap and all of them things in the bathroom there if you want a shower or anything.”

The storm crackles outside, but in the cushioned sound of the bedroom and dressing room it's almost impossible to tell, and Louise quickly busies herself, uncertain of how long Elvis would be preoccupied, and not wanting to keep him waiting. She does, however, take a little longer in the shower than she usually would - marvelling at the amount of hot water available that meant both of them could shower at the same time.

She’s carefully trying to roll her hair in her fingers, concentrating on her reflection in the mirror, when Elvis pokes his head in, sidling around the door until she waves him in fully. She immediately regrets it, realising she’s only half-dressed, sat in her underwear and her blouse on but unbuttoned.

“Oh - uh, Elvis! I’m not, quite, um ready for yo-” She watches him as he looks her over, he’s barely dressed himself, pants slung low on his hips, unbuttoned, and shirtless - but he’s entirely unself-conscious, holding the plate out to her, unlike the blush spreading across her body. She cringes a little, skittish, and he snaps himself out of it when he notices her nerves. He frowns, looking her over, and Louise feels the panic suddenly rising - is she not what he expected? He saw her in her swimsuit earlier…but it just feels different somehow now - maybe now, fresh-faced, she’s just not pretty enough? But he makes no comment on her body other than an attempt to ease her mind.

“Thought I told you girls to settle, ain’t no-one gonna do anything you don’t want, sweetheart - won’t touch ya, I swear it.” She swallows, she hadn’t been scared quite in that way, but she would be lying if she said his words hadn’t reassured her. Louise nods, slowly, uncertain of what to say next, but Elvis takes care of it - striding over to place the plate on the dressing table, whisking the cover off the top. “There’s cookies there. Help yourself, I’ve already had a dozen waitin’ for you to get outta the shower.”

“Oh! uh, I didn’t mean to keep you, I mean you could’ve just called - I didn’t mean to take -” She panics all over again, and he holds his hands up in an attempt to calm her,

“No, no, honey, re-lax, just meant I was waiting for you to be done s’all.” He shakes his head, “I promised you a blow-dry didn’t I?” He twists a strand of her hair in his fingers, “... how about I do yours and you do mine?”

“Uh, yeah,” She swallows, “yeah that works.”

His deft hands style her hair, but the whole time she can hardly breathe feeling his fingers against her scalp, finger-combing and gently twirling and twisting the strands of hair into some semblance of a do. She can’t take her eyes off of him in the mirror, a look of complete concentration on his face; almost a pout, with a slight furrow of his brow and his lips pushing forward as he focuses on his actions.

The dryer prevents all attempts at conversation - which is lucky, because she wasn’t sure she’d be able to pay attention to a word he said, too focussed on trying to memorise the feel of his rings catching on a tangle - the tug somehow not feeling the same as when she brushes it, the sting making her shift in her seat, a dizzying feeling flooding through her body.

“There.” Elvis finishes with the blow-dryer, fluffing her hair like she’s at the salon, looking back at her in the mirror. Miraculously, for all the ridiculous ways he was twisting and turning to do it, he’s managed to achieve a fairly respectable blow-out. “There we are. Now, look how pretty you look. Oughta do it for you everyday - could be my new career.” He puffs out his chest, clearly proud of himself and Louise laughs,

“Hmm, I’m not sure all the other girls in the world would be pleased with that.”

“Well I ain’t worried ‘bout any of them other girls, only you, baby.” He’s looking a little bashful, folding his arms across his bare chest. She can’t stop the blush, or the grin, from overtaking her face. She takes a second to respond, struggling to think of a reply, something that would make him feel as giddy as she does, when she’s suddenly knocked half off of the bench. Elvis sat down, bumping her with his hip. “Ok, my turn!” Louise obediently hops up, smiling at his playfulness,

“Uh, ok - but I gotta warn you,” She nervously brings her hands up to touch his still-damp hair, it’s darker wet, but she can see where the dirty blonde is starting to shimmer through, “I haven’t ever dried a boy’s hair before, so, I might not do it very well and -”

“You’ll do fine, doll,” He shakes his head at her,

“Well, you might have to direct me,” His own smile grows wider, as if he’d expected she did this every weekend, and the knowledge that it was all new to her pleased him.

“S’ok honey, I trust you.” She does her best, fingers pulling gently to hold the hair this way and that, as he constantly wiggles around in the chair; but she can’t help but get a little distracted by his expression in the mirror. By the way he seems to be practising posing, as if unaware she’s watching the whole time. His pouty lips going from a half-smile to a scowl to a lip raised in quick succession.

Louise thinks back to it, sat with her legs across Elvis’, on his new couch that he had been oh-so-proud to show off a week or so ago, of how lucky she was to be chosen like this, to be able to have thread her fingers through his hair, or watch him carefully comb it into place after it was dry; to be so close to him that she could see the acne across his neck, the remnants of a shaving rash on his lower jaw. How many girls could say they’d gotten to do this? But with that thought comes the sobering reality that it has to end at some point, and she’d rather not outstay her welcome…it’s probably time for him to get ready for dinner, or for entertaining whoever he’d invited tonight.

“I’ve had a lovely day…thank you Elvis, it’s been really special…” She’s inching around the subject, she doesn’t want to leave, or for Elvis to say it’s time for her to go, but if he is she wants it to be from her prompting. She wants him to like her, desperately so, but she’s seen enough to know that she also doesn’t want to act too desperate, she wants to seem cool, and older than her years make her, mature about it all - aloof. She’s not though, and the relief she feels when he responds,

“You ain’t thinkin’ about leavin’ me now are you?” while tucking her further under his arm and against his chest, is immeasurable. She’s safely cocooned against his torso, his freshly showered scent; shaving lotion, laundry detergent, and underneath it all him, the smell of all of it, along with the sound of the rumble of his voice in his chest, his heartbeat all mingling to solidify this memory in her head. Louise knows she won’t ever be able to smell any of the scents again, or hear another’s rumble or heart without picturing this moment in her mind.

She spends the rest of the evening with his hand on her, on her thigh, her arm, her stomach - curled together and whispering to each other. Even when some of the boys stop by - albeit briefly, no-one seems to be staying for dinner - he has a hand on her at all times, and no-one seems to blink twice at it. His lack of awareness of personal space, or perhaps of his lack of care about public physical affection completely understood. So, none of them question, even if Louise wasn’t Anita, why she was curled in his lap all evening,

The other girls hadn’t materialised, some girls had, but not the girls. and Louise worried that it was intentional - that he was ashamed of her or something - was she meant to keep the day a secret? Worse to her than being kept a secret though was the thought that he might not consider her secret-worthy, and the fear that he might laugh her off is enough for her to keep her mouth shut from questioning him. So that night when she leaves, finally, long past midnight, despite her desire to, she doesn’t wait the last few hours until daylight and immediately call them, doesn’t get asked to be dropped off at Frances’ house, or stand beneath Heidi’s window waiting to be let in before crawling into bed with her - girl talk until the sun comes up. She wants to - god she wants to, wants to shout about it - wants to tell everyone that she’s just been on an honest-to-god date with Elvis Presley, that she’d kissed him. With tongues! But despite this desire, she’s almost too nervous to burst the bubble, the special bubble where only she knows; instead having to content herself with whispering the story to the stuffed bear tucked under her pillow - she’s much too old for him to be sat out in the open - or recounting it in as much detail as she dared to her journal.

She’d been sent home with the promise that he’d take her out for dinner the following night - but there’s a call about a change of plans; they’re all going to the cinema instead, Loving You was on the agenda, and she arrives at Graceland that evening just in time for everyone to be piling into their cars, just barely making it in time for Elvis to smile at her, looking handsome as ever, captain’s hat on his head again and grab her wrist, pulling her into the back of his Cadillac with him. Louise tries her best to enjoy it as she might have done in the past, but she’s so worried about how to behave - if anyone can tell, worried about the other girls’ reaction; is she going to turn into some sort of social pariah? Ruin her chances for friends over a boy? Even if that boy were the only thing any of them truly had in common? And if that boy wasn’t just a boy, but a man, and Elvis at that. She can’t work out if it being Elvis makes it better or worse, so she sits there, primly, worrying her cuticles with her nails and her lips with her teeth. She watches as a tiny well of blood starts to form from where she’d pulled the skin a bit too hard and a bit too far - right to the quick, and she jumps as he covers her hand with his, pulling it out of her lap and onto his. He tuts at her, pulling out a handkerchief to rub at it,

“Look at the mess you’ve made of that, stop picking at yerself darling. You’ll be sore for days.” She cringes, the desire is only made stronger by his holding of her hand, the worry that the others in the car might notice. They were sitting right there. But she complies, and is eventually soothed by the repetitive motion of his thumb on her palm. He lets go as they pull in, clambering out of the car almost before it’s even fully parked, seemingly anxious to get into the closed theatre. She tries not to be too disappointed at watching him run off with the boys without her, instead waiting for the other girls to climb out of the other cars, joining them in their excited giggling and chatting as they go in. Louise again has to remind herself to act normally, to join in their gossiping about how lucky she was, how excited they were for the film, and pretend she wasn’t a little upset watching him sit three rows ahead of them all.

By the time the film is over they don’t bother staying for the double feature that had been set up for them, Elvis whisking the group away with the suggestion that even though it was dark out, it was still hot, and did they want to go for a splash in the pool? The night continues in that manner, Louise being seemingly steadfastly ignored, although she succeeds some of the time to forget about it.

