#I’m so sorry Lucille

[levelonemagikarp]

Having Cyril go to Jamaica to meet with his lovely gorgeous wife again only to have them break up so they can continue with this awful romance plot is actually evil

[booplesnotts-art]

𝑨𝒏 𝒊𝒏𝒔𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒂𝒃𝒍𝒆 𝒉𝒖𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒓

Oh, my dear countess… what have you done?

Happy Halloween lovelies🖤

[keepthyfaithandthylight]

I’d love to sit in a nice, quiet meadow with the frev individuals and just.. have a nice picnic and make flower crowns, read poetry, talk about philosophy. There is a 50/50 chance I’d invite Danton but that is still uncertain. I know I’d invite everyone else, however. Every hard working individual deserves a bit of rest, and a nice flower crown.

[lostximagination]

Happy birthday to Lucian and Lucille

[misserabella]

puppy love

dad’s bf shane mccutcheon x fem! reader

pt2

synopsis: you’ve liked your dad’s best friend for a very long time. the time has come when you can finally have her.

cw;; +18 content! minors dni!! (i’ll hunt you down), shane is 34, reader is 18 in the first part of the fic, alcohol and drug consumption (coke and weed) (don’t do this guys!!!!), fighting, reader being mean, TENSIONNNN, puking, kissing, tattoos, piercings, teasing, praising, degradation, voyeurism (kinda), oral sex (r receiving), fingering (r receiving), cum eating, hair pulling…

you’ve had this silly little crush on your dad’s best friend since you were a teenager.

how could you not? she was beautiful, and successful and so fucking hot… she was unique. you’ve never met anyone quite like shane mccutcheon. so free.

it was innocent at first. you’d always want to spend time with her. she was the person you looked up to after all. she taught you how to skate from a a very early age. she always cut your hair when you’d need a fresh cut, and dyed it even though when she knew your dad would give her hell for it just because you wanted to (she would say sorry, but she wasn’t). she gave you your first tattoo when you turned 16 in a place where your father wouldn’t see. a hummingbird, just like hers. “my birthday present for you, kid” she had said. you could still remember the feeling of her fingertips on your thighs and waist as she tattooed your hipbone. you had tried so hard to not blush and squirm, her touch electrifying.

you could feel butterflies every time your friends would ask you about her in recess, well-known looks being shared when you’d blush. and your knees would go weak when you’d see her at the entrance of your high-school after class, waiting for you leaning against her car with her charming smile. “hey kid.” she’d mess up your hair with one of her ringed hands, hugging you close to her chest. you’d push her away, acting pissed off, when in reality all you wanted was to hug her closer and bury your face in the crook of her neck. she always smelled so nice…

but you couldn’t keep her too close ‘cause then you’d notice the hickeys on her neck, and all those butterflies would die.

your father had you at a very early age, having to raise you all by himself since your mother decided to run away and leave you. and shane had been there since the first second that she had met your father, along with the whole group, helping him push through.

so when you realized that what you felt for her was more than something platonic… your whole world came crashing down on your shoulders.

eighteen and in love with a woman twice your age… so you slowly started to drift away. you’d act busy. you’d started going out frequently, doing drugs, drinking alcohol… getting wasted and sleeping with a bunch of girls to try and forget her.

of course, she’d always find you.

“oh my god…” you groaned, turning around to face your friend with wobbly legs and your heart on your throat. “shane’s here.” you had just left the club, completely drunk out of your mind and with hickeys all over your chest and neck. you couldn’t let her see you like this. you didn’t want to see her.

“what? where?” your friend inquired and you pointed with your eyes to the side and to your back. “fuck. what do we do?”

“don’t let her see me. please, lucile.”

“okay, let’s…” but then she ducked her head, eyes shot open. “oh shit. shit. shit. she saw me.”

“fuck!” you whispered, and at the same time you heard shane’s voice coming from behind you, calling out for you. you tried to ignore her, tried to act as if she wasn’t you who she was looking for, but she wouldn’t give up.

“hey! i’m talking to you!” your whole world started spinning when you felt her hand on your shoulder, turning you around so you could face her. “do you have any idea how worried your dad is? we’ve been looking like crazy for you.” her voice sounded harsh, and she looked pissed. it was when she noticed that you weren’t looking at her, but instead hiding your eyes that she took your face with her free hand, making you face her. “fuck… you’re high?” your eyes were reddish and half lided, pupils dilated. your makeup ruined, gloss smushed. she looked at your clothes, completely out of place, bruises on your skin. “let’s go.” she grabbed onto your wrist to pull you along, but you fought her. she growled your name, slowly.

“i’m not going anywhere. i’m having fun.” you slurred, taking a swing of the bottle of alcohol on your hand. your vision was blurry, and your heart was beating too loud. “hey!” you whined when she took it from you and threw it aside, making the glass break. you whistled at her pissed off look. “somebody needs to have a little bit of fun…” you muttered.

“you’ve had enough, i’m taking you home.” her voice was stern, green eyes angry.

“you’re not my dad.” you said, and she smirked.

“yeah. thank god i’m not, ‘cause if he saw you like this, he’d kill you. move.” you rolled your eyes. “don’t be a brat with me. i’m not putting up with that shit. car, now.” she ordered, and you finally moved, walking towards her car.

you hadn’t shared a word on the whole way and you frowned when she kept going straight instead of taking a turn when the street of your neighborhood came to your view. she noticed. “i’m taking you to my house. can’t let your father see you like this.” your stomach jumped at the thought of being alone with her on her beautiful house. you could still remember how soft her bed was, how everything smelled of her. it was making you nervous. you didn’t want to be alone with her. not when she looked this good and you were this drunk and high.

she parked right outside, turning off the engine and getting out of the car. you followed her up the stairs and inside her home, groaning when she turned the lights on and it hit your eyes.

“fuck.”

“what did you take?” she inquired and you giggled.

“what did i not take?” she crossed her arms over her chest and you rolled your eyes. “i don’t know. some weed. cocaine…” she rose one of her hands to pinch the bridge of her nose.

“jesus christ. why the fuck would you do that! are you insane?”

“oh, don’t act as if you hadn’t done it before… we all know shane heart breaker mccutcheon’s reputation.” you scoffed, and she squinted at you.

“and now you want to follow my steps?”

“maybe i do.” you shrugged.

“you’re acting stupid.” she sighed.

“and you’re acting fucking annoying.” you retorted, grabbing at the sides of your head when it throbbed. “ugh you’re making my head hurt.” your legs wobbled and if it weren’t for shane grabbing you, you’d have probably fell onto the floor.

“woah. are you okay?” you shook your head.

“i think… i’m going to…” you clasped your mouth shut with one of your hands and shane’s eyes quickly shot open before she was hurriedly guiding you to the toilet. you fell on your knees, puking your guts out. she grabbed your hair on a make-shift ponytail to make sure that it wouldn’t get dirty. she rubbed your back with her free hand.

“it’s okay, let it go. that’s it.” you groaned, feeling your stomach hurt. you didn’t want her to touch you, not on this state, but at the same time, you just wanted to lean on her touch and forget about everything.

“sorry.” you apologized, not really sure about what, maybe everything. she hushed you.

“it’s okay. don’t worry about it, okay? let it all out.” after a couple of minutes, you felt your dizziness subside, although you were still pretty high. “stay here, alright? i’m gonna go for some clothes you can change into.” you nodded, resting against the cold wall as you took deep breaths.

“fuck.”

you were cringing at the thought of shane seeing you like this, a complete fucking mess, just when she came back to the bathroom with some clothes on her hands.

“come on. let’s get you up.” she offered you her help to get up, hands on your hips to stabilize you as you took off your heels. “do you need help with-“ you shook your head.

“i’m fine.”

“are you sure?”

“shane. i’m fine.” you repeated, harshly, and she nodded. she wanted to understand. if you were acting like this it had to be due to something.

“alright… i’ll… i’ll be outside if you need me.” she nodded, and left the bathroom.

you sighed, leaning on the counter. you looked at the pile of clothes she had left you, and you took them. they were soft, and just as you imagined, they smelled like her.

you pulled over your head your dress, feeling the cold of the bathroom slide into your bones. your skin rose in goosebumps when you slid her shirt on, feeling caged in her and at the same time so free… you were surrounded by shane. and you were ashamed of yourself. you were supposed to be getting over her, not thinking about how much you liked having her on you. you were deep in thought when she knocked on the door. you had already pulled up your legs the shorts she had lent you.

“you okay in there?” she inquired through the other side, and you opened up for her.

“do you have some makeup remover i could use?” you inquired her, shying away from her green deep eyes.

“oh, yeah.” she passed through you, pulling it from the drawers of the sink along with some cotton wipes.

“thank you.” you muttered when she handed it to you.

“no problem.”

there was this… awkward tension in between the two of you. shane didn’t know what to say. she had noticed how lately you’d gone off the rails, but she didn’t really know why. it was your last year of high school. maybe you were just trying to have fun before college…? she was just worried about you.

you took off your makeup, and she stood there with you, cautious in case you felt like getting sick again.

you were still pretty high, although the dizziness of the alcohol had disappeared once you’d gotten it out of your system. suddenly, you felt this knot in your throat. shit. not now.

“hey… are you…? what’s wrong?” you shook your head, wiping away the first tear that fell from your eyes.

“nothing.” you muttered, but she wasn’t having it.

“come on, something must be going on for you to be like this. talk to me, sweetheart.” she pulled you into her arms, rubbing your back as you hid on the crook of her neck. “hm?” she took your face in between her hands, thumbs caressing your cheeks.

“i love you.” you said, and she smiled.

“i love you too, kid.” you shook your head, interrupting her, your hands surrounding her wrists.

“i love you, shane.” she frowned, eyes shooting open in shock when she felt your lips on hers. your eyes were squeezed shut, heart beating harshly against your ribs. it was just a mere touch, two seconds of contact before she was softly pushing you away, breath fanning over your lips. your forehead collided with her chest. “i’m sorry.” you muttered, and shane hugged you, rubbing your back in soft circles. oh, sweet thoughtful shane.

“why don’t we get you in bed, hm?” she inquired, tenderly. she didn’t think too much of it. you were drunk, high and sad. this had all been a slip. a mistake. she had surely had many before. you nodded, and let her guide you to her bedroom. she always let you use her bed when you’d sleep over, using the sofa instead or sometimes sleeping with you when you were younger and would get scared.

“shane?” you inquired her as she made her way to the door.

“yeah?”

“do you think maybe…you could stay?”

she stood silent for a couple of seconds.

“yeah, sure.” she answered, and you moved to make some space for her. she laid on her back, and looked at you. “come here.” you got closer, and leaned on her chest, right above her heart, where you could hear her heartbeat. her hand laced on your hair, rubbing your scalp and brushing it for you to relax —something she has always done since you were little and helped you sleep—. you had to bite down on your lip and swallow your tears.

“good night, shane.” you whispered.

“good night, kid.” she answered.

the next morning. you were gone. and shane didn’t see you again.

-

4 years later…

“there’s my baby girl fresh out of college!!!” you chuckled at your dad’s excitement. you thanked the taxi driver who waved goodbye and started the car to drive away. “oh god, you’ve gotten so big!” you rolled your eyes, hugging him back as he squeezed you against his chest.

“dad… you saw me a couple of months ago!” you laughed and he grunted.

“kids grow so fast…” he sighed, shaking his head and you copied him, rolling your eyes. “come on! let’s get you inside!” he took your suitcase, pulling from it.

four years had passed since the last time you’d stepped on your city, even your house. that night after telling shane you’d loved her, you’d taken the offer one of your friends had given you to work for her during the summer in NY and left LA, later on having enrolled on the local college to continue your education. it was your dad who would come visit you on the holidays, since you’d promised yourself not to come back after you’d finally finished your degree to… disconnect. you needed change. needed to find yourself. and in reality, all of it was a simple excuse. you just needed to get away from shane. you couldn’t look her in the eyes after that night, couldn’t act as if nothing had happened and you hadn’t kissed her. couldn’t ignore the way your whole body had filled with euphoria and your stomach had blown up in butterflies.

so you ran. and did everything in your power to forget all about it. you had made new friends, met new people, dated, broke up, fucked, partied… you’d lived a brand new life away from her. and somehow…, it still felt like something was missing.

“dad… what’s all of this?” you inquired at the amount of snacks and beers decorating the isle of your kitchen. he guiltily smiled and you rose your eyebrows.

“i may of may have not invited some people to throw you a… comeback party?” you groaned.

“dad!”

“i know! but you know your aunt alice! she’s missed you so much… and angelica wouldn’t stop asking for you to bette and tina. so i thought that a little gathering wouldn’t kill anybody…” you sighed. “we’re just happy to have you back home, baby.”

you felt the itch. the need to ask about her. to say her name out loud after all this years. but you fought it.

“you’re right. i’m sorry. i’ve missed them too.” he hugged you again.

“why don’t you take a shower and get ready, hm? i’ll bring your luggage up your room for you. they’ll get here in an hour or so.” you nodded.

“okay. thanks dad.”

-

shane had been shocked to hear the drastic decision you’ve made in moving to new york. you’d packed and left the same day without even saying goodbye. she had tried calling you, of course she had. at least to try and get to know how you were doing over there in that immense city. but it’d always go straight to voice mail. your dad would tell her that it’s because you were real busy with school and your work. so she’d given you space. she had enough knowing through your father that you were alright. though she missed you. you were important for her. she adored you.

the years passed by quicker than she thought. she had taken over a couple of hair salons that now had her name, and sold her photography to great prices, giving her the chance to move to a better apartment. she hadn’t noticed the change that this years supposed for you ‘till she finally got to see you again, four years later.

you weren’t the same little teenager girl she once knew. you had grown up into this beautiful woman with radiant smile and vibrant eyes. you’d gotten a couple more tattoos, she could perfectly see the tramp stamp peeking from your low rise jeans, and outline the bars on your nipples though your tight top. jesus christ. when the hell had you gotten those?

you were wearing a beautiful lip gloss that made your lips pop, and black eyeshadow and waterline in your eyes. your nails were done in a deep shade of red, yet short.

shane had to take a deep breath when you finally noticed her, walking into your house as you took a beer from the kitchen. your dad and the group was outside by the pool, getting ready to eat some meat fresh out from the grill.

she looked good. why did she look so fucking good? and why was your heart going this crazy? for god’s sake, it had been four years already. you were sure you’d finally gotten it under control, but one look at her and those stupid butterflies were back, along with the memory of her soft lips and electrifying touch.

“well if it isn’t new york’s sweetheart…” she said as she finally reached you a smirk on her lips as she leaned on the isle, to what you scoffed. “it’s nice to see you, kid.” her voice was low, and silky. you wanted to groan. she sounded better than you remembered. but instead, you rolled your eyes, leaning on the other side of the isle to get closer.

“i’m not a kid anymore, shane.”

“yeah, i can see that.” she chuckled, eyes training on your body, eyeing you up and down when you turned around and asked:

“want a beer?”

“please.” you opened the fridge once again, bending over to get them from the last shelf, giving her the perfect view of your tattoo and ass. it read: heaven. “thanks.” she said when you handed it to her.

“no problem.” the two of you took a swing form the bottles, fresh beer spilling down your throat. somehow it didn’t help with how hot you were feeling.

“so tell me. how has new york treated you?” she inquired and you shrugged.

“it was alright. kinda busy with college.”

“oh yeah… as if college were everything you’ve been up to, huh?” she teased you, and you chuckled.

“what do you want to know, shane?” you squinted your eyes. “that the parties are amazing there? that the girls are hot?” she smiled.

“yeah, that’s more like it…” she drank again. there was this easy-going atmosphere in between the two of you. you liked it. you thought it would be harsher to face her. but she was shane. how could it be? she always made you feel safe. “see you’ve gotten more tattoos…” her eyes eyes your arms, where some of them stood. “i like them.”

“oh, yeah. have this friend back in the city that would do them for free if she could practice on me.” you laughed, showing them to her. she took your arm, soft fingertips drawing over their lines .

“well, she’s got talent, i’d give you that.” she whistled.

“yeah. taught me how to stick and poke and everything.” you laughed at her shocked expression.

“no fucking way… you tattoo?” you nodded.

“yeah, so if you ever want a new one just hit me up, i still owe you one.”

“true. the hummingbird. how’s it holding?” you pulled down your pants and panties to show it to her, soft skin in display. “might need a little ink.” she hummed, and you pushed your pants back to their spot. you might need something else.

shane tried to ignore the little speck of ink that she saw more towards your center when you pulled your pants down, but it left her with curiosity running through her veins.

you stared at each other, green eyes on yours for a couple of long seconds before she looked away, beer on hand. she couldn’t.

“where’s your dad?” she inquired, and you sighed.

“she’s out by the pool, getting the grill ready.” she nodded.

“see you later?” you nodded, and saw her go outside, being welcomed by her friends.

well… you were fucked.

-

summer in LA was hot. really hot. and shane prancing around your house with one of her wife beaters and tight jeans wasn’t of much help. you could see her arms bulge as she helped your dad put up a new relaxing space on your garden, where he’ll build a wooden ceiling and put up a few couches for you to relax by the pool.

you were currently taking a swim, small black bikini accentuating your perfect body. it was hard to say shane was having a great time.

“hey kid. enjoying the pool?” she inquired, wiping the sweat off her forehead. it was already almost night, the sunset already had been engulfed by the ocean.

you looked up at her, resting against the edge, cleavage on full and exposure.

“really. the water is so refreshing…” you smiled.

“shane!” your father called out for her. “i’m going out to buy some bear. want anything?” he inquired.

“marlboro reds?”

“got it.” she thanked him as he took his keys and left through the main door, leaving the two of you alone. you bit down on your lip at the thought of it.

“hey shane?” you muttered.

“yeah?”

“can i tell you something?”

“anything.” she nodded.

“bend over.” you whispered, and she followed, kneeling on one knee by the pool so she could get closer to you, and just as you were about to part your lips, your wet fingers gripped on her shirt, pulling her inside the pool. she was gasping for air as she came back up to the surface, wiping the water out of her face as you laughed so hard your stomach hurt. “oh god! you should have seen your face!!!”

“oh yeah? you think this is funny?” she chuckled, pointing at her wet clothes. the white wife beater let her nipples show now. you tried not to state too much.

“totally.” you nodded, taking a step back when she step closer.

“com’here.” she ordered, waving her hand.

“nah, i’m cool here.” you laughed, and shrieked when she jumped at you. “no!!”

“oh, so now the princess is begging for mercy, huh?” you sputtered as her fingers tickled you, grabbing at your sides. “how’s that? who’s laughing now, hm?” she muttered as you begged her to stop, trying to get rid of her hold. “yeah, that’s what i thought.” she left you breathless when she finally decided to let you go, although you two were close, your back against the wall of the pool.

you looked at her, and chuckled slightly at the messy state of her hair, which now stood completely drenched hiding her eyes and getting all over her face.

“what?”

“your hair. is… wait. let me.” your soft fingertips made contact with the skin of her face, pushing away the strands and behind her ear.

“thanks.” she muttered.

“you’re welcome.” you two stared at each other, realizing just how close you were. your eyes drifted to her chest, which rose and lowered in deep breaths, her perky nipples hard against the white of her tank top.

she stared at you. at your long eyelashes, flushed cheeks due to the lack of air and laughter and your glossy plump lips. somehow you two just ended closer, the hands that had tickled you still on your hips, burning your skin. your eyes met, and after a couple of seconds she looked away, clearing your throat and letting go of you, leaving you freezing.

“fuck. now i’m completely drenched.” she looked at her clothes.

“you could borrow some of mine.” you shrugged, and she scoffed. “what? i’m sure some of my clothes will fit you, shane. or do you want to get your leather seats wet?”

“fuck no.” her nose wrinkled up, and you chuckled.

“just what i thought.” you muttered, swimming towards the stairs and dipping your hair underneath the water one more time before getting out the pool. shane tried really hard to not stare at the perfect view of your ass. your dad would kill her. your dad will kill her. why was she even staring at you this way? for gods sake she had seen you grow up…

you turned around, and she quickly looked you in the eyes. “you coming or not.”

oh for sure.

“yeah.” she said before following after you.

-

“are you sure you know how to do this shit?” she inquired for like the eleventh time, and you rolled your eyes. “hey, i just want to make sure you don’t fuck it up, alright? i’ll live with it for the rest of my life.”

“shane, i’m positive. you’re not the first person i tattoo, alright?” you promised, getting the needles and ink ready.

“cool. cool.” she nodded, laying on your bed. your room stood frozen in your teenage years, full of books and pictures and posters. you even had your favorite music records (at least the ones you’ve had to leave behind for college). it gave you this nostalgic feeling that you couldn’t shake off your bones. your father was out with some of his friends, and you and shane had ended up meeting up to tattoo each other. “but-“ she tried and sit back up, but you pushed her down, pointing one of your fingers at her.

“shut the fuck up.” you ordered, and she rose her hands.

“okay.”

she was going for a simple design. a scorpion on her forearm. you’d done some before, so it would be easy. you’d also made a stencil for her, so you would be fine.

you prepped and disinfected everything, putting on your gloves. “okay. where do you exactly want it?” you inquired her, and she pointed at the place where she thought would look best and you nodded, placing the stencil there to let her see if she’d like it.

“yeah, i like it.” you nodded once again.

“alright. then i guess we’re ready. it won’t take a lot, if it hurts too much just let me know and we’ll take a break.” she scoffed.

“who do you think i am?” she sassily inquired and you rolled your eyes.

“hope you choke on your words, mccutcheon.” you shook your head, taking her arm and leaning over to start tattooing her.

“huh, you wish.” she smirked, taking a glimpse of your cleavage. she breathed deeply, squeezing her eyes shut. come on shane. focus.

those fucking nipple piercings… shit. no. don’t think about that.

you noticed her silence and you decided to check up on her.

“you alright?”

“hm?” she seemed distracted. how couldn’t she be? “oh yeah. don’t worry.” of course it wasn’t like she were thinking about your tits. absolutely not. “so… had any girlfriends in new york?” yeah, let’s change the subject.

you sighed and shrugged. “i mean… not really. messed up around but never got serious, you know what i mean?” she smirked, surprised.

“do tell…” you chuckled, playfully hitting her on the arm.

“what about you?” you inquired, trying to not sound so interested. although you were. you truly were.

“could say the same. you know me.” you nodded, and hid your excitement. so she was single.

she stared at you as you worked. fuck. you were so beautiful. new york had changed you so much. you had always been, but now, there was this… something about you she couldn’t put her finger on. she just knew she couldn’t pull her eyes away from you. and that was no good.

“okay. i’m done.” you smiled, wiping over the tattoo to stare at the end result.

“now that’s amazing.” she whistled, taking a look at it. it hadn’t hurt at all.

“told you…” you muttered and she scoffed.

“oh i’m sorry for being scared, you’re the first kid i let near me with a needle.” you rolled your eyes. there was that nickname again. kid.

did she really still looked at you like one?

she noticed your silence.

“hey. you okay?” you pushed away her touch, nodding.

“yeah, i’m fine.” no you were not. what the hell did you have to do for shane to look at you? would it always be like this? will you always be running after her? “so… you up for retouching my tattoo?” you asked and she nodded.

“yeah, sure. could i borrow your gun, though? i’m not that good at stick and poke.” you gave it to her, along with some ink, gloves and new needles.

you got up from your seat, unbuckling your pants. shane tried to not look at you as you pushed them down your thighs, leaving you in a pretty lace pair of panties. her eyes continuously drifted from you to the tattoo gun as you sat on your bed, legs spread as she sat in front of you. there was no comfortable way she could tattoo you in your room, and having her in between your legs, leaning over and so close to your barely clothed center somehow felt more intimate than the first time around. she looked at you as her fingertips made contact with the skin of your hip bone, carefully pulling your panties down just the slightest to disinfect the zone. your cheeks were burning up when her soft low voice caught your attention. “you ready?” you nodded. “alright. if you need me to stop just say the word.” and then there was the buzzing of the tattoo gun and that burning feeling of the needle breaking your skin. you hissed. you knew it was a sensitive spot, but you always forgot how sensitive.

you thanked god the tattoo was small, ‘cause you couldn’t really look at shane too much without thinking about things you shouldn’t be thinking about. she looked so good in between your legs, hair falling messily in her eyes, tongue sticking out and glossing her lips in concentration. the things you’ve thought about that tongue, the nights you’ve imagined her in this same exact position but with less clothing. this was turning you on. it shouldn’t be turning you on.

“fuck.” you groaned. and she looked at you.

“you’re doing good, just hold on a little bit more for me, alright?” you almost moaned. fuck. and now she was praising you. one particular harsh swipe of the needle almost had you gripping her hair. you could feel her breathing against your skin.

this was all too much.

“shane…” you sighed, your hips twitching upwards involuntarily due to the pain.

“i know baby, i know. i’m halfway there.”

you tried to hold in the need to move, but it hurt, and you were getting horny. there wasn’t much you could do. at one particular point, she had to harshly grip your hip with her free hand, pushing you against the duvet. “don’t move.” she ordered, and you bit down on your lip. holy fuck. this looked so much like those dreams you’d have about her…

you could feel your pussy throbbing.

shane was trying her best to keep her composure. but jesus christ, you were writhing under her, letting out this little pained sounds and you were just in a pair of panties and a tank top. it was making it hard for her. you were making it hard for her.

the room was sticky with tension. she could see the peeking of your pubic hair since she had pulled your underwear down, and your skin was so soft…

focus. focus. focus.

but then…

fuck. you were wet. you were soaked.

her green eyes met the wet patch forming on your panties, and she forgot what she was supposed to be doing. hell, she even forgot the fact that you were her best friend’s daughter.

you perked up at the feeling of her stoping with the tattoo.

“shane?” you called out for her, and then you were letting out this sound in between a moan and a gasp when you felt her fingers pushing in between your lips and over the cloth, slowly, teasingly. “oh fuck. what are you doing?” you gasped in a whisper, your hips rutting against her touch. she smirked.

“me? i’m not doing anything.” she looked at you, and slowly leaned closer to you, leaving this soft peck on your thigh. you shuddered. “tell me to stop…” she whispered. it was more like a begging. she needed you to tell her that this was wrong. that she shouldn’t be touching you right now. that it was a really stupid idea. she was your dad’s best friend. and yet…

“i can’t…” your hand laced on her hair when she started softly kissing your skin, lip in between your teeth. you wanted her. you’ve wanted her for so long… “please…”

you whimpered when her fingers bumped against your throbbing and sensitive clit, your hips bucking against her touch. “what’s this, hm?” your cheeks were beet red, thighs trembling under her green stare. “tell me baby, this all for me?” she inquired, leaving a wet kiss on your thigh and you nodded, muttering a ‘yes’ that had her short of breath.

your back arched when she kissed you on top of your panties, her tongue licking the arousal that dampened the lace. at the same time, her hands grabbed at the seam of your panties, slowly pulling them down your hips and thighs. that’s when she finally caught a glimpse of that tattoo that she had barely seen the day of your party. it was above your mound. and it said: ‘lucky you’.

shane smirked, chuckling. “lucky me…” your cheeks reddened, but all shyness and embarrassment disappeared when her fingers dipped in between your drooling folds, connected by strings of your arousal. shane felt her mouth watering. “such a pretty pussy.” you felt so exposed, but at the same time you just wanted to open up your legs for her, let her see every little crevice of you.

you let out this pornographic sweet moan when her tongue draw a long fat strip from your entrance to your clit, softly suckling on it and making your thighs squeeze her head, what made her groan and bury her face deeper into your pussy.

“fuck…” you cried out, your hands meeting her short messy dark hair, tugging at it. why did it felt so good?

she pushed your legs over her shoulders, her warm hands on your thighs as she sucked on your clit, sticking her tongue out for you to ride her face when you’d hump against her. that was until you felt one finger prodding against your hole, easily pushing inside your tight and warm walls due to how wet you were. “that’s it. open up for me, doll.” she hummed when you whimpered, starting to thrust it in and out of you, your arousal thick and white on her knuckles as you thrusted yourself on her finger and mouth.“taste so good…” she couldn’t get enough, eating you like a starved woman.

“shane.” you whined when she added her ring finger, stretching you out. and how could she resist when you sounded so sweet moaning her name? she just wanted to get more of those sounds out of you, make you cum over and over again until the only thing you could remember was her name.

she groaned. “look at you, fuck. so fucking pretty. what would your dad think, hm? her little girl letting his best friend fuck her like this.” you moaned, pulling from her hair. “oh you liked that, huh? like the idea of your daddy catching me with my tongue on your cunt, baby?” you blushed, embarrassed to like the idea of it, the adrenaline rushing through your veins making the pleasure enhance. her fingers constantly hitting your g spot had you so close to the edge… “of course you do…” she smirked, sucking on your clit. you cried out her name, your hips pushing against her mouth. “you close, princess?” you nodded, biting down on your lip. “cum for me, baby. cum on my face. i’ll clean it all up for you.” she muttered, licking at your folds before latching onto your clit. your back arched. that encouragement being all you needed to fall apart, thighs shaking as your high hit you like a tidal wave with a high pitched moan. she groaned at the taste of your white creamy cum on her tongue, lapping at it in need, the wet sounds of her tongue pushing into you and licking in between your lips filling your room. she kept finger-fucking you to help you ride off your orgasm, sucking at your clit to extend it.

you swore you could see stars on your room’s ceiling, thighs shaking and breathing ragged. it had been the best orgasm of your life.

shane finished cleaning you up, swallowing every last bit of your cum before pulling her fingers out of you and pushing them inside your mouth. her green eyes met yours as you cleaned them for her. and you could just think about the fact that you had just fucked your dad’s best friend.

and how much you wanted to do it again…

-

a/n; 😶‍🌫️

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

Previous part here

Words: 4,362 Pairing: Negan Smith x Reader Reader pronouns: she/her Warnings: language (duh, it's Negan), references to past violence, references to traumatic events, fear and anxiety, mentions of illness and mentions of character death (Lucille), sexual content Summary: Having healed up from Dante's attack, Y/N pays Negan a visit. A/N: This is the last part in this series. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. It's always bittersweet to conclude a series, but opens the door for more new writing. <3 Looking forward to more Negan in the future! <3 Thanks for reading!

Why were you so nervous? You were wringing your hands as you climbed the steps of the apartment building and let yourself inside the outer door. Your heart was fluttering in your chest like a moth around a lamp. You chewed on your bottom lip as you headed down the hallway and stopped in front of a door with a shiny brass “4.”

You pulled in a deep breath and knocked, shifting a bit nervously as you waited for a response. You didn’t have to wait long. Negan pulled the door open with a curious expression which quickly grew into a relaxed smile when he saw you standing there in front of him. The light in his hazel eyes took you aback.

“Hey, doll. Well, isn’t this a nice fucking surprise?”

“Hi,” you greeted him. “Is now a bad time?” you asked, laughing a little, nodding toward the paint splotches on his gray t-shirt.