She’s not fretting in the shadows, she was just… taking a minute. He’d paid her no attention in the theatre, and the past half hour had been spent pretending not to be eavesdropping into the boys’ conversation, discussing Anita, singing their praises for her - as much as Elvis would allow - for her figure and face, and very briefly - her personality, before moving onto other girls; who from Hollywood they all wished Elvis would invite over, say, did you hear about that Venetia Stevenson girl coming in a couple of weeks? So on her way back out from the bathroom Louise felt like she was entitled to spend a moment or two in the shadowy corner by the back door. Taking a deep breath as she tried to remind herself not to compare, that maybe they spoke about them like that when they weren’t around. That sure, Anita might be a tiny little thing, but even she probably had to breathe in to button up her skirt - even if it was a smaller size. That, if nothing else, she wasn’t here with them all.

She wouldn’t deny having had a good time, the film was wonderful, and the night as jolly as any, but still, she couldn’t help but wonder what had gone on that he’d decided to ignore her completely. She’s just getting to the point where she’s ready to return, a smile plastered on her face when suddenly, from the door, an arm reached out and pulled her back against the open door frame. Tugging her against someone’s warm body. She relaxes as soon as she recognises the smell and feel of him and he laughs as she stumbles against him, hands gripping both of her arms. He leans down, pressing a kiss to her cheek, open-mouthed, breathing on her as much as kissing her, before trailing his lips to meet hers. One of the boys shouts for Elvis, something about fireworks, and the next second he’s gone, barely a grin at her dazed expression, before he’s running off again. She can hear the way that the boys tease him about the lipstick smeared across his face, and his tight-lipped response. It makes her smile to herself, the way she has to try and catch her breath, still hidden in her shadowy corner, but no longer feeling invisible. And, though she wishes he’d pull her onto his lap or kiss her in front of everyone, she figures maybe it’s ok to keep it just for herself for the moment too.

She doesn’t get the chance to see him alone again for a while, there are parties, and gatherings, and then he’s gone again - off on tour and to California for a long couple of months. Louise really tries to accept it all, even though the pictures appearing in the papers, and some of the stories that get relayed back (although never directly by Elvis) makes her heart hurt. It’s difficult, when he seems to look so happy in them, and so do the girls surrounding him - and who is she to judge another girl for feeling herself glow just by standing next to him. A little of his light reflecting onto them.

One particularly brutal evening, after he’d promised to call but never did, she can’t help but cry into her pillow. This is why he goes for girls like Anita, ones that are a year or two older, they can cope with it. Louise shakes her head to herself - she can cope with it, she’s sure. She can deal. She can be mature, and deal with him out and about and kissing other girls. If Anita can, she can. Accept him inviting the starlets over, that’s fine, they’re only the toy of the moment, and eventually they have to go back to their own glitzy lives. They’re not like her, they don’t have an open invitation to his bedroom or to sit with his mother. But then, they do get private calls with him, and she knows Anita’s been telling anyone who’ll listen about the “just darling notes” he sends her. Louise doesn’t get notes, sometimes he doesn’t even refer to her by name; simply just as part of the ‘girls’ he seems to always want to talk to as a group - all of them crowded around the receiver at Heidi’s house or Graceland. But then, rarely, sometimes, he slips into the conversation a little check-in, “How’s my lil’ Lou? Bein’ good for me doll?” and it makes Frances look at her in a calculating way, but her heart stutters every-time, every-time she responds

“Of course Elvis! Just waiting for you to come home. I can’t wait to see you.” He never replies the same way, it’s either

“Ah, who could miss this ol’ ugly mug,” or worst of all, “Uh-huh, looking forward to seeing the whole gang again soon.” On one occasion though, it was “Of course, honey, I’ll be seeing you re-eal soon,” and that was enough to give her hope all over again.

#elvis fanfic #be-my-ally #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis x oc #elvis presley x oc #elvis fluff #1950s elvis #elvis imagine #slight elvis angst

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cowgurrrl · 1 year

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It Will Come Back

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader (except this is all backstory)

Author’s note: now we’re cooking with peanut oil 🤠

Summary: “I get mean when I’m nervous, like a bad dog.” Cop Car by Mitski [3.3k]

Warnings: survival stuff, parental anxiety, PTSD symptoms, Jane being the best, some smoochy smooch

More survivors filter in. Slowly, but they still show up— nobody you recognize or care about. You still haven't seen Matt, and you're quickly losing hope. Not that there was much to begin with. Time crawls on, and suddenly it's been weeks since that September night. Adam and Jane are inseparable most days. She wants to be next to him and hear what he has to say or teach her, and she laughs. Full-bellied, air-stealing, big laughs at his jokes or a funny face. Seeing her interacting with someone, especially a man, like that hurts something deep inside you. The whole time you think, she deserves a dad. She wants a dad. She's worthy of a dad, but her mom can't ever fucking pick 'em right. He's not her father, and there's nothing you can do to change that, but to her, he's a safe person to be around. That's enough for now.

There have been murmurings of a wall going up around the Quarantine Zone— nobody in or out without clearance or a death wish. After that, FEDRA will clear the rest of the QZ and get whatever survivors are here into apartments. Maybe even give us jobs again. May is still hounding you about coming around and helping at what is now the makeshift hospital, where she spends her days tending to new survivors and stupid FEDRA soldiers who take bullets to the shoulder for not paying attention. You don't care. The entirety of your attention is on Jane.

Is she eating enough? Is she sleeping? Is she getting nightmares like you are? Does she see the blood staining your hands when she closes your eyes like you do? Seeing your mom kill four people in front of you can't be good for your mental health. How do you help her get through it? What can you do to ease this aching burden you handed her without a second thought because at least she was alive? Is she happy? Would she even tell you if she wasn't? Would she still let you see that part of her, or is she aware of just how fragile you are these days? You're still in survival mode. You're not sure when you'll get out of it, if you ever will.

One night, before the last dredges of summer heat can slip away, Jane sighs as she lies next to you, staring at the ceiling. You look down and push her hair out of her face so you can see her better through the darkness. She leans into your touch, snuggling closer and throwing an arm over your abdomen.

"What's wrong, bug?" You ask quietly as you kiss her temple.

"D'you remember when we used to sit outside and look at the sky before bed?" She asks like it was years ago instead of a few weeks. In a way, it feels like it. You take a deep breath and nod.

"Yeah, I remember."

"I miss the moon," she mumbles. "Is it still there?"

"The moon?" You ask, and she hums. "Yeah, the moon is still up there. It'll always be in the sky."

"Do you think Daddy looked at the moon like we did?" She asks, and you freeze. She rarely brings him up, if at all. She doesn't know why he's not around but understands that most families have two parents. Still, you know she thinks about him, and you've told her it's okay if she does. You just didn't expect her to ask you that.

"I don't know," you admit. "What do you think?" She looks like she thinks for a moment before reaching out to play with the ends of your hair.

"I think he did." She says, and you smile. She doesn't say anything else, falling asleep in your arms not even ten minutes later. You do your best to follow suit, closing your eyes and snuggling her to your chest, but your mind floods with memories of sitting on the balcony of your apartment with her, looking up at the night sky.

It was her favorite thing to do. She would smile as you pointed out constellations and listened when you told her stories about the formations. You told her that the Big Dipper was the Little Dipper's mom, so they were never far apart. You told her that the Big Dipper loved the Little Dipper so much that they were put in the sky for everyone to see their love forever. You told her they were like you two. Before you finally fall asleep, you start coming up with a plan.

Over the next week, you take notice of the patrol shifts. You figure out when and where they patrol and when they change shifts. For the most part, it's the same rotation every few days as a few FEDRA soldiers patrol the perimeter of the QZ. However, most of them are focused on where they're building the wall, protecting the workers, and making sure nothing gets in or out. You figure if you stay away from the building site, you're in the clear. When you're alone, you pull your bag from under your and Jane's bed to check your gun. The grip still has blood, but it's loaded, and you have extra ammo. You glance around before tucking the gun in your waistband, the weight of the metal a comfort against your skin.

That night, you almost decide to change your whole plan. In the past few days, FEDRA has gotten especially jumpy, and in turn, they've gotten brutal. They've recently implemented a curfew, making everyone get off the streets and stay in their shelters from the hours of nine pm to six am. At first, the punishment for being caught outside after curfew was a slap on the wrist. Then, it became a fine that nobody paid because nobody had money anymore. Now, it's time, ranging from hours to days, spent in lockup. You've seen May helping a few people once they leave lockup, bruises and cuts littering their skin. As if fighting Infected wasn't threatening enough, now we're living under constant fear of getting the shit beaten out of us by FEDRA.

Waters doesn't even look at you when he walks through the shelter. None of them look at any of us. Their eyes are hollowed by whatever they've done since the beginning of the end. You would feel bad if you didn't know he and other FEDRA soldiers lived the most lavishly out of any other survivor. Rumor has it they spent our food budget on ammunition, and rationing will start sooner rather than later. Empathy is hard to find on both sides these days.

Still, you quietly slip your shoes on and rouse Jane awake. When she opens her eyes, she blinks at you several times like she can't comprehend that you're sitting up instead of lying next to her. "Wanna go see the moon?" You whisper, and a huge smile breaks out across her face. She sits up and puts her shoes and jacket on before tiptoeing out of the room behind you. The hallways are empty, so you sail through the old high school and to the double doors leading to the street without any issues. As you approach the door, you put a hand on Jane's shoulder, pull your gun from your waistband, and keep it low before opening the door to check that the streets are clear. Jane gets the silent message and stays back until you wave her on. She looks up the second there's no roof over her head and marvels at the vastness of the sky.