“Not at all,” he smiled. “Anytime is a good time for you. Come on in,” he said.

Negan stepped back to invite you inside. “Thanks,” you replied, crossing the threshold. Your heart was still racing more than it should. Negan closed the door behind you and followed you up the hall. “Doing some redecorating?” you asked, stopping in the living room. You could see old sheets draped over some furniture in the next room and a few brushes sitting out on a paint can.

Negan swept a hand back through his hair. “I’m sure you’ll be surprised to hear this, but I’m not really a flowered wallpaper kind of guy,” he said. “I found some decent supplies so I thought I might as well make this place a little more mine.”

You paced over to the doorway and peeked into the next room. The walls were freshly painted with a deep, dark blue. “Mmm,” you hummed, nodding. “Bit different than your last digs. And the ones before that…”

“Different is a good word.” He sighed suddenly and you looked back at him. “Fuck me, it’s good to see you,” he said. “You’ve got no idea how good. I didn’t realize it but I really got used to seeing you at least at every meal,” he said. You watched his eyes drift up to the fresh scar on your forehead, to the still healing split in your bottom lip, and then down to the fading bruises on your neck. His smile faltered a little at the sight and you thought you saw a faint flicker of anger in his eyes.

“Are you going through withdrawal?” you teased him, trying to lighten the mood again.

“Are you implying that I’m an addict and you’re my drug?” he asked in a deep voice. He watched your eyes widen a little and then crinkle in a smile as you held in a laugh.

“Maybe. Is that… accurate?” you asked with a hesitant laugh.

Negan pulled in a deep breath and there was some ember burning in his hazel eyes as he let it out slowly, his attention a bit intense as it was fixed on you. “Maybe,” he said in a low voice, gravel on the edge of it. He crossed his arms over his chest and smirked at you again. You registered the lean but strong muscles of his forearms. They were peppered with tattoos, revealed by his gray t-shirt. You felt a burst of warmth in the middle of your chest.

You ducked his gaze (chicken…) and found yourself nervously chewing on the inside of your cheek. “I’m sorry I didn’t come by sooner. Things have been busy with the council since Dante, um—‘opted out’,” you said. “And then I’ve still been having some symptoms, so… resting a lot.” You still felt a wave of fear and a cold chill every time you thought of the doctor who had nearly killed you. Sometimes you had nightmares about him bending over you, the look on his face, the feeling of being totally helpless as you struggled, of actively knowing your life was drifting away under his hands. Negan’s voice pulled you from that dark trail of thoughts.

“You don’t have apologize to me, darlin’. I’m just glad you’re here at all,” he said softly. “Did they figure out how he punched his ticket?”

“Not for certain. But Siddiq suspects a cyanide capsule or something similar from what they saw when they found him dead in the cell. Daryl had searched him right after—after I was in the clinic when he went to question him. He didn’t find anything, but something that small would be easy to hide.” Negan nodded, his brow knit and expression serious. “I just wish we knew why he—why he wanted Alexandria to fall so badly. Everyone here was nothing but kind to him. There were no clues about it at all.”

Negan nodded. “I don’t think that fuckwad was ever gonna talk,” he said seriously. “And I’m real glad he’s dead. I might have gotten into trouble again putting his limp-dick, coward ass down myself after what he did to you,” he growled. You could see his hazel eyes darken with rage again as he thought about Dante’s attack. And there was a deeper emotion bubbling beneath the anger, something he hadn’t yet even fully admitted to himself.

“Well—” you ripped your gaze from his, ducking your head once again (double chicken…), a soft pout on your lips, “better you don’t get in trouble again, Negan. You’ve only just gotten out.”

“I’m guessing I have you to thank for that,” Negan said. “At least, in part.”

“First of all, you have yourself to thank for that. People are seeing how you’ve changed. Secondly, I withdrew from the vote. Seemed like a… minor conflict of interest considering it was my life that you saved,” you explained.

Negan nodded. “How close was the vote?” he laughed.

You smiled at him. “Not as close as you’d think,” you said. Negan would have to accept that as an answer. You paced around his scantily furnished living room and looked into the kitchen. He hadn’t been in the new space long, only since you’d left the clinic which was perhaps a week and a half ago. Before that, he’d pretty much refused to leave your side and Michonne had given in and not asked him to return to the cell once Dante had… vacated it.

You were curious to see how he’d make the apartment his as he got settled. He did have some of the shelves stocked with books already, including the ones you’d given to him when he was still in the cell. You looked through them, running your fingers over the leatherbound spines, tilting a couple down to look at the covers. Negan watched you from his spot leaning up against the doorway. He liked the sight of you here, looking relaxed and (in his opinion) like you belonged. It was a sight he could get fucking used to. You suddenly glanced back at him and smiled, perhaps even blushing a little as you realized his eyes were on you. “Are you being nice to the neighbors?” you asked, pacing over to the couch and sitting down, sinking into it and making yourself at home.

“Neighbors?” he laughed. “I’m pretty fuckin’ sure Michonne purposely put me into an empty building. Not too many people want the big bad wolf living next door,” he said.

“Well, maybe that’s for the best,” you admitted. “For you and for them.”

“Oh, absolutely. I plan to be downright vile and filthy in here. It’s gonna be my hedonistic bachelor pad,” he joked. “Interested?”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smiling. “At least you’re honest in your advertising,” you retorted.

His teasing smile faded and then he was staring at you again with that look on his face, the one that was so soft it raised goosebumps on your skin. The corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled. You felt your face flushing again. “What?” you asked him, one of your eyebrows lifting.

He shook his head. “Nothing. I just like the sight of you on my couch.” He straightened up. “In fact, I’ve got just the fucking thing for the occasion…”

You watched curiously as he went into the kitchen and quickly came back with a wine bottle in hand and two glasses. “Where the hell did you get wine?” you asked as he sank down beside you on the couch.

“Doll, I’d think you would have realized by now how resourceful I am,” he smiled, popping the cork. He was just pouring the second glass when he stopped, knitting his brow. “Wait—should you be drinking this after what happened? How’s your noggin’ doin’?” he asked, looking suddenly deeply concerned.

“It’s been two weeks. One or two glasses won’t kill me,” you replied. “I won’t tell Siddiq if you won’t…”

“Oh, thank fuckin’ God. I’m clearly only plying you with alcohol to lower your inhibitions for some freaky deaky,” he joked, giving you another amused glance.

“Negan!” you scolded him, feeling your face grow hot yet again.

“Too much?” he laughed. “I’m kidding of course, doll. The truth is… I—I think I’ve got you up on too high of a pedestal to ever try something like that.” He handed you a glass and you were giving him a queer look. He only smiled. That damn charming, wolfish smile that made your stomach flip.

“What are we drinking to?” you asked him.

“How about—and I know this is fucking cheesy but—new beginnings?” he offered, still smiling at you, his hazel eyes flickering over your face.

“I’ll drink to that,” you said softly. You clinked your glass against his and took a sip, settling in deeply to the cushions. Negan watched your smile fade and his brow drew downwards, low over his eyes. The hazel seemed to darken toward brown flecked with gold.

“Something on your mind, doll?” he asked.

You shook your head. “Not really. Just—sometimes it still hits me how close I came to dying that day. And—and when I was fading… instead of seeing the faces of people I loved, I could only look up and see him. You know how people say their life flashes before their eyes when they think they’re about to die? Or they’ll see their loved ones smiling at them, remember good memories? That—that didn’t happen for me,” you mused. “I could only see him. And feel the complete overwhelming fear and powerlessness.”

There was a long silence where you stared down into the deep plum color of the wine in your glass and you twirled it in your hands. “Oh, well… It’s over now,” you sighed. When you were brave enough to look up at Negan again, you were shocked to find that his eyes were glassy, seemingly brimming with tears.

He wet his lips thoughtfully and then sighed, setting his glass aside on the small table in front of the couch. “My wife—the only real one—her name was Lucille,” he said. “I was a complete prick to her—useless as far as being a good fuckin’ husband. I cheated on her. Spent money we didn’t have. Lost my job. But she—she was the real thing. Beautiful and smart and fiery and kind. I didn’t deserve her.” His voice was deep and laced with feeling. “She was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer…”

Your heart ached. His breath was shaky as he went on. It was staggering to hear this near mythical man’s deep voice laced with such tender feeling and regret.

“The world turned when she was in the middle of her treatment. I kept her going as long as I could, finding the medicines she needed and delivering her doses of chemo but—” he shook his head and squeezed his eyes closed. “In the end, I couldn’t help her anymore.” His voice broke as he went on, his eyes shining with tears. “I—I couldn’t do the one damn thing she asked of me at the end. She was ready to go and she wanted me to be... She—she asked me to stay and just be with her until the end and I couldn’t do the last of what she fucking asked me to do. I went running off after medicine which wouldn’t do a goddamn thing for her.” He pulled his bottom lip in between his teeth and drew in a long, steadying breath, blinking away the tears threatening to spill out of his eyes. “I was helpless to stop it.” He looked right at you, meeting your vibrant eyes, empathetic and concerned, with his own. It felt as if he’d cracked himself open to the core at that moment and your heart started to race. He reached for your hand and you startled a little at his touch, pulling your eyes from his and looking down as he smoothed his thumb over the silkiness of the skin on the back of your hand and then over the lines of your palm, much as he had that day in the cell, when he’d saved you those raspberries… Your heart was pounding as he spoke again, your breath stolen. His voice pulled your eyes back to his.

“When you fell that day, right in front of me but basically unreachable on the other side of those bars… and then when he came in—” Negan gulped and shook his head. “I felt that same fucking helplessness all over again. I felt the same terror that I wasn’t going to be able to do a damn thing. I can’t even put into words how fucking scared I was that I was going to lose you right in front of me.”

You had to remind yourself to breathe as he went on.

“It’s been a long fucking time since I’ve actually wanted anything. Except maybe to die or get out of that fucking cell. Until you came along, darlin’.” Negan’s eyes flitted down to your lips and back up to your eyes.

You found yourself nearly frozen as he clasped your face in his and caressed your cheek, his eyes searching yours. You felt the soft pout of your lips part just a little on their own, without thought. It was driving Negan crazy. He tilted your head slightly down and your eyes fluttered shut as he placed a kiss on your forehead beside the new pink scar and still fading bruising. His thumb traced along your jaw as his fingertips wrapped delicately around the nape of your neck. His eyes drifted down to the faint yellow and brown bruises from the doctor’s hands. Negan’s head tilted and he leaned in to kiss the side of your neck and then the front of your throat and then the other side. You felt like an electric shock ran through you at the touch of his lips, soft and tender, but heating you through. You couldn’t stop the breathy exhale that left you as he pulled away and met your eyes again, his hand resting on the side of your neck and his eyes searching your face.

His eyes flitted down to your lips again, perhaps settling on the now healed split in your bottom one. There was something pleading in the way he was looking at you, but somehow still dominant or powerful. You couldn’t quite find the right word… Like it was possible that he could consume you like the flames of a wildfire, but you knew he wouldn’t, at least not entirely. You felt nearly lightheaded despite having had perhaps two sips of your wine.

“You missed a spot,” you whispered to him… and he smiled. And it crinkled the corners of his eyes and set them alight. And the last of your reservations and hesitancy fell away as he leaned in, more hurriedly this time, and kissed you, tipping your chin up so your lips met his.

He kissed you with an unmistakable fire and need and you found yourself melting under his touch, yielding to his hands as they combed through your hair, tangling into it, and slipped down to grip your shoulders and smooth over the bare skin on your arms.

You reached for him and arched into his waiting body, your arms looping around his neck. Your fingers found their way into his hair as you kissed him back more heatedly, giving in to the need you too felt. The need to be touched and kissed and held by him, the need and desire you’d been warring with inside yourself since you’d felt that first spark of attraction months and months ago. Negan wrapped an arm around you and pressed the small of your back toward his body, tugging you against him, and smiling as you returned the kiss with more and more heat. He let out a hum and then a low chesty growl as your teeth dragged over his bottom lip and you fought him for more dominance.

“Easy, doll,” he warned you, separating just enough to speak. “Have you got any idea what you’re toying with right now?” he laughed. The man had hardly been touched in years and with every passing second, he wanted more and more to completely collide with you.

“What did I tell you about calling me ‘doll’?” you asked, your voice breathy and low. You pulled back and met his eyes again and they were lust blown and starry, as you were sure yours were… but there was something else in them too. Some other something like tenderness. Heat was pooling in your chest and your heart was beating so hard and fast you were sure he could hear it.

Negan smiled. “I thought that had grown on you, but I guess we’ll have to find something more suitable,” he replied. He pulled back just a little and bit his bottom lip, considering you, that damn smile still on his face. “Hmm…” he hummed thoughtfully. “What do you want, baby?” His voice was deep and smooth as he said it, and you had a feeling the jerk knew exactly what that word would do to you.

A small smile started on your lips and then grew into a wide, jubilant one. Your arms were still around his neck “I want you to fucking kiss me again,” you said.

And he was more than happy to oblige, crashing his lips against yours in an almost bruising kiss. He could faintly taste red wine on your tongue and soon you were straddling over his hips on his lap, your hands clasping his face and running through his hair, drifting down to press a palm flat to his chest, his muscles rippling under your fingers. His hands drifted over the angles of your back and down to the curves of your hips and buttocks as he hummed into the kiss. Soon his hands hooked under your knees and he tipped you onto your back on the couch, suddenly leaning over you, caging you beneath him.

Both of you broke for a moment to catch your breath and Negan again kissed your forehead and your neck. His lips drifted across the scattered bruises there up to your jawline and then back to your lips. He pulled back again and caught your eyes, his expression intense but searching. “Is this too much too soon?” he asked you.

You smiled up at him again, still catching your breath. “Fuck no,” you breathed.

“Thank fuckin’ God,” he growled, before capturing you in a kiss again.

It didn’t take long before you were tugging his t-shirt over his head and he was freeing you of yours with an urgency of a man starved. He lifted you from the couch to press your skin to his as he peppered more kisses over your neck and down your collarbone, his fingers leaving hot trails on your skin.

Soon, the two of you were just flushed skin and crashed together completely, moving seamlessly with one another. Negan’s attention was intense and electric and it wasn’t long before he was pulling sinful and blissful sounds from you and you from him, your softness and curves driving him wild, every roll of your hips dragging him closer and closer to the edge. As you neared your peak and his teeth grazed the shell of your ear, his fingers laced between yours, and the only things you could hear were your own pounding heart and his ragged breathing as the two of you crashed over your highs together.

“Fuck me, baby girl,” he growled, burying his face against your neck and into your hair and breathing in your smell. He felt like his heart was about to burst.

You let out a light laugh. “I just did,” you purred into his ear.

He pulled back, chuckling, and smiled down at you beneath him. “You ain’t wrong,” he said, smoothing some sweaty strands of your hair away from your face. He leaned in and kissed you softly this time, gently. “Fuck,” he sighed, sweeping a hand back through his hair and separating his heated skin from yours. He reached for a blanket folded over the back of a chair beside the couch and spread it over you, hooking a hand under your legs and laying them over his lap.

You were chewing on your thumbnail, a little stunned and bashful suddenly as you looked up at him.

“You need anything?” he asked you, smiling at the blush in your cheeks. “Glass of water? Towel? Lobotomy?”

You laughed and cocked an eyebrow at him. “Lobotomy?!”

“Yeah,” he said, chuckling. His hands drifted over your legs and drew circles on your hot skin absently. They smoothed down to give you a gentle foot rub as he looked over at you. “Because you must be out of your tits to fuck Alexandria’s Most Hated… I can’t believe you did that. Someone is going to have to give you a talking to.”

You shot him a half-amused look and rolled your eyes. “God, you’re right… What the fuck am I doing here?” you joked, starting to pull away from him and stand up.

“Nuh uh uh!” he laughed, catching you around the waist and tugging you back against him. “I am nowhere near done with you, baby,” he growled into your ear. Your top teeth dented into the pillow of your bottom lip. “How about we go get you cleaned up in a nice hot shower… and then get absolutely filthy again?” he asked, kissing your neck.

Goosebumps rose on your skin.

“And then you’re staying the night with me,” he murmured, brushing your hair to one side and kissing down your neck and shoulder.

“Oh, I am?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely, you are,” he said. “I want to hold you until the sun comes up. It’ll be the first good night of sleep I’ve had in six fucking years.”

You smiled to yourself. “Mmm… I guess that sounds okay,” you teased him, feigning indifference.

“‘Okay’?” he growled. “Oh, darlin’, you shouldn’t have said that…”

You let out a surprised peal of laughter as he lifted you into his arms and headed for the bathroom.

_ _ _ _ _ _

You awoke gently to sun filtering in through sheer curtains, staining the whole room a shade of medium blue. Negan’s warmth and weight was tucked up behind you, his arm draped over your waist. He rolled onto his back beside you as you stirred and you turned over to look up at him. Your hand landed in the middle of his chest and he gave you a peculiar look, a cautious smile on his handsome face.

“Morning,” you said, tucking yourself in against him more tightly, soaking in his warmth.

“Good morning,” he replied. You could feel the deep reverberation of his voice beneath your palm. “You doin’ alright, darlin’?” he asked.

“Hmm? Why wouldn’t I be?” you asked, a soft frown tugging at your lips.

“Well, I think part of me still expected you to roll over this morning and freak out at who was playing the big spoon,” he said.

You propped yourself up on your elbows and fixed a concerned expression on your face, looking up at him. “We’re going to have to work on your self-image, Negan,” you said. It pulled a laugh from him.

“Oh, are we, babe?”

“Yes!” you said seriously. “You have so much to offer. You’re more than your past.”

He sighed and gave you a more sincere, somewhat dreamy smile. “If you keep saying it, I might just believe it someday. Come here,” he said, pulling you back against him. You settled down under his arm, his hand landing on the dip of your waist. You tucked in against the crook of his neck. “Hey—one thing though. You can’t tell Daryl what we did on the couch last night. Or against the wall of the shower. Or at the side of the bed. Or the foot of the bed. Or—”

“Negan,” you sighed.

He laughed. “I’m just saying—he’s got this whole protective brother thing going on with you and I would like to remain alive and intact.”

“I can’t believe we’re in bed together right now and you’re bringing up Daryl,” you retorted.

“Hmm. That’s a fair point. Should we add another to my list of offenses?” he said, his hand drifting down to your thigh beneath the covers.

You laughed, heat already flushing in your chest and face. “Several, I think…”

“Several? You’ve got it, baby doll…” The End

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Three for One 1

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, cheating, customer service abuse, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: As a customer service associate, you're used to work with a wide variety of characters. Your efforts to go above and beyond draw the attention of a certain set of customers who want more than what's on the shelf.

Character: Andy Barber, Lloyd Hansen, Ransom Drysdale

Note: Right, this was supposed to be a drabble series but it morphed and not I'm fucked.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me &lt;3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

It's the most special time of year! Mistletoe, jingle bells, and holiday cheer! Oh, and hot chocolate. Lots of that.

You hide your thermos under the desk and grab the crystal bottle again, giving a test spritz to the air. Your job isn't very complicated. All you do is say hi and chat about the perfume. Your manager says the job is selling but you don't like to see it that way.

You smile at a family of five as they veer towards the toy section. You don't think the six year old would be into an eau de parfum. It's understandable.

While you spend your hours wandering around expensive makeups and scents, you're filled with a certain hint of longing. For what you're paid to push the merchandise, you can't afford any of it yourself. Well, you've never been very materialistic.

You spin around and see a gentlemen approaching, though he doesn't seem to see you. He looks past you, almost through you. You stop in place and put on your best smile, fixing the red band around your head.

"Hello, sir, would you like to try some Gucci?" You offer and spray the nozzle at him.

He skids to a stop and recoils as if he's been slapped. He holds out his arm as he looks down at his coat, little droplets seeping into the fabric. He takes a whiff, his short mustache wiggling under his nose, and he scoffs as he tries to shake off the cologne.

"What the fuck are you doing?" He snips.

"Sorry, sir, I didn't mean to scare you."

"You just go around spray people with that horseshit?"

"Well, sir, with respect, I don't like that sort of language.

"And I don't like being drenched in dog piss," he blusters, "point me to the goddamn trimmers."

"Um, what kind? Nail trimmers? Pet trimmers? Garden trimmers?"

"What the fuck do you think?" He points to his own face.

You hold your smile. There's always that one customer who's having a bad day. Whatever's got him so upset must be worse than dealing with him.

"Personal care," you point to the far corner, "right over there, sir."

"Ugh," he stomps and storms off.

"I hope your day gets better," you call after him, "oh, did you want a store coupon--"

He ignores you as he waves you off over his shoulder. You watch him turn towards men's grooming and you shrug, rocking slightly. You try not to let them get to you. As jolly as you find this time of year, a lot of people don't feel the same.

You shrug off the encounter. You still have a few hours ahead of you and it's starting to bustle with customers. You help a couple find the home wares while keeping the boundary of cosmetics firm. Lucille, the manager, doesn't like you leaving your zone.

You approach a woman looking at the Prada selection and get her checked out with a new fragrance, specially gift-wrapped by yours truly. She leaves happy, a small victory for the day. You celebrate but not too much.

You come around the counter just as you see that man strutting back up. He has an item in his hand and ignores you as he passes. Still you smile at him.

"Annoying," he mutters under his breath.

"Need help finding anything else, sir?" You ask his heels.

He stops and you see the way his spine stiffens. Oh no, you shouldn't have said anything. He slowly turns to face you.

"You can shut up," he marches up to you and grabs the bottle from your hands, "shut." He sprays you in the face, "up." He squirts you several more times before shoving the vial against your chest, "stupid little girl."

You take the bottle, blinking as you use your cuff to wipe the perfume away from your eyes. He continues on his path as you stand dumbfounded, drenched in Gucci cologne. It's hard to breathe through the heavy scent and you can't help but cough.

What a jerk. Just because he's having a bad day, doesn't mean everyone needs to.

Slowly you grow accustomed to the smell of yourself. It’s not too unusual. You go nose blind about halfway through your shift once you spray a few too many samples. You keep your distance from customers, offering them a spritz but trying not to crowd them with the vapors of cologne rippling off of you.

You yawn as the afterwork rush floods in and you make another round, smiling at Sofia as she peeks over at you. She’s with another customer at the counter, ringing them up as she gabs. You spin at the display at the center of the crossway that runs through the beauty department and stagger back before another can run you over.

You apologise to the tall man as he skids to a stop on his soles. You can tell he’s in a hurry by the way he grips his briefcase and squares his jaw. He wears a long dark wool coat as flecks of snow melt into his thick beard.

“Oh, sorry, I er, wasn’t–” He clears his throat, collecting himself, “I… didn’t see you.”

“That’s okay, sir,” you assure him, “would you like to try the new scent?”

You hold up the onyx bottle but don’t spray him. You don’t need another dousing. He looks at the silver letters on the side then at you. The furrow in his brow lightens as his blue eyes swim.

“No thanks, but er, you think you could help me find something?”

“Of course,” you chime and lower the bottle, “are you looking for a gift for someone special?”

He nods, “my mother-in-law is on her way into town, I need a present. Maybe perfume?”

His tone is tinted with frustration as he reaches up to rub the back of his neck. He lets out a long sigh. He’s one of those shoppers; the last minute scrambler. You grasp the vial in one hand and tug at the front of your thick red sweater, you’re starting to get a bit toasty in the crowded store.

“How old is she?” You ask.

“Um,” he clamps his lips together and thinks, “hmmm, probably seventy-something? I’m sorry, I guess I should know that.”

“That’s okay, I… I would suggest some Liz Taylor,” you turn on your heel and wave him after you as you head off, “it’s a classic. Not so much a me scent but the older crowd likes it. Oh, and it’s on special so your wallet won’t hate it, either.”

You stop by the Diamonds display as you face him again. He follows at a pace and stops before the shelf, perusing the gold caps and crystal caps. He considers the rack in deep thought.

“Here,” you set down your bottle on a nearby table of seasonal decorations and take one from the display. You slip out a strip of cardstock and spray it with the sampler, “this one is gardenia. That was her favourite scent. It’s probably the least pungent.”

You offer him the sample and he eyes it. He slowly bends and sniffs the end of the paper. He wiggles his nose. It makes you sneeze too. As much as you’re a fan of the classic actress, her scents are dated.

“Smells like her,” he grumbles under his breath, “sure, I’ll take that.”

“Great,” you declare and trade the sampler for a boxed bottle, then retrieve your disposed Gucci vial, “would you like me to check you out, sir?”

“Is it faster?” 

“I can be fast,” you promise him, “this way.”

You go around the sparkling counters and he meets you across the till. You type in your log in, taking several tries to get your passcode right. The man places his briefcase on the counter,a hand resting on the edge.

“You know a lot about this stuff?” He prompts.

“Yeah, I guess,” you smile as you scan the perfume and tap the special offer on the screen, “kinda part of the job.”

“Hmm” he hums again, in that thoughtful manner. You look at him but he’s not looking at your face, “that’s a nice sweater.”

You look down at the red wool speckled with pearls. It’s new and one of your favourites already. You can’t help a little wiggle of your shoulders, “thanks!”

“Very… cheerful,” he muses as he takes out his wallet, “wish I could say the same of what awaits me.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, sir, it’s that time of year, I guess,” you push the debit machine towards him and he taps his credit card, “I’m sure your mother-in-law will love the perfume.” The transaction approves and the receipt prompts, “would you like an email?”

“Nah, that’s fine,” he tucks his credit card away.

“Would you like it gift-wrapped?” You offer, “it’s free?”

He hovers his hand over his briefcase as he considers it. His eyes meet yours and his cheek dimples, “alright, yeah, that’s… that’s perfect. Thank you.”

“No problem,” you beam back at him, “let me just get some tissue paper…”

You murmur to yourself as you grab some gold tissue paper and a white gift bag with a Christmas tree embossed into the side. You carefully line up the small box on the paper and begin your intensive work. You're a master wrapper, you used to work at the wrapping station in the mall.

“What about you?” He asks before the silence can stretch too far, “you seeing family for the holidays? When you’re not working?”

“Um,” you smile as you look up, “I’m just hanging out with my dog. I bought him a bone.”

“A dog,” he nods, “your family live out of town?”

Usually, you ask the questions. It’s easier that way. It deflects the attention from you. It’s why you like the job; you can hear all about others and not have to think about yourself.

“Yeah, something like that,” you slip the wrapped box into the bag and fluff the tissue paper.

“Eh!” The loud exclamation makes you jump as the man merely turns his head, a tic in his jaw. His eyes narrow as another customer approaches, strutting with hands in his jacket pocket as he calls out, “Barber, what the hell?”

Your customer shifts towards the man, heels squeaking on the floor, “Hugh.”

“Don’t Hugh me, asshole,” the other man retorts, “you said you were busy? What’s the matter, you lose too much money last time?”

“Suzette is in town. Family dinner,” the man, Barber, drones dully.

“Ah, ditched for the old crone, I get it.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Well, wouldn’t you know it, poker night was canceled, something about not enough seats,” the man counters sharply.

“Next week,” the first man growls.

“Hey, you,” the man in the russet coat snaps his fingers in your direction, “you got some of that Acqua di Gio. That dumb girl over there said you’re sold out.”

Your brows pop up and you swallow tightly. He’s another type. The arrogant demander. He doesn’t hear no. He’ll ask everyone the same question in hope of getting a different answer.

“We are out of stock, sir, but I could order it in for you,” you suggest.

“Order in? I can just go on Amazon, thanks for nothing,” he chops his hand at you dismissively.

“Hey,” the other man nudges his chest, “be nice. She’s working.”

“What? I’m here to spend money and they got shit all–”

“It’s December,” the other man reproaches before he turns back to you, “sorry, my friend is a jerk.” He accepts the gift bag as you hold it out, “thank you. You saved me.”

“No problem, but er, I was gonna say,” you turn to the other man, “sir, I have some samples of the Armani. I could give you those while you wait for the order.”

“Samples?” He echoes, “how many?”

“Let me have a look,” you back up and go to the drawer at the back of the checkout.

“I gotta get going, miss,” the first man waves his hand as you peek over your shoulder, “have a happy holiday.”

“You too,” you chirp back and find the last few tubes of Armani. You claim them and prance back to meet the new customer at the counter, “I have five.” You lay out your wares, “if I order in a bottle it’ll be in just before Christmas.”

“Two weeks?” He puffs.

“I’m sorry, sir, that’s the earliest I can do. It’s the last day I can guarantee delivery before Christmas.”

“Talk, talk, talk, order it,” he snaps.

“Right, let me just…” you open the shop and search up the scent. You add it to the cart and proceed. “Alright, got that, did you want it shipped for pick up here or to your address.”

“Here, they can never fucking find my house,” he sniffs.

“Great, so when it arrives, we’ll give you a call. You’ll also get an email to confirm.”

“What’s going on here?” He points at you suddenly. You look down again at your sweater but don’t see anything amiss. You flinch as he reaches to pinch one of the pearls, “what is this?”

“Oh, I… my sweater,” you raise your head, swallowing down the insult. It’s cute!

“Huh, Walmart clearance, huh,” he scoffs, “alright, how much are you robbing me for?”

He reaches into his coat as you hit total. You read out the final amount but he doesn’t pull out a card; he hands you cash. You count the bills, twice over, then give him his change. He looms with impatient huffs.

“Here’s your receipt,” you hand him the strip of paper. “Have a good day, sir.”

“Mmm,” he pokes his tongue into his cheek as he shoves the receipt into his pocket, “actually, while I’m here, I’d like a new sweater. You can help me and I’ll show you what real quality is.”

You almost laugh. Not spitefully, it’s just a bit silly. He’s competing with you, a perfume pusher.

“Well, sir, I can point you towards men’s fashion but I’m not able to leave this department, I’m sorry,” you give a sheepish smile.

“Oh no, good girl wouldn’t want to break the rules,” he rolls his eyes, “goody goody and her precious little smile.” He hooks his thumbs in his pockets, “my shit better be in by Christmas.”

He twists and strides away. You watch him go but not for long as you’re quickly distracted by a customer looking at the Britney Spears collection. Those are easy sellers.

[worldsaparted]

i'd love to request something very soft and fluffy where it's after the tournament, it's raining, and daniel and the reader are sitting together in the back seat of the car, heading home + holding each other tightly and resting their heads on each other's shoulders and are just so happy about daniel's win, despite everything that happened with his leg <333

such a good request, thank you! i hope you like this :) ps sorry for the wait!

All Valley - Daniel LaRusso

When Daniel LaRusso secured the win that meant not only his safety, but closure with his life after moving to Reseda, he was extremely happy - and all he wanted was his girlfriend.

Yeah, he spent his time with Mr. Miyagi because it was his celebration too - but exiting the All Valley Arena is where Daniel’s mind went straight back to Y/n.