There aren't as many stars visible as usual, but you chalk that up to the new crazy amounts of pollution let off from the bombings and the building of the wall. Still, the moon is full, bright, and shining across Jane's smiling face. She's looking up, but you're looking at her, watching how she takes in the rare sight and lights up when she spots the Big Dipper. You want the joy in her eyes to stay there forever, but she quickly turns pensive as she looks at you, her eyes shifting nervously from you to the empty, dark street.

"Are we gonna get in trouble?" She asks, keeping her voice quiet so it doesn't echo across the buildings. You hide your gun away again and walk over to her, putting your hands on her arms.

"No, we're not gonna get in trouble. I know how to keep us safe, and we're not going far," you say and point to the fire escape ladder leading to the roof on the side of the high school. Still, you can feel Jane's anxiety as you hold her. You nudge her to make her look you in the eyes and smile when she does. "Do you trust me?" You ask. She thinks for a minute before nodding. "Then, let's go look at the stars."

She clings to your neck as you climb up the fire escape, not even looking down at the creaky metal under your shoes. You shush her gently and rub her back as you get higher and higher, assuring her that she's safe and you would never let anything happen to her. When you finally get up to the roof, you can see more of the night sky and even what's left of the city around you. Much of it is rubble or half-toppled over buildings, but there's still a lot left in the heart of the QZ. You wonder if that was on purpose. Jane gasping stops you from unraveling that thought anymore, and you quickly look down to see her wide-eyed and pointing at something on the horizon.

"Mommy, look," Jane breathes quietly, afraid it'll disappear if she speaks too loudly. It takes your eyes a second to adjust, but when they do, you can't help but smile at how the little flashes of light flit around. "Fireflies," she says. "Did you know fireflies light up like that so they can talk to their other firefly friends?"

"I didn't know that." You say, amazed at her intelligence, but she just giggles at the thought of knowing something you didn't. You guys lie on the roof together and gaze up at the moon. It looks bigger and brighter than you remembered. Maybe you've fully lost your mind and forgotten what the moon looked like. Either way, you're happy just to lie next to Jane and look at it with an appreciation you certainly didn't have before Cordeceyps took over your life.

The night is cool and still a product of the transition between seasons. It always fascinated you how the world seemed to pause and take a breath before switching from summer to autumn. The cicadas are still out in full force, and you can hear them from wherever they took shelter after the bombings. A bird flaps its wings overhead and lets out a desperate call, practically begging for another bird to return its song. Distantly, you can smell cement being poured in an effort to keep you safe. You think you can smell the blood on the gun digging into your side too. The blood you spilled in an effort to keep her safe. How much farther will we each go to keep up the fantasy of safety?

You're not sure how long you're out there, under the stars, with her, but you know your eyes get heavy, and your body relaxes for the first time in weeks. Jane rolls over to be closer to you, her fingers intertwining with yours, and you turn to look at her. She takes a deep breath and stares at you, the gears in her mind working overtime as she thinks. You wish you could peek inside her brain to understand how it all works, how she is as amazing as she is, but you can't. So, you wait her out. After a minute of just staring at each other, she squeezes your hand and smiles.

"I love you, Mommy." She says. Your breath catches in your throat, and for a second, you think you'll choke on your emotions. You lean down and kiss her forehead, squeezing her back.

"I love you, too, Janey." You say, but before the words can even leave your mouth, you hear the unmistakable sound of metal scraping metal. Someone is coming up the fire escape. You sit up and shield Jane's body with your own as you pull the gun from your waistband. You flip the safety and aim the barrel toward the noise. Your heart thrums in your face, and your ears ring as the scraping sound gets closer and closer. Jane whimpers behind you, and you reach back to touch her shoulder but stay laser-focused on the person coming for you. When the person comes over the ledge, your finger twitches to hit the trigger, but you stutter as you make out familiar features. His flashlight also helped protect him from catching a bullet.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Waters asks as he lowers his own gun that was pointed in your direction. You're not as quick to waver. "Lower your weapon," he says like it's a nuisance even to have to voice. "Don't be stupid about this, sweetheart." There's enough of an edge to his voice for you to comply, and he watches you as you put the gun on the ground and raise your hands.

"What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing. I got a call about some movement on this side of the QZ and was sent to check it out," he says. "You're lucky it was me. Anyone else would've shot on sight."

"Oh, so I should be thanking you?" You ask. Jane clings to your legs and shyly buries her head in your thigh, and you sigh as Waters glances between her hands and your eyes. "She wanted to see the stars." You answer his unspoken question and his Adam's apple bobs.

"I should put you in lockup for breaking curfew. Not to mention you're armed." He says. It's more of a statement than a threat. He doesn't seem like he likes the thought of separating you two, even though he was more than keen on it when you first got here.

"So, do it," you say. "Do whatever you have to do, but you're not gonna touch her." He takes a deep breath as his radio crackles with someone asking for a report about your movement. He meets your eyes and holds your gaze while pressing the talk button.

"Nothing here. Must've been a cat or something. Circling back now. Waters out," he says, and you let out a shaky breath. He nods almost imperceptibly at you, and you nod back— a silent agreement. "Let's go." He says once the moment has passed. You grab your gun but show him how you release the magazine and pull the slide to spit out the bullet left in the chamber. He doesn't try to take the firearm from you. In fact, he turns his head when he sees you tucking it in your waistband again. Jane all but jumps in your arms, and the three of you silently climb down the fire escape. When you get to the bottom, you tell Jane to go inside and lie down.

"I'll meet you in a second, okay? Adam is there if you need anything before I get back."

"But, Mommy," she whines, and you shake your head.

"No but's. I need to talk to Mr. Waters. I'll be there in a second. I promise," you say, and she huffs but complies, disappearing behind the high school doors. Through the cracked glass, you can watch her walk down the hallway until she turns into the classroom/bedroom where you've been sleeping for the past few months. Once you know she's safe, you turn back to Waters. "Why are you being so nice to me?"

"The world ended. I can't be a little nice sometimes?"

"Not when you wear that uniform," you say, and he chuckles. "If you're expecting something in return-"

"I'm not." He says, and you throw your arms up in defeat.

"Then, what? You had no problem throwing someone from our shelter in lockup for breaking curfew. Why is it different for me?"

"Do you want me to put you in lockup?"

"Obviously not."

"Then, let it go." He says, and you roll your eyes before walking away from him and up the stairs.

"Goodnight, Waters."

"Owen," he calls, and you turn around to look at him. "My name is Sergeant Owen Waters."

"Well, then, goodnight Sergeant." You say. With that, you slip back into the school and down the hallway, leaving him in the street. You sigh and pinch the bridge of your nose, fighting an impending headache as your adrenaline finally starts to leave your body. You almost scream when you collide with another body in the hallway, your nails digging into the person's arms as they reach for you.

"What happened?" Adam's voice pulls you from your shock, and you sigh as you push away from him.

"Why are you even awake?"

"Did you get caught out past curfew?"

"It's none of your business."

"It is when Jane tells me about it." He says, and you scoff. It could be the leftover anger from your interaction with Waters or your frustration with this entire situation, but you can't hide it anymore.

"You know, I got along just fine on my own for years. So, I don't need you to play Dad to my daughter just because the world ended, alright?" You spit, trying to push past him to crawl into bed with Jane, but he grabs your arm. Your nails dig into his skin until he lets go of you with a short cry, and you grip his wrist tightly as you back him into a wall. It would only take one quick turn for you to break it. "What the fuck is your problem?"

"Just because you don't want to see it doesn't mean people don't care about you and Jane," he says. "You didn't want help from anyone even before all this shit happened. You don't know how to handle it when someone cares about you, so you just push them away."

"What? You want to be the one to take care of us?"

"What if I did?"

"Give me a fucking break, Adam."

"I'm serious," he pushes. You let your guard down enough for him to slip his wrist out of your grasp, but he doesn't make any other move to get away from you despite the fire seething in your veins. You're suddenly all too aware of how close you two are. You can make out the freckles littering his cheeks and the scar on his upper lip he told you about on your date a few months ago. You can't remember the last time you were physically this close to anyone else, let alone a man. "Something awful happened, and a lot of people died, and we did a lot of horrible things to stay alive. I know you get nightmares from it because I do, too," he says, and you clench your jaw. "But we survived. We survived and ended up in the same spot, and I care about you and Jane. I did long before any of this. Shouldn't that count for something?" He asks. Your mind is swimming, and you shake your head. His heart beats against yours, and you're close enough to smell the cigarette he smoked before bed. It's annoying how fast you lose track of the conversation when he's looking at you like this.

"If you ever grab me like that again, I will snap your neck. Do you understand me?" You ask, and he swallows hard.

"Yes."

You have no idea who moved or blinked first, but you know you were kissing him against the wall of an old high school before you could even realize it was happening. He tasted like cigarettes and mint and something familiar.

And Jesus fucking Christ, if you didn't crave something familiar like that.

#when you’re lost in the darkness #look for the light prequel #tlou hbo #the last of us fic #the last of us x reader #the last of us angst

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punsmaster69 · 11 months

Text

10/NOV/20XX

"Sans."

"SANS."

"SANS, STOP THROWING ME, GODDAMN IT!!"

"We're not getting ANYWHERE like this!"

"you look like you need a hand."

"I don't!"

"I REALLY don't!!"

"....."

"alphys, stop grabbing me."

"It's only fair."

"c'mon. we're not getting 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 like this."

"Oh, shut UP!!"

i'm at undyne and alphys' place, playing co-op games.

(i'm really helpful, as you can tell.)

papyrus was playing with us, but he apparently made plans with flowey.

sorry, 'flowery'.

that's what paps calls him.

must be a nickname of sorts,

'cuz when paps is real serious, he'll say 'flowey'.

..which is to say, almost never.

that weed's got a big soft spot for papyrus.

and tori.

and despite the squabbles, i think he really cares about frisk, too.

——

"Undyne..."

"Let me-"

"I'm gonna make this jump by myself if it's the last thing I do!!"

"Y-you're losing all your lives.."

"I'm GONNA make it!"

she did not.

i'm already out myself, after undyne got pissed and threw me into a pit a few times.

now it's just alphys vs. the clock.

"GO, Alphy, GO!!"

——

"YEAAAAHHH!!!!"

i whispered, "(epic dub.)"

alphys slowly turned to me with a look of disgust.

"(You are... so cringe.)"

"(you're just jealous of my hip-ness. i'm totally epic.)"

"(Stop??)"

——

"Yo, Sans."

"Wanna have one with us before you leave?"

undyne shook a cup noodle.

"sure."

been a while since i had ramen for dinner, since paps usually cooks. stopped having them as often because they're not really substantial enough for me anymore.

oh, to go back to being a teen who could live off noodles forever.

——

sometime while we were eating, it really started coming down.

"When'd it start raining THIS hard?"

"You might have to stay here until it clears, Sans."

"if i pull my hood up i'll be fine getting home."

"Dude, no way we're letting you go out like that."

alphys squinted out the window.

"It's getting dark, too. You're not gonna be able to see a thing!"

they've got a point, but paps is gonna be worried.

——

"STAY RIGHT WHERE YOU ARE!!"

"ok"

"i am"

"did you get home before the rain?"

"NO, I'M AT MS. TORIEL'S."

"ANY IDEA WHEN IT'LL CLEAR?"

"looks like it might be all night."

"SO IT'S AN IMPROMPTU SLEEPOVER, NOW?"

"guess so"

"DO THEY HAVE SPARE BLANKETS AND WHATNOT FOR YOU TO USE?"

"lemme ask"

"ok"

"one pillow"

"but no sheets"

"THAT'S.. NOT GREAT."

"eh"

"good enough"

"how's it for you at tori's?"

"MS. TORIEL IS DEFINITELY ALWAYS PREPARED."

"HER COUCH IS QUITE COMFORTABLE!"

"BY THE"

"huh"

"SORRY. I HIT SEND TOO EARLY."

"I MEANT:

BY THE WAY, DID YOU EAT ALREADY?"

"cup noodles"

he took a long time to respond.

"HM."

"what"

"IS THAT REALLY NUTRITIONAL ENOUGH?"

"survived off the stuff before"

"AND YOU WERE ALWAYS TERRIBLY SHAKY, BEFORE."

"if that was all i'd eaten"

"....IS THAT ALL YOU'VE EATEN?"

"the cereal and coffee this morning"

"UGH."

"I AGREED TO CEREAL ON THE CONDITION THAT YOU HAD SOMETHING MORE SUBSTANTIAL LATER."

"corn flakes are substantial"

"NOT*"

"i'll lie"

"lice"

"libe"

"live"

"jeez"

"sorry"

"WHAT HAPPENED THERE??"

"fuzzy vision+hands stuff"

"WHAT."

"maybe i stared too hard at the screen or somethin"

"AND THE HANDS??"

"dunno"

"OKAY."

"THAT'S."

"I WAS RIGHT ABOUT YOUR POOR DIETARY CHOICES TODAY, THEN."

"I SEE YOU TYPING AND IF IT'S AT ALL REMINISCENT OF A 'IT'S FINE' I WANT YOU TO STOP."

"...REALLY?"

"OKAY. OKAY."

"SO YOU'RE:"

"RUNNING ON CAFFEINE, SUGAR, AND CARBS."

"SLEEPING WITH NO BLANKETS DURING A COLD RAINSTORM."

"SUFFERING VARIOUS HEALTH COMPLICATIONS."

"AND I'M... THERE FOR NONE OF IT."

"DON'T EVEN SAY IT."

"ok"

"bro?"

"you still there?"

"..HOLD ON. GIVE ME A MINUTE."

"what's going on?"

"....paps???"

——

oh my god.

really papyrus, what the hell?

now you're worrying 𝘮𝘦.

he marched through that storm out there just to bring me home?

"Not even an umbrella..?"

"I.. DIDN'T THINK ABOUT IT."

"HOLD ON, LET ME GO OUT AND GET A BIG ONE SO SANS-"

"Like hell you are!!"

"I HAVE TO TAKE SANS HOME!"

"you're soaked, paps..."

"A LITTLE RAIN CAN'T STOP THE GREAT PAPYRUS!"

——

the weather eventually let up enough for us to borrow umbrellas and walk home.

i'm still worried about him, though. he sat in those cold, soaked clothes for a while.

says he feels fine...

but he's been trembling a little since he came in.

"ONCE I WARM UP MORE, I'LL BE A-OKAY!"

——

"ISN'T IT TOO LATE FOR YOU TO BE WRITING ANY MORE? ESPECIALLY IF YOU'RE NOT FEELING GREAT!"

"paps, you are-"

"PLEASE GO TO BED. STOP WORRYING ABOUT ME!"

"i'm only going if you do."

"..ALRIGHT, FAIR ENOUGH. I'LL GO AS WELL."

"goodnight, bro."

"GOODNIGHT, SANS!!"

"throw on a couple more blankets tonight, ok? maybe put on a sweater."

"I DON'T NEED-"

he shivered.

"......."

"WILL DO."

#journal #undertale #sans #papyrus #undyne #alphys #sans and papyrus #sans and alphys #papyrus and sans #skelebros

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6-hours · 6 months

Text

Pretty much a diary entry

I just binged Nagata Kabi's stuff since I found it in the library and it felt like a thing I needed in the moment...

The cycle of feeling bad, then feeling good, then feeling bad, etc etc just reminds me that personal suffering doesn't have a narrative arc. You suffer, you overcome, and honestly the "overcome" part might not even be permanent. In the pit of suffering you can't tell if it'll ever get better and that makes it so much worse... Like what if this time, being sad is permanent.

This isn't the first time I got sad, and if my past experience is anything to judge by, I'll probably get over this sadness too. Then forget about it and go be sad about something or other again!!! It's a cycle!!!! It never stops!!!!

Anhedonia really sucks. But this time, it made me think, "If I'm going to do stuff and not enjoy it, I might as well do something that's good for me even if I don't enjoy doing it." It was that thought that pushed me to drop some covid weight, and do physical activity (which I'd never done purposefully in my entire life until right now!!!). (Like if I'm going to be sad at least I can try to be physically healthy I guess)

And I have a lot of time that I have trouble filling, so I take my time to do stuff that I'd always thought was annoying or a waste of time. Sometimes I walk 20 mins to the grocery store to get a single jug of milk. I take my time to actually clean the bathroom or kitchen. I don't resent maintenance chores as much as I used to. It's something that should be done, and I have time to do it, and the time isn't coming out of something I'd rather be doing. I haven't overcome that hurdle when it comes to cooking though... Thankfully my spouse is happy to handle food.

I'm working on a personal project that's supposed to be "as big as it needs to be, take as long as it will end up taking". I've always had a hard time with something like that because I guess external validation is very tied to my enjoyment of drawing. If I don't get some kind of feedback the enjoyment has to derive purely from my own belief in the project... This is something that basically drove me to utter sadness in thesis year college because I had shut down socially. When I wasn't talking to people, every missed point of contact played out in my head as a scenario where other people directly rejected me. (So and so didn't talk to me when I walked by them in the hall! They must have so little interest in me they don't even want to talk to me! Completely forget the fact that I said absolutely nothing to them!!!)

Anyway! I really took some time to dissect what parts about this project is

Something I wish I could be capable of doing

Something I kept thinking about doing

What are the hard parts about it that I thought I wasn't good enough for

What kind of work I need to put in to make the hard parts possible

I've managed to dismantle some illusions I have about "good artists" and how "good work" actually comes about. I also put aside the thoughts of "this isn't good enough for the kind of scope you want". (The prof in college that said "Do your research! People can tell when you haven't done your research!" really paralyzed me. I had no idea how much research is "enough", especially when it came to something I didn't obsess over, and if it's not "enough" I'll be scrutinized to the ends of the earth. Why put myself through that scrutiny? Why bother doing anything, ever? You can't be criticized for doing something badly if you never do it at all. Take that,!!!!)

The point of doing this project is, I think, to prove to myself that I did it. And at the end of it maybe do another one. Then at the end of all these projects, I can say to myself, look at the body of work you produced! It might not be good, it might not be liked by other people, heck maybe no one else other than you ever saw or knew it existed. But! I put all the thoughts in my head into a physical form. It gets to exist more than it used to.

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winters-mistress · 7 months

Text

Foster Dad Geralt

"Hey." Geralt says, slowly coming into the dimly lit room once the girl inside gives him permission.