She was there, holding her denim jacket that he got her for her birthday after saving up for some time over her head in order to protect herself from the heavy rain, she was as happy as ever to see him too - and he glanced to Mr. Miyagi who gave a firm nod before he limped over to his girl. Daniel groaned at the rain, though still made his way over.

She met him in the middle, her arms immediately going around his neck before kissing him softly, smiling into it. Sure, they shared their hug right after he won, but now - he was good to be with her for the rest of the night. Which was perfect.

“You okay?” She asked, her voice soft as her eyes looked from his leg to his eyes, earning a nod as he continued to limp beside her, his arm around her as she took the trophy from his hands, holding it for him. Daniel took the jacket to hold over them, and he glanced over - a small smile on his face.

“Mhm.” He mumbled, subconsciously pressing his lips against her temple. Lucille was waving them over from the car so naturally - the two rushed over, Daniel opening the back door for Y/n and letting her in before following.

Lucille was extremely happy for her son, and she made sure to talk to Mr. Miyagi about Daniel’s win the entire time on their way from the tournament.

Daniel smiled down at his girlfriend as they studied his trophy. It was quiet back here, the music was low and when Y/n looked over, her smile slowly grew.

“I’m so proud of you.” She ran a hand through his hair, and Daniel’s cheeks turned a bit red as he heard her say this. His hair was wet, as was hers but still - it felt nice. Y/n watched as Daniel leaned forward to place a soft kiss against her cheek, his hand taking hers.

He had so much to say, but he wasn’t sure where to start. With how much he appreciated her for being there? How relieved he was? How happy he was to be with her right now? His heart raced at the sight of Y/n and her words, and he instead unbuckled his seatbelt, scooting closer to her.

Y/n sat, her head against the window staring out at the rainy and windy weather for a moment before Daniel softly laid his head in against her shoulder, very much enjoying this post tournament time with her. His hands held one of hers, and her free hand ran through his hair, a small grin on her face as she looked down to him.

He seemed relieved, and he truly was. Now, y/n was completely his and he didn’t have to fight for that spot anymore. He won his girl, fair and square. Maybe he had a huge cool trophy, but this was what really mattered to him.

The sounds of the radio were faint, but the sounds of the rain drops against the window were loud, Lucille was still talking to Mr. Miyagi and it was dark out as they drove down the streets. After some time, his arms slowly slithered around her waist, pulling her as close as she could be - and he smiled. He sighed in content, his eyes softly shutting as she continued to comfort him and run a hand through his hair, her head against his.

Daniel LaRusso would never forget the way Y/n held him, and Y/n would never forget the way Daniel softly breathed as he shut his eyes, the way his hair tickled her chin, or the way his hands held her waist.

Slowly, Daniel turned and buried his head in his girlfriend’s neck, his hot breaths against her as he softly smiled to himself at the sound of her soft laughs.

He didn’t say much, as he was lost in the feeling of Y/n and her hands caressing him, but he wanted nothing more than to stay like this forever. At some point, she moved her hands to softly hold his injured leg, rubbing it in a gentle manner and softly speaking into his ear.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” She asked, her voice in a whisper and Daniel slightly pulled away from her neck, his face an inch from hers as his eyes searched hers. He grinned slowly, nodding.

“I’m sure.” His eyes glistened as they stared into hers, and he gently moved one of his hands to hold the back of her head before pulling her in to be able to place a kiss on her forehead. “Don’t worry, alright?” He said, and Y/n nodded despite the fact that she 100 percent would.

He snuck his face back into his comfort spot that was the crook of her neck, and shut his eyes at the feeling of her hands making their way back to him.

While the windows were extremely cold, and the weather outside was crazy, here - it was perfect. Daniel was as warm and as comfortable as he could ever be and vice versa. He clung onto his girlfriend in happiness of his night overall, not being able to hide his smile away and Y/n was the same.

She smiled at the way he softly whispered into her ear, telling her everything about the tournament that she didn’t already know, and laughed at the small jokes he cracked.

“Now that I’m an All Valley Champ, will you go to prom with me?” He played a smirk on his face as his eyes met hers, pulling away and Y/n smiled, fixing his headband and nodding.

“Maybe.” She sarcastically spoke, earning a small chuckle from Daniel and he was unable to pull his gaze from Y/n. His true win.

Her hands still comforted him by the way she ran her left through the back of his hair, and her right against his knee. She placed soft kisses against his cheek and jawline as he explained his moves to her - and exactly how he learned them.

“I think I got that perfectly, because Mr. Miyagi..” he went on, casually accepting each soft kiss against his skin from his girlfriend with a smile.

“Mhm.” Y/n made it known she was still paying attention, and throughout the car ride, that’s what it was. Y/n asking about the tournament and peppering him with kisses and comfort as he responded, one hand around her shoulders that hugged her close against him. As close as she could be.

[simturlude]

prev / next

[transcript below]

Lucy: [groans]

[Lucy's stomach growls]

Lucy: [internally] Why’d I say I wasn’t hungry?

Lucy: [sighs] Stupid, stupid, stupid

[A lock clicks as the door slowly creaks open]

Earl: Lucy?

[Lucy slowly opens her eyes]

Earl: Lucy? You alright?

Lucy: Huh...Dad? W-what’s that noise?

Earl: What noise? I don’t hear nothin’.

Lucy: [weakly sits up] It-it’s like a pounding.

Earl: Lucy there’s no sound like that in here- what’re you talkin’ about?

[Lucy suddenly feels a pang in her stomach, causing her to keel over in pain]

Lucy: [groans]

Earl: Lucy, Lucy what’s wrong?!

[Lucy’s surroundings begin to blur as the sound of Earl’s heartbeat quickens and grows louder]

Lucy: That noise! It’s so loud and I’m so-so...

Earl: So what?! Lucy the hell’s goin’ on?!

Lucy: [speaks in a low, strained tone] Hungry...

[Lucy slowly stands, her eyes peering into Earl emptily]

Earl: H-huh? Lucy... Lucy what are you doin?

Earl: [mutters with fear lacing his words] Lucy...LUCY!

[Lucy lunges towards Earl]

Earl: AHHHHHH!!!

Earl: Lucille you need to let go!

[Lucy continues drinking, unperturbed]

Earl: Lucille, are you even listenin’ to me?!

Earl: [grunts in frustration and pain] Damn it!

[Earl slowly pushes himself off of the ground as Lucy continues drinking from his arm]

[Earl musters as much strength as he can and pushes Lucy off of him]

Lucy: Ahh!

Earl: Let go!

Lucy: Ow!

Lucy: [groans] My head...

[Earl stands as quickly as he can]

Lucy: [Lucy sits up slowly, confused] W-what happened?

[Lucy’s eyes drift to her father’s arm]

Lucy: [gasps and wipes her mouth quickly] Lord Dad I’m so sorry, I ain’t-

Earl: Hush Lucille, just be quiet. I don’t wanna hear anotha’ word out of you.

Lucy: But Dad, I-I really ain’t mean to-

Earl: Lucille enough! Look at my arm, LOOK AT IT! [chuckles dryly] And you wanna come to me talkin’ about goin’ outside?

Earl: WHEN THIS IS WHAT YOU ARE! THIS IS WHAT YOU DO!

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

Whumptober 2024 No. 23

Prompt: “I’m doing this for you.”

Warnings: Allusions to torture

Pairing: Daryl Dixon X Fem!Reader

gif by @daryl-dixon-daydreams

“As a rule, I’ve never been one to raise a hand to a woman.” Negan chuckled. “Well, in this case, a bat.” With a gloved hand, he grabbed his chin and worked it back and forth, likely still feeling the force that propelled your fist. “Lady’s got a helluva right hook.”

On your knees, you kept your head down, refusing to meet his eyes. Not Negan’s.

Daryl’s.

Your best friend. The very reason for your outburst. He looked wretched; dark circles around his eyes, cuts and bruises in various stages of healing, and he had visibly lost weight. What were they doing to him?

You loved that man, had decided so many months ago that your heart was his regardless of whether or not he reciprocated. There was just no way you could stand by and let Negan gloat about Daryl’s torture. Still, you had gone too far and now you would pay for it.

“I told you people what would happen!” Negan barked, any humor he had displayed now vacant from his tone. “I hate to do this, but—”

You could picture it in your mind’s eye: the bat held high, Negan’s sardonic grin. He was winning again, another life taken in the name of his glory. Everything you fought for would be for nothing. You closed your eyes and waited for the fatal blow.

“M’Negan!”

Your eyes shot open, terror and disbelief filling them as you stared at Negan’s boots.

“I’m sorry, I don’t think I heard you correctly. What was that?” The man sounded full of equal parts excitement and bewilderment. Finally raising your head, you found Daryl. He was a few steps forward from where he had been, Dwight slowly releasing his arm and stepping back. You shook your head adamantly.

It couldn’t be real. He couldn’t have—

“I’m Negan.” He said again, his expression pained, fists clenched at his sides. “Just—let ‘er go.”

Negan looked at you, meeting your glare, then back to Daryl before pointing Lucille inches from your face. He grinned, all teeth and snark. “This your girl?” Daryl said nothing, your heart galloping. He didn’t deny it. Did he want Negan to think you were together? What would that solve? “She is. Well, goddamn. Didn’t know you had it in you.” Dropping the bat, he turned that expression toward you. “Well, in her.”

“Leave ‘er be!” Daryl hissed, his step forward halted by Dwight.

With a nod and raised brows, Negan stepped back. “I got what I needed outta this. Let’s roll out.” The man began a strut toward one of the trucks, chuckling and placing the bat over his shoulder. That was it?

You felt your chest constrict while you watched Daryl being led away. What if this was your only chance? “Wait!” Stumbling to your feet, you looked back and forth between Negan and Daryl, your eyes please. “Wait, please! Let me—let me say goodbye?” When Negan turned, his mouth was split into that smile that made your blood run cold.

“Well, darlin’, since you said please.” Stepping to the side, he used the bat to motion toward Daryl. You wasted no time and broke into a run, slamming into the hunter’s chest with enough velocity to unsteady him. Sobbing into the dirty sweater, you gripped the fabric over his ribs.

“You can’t do this.” You whispered. “You can’t—you just can’t.”

There was a hitch in his breath before his arms encircled you and his face was in your hair. “I gotta.” His voice cracked. You shook your head, rubbing your face against his chest. He smelled of sweat, sick, and body odor. God, the way they were treating him was deplorable. You couldn’t bear it.

“No. No, you just need to stay strong. You need to—”

“Time’s up. Dwight.”

Hands were grabbing you, pulling you away but you held tight. “Daryl, don’t do this!” You had been forced back far enough to see the defeat in his eyes, the sadness, the—

Your lips were on his before you even bid your body to move. You didn’t care if he returned it, you just needed him to know, to understand. You loved him. When his mouth moved over yours and his calloused palm touched your cheek, you felt your heart stutter just as you were roughly separated from him.

“Don’t do this! Daryl! Daryl!” You cried, pleaded, watched the Saviors begin to pull him toward the truck. The hand he was reaching toward you fell.

“M’doin’ this for you.” And then your heart was taken from you and shoved into that truck, forcing you to watch as he was driven away to become the very thing that was tearing your world apart.

[itgetsdarksometimes35]

But At What Cost?

Warnings: This chapter: Thoughts of suicide, non con, physical abuse, miscarriage; the series: non-con, dub-con, depression, forced marriage, angst, forced pregnancy, 18+

Word count: 2,925

Pairings: Dark!Bucky Barnes / Reader

Summary: Reader is the youngest girl in her family. After being sold to Bucky Barnes, and forced to have his child, she and her sisters look for a way to escape.

~ indicates time change

- indicates a POV change

A/N: Holy shit, I have not updated in 4 years... Life has been so busy with moving, having a child, and starting my new business but I am so incredibly happy to be back! I would get that writing itch but would never scratch it, until now. I plan to post weekly for a long as I can stand it. I also hope to participate in challenges and NANOWRIMO next year, so hopefully this year can be a warm up to where I used to be. Anyway, enough rambling. Let's get into the third and FINAL part to my most popular series, Small Price to Pay. Enjoy!

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

Three months. That’s how long it’d been since you and your sisters had escaped your Hellhole of a life. That’s also how far along you were in your pregnancy. You weren’t showing yet, but all your sisters and nephews and nieces knew. Nobody allowed you to stand too long without offering you a chair, and you were exempt from all household chores, to your dismay. The one thing you begged to let them allow you to do was shop on your day and take care of the young children.

Today was your day to leave to get groceries. This time was always extremely stressful for you and your sisters, none of you knew what lay beyond the door. There was no way to know if today was the day that you would all have to separate. More stress was in the air due to your pregnancy. 

Lucille wrote the list of supplies before handing it to you, smiling. “Okay, here’s everything we need. Do I need to remind you not to talk to strangers?” She lifts an eyebrow, her lips turning into a smirk as you slap her arm playfully. 

“Don’t worry, mom, I promise I won’t.” She laughed at you before hugging you close. You all always did this, just in case it’d be your last time together. 

Anne was next to hug you. “Stay safe, baby sis.” You hugged her tight, calming your nerves as you smelled her candy perfume.

 You went on to hug Vienna and she rubbed your belly. “No matter what happens, just know baby boy will keep you safe.” You smiled at your sister.

“You’re so sure it’s a boy?” Vienna nodded.

“Positive. I predicted all my kids’ gender correctly, what makes you any different?” She lifted your hand from your belly, replacing it with yours. You’d always wanted a girl, but deep in your heart you felt it was another boy too. You’d never admit this to your sister, you’d never hear the end of it.

“Your witchcraft doesn’t work on me, devil woman!” you joked, causing all your sisters and you to laugh. You savored that moment, how you felt and the way you all sounded at peace. No doubt none of you had felt that way in a long time. A piece of you knew it all was temporary, soon you’d all go back to worrying. Was that shadow or a person following them? Was that stranger living near us before or did they just move in? What do we know about them?

You were pulled from your thoughts when Anne clapped her hands. “Well, on your way. You want to get there and back before rush hour.”

~

You shopped the aisles of the American store, looking for your last items. As you're pushing the cart you hit something. No someone. You looked up shocked and immediately apologized upon seeing a woman with white hair. Her hand travels down to her protruding belly protectively, and your eyes get wide.

“I am so sorry, Ms, here let me help you.” You rush to the woman’s side as she tries to bend down to pick up her dropped items. She stands back up as you bend to get her items before handing them to her.

“Don’t worry about it, I should really look where I’m going. I don’t have a giant sign on me.” She chuckles at her joke, and you just nod your head. You couldn’t help but feel you knew her, but shook your head. That’s impossible. You knew no women except your sisters and nieces.

“Well, I’m sorry again. Have a good day, ma’am.”

“Wait!” You look back at the woman when you turned to leave her to her business. “I’m sorry to bother you, but could you help me with my groceries home? I live just down the road in Kilven’s road, I was going to ask a grocer to help me but they’re all men. I don’t feel comfortable with that, I’d rather have a woman. If you can’t I completely understand, just thought I’d try anyway.”

You considered the woman for a minute. Kilven’s road was next to yours, it would be an extra 5 minutes max to help this pregnant woman. You understood her wariness to ask a male to help her home. Besides, you did hit her with your cart.

“Sure, let me just check out and I’ll be happy to help you out.”

The woman smiled at this. “Really? That’s great, thank you so much! My name’s Nat by the way.”

~

You and Nat talked the short walk to her house, she had just moved there a year prior to be with her German boyfriend-turn-husband of 6 years. You  nodded your head as she told you stories, you kept your life story vague. You had just moved there yourself, but that’s all you offered.

“Do you have any kids?” You opened your mouth to speak before closing it again, unsure how to answer. You wanted to trust Nat, but you were still getting a weird feeling around her. “I’m sorry, that’s very rude of me. Don’t answer that.”

“It’s okay.” You smile at the woman as you readjust the bags on your shoulders. One held Nat’s items and the others yours. You both shopped light to your luck. You continued to walk in a bit of silence until the woman pointed to her house. 

“Here I am.” You followed her up the steps as she took out her keys. “Would you like to come in? My husband baked a mean German chocolate cake.” She took her bag from your shoulder, and you smiled at her generosity. 

“No, thank you, but I should really be getting home if I want a headstart on dinner.” The woman nodded at your response.

“Of course, of course. Thank you again for your help, get home safe, dear.”

You thanked the woman as you waved goodbye and stepped away down the steps. You hurried off the road with your bag and to your own, never looking back. Little did you know the woman was following you the entire time. 

~

When you got to your house, you took out your keys swiftly before putting them in the lock. You opened the door, looked out and saw nobody there, then locked it behind you.

“I’m home!” You walked to the kitchen, noticing the eerie silence. That’s weird. “Hello?” You walked up the stairs, still not hearing one child. Did they leave? They didn’t call you. When you reached your room you gasped at what you saw. 

“James?” Your husband smiled back at you as your sisters sat in the small room’s corner. James had a gun pointing at the bathroom where you heard small whimpering sounds, no doubt the children were in there. 

“Hey, Baby, miss me?” You gulped.

“James, please. Let my sisters and their children go. I’ll go with you peacefully, just don’t hurt them.” James shook his head.

“Can’t do that, Doll. These women have husbands who are worried sick about them and their kids. Would it be right to just let them kidnap their children and disappear halfway across the world with them?”

You looked to your sisters as tears fell from their eyes. This was all your fault. You should’ve never stayed with them, you and Bucky should’ve found your own place to escape to. You should’ve known James would find a way to you.

“James, please. Don’t do this.” Just then the door downstairs bursted open. You all, except Bucky, jumped at the sound. Fast steps made their way up the stairs, and then Nat appeared in the room’s doorway. Only this time she had no belly.

“Natasha, perfect timing.”

Natasha?

Suddenly you remembered. How could you be so stupid? The woman before you with her own gun was the woman you met at your wedding. She talked to James about moving to Germany to live a life on the downlow. Back then she had red hair.

She sauntered into the room, smirking at you, before aiming the gun at the same door James just was. “Their husbands are on their way here. They should be getting off the plane in about 5 minutes and they’ll be here to get children and wives back in no more than 30 minutes. I’ll keep these lovely ladies company until then.” Your sisters’ eyes widened at her words, and you started crying. 

James smiled and lowered his gun before walking to the bathroom. “Good.” He opened the door and your nieces and nephews started crying. Your heart broke for the pain you were causing. James walked from the room with your son in his arms. “I have everything I need, so I think I’ll take my wife and son and head out.”

Your son calmed down his cries when he was in his daddy’s arms, snuggling closer to him and laying his head beneath his chin to suck on his thumb. 

Natasha turned her attention to you, still keeping the gun pointed at the door. “Look at what you caused. Your son could have grown up without a father. Is that what you want?” She raised her voice at you causing you to jump a little. You shook your head, closing your eyes as more tears poured from them.

“It’s okay, Nat, all that matters is we’re all back together. Isn’t that right, honey?”

“T-that’s right,” you whispered, not wanting to speak the venomous words. James walked over to you before grabbing your arms in a tight grip. 

“Happy you agree, let’s go home. Now.” The last word was growled in your ear, causing you to stiffen again. You opened your eyes to see your sisters again. They smiled weakly at you.

“I’m so sorry,” you sobbed out. James pulled you from the room then the house. A car came to pick you up as you traveled back to the Hell you had tried so hard to crawl away from.

~

When you got back home, James beat you. Bad. You cried and screamed at him to forgive you. Punches flew at you from every side. Your eyes threatened to swell shut from his blows and your lips were purple and bruised. You tried to tell him about the child you were pregnant with, but he couldn’t hear you through his rage. When you were down he kicked your stomach and you cried out in immense pain. He just grabbed your face and kissed you roughly.

James then picks you up from the ground before pushing you down on the bed. “Take off your clothes,” he demands, leaving no room for negotiation. Your mind was still foggy from what had just happened that James had forced on you the minute you both walked through the door and he handed Bucky to a maid you had never seen before. “Now, Doll, don’t make me repeat myself. I’m already pissed.” His nostrils flared as he spoke. 

With shaky hands, you steadily reached for the white button up you had been wearing. You discarded the fabric to the floor, revealing to James your white lacy bra. His pupils dilated as he watched on, his chest rising and falling with deep breaths. Next was your skirt, and then you were left with just her matching underwear set. You looked up at James with doe eyes, waiting for your next order. Just like the obedient little girl James had made you. 

“Keep going,” was his only command as he reached to pull off his white dress shirt that hugged his muscles just right. He palmed his growing hard on, the outline very prominent in his black dress pants. The size made your eyes water with more tears. You knew he wouldn’t be gentle. No matter how many times James fucked you, you were still just as terrified as the first time, nearly crying every time he’d stuff it into your tiny cunt. 

James reached behind you aggressively to undo your bra and let it fall to the floor along with your other clothing. Your boobs bounced from being free, and you slowly slid your panties down next. 

You were looking to the floor as you untangled the lacy fabric from your legs, but looked up when you heard a chuckle. You met James’ eyes as his face was turned up in a smirk. 

“Such a fucking tease,” he tsked, “You just want me to destroy that tiny little pussy of yours, don’t you?” You kept eye contact with him as you nodded her head.

“Yes, sir.” 

James leaned down in front of you, grabbing her face and pulling you roughly forward to his lips. He squeezed your jaw so you would open to him, wanting nothing more than to assert dominance with his tongue. 

James’ kisses were never loving, just hungry. He moaned into your mouth as his tongue explored; all the while you sat back with submission, allowing your master to take full control of what’s his. After what felt like minutes, James finally pulled away, pushing you back even more and causing you to whimper at the force. The fight in you dying forever ago.

James unhooked his belt as you held his gaze, dropping eye contact was a rule that you had learned not to break. Once her clothes were off, they had officially begun; after that she wasn’t allowed to look away from him. 

“Turn around. You’re going to learn not to disobey me one way or another.”

“Yes sir.”

“Did you really think you could escape me?” You started to cry again.

“I’m sorry.” 

“No, not yet you’re not. But you will. Look at me.” You turned around and your eyes widened. James’ left arm was replaced with that of a metal one. “You wanna know how I got this?” He tossed a cast that was in the shape and color of his arm that you were used to to the floor. “I was a prisoner of war in World War 2. I was used as a war machine long after the war ended. I’m an ex-supersoldier, Baby. Did you really think you could escape me?” James was starting to raise his voice as you started to cry again. 

He spanked your ass with his robotic arm and you lurched forward at the force. James continued spanking your bare ass until you were so raw you could barely feel it anymore. Your stomach cramped so bad and you screamed at the sudden pain, clutching it and falling to the bed weakly. 

“Get up, I’m not done with you.” But you couldn’t move. You could just stay in the fetal position as your body convulsed in the worst pain you could only relate to birth. Then you felt a liquid escape from your vagina. Your eyes squeezed shut as you begged the pain to leave you soon.

“Y-you’re bleeding. Are you okay?” James’ words barely reached your ears as you suddenly felt nauseous. You couldn’t move as your stomach emptied it’s contents on the bed. Then you saw black.

~

James had beat you so bad you had a miscarriage. When you woke up, you were in a hospital bed. A nurse was checking your vitals when she noticed you were awake. She greeted you, asking how you were feeling, before informing you of the terrible news. She asked to confirm what your husband had told them, that you had fallen down stairs and that explained your bruises and swollen eyes. You said yes.

After that day you were forever broken. You never stepped out of line with James, and you became the wife he had always wanted. No more did you dream of an escape, nor what the future held. You didn’t care.

James was never the same, either. After the incident, he was doting. Always saying he loves you, buying you expensive presents daily with flowers of different kinds. He tried to set you up so you could see your sisters more often, and he even let you leave the house. But you wanted none of it. You took the gifts with not so much of a smile, you rejected to see your sisters, and you chose to only leave the house when food was needed. You only bought Bucky clothes online, not being able to stand being in a child store. 

When Bucky’s 4th birthday rolls around, 3 years later, he is eager to start preschool. He didn’t remember his aunts or his cousins, and he was closer to his father than ever before, shying away from you as you grew colder and colder to both of the relationships you had in your life. It was him who dropped him off to school as you stayed home with a maid to take care of you and your needs. You were currently pregnant with a girl. James said you’d name Dahlia, Dolly for short. She’d be your perfect rainbow baby, he said, a real Doll. 

When Bucky came back home he showed you a card he had made for James at school, insisting it go on the fridge. You obeyed, hanging it there with a magnet that made Bucky happily skip away. 

The card showed Bucky and James hugging, not a sight of you or the child in your womb. You were a waste of space, a visitor in the home you’d created. A hollow shell of who you used to be. You thought about your suicide. It seemed easy, too easy. It’s a small price to pay for freedom, but at what cost? 

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Taglist: @jtargaryen18​ @coconutqueen21​ @collette04​ @nsfwsebbie​ 

[anotherhumaninthisworld]

Who are Camille's siblings? Do we know their names or anything about them?

In total, Camille’s parents Jean Benoît Nicolas Desmoulins and Marie Madeleine Godard had nine children, four of which died during childhood:

Lucie Simplice Camille Benoît (March 2 1760 — April 5 1794)

Henriette Aimery Angélique (21 February 1761 — 17 June 1770)

Marie Élisabeth Émilie Toussaint (November 1 1762 — December 20 1839)

Stillborn girl, buried at the day of her birth (January 15 1764)

Armand ”Dubocquoi” Jean Louis Domitille (May 5 1765 — 1793)

Anne Clotilde Pélagie Marie (June 20 1767 — ?)

Lazare ”Sémery” Nicolas Norbert Félicité (June 6 1769 — January 1811)

Clement Louis Nicolas (November 23 1770 — April 16 1778)

Charles Maximilien Yves Nicolas Reignier (June 17 1772, probably didn’t reach adult age)

We know Camille was the only one of the siblings that was given a higher education in Paris. Something we might find an explanation for in a letter to him dated January 23 1791 (cited in Hervé Leuwers’ Camille et Lucile Desmoulins: un rêve de république (2018)), where the father places his oldest son on a higher level than the rest of his children:

Your brother Dubocquoi has always had a rather limited peak, he has just acknowledged it to you; but it is not his fault. In the portion of nature and in the lot of the spirit, why have you exercised your birthright so copiously and taken such a great precipitate, to leave your siblings’ afferent share so small?

Camille expressed himself in similar terms in a letter to his father dated October 8 1789. I’m just gonna let this part of this hilarious comic by @theorahsart illustrate the passage:

Camille spending the majority of his time away from his family seems to have ended up in him not knowing his siblings all that well, as we in 1792 find a letter where his father has to tell him the name of his brothers as well as their occupations (cited in Camille Desmoulins, a biography (1909) by Violet Methley):

You ask me, my son, for the name of your brother, Du Bucquoy, as well as for that of Semery. The former is called Armand Jean Louis Domitille, who was born on May 5th, 1765. For the past seven years he has served in the late Royal Roussillon cavalry regiment, or the 11th Regiment of the Army of the Midi, and which I believe is either in the interior at Saumur or at Saint-Jean-d'Angely, for I have had no news of him for the last twelve months. The latter is named Lazare Nicolas Norbert Félicité, born on June 6th, 1769, and for the past two years in the loth Battalion of Chasseurs, late Gevaudan, with the Army of the North, in which he shows much zeal. He tells me in his last letter that he is a forlorn sentinel in a wood, and congratulates you on the birth of a son. As for me, I also am married. My wife is a musket, and I take greater care of her than of myself.

On February 8 1793 Lucile has written in her diary: ”C(amille’s) brother came. We had dinner at Madame Brune’s.” In a letter dated July 9 1793 Camille shares more details on his brothers, who by now are both serving in the revolutionary army. These parts got censored when the letter was published for the first time in 1836, and restored in Hervé Leuwers’ biography:

I have received unfortunate news of my brother, who has been lost to drunkenness and expelled from his regiment. I don't know if he wrote to you about his mishap. He has not dared to write to me about it, and he is right in not to. It is most unworthy that I should take an interest in him, and I am really angry that he has taken my name, which he has sullied in the army. Nevertheless, I had advised him to pour water into his wine. I don't know what has become of him since he was forced to resign as an officer. His conduct might have caused you grief under the old regime, but it is a duty that a family of republicans and good men consists of nothing but those who are republicans and good men. […] I am very sorry that Sémery was killed. I would have had no reason to be ashamed of him, and I would have procured for him a speedy promotion of which he proved himself worthy, for things are going well and will be better.

Soon thereafter, Camille does however find out the information regarding his youngest brother’s death is false, whereupon he writes a new letter to his father:

I am very sorry to have written to you that my brother Sémery would have died fighting for his homeland. I had no other certainty of a loss so grievous to you than the indication of his long silence, and I eagerly laid hold of your doubts of his death to fix my hopes upon them. May he be returned to you by the enemies into whose hands he may have fallen captive. I feel even more now, when I see my son, how sensitive this blow must have been to your heart.

Sémery had indeed not died in battle, but been captured at the siege of Maestricht. According to La jeunesse de Camille Desmoulins (1908) he was released after three years. In 1802 he was admitted to the 27th legion of gendarmerie on foot, and was serving in Piémont à la Chiesa as gendarme of the Stura company when he died by an accident in January 1811. The other brother, Dubucquoi, did however die in Vendée in 1793, I’ve not discovered on which date.

As for the two surviving sisters, we seemingly only know that they got married. According to geneanet, the eldest sister Marie Élisabeth Émilie Toussaint married one Théodore Morey in Guise, December 25 1793, while Anne Clotilde Pélagie Marie married Simon Isidore Lemoine in the same town on June 5 1794. Leuwers cites a document showing the two couples were still together by March 4 1797. He adds that both husbands were gendarmes and their wives left Guise to be with them at their posts. Somewhere after 1797 Marie Élisabeth Émilie Toussaint got remarried to one Théodore Lagrange before dying in Paris on December 20 1839, with one Antoine Nicolas Desmoulins as witness. When and where Anne Clotilde Pélagie Marie died I’ve not been able to discover.

[ar4chn333]

“I Just Got You Back”

Michael Bluth x fem reader

Summary:

You and Michael shared your chaotic childhoods as best friends until your father moves your family away, devastating both of you. Twelve years later, you reunite. Convincing Michael to take the day off work, you revisit old memories…and make some spicy new ones. (2,473 words)

Contents:

Pörn with plot, p in v, praise, f!ngering, kinda tooth-rotty ngl, friends to lovers, x fem reader

Waiting anxiously a few feet from the door, you quickly fix your hair, pushing it behind your ear. Your mother steps ahead of you, giving the door three knocks before stepping back by your side.

“Let’s hope Lucielle has wine,” she chirps.

“Please,” you chuckle softly, careful not to be heard through the door. “If there’s one thing I remember about Lucielle, it’s the attitude–and the alcohol.”

“Amen,” your mom smiles in your direction, raising her eyebrows in anticipation, clearly excited to see her friend of over 40 years. Truthfully, you didn’t care much for Lucille. She was quite harsh and you remember her outright insulting you as a child but you didn’t mind if it meant you got to see Michael. The two of you spent long, hot summers in the Bluth banana stand, teasing each other, commiserating, and of course, half-assedly selling frozen bananas. You jump a little when the door to the model home swings open and out pops Lucielle who promptly hugs your mother then does the same to you.