The blonde looks up at him, and Geralt smiles, holding out the red mug in his hands.

"I thought you might like something to drink, it's hot chocolate." He says, leaning it down as she reaches for it. "I thought it easier to put it in a mug with a straw because of your sling, didn't want it to tip over. Not because of anything temporary. Would you like me to take it off?" He asks, once she's pulled the mug to her chest, holding the hot cylinder close.

"No, it's good. Thank you." She whispers the last bit, looking down at the blankets around her legs.

"Would it be okay if I sat down next to you?" He asks. Ciri nods slowly. "Thank you." He settles into the chair next to the bed. "When you'd like to go to sleep, if you want to turn the lights off, it's these three switches by here." He points to a trio of switches laying on Ciri's large, white nightstand. "Obviously, the switch to turn off the lamp is just to touch it and it'll turn off. But if you'd like to keep it on, or all the lights, that's perfectly okay, too." He nods to the remote controls. "The long one controls the TV, its pretty self explanatory. That one is the amazon stick, we've got Disney, Amazon, Netflix and prime. The blu ray player is the thick, little one. Our dvds are in that white wicker basket over there." He points to across the room, where one of the IKEA units stand, and sure enough, in the middle, there's just such a basket. "In here," he opens the first drawer of her bedside table, "there's snacks, like crisps and chocolate and pop tarts and such. One underneath it has water and soda and juice. And the fourth has sanitary products if you need them. All stocked up with every kind you could need in every size."

"T-thank you. I haven't had this much consideration before." the girl whispers, looking down at her bruised hands as they clutch the mug of chocolate drink.

"I don't know what you've been through, but I can tell you that you're safe here. You're more than welcome to everything in the room, and in the house. I can't promise to be perfect, but I'll look after you the best I can." Geralt says earnestly, leaning forward. "Is there anything you'd like for breakfast tomorrow? I'm not such a bad cook."

Ciri smiles, tears filling her eyes. "Pancakes. Grandma would always make pancakes on Sunday mornings."

"Then pancakes it is. If you'd like, we can go down to the valley tomorrow, get you things to make you more comfortable here."

"Maybe in a few days, I'm-I'm very tired. And you've done more than enough to make me comfortable, it's more than I ever could have asked for." Ciri sniffles, unable to wipe her cheeks with the sling on her left arm and the mug in her right hand.

Geralt inhales sharply, barely remembering to keep it quiet for the skittish girl in his care. "Is it okay if I come closer?"

"Yeah." she whispers.

Geralt carefully perches on the bed. It may be a Queen sized bed, but he's a big guy and she's a small, injured girl.

Giving her all the time to say no or push away, Geralt runs his fingers through her hair.

"Take some deep breaths," he rumbles. Ciri feels it more than she hears it. "In and out."

Ciri sniffles, taking a sip of her drink.

"Whenever you're ready, we can go to the valley, get you some more clothes and pyjamas and stuff like that. Stuff you'd like?"

"Thank you, Geralt." she whispers, looking up at him. "You're very generous."

"Nonsence, I can't promise to be perfect, but a few bits of clothes and some trinkets are hardly anything big."

"No, I mean all this." she looks around. "Kid bursts into your life through a police phone call, spends three weeks in hospital and turns up at your door in the middle of the night with nothing but a sling. And seeing all this, it's all very nice."

"Would-would you like a hug?" He offers awkwardly. "My father always said they made everything better, although my brother kicked him in the shins."

Ciri wetly chuckles. "Yes, please."

She sighs deeply, closing her eyes as strong, thick arms wrap around her, enclosing her in heat and safety.

She hugs him back as much as she can, with being one limbed at the moment, and notices he doesn't pull back until he does.

"Uh, obviously you've seen the bathroom, where the towels and hampers are kept, as well as the wardrobe and drawers. You remember where the kitchen is? You're welcome to raid the refrigerator anytime you like."

"Thank you, I do remember. Down the hall, staircase to the right, two flights, big room on the left." she recites. The girl stretches underneath the thick blankets she'd managed to pull across her lap.

"Well done. My room is the one on the right at the bottom of the other side of the hallway, if you need anything. I'll be popping in throughout the night to give you your pills, just so you can get straight to sleep and not have to worry about measuring and stuff, you should rest for now." He says, pushing hair from her face. "You'll let me know what you need? Anything to eat or drink, stuff like that?"

"I will, you're very good to me." she leans into him.

"While I may not have expected to be named as guardian, I am glad you're here. I want to take care of you as best I can, although I don't know the first thing about teenage girls or what they like. Be patient with me, yeah? Well take everything one step at a time."

"Just want my arm to get better, that's the first thing I want." she shuffles closer.

"You don't have to tell me what happened, I'm not gonna do what the social worker did and pressure you into it. We'll take it at your pace, just want you safe from that guy."

"Don't want to think about him anymore. At least not for a few days. With everything, him taking me, the crash, the weeks running and the next in the hospital, I just want to rest for now."

"Then that's what we're gonna do. Your pace, yeah?"

Ciri nods, finishing the hot chocolate as Geralt kisses her head, before gingerly standing up.

"I'll leave you to sleep, hmm? Be back in a few hours for your medicine."

"Okay, good night Geralt."

"Goodnight, Ciri."

#geralt and ciri #the witcher netflix #geralt of rivia #ciri is his baby #cirilla of cintra #fanfiction #dadralt #geralt is the best dad #i love him #witcherfanfiction #modern witcher #modern fanfiction #modern au #witcher #the witcher #geraltandciri #foster dad geralt

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matrixxsystem · 4 months

Text

Terrapin Soup Part 5

As the room came into Leos view, he wasn't sure what he expected but this was not it. It was like walking into a second kitchen or something much more normal then the creepy dungeon like rooms he'd seen in movies. There were large industrial refrigerators and freezers lining the opposite wall, and a long metal table stood in the center, beside it was a fairly large trash can and on the opposite side of the table was a closed cart probably filled with tools and a stool on wheels beside it. It might've been creepy without Usagi's cheerful vibe making him feel at ease.

Usagi chuckled a little as he looked back to Leo, "..What's that face for..?"

"Your nose twitches like mine, when you smell something good."

"It what-"

He crossed his eyes trying to see the rest of his face as if it might work but to no avail. Only causing Usagi to laugh a little more at his attempt. "Here look at mine" Leo perked up watching Usagi as he closed his eyes sniffing the air, ohmigosh his nose did twitch- He wanted to boop his nose so bad.. "Oh wow it does, that's incredibly cute-"

He glanced around a little trying to keep his queer panic to a minimum today, "So what is it that I'm smelling exactly? I mean, I know like, what it is, but where's it coming from?" Usagi pointed to the refrigerator and walked over, casually opening it to show the racks full of air sealed slabs. All different shapes and sizes that he couldn't even begin to tell apart from the rest. "Mostly from here. This is all the stuff we can pick from to use tonight. I figured I'd let my guest pick something out, since it'll be his first proper meal." Leo looked over the shelves, barely hesitating anymore as he got closer. "So you'll really make whatever I pick?" Usagi nodded, "Of course, though you're more than welcome to help if you'd like?"

"As much as I'd love to, I'm probably the worst cook in my family, but I'll do the dishes or something to help with clean up"

Usagi smiled a bit more, clearly appreciating the effort in helping where he could. God his smile was cute.. Okay focus, pick something good. "Hmm.." His eyes moved from each piece wondering what it came from, the smell of blood even though the plastic certainly wasn't helping his growing appetite.. Finally his eyes landed on a piece that, as a witch talking about a stone might say, called to him. "What's this one?" Usagi took it from its spot reading the neat handwritten label, was that Usagi's handwriting? Jeeze even his writing was cute-

"Tortoise yokai." He said plainly, Leo looked a bit uneasy, of course that'd be the one that caught his attention. "This was the one teacher fought not long ago, caught for.. Some sort of assault I think? He'd been sort of, pillaging, the lower end of the city making it his territory. Teacher freed the low end of his reign once word reached him." Leo wondered for a moment who it might've been, why he'd do those sort of things only to meet this sort of end.. Maybe if he paid more attention to the hidden city news he'd find all the names and faces to slabs in the room. Nevermind, too much effort to make himself feel bad, it wasn't worth it. They did bad things and hurt good people, whoever ended up here deserved it.

"Now that we have the main course let's see what we can do about the rest. Though, I will ask. Since you looked a bit uneasy a moment ago. Are you sure you want to? I don't care if you change your mind, or want to pick something else. I'll never push you to do something you don't want." Leo shook his head, it was sweet of him to offer but at this point should he even really be phased by this? He'd had turtle before though it wasn't yokai it was still enough to make him debate his morality.. And clearly if Usagi and his teacher were like this so openly it probably wasn't as big of a deal in the hidden city as it was with humans. "It's not exactly my first time eating turtle, and whoever it was isn't exactly here to argue haha. And you said it was a bad guy right? I'd much rather eat bad guys who deserve to be here then anyone else. I don't feel so bad if I know its a villain on my plate." Usagi nodded and took the piece with them as they headed back upstairs. "I feel the same. It's why we only hunt those who've been proven guilty." Once back upstairs Usagi got out a few things like pots, pans, vegetables and seasonings from their spots and laid them out on the island counter. "Let's see. Something quick would be.. You're probably sick of soup by now right? Maybe some char siu with fried rice, does that sound good?" Leo nodded, trying to remember the last time he was this excited for a meal. "Good? That sounds amazing- Oh, I can cut veggies or something if you want? I'm good at that!"

"That would be very helpful, you may also cut the meat if you'd like? Everything should be about the same sized chunks to make things easy."

"Alrighty, and uh.. This is gonna sound a little silly but uh. I've literally never cut any kind of meat before, is there any trick to it." Usagi was quiet for a moment trying his hardest not to laugh at him, he grabbed two knives handing one to Leo. After washing their hands he divided the meat in two halves so he could show Leo how to do it. "Here, watch my knife, and how I hold it. There's no real trick, but you do have to be careful. As a swordsman you probably know how to handle these very well already." Leo nodded and watch closely, it'd been a long time since he'd cooked with anyone.. The last time was a few years ago when the younger brother Mikey, it didn't end very well. After watching for a moment he got a good idea of how to go about it and started. It was a lot easier then he thought it'd be.. From having thawed in the fridge the meat was tender and cut like there was nothing there, though the knife itself looked like the ones he'd see on TV ads so it was probably thanks to the tools they were using too. Glancing back to Usagi a few times as they worked, he seemed focused, he probably hadn't had company like this well.. Ever? He smiled a little thinking how nice it would be to do this sort of thing more often, cooking with his boyfriend that is.

And once they finished that Leo cut up the vegetables like he'd offered, using a different knife of course while Usagi started cooking. As he set the fire he hummed softly, catching Leos attention. His voice was quiet but without any other sound in the room it was loud enough for Leo to listen in, he had a naturally lower voice that sounded like something Leo would listen to, to try and fall asleep to. I know I thought he was perfect earlier but this mans just went from an 8 to an 11...

"Is that a song?" He asked, bringing over the bowl of veggies to add to the mix, Usagi tilted his head a little as if confused before realizing he'd been loud enough for Leo to hear. "Oh, yes. It's one of my favorites, called Lilith In Starlight. It's a beautiful orchestral piece, very dramatic." "Ohh, I'll have to look it up sometime, though I think I'm biased" "Biased?" "To hearing you." There was a moment of pause, he couldn't see it well but was Usagi blushing? Score one for Leo. And like 15 for Usagi but who's counting- He smiled as he set the bowl down on the counter, standing a bit back so Usagi could work, "What kind of music do you listen to? Anything with words?" Usagi chuckled and nodded as he glanced back to him, "As a matter of fact, I do. I prefer music that makes me feel, rather then hollow melodies. Music with meaning isn't constrained to a single genre though so I'm not sure how to answer your question." "You answered it pretty well actually, I usually like songs that are upbeat, things that you can dance to. I like feeling the music more then hearing it if that makes sense." "How can you feel music?" "Well like.. In your head and heart and stuff? I dunno, ever have bass loud enough you feel it in your chest and a beat that feels like a positive charge running though you? Here, I'll just play something and show you." He took our his phone and set it on the island counter letting one of his songs load, he selected of course;

"Could Have Been Me - The Struts"

Usagi listened as he cooked, the kitchen starting to smell more and more like spices. Nodding along as he got a sense of it's tune. And once the song faded he spoke, not wanting to talk over it and be rude. "That was, interesting. I liked it. We should share music more often." Leo nodded taking the phone back into his hands, "Here give me a song you like, I'll play your pick next." The song Usagi picked was;

"Fuyunohanashi - Given" Leo had to look up the lyrics as the song played but it was a good song, the guitar and bass line was more energized then he expected. And whoever was singing was clearly singing from the heart. "I'm adding this to my playlist later.." He said as the song ended, earning another smile from Usagi, "I'm glad you like it, maybe later tomorrow I can send you some more songs? If you send me some as well." "Yeah, I'd really like that." They took turns playing songs while Usagi cooked, Leo cleaning a few dishes to save time later as they were done being used. And once the food was all put together Usagi dished it out at the table in the other room, sitting across from Leo after placing the bowls and glasses of water for them both down with it. Leo waited a moment to see if there was anything he'd say before eating, since his brothers all fought over what to say as a toast, but he just looked back waiting for him to eat first it seemed. Probably a way of being polite that he wasn't used to. "Thanks for doin all the hard work~" He took the first bite and he perked up at Usagi, eyes wide in a mix of surprise and excitement. "Holy shit-" Usagi rolled his eyes, "Oh c'mon it's not that good Leo, and chew before talking I don't want you to choke" "It is that good! You cannot be real! I have to be like, in a heavily drugged coma or something. There's no way I've gone my whole life without knowing this kind of flavor existed please marry me-" Usagi just laughed at his reaction, it wasn't that Leo was easily impressed (which he kind of was) but it seemed that it was only when Usagi did something that it really excited him. "So you only want me for my cooking hm~?"

"Well no but jeeze with this you could have like, anyone- Why settle for me when you're thing badass master samurai with amazing cooking skills and a good taste in music and a good singing voice and a ten outta ten personality I mean-" "Hey hold on there. I might be some of those things but I think you're selling yourself a little short here? I mean I heard how you and your brothers have saved the city countless times!" "It was mostly them though so I mean, doesn't count-" "Okay but you've fought on your own, and you make portals with your swords! I don't know anyone else who could do that!" "Well they don't always work or take me where I want to go.. So it's not super reliable.." "Leo.. You have so many unique things to offer as well, and a pretty amazing personality as well if I do say so. And y'know what?" "..What?" "I'll fight anyone who's mean to my boyfriend so.. So you better not saying anymore self-deprecating things got it?" "Pfft.. Okay, you win this one."

-_-_-_-

The sun had long since set, and it was getting pretty late. Raph had been pacing in the atrium as he debated on texting Leo to ask when he'd be home, no one else seemed as on edge as him about this so he'd been trying to stay calm over it. Just as he took his phone back out to check the time a bright blue portal opened up a few feet away from him, after a moment Leo stepped though. And the portal closed as he started walking towards his room till Raph cleared his throat and made him jump and do a 180 to face him, "Oh- Jeeze Raph you nearly scared me outta my shell- You good? Aren't you usually in bed by now?" "Well usually I have all my brothers inside before I do that." "You say that like you weren't sure I was coming back?" Raph crossed his arms, "Well I wasn't sure, you didn't text or anything, I mean how late does 'I'm staying later' even mean? I thought you said you were gonna be batter about this communicating thing Leo.. You know I worry" "Yeah but-" Leo sighed a little and nodded, "You're right. I said I'd do better and I let you down again.. I got a little caught up helping Usagi make dinner I didn't really think about it. And I know it's not your job to remind me, but if you ever want an answer you can always just ask okay? I'll try to remember but you know me heheh.. I'm not exactly Donnie" "..Okay, I'm not mad or anything, you didn't let me down. I just.." "Hey I get it, you're the protective older brother, I'm not mad either. I'll try to remember, really really" Raph patted his shell with a little nod, "Good. And I trust you, I know if you were in any trouble or something you could handle yourself. I am gonna go to bed now that you're back, and you should get some sleep too! We gotta big day tomorrow!" "Right, I'll go soon." "Oh- Before I forget! How was your date~?" "It was.." Leo let out a dreamy sigh, "Amazing.. He's amazing." "Tell me all about it tomorrow kay? Nighty night Leo" "Mkay, Gnight Raph" Part 6.1

Part 1

TS Master Post

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crazy-shits-post · 1 year

Text

Fanfic idk

Tw: Homophobia

Art watched TV as Paul cooked in the kitchen. It was a sunny Thursday morning, not too hot but not too cold. He flipped through channels. Then he stopped. He saw the most beautiful man he ever saw talking about the latest product on the market.

His voice was like deep rich chocolate. His straight black hair shined in the light. He was tall and lean, and his piercing brown eyes seemed to be staring deep into the singer's soul. Art felt his face become hot, and a bulge began to rise.

He thought he got rid of this problem. He began to shake and tried to push it down. Shit, it's not working. Paul would be done cooking any minute. He can't see him like this.

Maybe if he goes to the bedroom, it'll be fine. He could try to get rid of it there. He stood up. The man's voice echoed in his ears. He collapsed, just itches from the door.

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

Him and his big brother watched the TV. There was a special movie on tonight, one with sweaty and muscular cowboys saving the beautiful and helpless brunette from the bad guys. The eight year old Arthur liked all the action and drama. He could even picture himself as the main character in some scenes on his big horse and brown hat.

Towards the end, a very handsome man came on screen. It was the brunette's brother. He was frightened by how beautiful he was. His voice had a western accent. He began to blush when the man kissed a blonde woman. His brother saw.

"Aww, does little Artie like the pretty girl?" His brother, Jules, teased, not mockingly but not sweetly either.

"Yeah....but I also like the guy too...."

He felt his brother stare at him in horror. The older one turned off the TV and rushed them up to Art's room. He shut the door and locked it.

"You can't like the man, Arthur." His usually calm older brother's serious tone made Art very nervous.

"Why? Who said?"

"Society. I personally can give two shits but I don't know about mom and dad."

"But they'll still love m-"

"I'm not sure."

His parents not love him? That'll be the worst thing in the world.

"People like you," he pointed to Art's heart. "get beat up, mocked, even murdered. I don't want you getting hurt, so you can't tell anyone, not even mom and dad, ok?"

"....ok."

"Now, who do you like?"

"Girls, just girls."

"Good. Every time you feel all.... strange, I guess? You just remember what I said, got it?"

He looked down his feet. "Yeah."

That night, it was the first time he felt disgusted with himself. He could control it. He's sure of it. Nobody needs to know.