“Got rid of that deadbeat husband, I see Jennifer?” Lucielle blurts.

“You should have seen the divorce party,” your mom retorts, giggling.

Lucille motions you two inside, making a bee-line into the kitchen to pour another drink. “You’re old enough to drink now, right?” she asks you. “Oh, yes, though I’ll have some later, thank you,” you reply. Lucielle rolls her eyes playfully as she takes a sip and hands your mom a glass. The two start chatting away and you prepare for a long night of third-wheeling two drunk middle-aged women. However, you hear footsteps coming from upstairs and a man’s voice, seemingly trailing up and down the upper floor plan. You wonder if it’s George, though the voice is much smoother than his, and you can’t make out many of the words. You turn back to the women’s conversation, deciding the mysterious noise is none of your business.

A few moments later you hear footsteps descending the stairwell. Whipping your head around, you see a man in a light blue button-up shirt, khaki pants, and a maroon tie with a phone up to his ear, which he promptly shuts upon landing on the first floor. He looks up. It takes a moment for your brain to register who he is, but when it finally does, you dart out of your chair.

“Michael! Oh my god!”

“y/n!”

He wraps you in a bear hug, nearly lifting you off of the floor. Senses overwhelmed by the scent of cologne and the warmth of his body, you sink into him ever so slightly. After a couple seconds you briefly pull away, your arms still on his, to look at him. He’s gorgeous and has grown into his stunning blue eyes perfectly.

“How long has it been? Ten-ish years?” He says, beaming.

“More like twelve,” you retort, having actually counted beforehand during the car ride over.

“Gosh, you’re beautiful,” he says softly before chuckling nervously, as if the comment were a knee-jerk reaction. He smiles sheepishly, hand traveling to the back of his head. “Thank you,” you reply blushing and looking away briefly, stomach alight with butterflies.

Michael pulls out his phone, holding it up. “I really wish I could stay and chat but I have to head back to the office–Gob is causing trouble again.”

“Oh lord, what this time?”

“Can I tell you tonight? I’ll be back around 7.”

“I see you’re grown into your work ethic too huh? That’s not the Michael I remember at the banana stand,” you chuckle.

“No kidding, I can’t seem to catch a break.”

“Are you sure you can’t take today off? We could go to the banana stand and walk around!”

“I’m sorry y/n, Gob’s a handful and I’ve got to take care of this.”

“Okay. I’ll see you tonight then,” you say fake-pouting. He awkwardly places his hand on your shoulder for a brief moment and begins to walk towards the door. “You’d think the place is imploding with the way he acts,” shouts Lucielle with every intention of Michael hearing it. He turns back around to glare at her before locking eyes with you. Perhaps childishly, you make a fake explosion sound with an accompanying dramatic gesture from your hands. He pauses for a moment, looking back at his phone, then once again at you.

“Screw it, let’s go.”

Smiling ear-to-ear, you hop into his car and head to the banana stand. Walking around, you exchange stories of your childhood together–the banana stand, the bike rides, and burns from attempting to operate the cornballer. Though you leave it unsaid, you once again feel the pain of being thirteen and leaving Michael behind when your Dad decided to set up his company headquarters far outside of California. The pit in your stomach begins to subside when you glance back at the banana stand as the two of you walk past. The night before you left, the two of you were stocking supplies when you began to cry about your life being uprooted and most of all, losing your best friend. He kissed you that night. Your first kiss ever–and his too. Leaving broke your heart.

The two of you grab dinner and you find him to be just as funny, charming, and awkward as you left him, only now, he was devastatingly handsome. You talk about your respective jobs, ambitions, and hopes over the food, collectively realizing how weird your childhoods were–but at least you had eachother for most of it.

The two of you pull into the driveway, and he opens the door for you as you exit the car with the sweetest smile on his face as he holds your hand to help you up. You see your mom’s car and figure she’s probably passed out along with Lucielle. “I think your ride is probably asleep,” says Michael. “You’re more than welcome to spend the night, we have a spare bedroom for you to use.”

“Thank you, I’m not drunk or anything, but it certainly wouldn’t be safe for me to drive, much less attempt to wake my mother,” you chirp.

He opens the door to the house slowly and lets you inside. The lights are off so you tip-toe around to the stairs. “Where’s the extra bedroom?” You ask.

“Up here and to the right–I’ll show you,” he replies.

“Oh, perfect,” you let out with a relieved sigh, flopping on the bed, certainly feeling the sedative effects of the alcohol. “Any chance I could get some clothes to sleep in?”

“Sure! I have a shirt you could wear.”

Michael walks out of the room–the light still off with you perched on the bed. You’d have to travel back to your place in the morning. Though it was only a couple of hours away, you felt like Michael was being taken away from you again and it hurt all the same. You wanted more of him–to be around him, to talk about nothing and everything…to touch him.

He walks back into the room with a baggy shirt in hand, backlit by the slight light of the hallway. Hopping up, you glide toward him, reaching your arms out. He hugs you deeply and you feel his heart through his chest and his breath on your shoulder, sending shivers down your spine.

“I feel like I just got you back,” he says, still embracing you. Slowly, he pulls away, his arms still wrapped around you. And for a brief moment, you just look at eachother. As if in sync, your faces move towards each other, his soft lips making contact with yours. He starts slowly, savoring every moment he tastes you, the texture of his stubble on your face making you melt. Pulling you in closer he deepens the kiss, smiling when an ever-so-slight sound escapes your lips. Your hand slides up his back, to his neck, and finally to his hair which you run your fingers through, gripping it slightly as he presses against you. The feeling of your hand on him causes him to breathe deeply against you, hungry for your touch.

“You’re burning up,” he says. You look at him concerned, cheeks and chest flushed a bright red. Eventually you realize what he means.

“It just means I’m enjoying this,” you chuckle, going in for another kiss. His hands trail farther down to your lower back and eventually to your hips. You let out a slight gasp as he pulls them towards his body. Almost out of instinct, you wrap your arms around his neck and jump, your thighs resting on his hips and your legs wrapped around him. Forearms on your legs, his hands cup your ass, giving it a squeeze as he carries you towards the wall. Back on the wall, you let out a moan as he leans into you. His lips trail from your jaw to your neck, sucking lightly against the tender skin. You feel him getting hard from inside his pants as your nails drag along the shirt on his back.

“I want you, y/n. And not just tonight–I want you with me. I can’t lose you again,” he whispers.

“You won’t lose me–you’re stuck with me now,” you giggle, pausing to lock eyes with him. You lean closer once again, lips almost touching his “So fuck me, Michael.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. Spinning you around to the bed, he lays you down gently, once again trailing kisses down your neck. When he gets to your collarbone, his hands begin to reach up your shirt, fingers tracing along your ribs and to your tits. He lifts your shirt off, sitting up for a second to admire you laid out for him, legs around his hips. You get a little shy, covering your breasts with your arms but he pulls them away continuing his trail of kisses from your collar bone to your sternum and finally to your nipple. Your back arches at the sensation of his mouth, tongue circling and lips sucking. Moaning softly, your hands tug on the back of his shirt, eager to feel the skin of his torso against yours. You reach down to unbutton his shirt before stripping off his undershirt.

“You’re so beautiful, y/n,” he coos. You look down at him as his lips continue down your body, his mouth emitting the smallest sounds as he licks and sucks, driving you wild. Kissing just before the band of your underwear, you let out a moan, desperate for him. “Good girl,” he whispers. His words send shivers down your body, your underwear now drenched in anticipation. Slowly, he pulls off your pants, noticing your legs shaking for him already. He puts his hand over your most sensitive region, looking up at your expression–brows furrowed and mouth agape at his touch.

“Fuck, Michael, you feel so good,” you whine.

“I haven’t even started yet,” he whispers deviantly.

His fingers trace along your pantyline, pulling them down at a painfully slow pace, causing you to squirm underneath him. Running a finger through your folds, you whimper at the pleasure.

“Please, Michael.”

At the sound of your words, his middle and index fingers begin to circle your clit. Your hand reaches to clench the bedsheets while the other occupies itself with his soft brown hair. Your back arches suddenly and you buck your hips against him. Your moans become louder but are soon muffled by his mouth against yours. “That’s my good girl, so sensitive.” No sooner than he finishes his sentence, he slips his fingers inside of you, thumb now circling your clit. Curling them, he hits your g spot as you claw at his back, body pulsating with pleasure. “You’re doing so well, baby. It feels like you’re ready for me,” he coos.

“Please, Michael, I want your cock inside me,” you moan, locking eyes with him. His pupils widen as you palm him through his pants, biting your lip. He lets out a groan, sounding almost like the growl of an animal as he grows painfully hard. Sitting up, he undoes his belt in front of you as your hands trace the inside of your thighs, ready for him. Slipping off his pants, he raises one of your legs over his shoulder. Locking eyes with you, his hand runs the tip of his cock along your folds as your head tilts back in pleasure. Lining up with your entrance, he presses slightly into you, gasping at the feeling of your pussy. His hips slowly descend towards yours, cock pressing further and further into you. You let out a small whimper at his size, but quickly adjust to take him in.

“Oh Michael,” you let out, along with a stream of unintelligible whimpers.

He begins to slide his cock in and out of you, slowly, as not to hurt you. The delicious sounds that escape his mouth ring distinctly in your ears, causing you to clench around his member. You look down to see his hips colliding into yours, your legs shaking around him, buzzing with warmth and electricity at the feeling of him inside of you. He moves faster, pushing into you with increasing force and eliciting yelps upon contact.

“Shh baby, we don’t want to wake them up,” he says while continuing to pound you. Clearly unable to hold in your sounds, he slips two fingers into your mouth and your lips close obediently around them. You taste yourself on his fingers, moans escaping in the form of high-pitched hums in rhythm with his strokes.

A knot begins to form in your stomach as he fucks you, winding tighter every time he slides his cock into you. His thrusts grow more erratic, his mouth agape, on the verge of unwinding. He then takes your other leg, placing it over his shoulder, causing his cock to hit the perfect spot inside of you as you squirm and buck beneath him.

“You feel so good, baby,” he coos, pulling his fingers out of your mouth.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum, Michael!” you yelp.

Warmth runs over your body and the string comprising the knot in your stomach is pulled on like a ripcord, unraveling furiously. Your body shakes and your whimpers break in time with his movement while an electrical current overtakes your body with pleasure. Michael follows soon behind, cumming as his moans echo in the room and his thrusts dissipate.

He rolls over beside you as your arms cling to him, your head resting on his shoulder. “I missed you so much–I missed my best friend,” you whisper.

“I missed you too, y/n,” he says, kissing your forehead. “Come biking along the beach with me tomorrow.”

“I would love that,” you whisper, smiling ear to ear.

Author’s note in comments💕💕💕

[sheriffgrimes-archerdixon]

hii!!

could you do one where daryl and rick are like father figures to the reader? she goes to try to kill negan instead of carl and when she gets back rick and daryl are really mad and she gets into an argument with them?

that’s it!!🩷

Hi! Thank you so much for the request!!! 🖤🧟‍♀️💕

A/N: it’s been like MONTHS since I’ve written so sorry for literally disappearing, but thank you all for the love! Love you all. Sorry for how long this took to get out… but I’m finally finishing it at like 1am after so many weeks… so please excuse any spelling errors! Tysm. I adore all of you xx

Rick + daryl x fem! Reader (reader is 19)

Trigger warnings: argument, zombie stuff, gore, usual twd stuff. If any of it discomforts you please read at your own discretion!

Pinky promise

You knew it was a dangerous mistake. You shouldn’t of been so ambitious. But Negan deserved death and you believed you could kill him… but it all became clear that it was a mistake. You had made a dangerous and incredibly stupid decision and you knew as soon as you got home Rick and Daryl would certainly have a go at you if not kill you then and there for being so reckless. You knew you were absolutely insane for doing something so unthinkable but Negan had to die. Rick was taking his sweet time and Negan was just going to get stronger, and that scared you, so you wanted to take it into your own hands and kill the man yourself…

And so here you were gun in hand, pointing it at the clear sheet covering the back of the truck your finger trembling slightly as you waited for the voices to get closer. “There isn’t enough in the truck, we’ll have to go out again. Get more supplies and shit. Alexandria is so big yet they can’t even supply us enough shit.” “Yeah… don’t know why Negan won’t just kill them all. That way we can actually have a good home…” the voices spoke back and forth and you tightened your hold on the gun jaw clenched tightly watching as the blurry figures got closer and as a hand poked in through the clear sheet you pulled the trigger bullets spitting out as the men began shouting, followed by multiple ‘thuds’ proving you had killed a few of the bastards, you continued shooting, even as you jumped out of the truck the bullets flying around mercilessly- some saviours dropping to the floor, dead, and others just falling for the sake of their lives. Your eyes were narrowed as you breathed heavily your teeth slightly gritted together before suddenly a body shoved against yours, Dwight knocking you down onto your back, your gun falling from your hand as you groaned out glaring at the man. “Y/n….” A voice sung out, mockingly and your eyes snapped to meet with Negans. His hazel eyes gleamed with amusement, Lucille lightly hung over his shoulder as he grinned at you “didn’t I get my point across to you before that I really do not appreciate my people being killed…” he spoke your eyes narrowing as you scowled at him. He was a rotten bastard and deserved to be knocked down a peg or two, and so that’s why you abruptly tried to grab your gun again only for Dwight to kick it out of the way “not so fast” he muttered glaring down at you, Negan staring at you the amusement seemingly growing further and further before he exhaled

“I like you, you don’t mess around do you? You just do… I like that…” he smirked before stopping just in front of you holding his hand out for you to take “you’ve actually got balls… unlike someone else we know.” He spoke that stupid fucking grin remaining on his face and you just glared hoping to punch his teeth in, but instead you reached out, grabbing his outstretched hand before he leaned back pulling you up with his movement as you got onto your feet your eyes boring into his with anger “we were planning on heading to Alexandria today so you’re in luck. I’ll get you home safely.” “Rick isn’t home. He’s out.” You spoke, that wasn’t the truth, rick was at home but you didn’t want to see him… not when you know he will indefinitely be beyond mad at you. “Oh isn’t he? How disappointing. Guess I’ll have to wait around with you then huh?” And that’s when you realised just how much you had screwed up… Negan wasn’t going to kill you because he knew that Rick was going to get angry at you… “god dammit…” you whispered under your breath, Negan smiling still before he turned around “c’mon. Follow me. I’ll give you a tour of the sanctuary…” and so that’s exactly what happened, you were shown around, introduced to a few scary people and then given some food much to your surprise… it was odd. Being looked after for by your friends’ killer. It made you feel sick but what made you feel even sicker was what was happening right now… you were sat in the truck beside Negan, driving down the familiar road leading to Alexandria. Your heart was drumming in your chest your face pale and lips slightly parted… you were in deep shit and you knew it.