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

When he was 15 or 16, he met a boy. He doesn't remember his name, just that he wore funny glasses. One day, the boy didn't come back to school. He later found out he was killed because someone saw him with his boyfriend.

When he was 16, he met another boy. He was so strong and gorgeous. He developed a crush of some sorts. He felt disgusted with himself, but he just couldn't help it. Once, he saw him with his girlfriend, redheaded and stunning. They kissed passionately in the hallway. Art couldn't help but stare, then run to the bathroom to cry. He knew he could never have him, but it sucked either way. But that wasn't upsetting him.

They both looked perfect. He shouldn't be looking at both, just the girl. He felt ashamed. He was so ashamed that he skipped two of his classes to go home. He wept until he fell asleep.

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

By age 19, he had enough of this curse. Nobody knew, not even Paul. He found a solution, but he knew it would be the most painful thing he'll ever have to do. He sat in his room and took out two magazines. One full of naked women, which made him excited. That was fine.

Then he opened the other one. It was full of handsome men, especially Elvis pictures. He looked, it went up, and he punched it. Every time it went up, it was punished. He did it so long that his poor little buddy got red and bloody. He repeated it for two weeks. After that, it didn't raise again for men.

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

Once at a concert, he saw a beautiful woman staring at him with goo-goo eyes as he and Paul sung. When the show was over. Paul noticed the lady.

He whispered in his ear, "You should go talk to her."

They both looked at her, and she waved at them. Paul shoved him to her and hid in the corner.

"Uh, hi." The tall musician spoke shyly.

Her voice sounded weird. Not bad, just weird. "Hi, sweets! I really loved your singing!"

She was so flamboyant, her voice was like a jazz song and she knew how to use her hands as she spoke loud enough for the people in the back of the room to hear. She had big black hair, a big long red dress, tall, perfect makeup, she was a walking shooting star. She was welcoming, Art's wall came down the more he talked to her.

Then she bent down to his ear and whispered, "I'm a man."

"W-wh-"

"I just like dressing up nice. Is that really a crime?"

"No. Can I tell you a secret?"

He whispered in her ear, and they held hands and promptly left together. Paul smirked as they walked out the door. They walked around for a bit, smoking and giggling. They kissed a lot.

"Where you get that dress? It looks really nice." He asked her as they walked around the dark New York streets together, having no idea where they were going or what to do.

"This old thing?" She fixed the ruffles on top. "I made it myself."

"You made that?! It looks so good!"

"Do you want one?"

Art nodded, then went silent. Maybe this will help him. If he dresses and acts like a girl, then it'll be ok for him to like men. She does it, and she looks great.

They went to her house. It was a small, warm, cozy house. She excused herself and changed out of her clothes and jewelry. The person that came out made Art's eyes go wide.

"You look so different!" The singer was blindsided by the gorgeous, short-haired, and even muscular man that walked past him.

"I know, you can call me a guy now." He took off his makeup in the bathroom.

Afterwards, he made Art stand still with his arms up to his sides. He got his measurements. He asked what he wanted the dress to look like. The other wasn't sure, so he gave him a magazine full of ladies wearing the latest fashion. He pointed to a model and said he wanted it exactly like that but black and white. It was a stripped dress.

Next, he did his makeup. It was the first time Art ever had makeup on his face. It felt weird. When it was finished, he looked in the mirror. He looked beautiful just like his mother, but he hated how he felt. It was drowning his skin. He took it off.

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

He stayed with him for three days. During that time, he embraced the feminine feelings he hid away for so long. He painted his toenails, did his hair, dresses, skirts, he loved it all. He still felt like a guy, but why not have a little fun?

The dress was done, and he got changed. He was given black flats and white nail polish. The guy looked at him like he was a prize and took him to a mirror. Art blushed. He loved the way he looked. He felt like a beauty queen.

"You look so beautiful, Artie." He said as he put a pearl necklace around his neck.

He gave him gloves and bracelets. He then sprayed perfume on him. He smelled like flowers.

"I feel so pretty." He smiled at himself in the mirror.

He never saw himself like this. He felt overjoyed, as if there was a big butterfly in his heart happily flying around. He had to go. He hugged him, thanked him so many times, then put his dress and accessories in a big bag.

He walked the streets of Queens with his head up high. He was unstoppable but also hungry. He went to a corner store. As he was paying, the cashier saw his painted nails.

"Man, you're a faggot!"

Art froze. He heard that word before, but that was the first time he was ever called that. "Excuse me?"

"I said you're a faggot!" The cashier grabbed grabbed his hand to show his wife behind him. "Look, Barbara! A fag!"

Him and his wife laughed at him. The shame he carried with him at all times came right back to gave him a good kick in the ass. He rushed out and ran back home. Once he was there, he locked himself away and cried like a baby. Paul tried to get him to talk, but he was too distressed to even speak.

He felt like he was slapped back into reality. He couldn't be who he wanted to be. He couldn't be who he was. He hid the dress away. Nobody could know. Out of sight, out of mind.

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

"Arthur! Art, c'mon! Wake up!"

Art woke up to Paul shaking him and putting water on his face. Paul sighed in relief and forced him to lay on the couch. He still felt a little dizzy when Paul was sitting on the ground next to him.

"Are you ok? What happened?"

He never heard Paul be so concerned for him. He fainted before. It was when him and the rest of gym class were forced to go outside on a melting May day. He felt lightheaded and Paul tried to get the teacher to let them go back inside. He fainted after they were told no and went home early once he woke up. He heard that Paul had a panic attack right before he woke up. But he played it cool. He pretended that he knew that Art would be just fine. He wasn't pretending now. He was showing genuine concern for him.

"Can I tell you a secret?" Art's voice sounded tiny and shaky. His heart was beating out of his chest.

Paul, thinking he was about to tell him government secrets or some shit like that, spoke to him in a calm tone. "Yeah, you could tell me anything."

"I think I'm gay."

Paul's eyes looked like a dinner plate and his mouth hung open. That look made Art want to hide in the corner.

Once he picked his jaw off the fall, he asked, "Really? But you've always had girlfriends, you slept with girls before."

"I know, that's why I said I think." He took a deep breath. "I like girls too."

"Do you like one more than the other?"

"No, not really."

Paul started thinking back. The signs were always there, it was so obvious! He always looked at both genders when a kiss scene came on. He always avoided the people who didn't like gays. Ugh, why didn't he see it before?

"Do you like....me?"

"Ew." They both laughed.

"Still, is there even a name for it?"

"I don't know, but you don't have to have a label." Once in a blue moon, Paul gets sentimental and cheesy. This was one of those times. "As long as you're my best friend, I don't care who you like."

Art smiled and hugged him. "Thank you." Then he giggled. "I have another secret."

"What?"

"Remember that girl from a few weeks ago? She made me a dress." He felt happy to tell him, but a little frightened. What if that was too much for him?

"Really? Can I see?"

Art grinned at him and went to the bedroom to get in the dress. When he was changed, he got nervous again. Paul sounded interested. What if he laughs at him?

A knock on the door. "Are you ok?"

"Yeah, I'm coming out now."

He shyly opened the door. Paul gasped as he walked towards him. He touched his dress and looked down at his shoes.

"You look so beautiful, man."

Art blushed, "Really?"

"Wow." Paul never looked so happy. "How do you feel?"

"Really happy."

Paul touched his necklace. "I'm glad you're happy." Then he hugged him. "Don't be scared to tell me anything, ok? I'll never get mad at you for something you can't control."

The weight that's been holding him down was gone. He was going to be happy now. "Thanks, man."

#classic rock #simon and garfunkel #paul simon #art garfunkel #fanfic #gay #bisexual

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thessalian · 8 months

Text

Thess vs The Weekend Spoon Budget

Well, I have a whole weekend all to myself (which is me looking at the bright side of "My Saturday D&D shenanigans had to be cancelled again this week). Of course, I guess it's not technically all to myself because I suppose I should put those spoons towards household chores etc. So it's another Thess Is A Motherfucking Adult weekend ... to a point. See, the actual chores list goes something like "clean out the fridge, take out the trash and the recycling (which is not easy if you're me), and do some laundry". However, there are some other things that aren't quite chores but are sort of chores because they probably need doing by the standards of making my life easier but don't necessarily need doing by the standards of good housekeeping etc.

See, while I did not get tapped for overtime this week, some of it's still the same old bullshit. We seemed to be doing better typing-wise towards the end of the week (and that was with New Girl being away, so I dunno what's up with that), but I did get stuck with all the long-ass complicated bits of typing and the shit no one likes to do because the accents involved are a trial. Also they're trying to catch up with months of placenta reports so if I see one more fucking placenta form I am going to scream. Anyway, point is, not overtime-busy, but busy. And that's made things like lunch fall by the wayside. I don't generally have time or spoons to throw something together, even a sandwich. Too many steps involved in making a sandwich. So I don't want this to be a recurring thing, obviously. Food is good.

Now, I figured out how to make potato salad the other week. Which is good, because I like potato salad. So I thought, why not make other things like that, that I can just slop into a bowl and eat? So I thought chicken macaroni salad, and I do have all the ingredients for that, I think. So there's going to be boiling some macaroni, cooking some chicken, letting it all cool and Mixing Things. Stuff like that.

Of course, I also kind of want to fill the cookie jar. Now, if I want chocolate chip cookies (and I do), I'm going to have to make some cookie dough to chill. I do want to make more snickerdoodles. Maybe more three-ingredient peanut butter cookies. On top of that, I still have two more bananas left so I can make more banana bread (I kinda ate all my banana bread). So Things For Nibbles in the house. Problem is, with some of this stuff, I do need a couple of more ingredients. Sugar, for one. Eggs, because the corner shop only had medium eggs (which are going to become hard-boiled eggs so I can have some easy protein). Unsalted butter. Sour cream for the banana bread. Also I'm low on garlic salt and that cannot be allowed to stand. Soooooooo that means I probably have to go out farther than the corner shop today. Woe. I mean, I'd go to the little Co-Op down the road, but their selection is woeful. Eh, at least it's not miserably cold.

Right. Time to spend some spoons doing the Adulting Shit. Then I can go out and pick up stuff, and then come back home and do more Adulting Shit, and maybe have enough time and spoons to have some fun later.

Sometimes being an adult sucks, but at least it'll make for good eating later.

#Thess is a motherfucking adult #Thess cooks

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swanimagines · 10 months

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hi jenni! thank you so much for all of your writing, it's so good! i would love it if i could please get a romantic self ship for a drabble or oneshot, whatever your preference, with cato from the hunger games?

my name is lisa and i go by she/her pronouns! i have medium brown hair that goes a little bit past my shoulders, light brown eyes, and dark eyelashes. i am an entj because i get very focused on school/making sure i put 100% into any task in front of me. i paint, draw, spend a lot of time outdoors, write, and am social on varying degrees- i talk too much with people i know but not a whole lot with strangers. i think i'd consider myself to be ambitious, too. i pride myself on getting to know people well enough that i know how to phrase the smallest sentence so that it'll make them laugh.

a few things i cannot stand: people who send me writing requests with literally nothing to go off of (your remark about people sometimes treating writers like a machine is so on point!), slow walkers, people who litter, and arugula. why is it in salads there's no point??

ok i think that was a little too much lol but i can't wait!! thank you again! 🥰

(Ships are closed and it's unlikely I will ever do them again especially now when I'm no longer a Tumblr writer, this event was held only for my friends in December 2021)

I read this over a few times during writing (SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG ARGH, I'm finally doing these as I'm preparing to wrap things up) and ALWAYS read "arugula" as "tarantula" and I was where the fuck do you live if tarantula salads are a common thing 😅 But I've heard many people don't like it, there's this 50's American diner styled restaurant in our northern neighboring city, and they put aragula in a lot of dishes, like on top of a nacho platter if you order it as a main course, I don't mind it but I understand why many do. Our cook here often puts nettle leaves in salads during summers, some of my Tumblr friends have been horrified by it before 😂

Also, I wanted to spend a moment to tell you how you're one of those people who kept me standing when I felt like I want to quit because of trolls and hate I got, or when things first started going south. You're an amazing person Lisa, and I'm sad to know that my time in the community might start to be up because it means I have to leave so many amazing people behind, like you. I have felt like this for a long time, over a year already, with some moments where I feel like I don't want to leave because accepting that I have to leave people behind hurts so much, to get rid of bad leaves I have to cut out some good leaves too. But during the time when I was part of the community, you were one of those people who grew to be important to me, whose comments I cherished, who I loved interacting with. I miss that time and I know I will miss it 5 years from now, when everything was still well. You will stay in my memories as one of those who supported me when I was feeling grim or like I can't write. Your comments were often simple and you didn't even say anything about the quality of my writing, like you commented "when will this be me? that's the goal babes." into one of my Kaz fics, and they still made me smile and feel good about myself and my writing/my effort to make people smile with my content. I do miss the interaction and the little community we had all that time ago, every time I publish something in AO3.

I hope you will stay in this community for a long time or if you ever decide to leave, you won't deactivate. I will surely visit your blog time to time, just to remember you, even if I won't be logged in. Reading our old asks and remembering how fun I had interacting with you. Or maybe someday I'll log back in and hit you with a message, who knows. I'll definitely pop by to tell you about meeting Freddy (+ Kit, Amita, Jessie, Archie and Dean) at least when I've come back from London in March and maybe send you pictures and videos from there.

But I want to thank you for being there and being such a good friend, the community is lucky to have you <3

Whoever first thought that the Hunger Games were a good idea to cope with lack of entertainment was a psychopath. Or no, anyone who thought it's good entertainment was a psychopath. Or a sociopath. To have bloodthirsty teenagers run across the forest killing each other was something Lisa had never understood - yet here she was, fighting off a girl who had found the little nest Lisa had built for an hour. She thought she had been good at camouflaging it, and she had maybe been too confident in herself as now she had a spear sticking through the side of her adobmen and a girl straddling her, trying to shove a knife into her throat.

Lisa flailed pathetically and the girl laughed. "You know, it's a pity to kill you. You could have become a famous author."

Splendid, one of Lisa's readers was about to kill her.

"It's a pity you will never read them once I do," Lisa hissed back and managed to kick the girl before scrambling backward, jerking her own knife out of her bag and throwing the cover aside. The girl rolled back before locking eyes with Lisa again. She eyed her own knife for a moment, and then at Lisa's knife. They both stood there for a moment, ready to fight, but then the girl lowered her knife. She clenched her jaw.

"You're lucky my knife isn't sharp enough to kill you at one go. I was unlucky when picking weapons. I mean, you'd think they provided us with new, sharpened ones," she said quietly and her eyes flickered at the spear sticking out on Lisa's side. "But if I'm lucky, that will kill you. Maybe maggots will nest there and you die by infection."

She took some steps backward, and then turned away, running into the night. Lisa groaned as the adrenaline started to fade and pain started to kick in.

"Motherfucker..." Lisa mumbled, looking at the spear. It hadn't gone through her, which made her curse even more. She definitely wouldn't be able to push the spear all the way through her body so she'd be able to snap it and pull it out to bandage it. She could try, and risk getting paralyzed in the process. Leaving it there, on the other hand, would lead to an infection. Either way, her game was over.

Lisa scoffed - authors rarely got killed by their readers. Lisa knew it wasn't personal, that girl had likely forced herself to be cold towards others for survival. She likely had a loving family, friends who prayed she'd make it home, that she'd win the Games. She did it for them. But the spear still didn't hurt any less.

Then, Lisa heard steps approaching her little tent. Rustle as a pair of feet hit the leaf-covered forest floor. She didn't even try to hide, if it was someone, they would likely be able to kill her in a heartbeat. So she waited, a moment, two. A shadow appeared to the doorway, and a figure crouched.

"Well, well, well. Someone else got the cutie before I could?" a voice said, that arrogant voice belonging to a guy Lisa had sparred with before the Games. They had had a flirting session, which felt kind of awkward now - she had called him cute too, and he had gotten visibly flustered.

"Cato," Lisa greeted the boy, rolling her eyes as he invited himself to step into Lisa's space. "Please, come in."

Cato's eyes flickered from her to her makeshift bed, to a few weapons Lisa had acquired. "Nice place. Nicer than mine, at least."

Lisa cocked an eyebrow. "I thought you formed a gang of some kind, where did you leave them?"

Cato sighed and scoffed. "Sleeping. I heard a noise coming from here and wanted to come and see what's happening and if I can join the fun."

Lisa looked at her wound and shrugged. "Well, my game is over. So, if you want to put me out of my misery..."

Cato scoffed, taking a hold of the spear and Lisa hissed at the feeling. "I did say that I wouldn't want a cutie like you dying among the first ones."

Then, a sickening crunch was heard and Lisa cried out, feeling blood gushing out of her backside. She felt some pressure a moment longer, before she saw Cato holding some bloody stick in his hand. It took her a moment to realise that the spear had disappeared, but blood was now gushing out of her adobmen. She quickly took a roll of bandage and started unwrapping it and wrapped it around herself and securing it with a pin.

She then looked up at Cato, searching his face. "You saved me."

Cato smirked, tucking a strand of Lisa's hair behind her ear. "Hunger Games is about dying in a fight. Someone has to see the life disappearing from your eyes as they twist a knife into your heart. It isn't entertainment if we all die by infections."

Lisa narrowed her eyes at him, trying to ignore the fact how tenderly he just touched her. "So you accept it as a form of entertainment?"

Cato hummed. "It's not like we have a choice. We are their entertainment, whether we want it or not. They're watching us right now, speculating if we'll be the tragic love story this season."

Lisa almost choked in her spit. "Love story? Us?"

Cato licked his lips, his smirk still on his face. "I just saved your life. We sit here peacefully, we aren't threatening each other. They probably think we're about to marry each other by now."

Lisa raised her eyebrows at him again, but then scooted away from him. "Well, when we meet the next time, those speculations will die."

Cato shrugged, standing up and started to back away towards the doorway. "Or then they won't. See, I'm not planning to be the one who kills you, unless you try to kill me."

With that, he disappeared into the night, leaving Lisa wondering what would happen within the next days - if Cato really meant what he said or if he just tried to manipulate her. If he was just trying to get close to strike when she least expected it.

But, a voice in her head said, maybe he was being genuine. Did Lisa's little flirting with him really do that, him going almost soft? What would happen if only the two of them would be left standing, would he kill her then? Or did he think she gets killed without it being him?

Lisa reclined on her makeshift bed, staring at the roof for a moment longer before letting herself to have a moment of rest before the next day - maybe she'd attempt to find Cato and manage to clear things some more.

#jen's 2k ships #2k celebration

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