Breathing soon became nonexistent, your lips slightly parted eyes wide as you watched multiple people on outpost begin to shout… oh dear god. Heavy breaths slowly left your lips your eyes filled with complete fear… sure Daryl being angry at you was enough but Rick too- you couldn’t handle both of their wrath’s. You didn’t even want to experience it but you knew you were going to experience it. “Are you coming into to talk to them?” You soon asked glancing at the man, his hands which were warmed by the leather gloves he wore squeezed at the steering wheel and he grinned at you soon shoving his foot onto the brakes the truck coming to a screeching halt just in front of the gates leading into Alexandria “nah, kid. That isn’t my shit to do. You pulled a stupid fuckin’ decision and now you’re gonna face the consequences. I told you I don’t ap-“ “appreciate you killing my men I know.” You cut him off glaring into his eyes the man looking somewhat impressed before he raised his brows “at least you can learn.” He chuckled out looking forwards as the gate was slowly pulled open “go on then, your friends are waiting.” He spoke and you looked to the gate as well seeing Rick, hands on his hips, jaw tightly clenched and eyes a sea of worry. You glanced back to Negan knowing he wasn’t going to help before you pushed the door open only for the asshole to grab your wrist forcing you to stop “you not gonna thank me for bringing you home safe and sound?” He asked with a cocky grin and you glared at him “thank. you.” You spat out through gritted teeth and he smirked “you’re welcome.”

You then jumped out of the truck before storming towards the gate of Alexandria your eyes landing on Rick and a very infuriated yet terrified looking Daryl but you ignored them- you didn’t want to deal with their anger right now. “Y/n where the hell have you been?” Rick asked, hands remaining on his hips his eyes practically piercing into your soul yet you refused to speak or even look at him because well… let’s face it… he was terrifying. “Y/n where the hell do ya think you’re goin’ huh?” Daryl soon asked gruffly and you glanced at him “home. You wanna give me a lecture. Fine. But not in front of everyone.” You snapped, both men sharing a look, as if questioning whether you had really just used that tone with them but nonetheless they followed after you, you attempted to slam the front door but Rick was quick to catch it before it could latch “cut that attitude out right now, y/n.” Rick spoke calmly his body language however far from calm “I don’t understand why you’re both so unhappy! Jesus Christ can’t I try and help out!” Rick and Daryl stood side by side shoulders brushing against each other and Rick tilted his head slightly “do you realise how incredibly foolish it was to go out there and do… whatever you did… do you?” He raised his brows his blue eyes piercing into your soul and you rolled your eyes “ah ah, no, y/n, eyes on me.” He demanded and you looked at him “you aren’t hearing me- you could’ve been killed. What you did was very stupid. Irresponsible.” He spoke and you glared into his eyes “well I wasn’t! I’m here- am I not? I’m fine!” Daryl then took a step forwards “enough. It doesn’t matter whether you’re fine or not. What matters is the fact that you pulled some stupid death wish shit…” his eyes searched yours before he shook his head “it was stupid. You might’ve been helping or thinking you were helping… but what would we do if Negan brought back your dead body huh?” Daryl asked and you looked away, uncomfortable at that question, because you knew there was no right answer to such a question

“What did you do?” He soon asked and you looked back at him “machine gunned down a bunch of his men.” You murmured shamefully as you looked down, Daryl almost unresponsive whereas Rick was immediately pinching the bridge of his nose his eyes squeezed shut before he exhaled loudly showing his pure discomfort of the entire situation “oh my god…” he squeezed his eyes shut even more before looking at you “how irresponsible are you? Are you unaware of the fact that Negan has killed many people from this community?” Ricks tone was dangerous, frustrated, bordering on the line of anger and protectiveness “what do I have to do to get it through to you that we’re working together to make this safe! We’re doing everything we can y/n,” “no we aren’t! What about the lives we promised we’d get justice for! Have they just all gone down the drain?! We can’t just keep up this bullshit! Either he dies or we die! He’s overpowering us Rick! We need to do som-“ Rick soon held his hand up at you “no! Don’t you-“ “y/n. You’re getting ahead of yourself.” The man reminded you and you breathed heavily your eyes rage full Daryl moving behind you as he slowly rubbed up and down your back trying to sooth you yet your whole body felt as if it was on fire “we get that you want to protect us and this community but-“ “no! It isn’t just that Rick! It isn’t! I want to get- I- I want…” your voice cracked as your heart began to slowly split into pieces ricks expression softening, sure he had seen you open up before but not like this… he hadn’t seen you like this often… nor had Daryl- it surprised both men. “Tell me.” Rick spoke taking a step forwards this time, as he slowly reached a hand out resting his hand atop of your shoulder “I-…. I…” Rick remained silent searching your eyes allowing you to take your time watching as your face contorted in all ways imaginable the anguish, pain and fear slowly creeping up on you “he killed Glenn! He killed Abraham! He killed our friends! Shouldn’t we be trying to kill him! He killed Glenn! He killed-… he killed the guy who saved your dumbass!” You yelled shoving his hand off of your shoulder, ricks expression showing the pain, he hadn’t fully healed- in fact he hadn’t healed at all. He hadn’t allowed himself to grieve anyone’s deaths but especially Glenn’s. Or Abraham’s. He was too busy being a leader. Too busy taking care of his people.

“Y/n we can’t change that… I’m sorry… but we can’t… but what we can’t change either is the fact that if you died we would’ve lost a key part of Alexandria…-“ “we’ve already lost a key part!” Your voice cracked and Daryl stared at you “you’re both bullshit! I can take care of myself! Why don’t you think I can’t take care of myself?!” Your voice grew angrier before you ran off upstairs Rick running a hand over his face and Daryl just watching you run off “don’t go after her…” he shook his head “let her cool off. And you cool off too” Rick spoke and Daryl nodded knowing he was right. He needed to calm down… if he didn’t he would’ve said something he regretted.

A couple of minutes passed- maybe five, or even ten, before Daryl was sent up to console you. You didn’t even hear him come in but you felt the bed dip down before you heard his soft breathing “I did what I thought was best.” You spoke more softly and Daryl nodded “I know… but it was also…” “stupid I know… don’t need to tell me again…” you murmured softly and Daryl exhaled softly “you know we just care about you. That’s why we’re so worried about you… you matter to us.” His hand rubbed up and down your back slowly and gently as you remained curled up in a ball arms wrapped around yourself weakly his touch soft and caring, his rough calloused hands rough against your skin but you didn’t care. He was comforting you… that’s all that really mattered.

“I just-… why do you keep treating me like a damn child?” You asked clearly upset about that and Daryl frowned slightly his stern features growing more soft as he saw the true confusion and frustration in your eyes “because we’ve lost people, Y/n…. Glenn, Abraham, Sophia, Dale, Hershel, Merle, Olivia… too many people to count..” he fell silent before speaking again not allowing you to say anything “and we can’t lose someone else. The stakes are set high. I wouldn’t know what to do if I lost you, Y/n. Rick wouldn’t either… today was stupid… sure you did what you thought was best but it was a little bit silly… but there’s always room for improvement” your head slowly turned to look at him a small smile tugging at your lips before you laughed softly “who knew you could be so sentimental, Dixon” you murmured and he stared at you unamused “I’m being serious,”

You smiled softly “I know… but I promise I won’t do this again alright? It was stupid… I know but it won’t happen again…” Daryl stared at you with a ‘yeah, sure’ look before you rolled your eyes soon holding your hand out towards him sticking your pinky out at him “fine. Pinky promise…” you raised your brows the older man staring a softness soon consuming his eyes before a little smile tugged at his lips, shaking his head but nonetheless he locked his pinky with yours

“Pinky promise.”

[chirpthingz]

hey, do we all remember that hypothetical future time skip that was briefly shown at the start of the osnf hq? the one about liz and thiago’s daughter?

well. jambo posted a few more osnf pt. 2 spoilers (below) and i almost cried over them

(14 YEARS INTO THE FUTURE)

Stage Employee: Guys, one minute until Lucile enters!

Lucile: Daddy, mommy, I’m scared. I don’t want to go.

Thiago: It’s alright, daughter.

Liz: In your place, we would be terrified too.

Show Host: Welcome to the biggest talent contest on TV, The Talent Kids! The program where talented children need to impress judges who have been retired from media for a long time. (not sure if i translated that last bit super well, sorry!)

Thiago: And look, we have already seen a lot of scary things in our lives… but nothing compares to this.

Thiago, continued: Let me teach you a trick that I learned from your grandfather, Arnaldo. I always thought he was very courageous, but one day he told me that he would be dying of fear of doing action scenes in his movies.

Lucile: How did he have courage?

Thiago: Before he did something that required a lot of courage… he took a deep breath and said: one, two, three, Fritz. And he threw himself into it.

Lucile: One, two, three, Fritz?

Thiago: Exactly! One, two, three, Fritz!

Stage Employee, off-screen: FIFTEEN SECONDS!

Show Host: And now, with you all, the youngest violinist to participate in the program! She is only seven years old with lots of talent, but are the three judges going to light up the V of victory?

Show Host, continued: Daughter of a forensic scientist and a reporter— and a curious fact, granddaughter of a large filme actor, the late Arnaldo Fritz!

Show Host, continued: With an instrumental version of “Things We Lost in the Fire” … give a good welcome to Lucile Webber Fritz!

Judge 1: Such a beautiful thing!

Judge 2: So much talent!

Judge 3: She is marvelous!

Show Host: Three Vs of victory lit up immediately! This girl is a hit!

[i-smell-sass]

A Sweet Treat (Called Tangerine) PT1

A/N: Reader is meant to be trans, but it doesn't get mentioned so could be read as cis too

also i fucking love tangerine. i HC them using code names that start with each other’s initials, like tangerine’s name being Lucille and lemon’s name being Theo

Pairing/Relationships: Tangerine x Male Reader (R), Lemon x Male reader (P), Ladybug x Male reader (P)

R: romantic, P: platonic

Summary: Male reader is assigned to help Ladybug with the Snatch and Grab on the bullet train to Tokyo, on which he meets a handsome and charismatic assassin duo with fruity code names.

Requested: Yes/No

Warning(s): Basically all of what happens in the movie. Blood/Violence.

Genre: Fluff with a little angst

Pronouns used for Y/N: He/him

Code name: Weasel

Weasel sighed as he walked, checking his phone in frustration. He’d lost track of where Ladybug was, and was walking aimlessly down the Train car walkway in hopes of seeing Ladybug. Due to him looking down at his phone, he hadn’t noticed Tangerine standing up from his seat, causing him to bump into the man. ”Fuckin’ Hell, man. Can you watch where you’re goin’?” The man’s British accent was heavy with frustration, Mustache curling down in dissatisfaction.

“Oh, shit, sorry man. I wasn’t looking.” Weasel muttered, face at chest height. His eyes slowly traveled up, settling on Tangerine’s face. His breath hitched and caught in his throat as his eyes settled on Tangerine’s deep blue ones. “Really, it was an accident. I apologize, Sir.” He hoped his voice hadn't stuttered. Was it getting hot in here or was he imagining things?

Tangerine raised a brow at the ‘sir’, giving the other man a once-over before shrugging “’S alright, love. Just pay attention next time, yeah?” the taller man pursed his lips, gently moving weasel out of the way by a hand on his shoulder. It was large, and warm, making him shiver softly. He closed his eyes as he got a whiff of Tangerine’s cologne. It was earthy, musky and calming. The nickname 'love', although said casually, made his stomach flutter.

Straightening his jacket out before shaking his head, Weasel watched Lemon get up and give him a knowing look. He rolled his eyes and went back to finding Ladybug, focusing on the mission, though there was always a thought in the back of his mind.

Who were they? why were they dressed so well on a train?

── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──

He’d later found Ladybug in the 1st class lounge, shoving glass shards with his jacket into a trash can “What the fuck are you doing?” his brows furrowed as he saw the blonde crouched on the floor, shoving the glass shards into the trash along with his trench-coat. “Oh, Hi! i’m just.. um.” the blonde’s eyes nervously flicked over to The Wolf’s corpse sitting on a lounge chair before going back to weasel.

“..it was an accident?”

“Oh my god. What did you do?” Weasel asked, his brows furrowed. He glanced over at The Wolf, his eyes narrowing as he approached the lifeless body haphazardly covered with a blanket to make it look like he was sleeping. He pressed to fingers against the pulse point. “You killed him. Seriously?! Already?” His voice was a hushed whisper, his hands coming out in a frustrated flail.

“Look, i didn't mean to.” Ladybug defended weakly holding a finger up before pulling his bucket hat onto his head after brushing it off. “Accident my ass. How do you ‘accidentally’ kill someone?” Weasel asked, raising a skeptical brow as he put both his hands on his hips. “It just.. Kinda happened.” Ladybug muttered, shrugging.

Weasel rolled his eyes with a sigh, helping Ladybug fix his appearance. “You got the briefcase?” He looked at Ladybug with an unimpressed look. “Yeah, Stashed it in the Trash can.” Ladybug replied, fixing his glasses and hissing at a cut on the bridge of his nose he'd accidentally bumped.

Weasel stopped in his tracks, staring blankly at Ladybug. “Trash can? Really? That’s what you went with?” Ladybug shrugged with a small nod “Yeah. Why?” Weasel shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You’re a lost cause.” “You know, that really hurts my feelings” Ladybug complained. “Oh, shut up.” Weasel muttered, giving a playful shove to Ladybug’s shoulder.

Weasel sighed as he got up, shaking his jacket out to get rid of the glass shards in it. “You’re an idiot, Ladybug.” He huffed, fixing his hair as he looked back at Ladybug who was fixing himself up as well. Both were slightly bruised and bloody after fighting the tangerine.

“Simple snatch and grab my ass. I’m never covering for carver again.” He grumbled as he pulled his gun out, switching the empty magazine for a full one. “Yeah, me neither.” Ladybug muttered, walking behind Weasel. “I never liked him anyway. Too egotistical.” He added, and weasel gave an acknowledging hum.

── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──

Weasel walked through the now empty train cars with Ladybug in tow, a determined stride in his step as he looked around at all the empty seats, brows furrowed. “Why are all the seats empty?” his voice was a hushed whisper. He had grabbed Lemon’s gun from where ladybug had hidden it behind the suitcases and put it back together, now one gun in his hand and the other stuffed into the back of his pants. Ladybug still refused to use a gun, which Weasel found plain stupid, but it was his death wish. Still, he kept the gun with him just in case.

Ladybug pushed in front of Weasel, walking into the Momonga train car. The Prince yelled for help as Tangerine had his gun pointed at her, and of course, Ladybug, as heroic and obnoxious as he is, jumped in to try to wrestle the gun out of Tangerine’s grip.

Weasel immediately moved to grab the gun too, pulling Ladybug away from Tangerine, or at least trying to. “LET GO YOU IDIOT!” Weasel yelled, kicking Ladybug’s shin to distract him. In that moment they all stumbled backward and the gun fired. Ladybug and Weasel fell backward while Tangerine stumbled against the wall behind him. “FUCK! YOU FUCKING BELLEND!” he yelled, grabbing his neck.

Weasel looked to Ladybug, noticing he hadn’t been shot. He quickly pushed Ladybug out of his way, coming to kneel down next to Tangerine who was pressing his hand to his neck. “WHY DID YOU DO THAT?! SHE’S THE FUCKIN’ DIESEL!” Tangerine yelled angrily, a hand clutched over a now bloody part of his shirt in the crook of his neck.

The prince shook her head, crying and muttering “No, No! I-i don’t even know what a diesel is! Please, you've got to believe me!” she begged while tears ran down her cheeks, but Weasel pointed his gun at her, cocking the hammer as he glared at her. “Shut the fuck up before i put a bullet between your eyes!” He threatened, one hand clutched over tangerine's where he got shot. She yelped in surprise, turning and running further down the train.

”Go deal with her!” Weasel demanded, gesturing with the gun toward where she ran off and Ladybug ran after her. He sighed, kneeling next to Tangerine. “You’re okay. Just your shoulder, nothing serious.” He comforted soothingly, and Tangerine grunted, eyes squeezed shut in pain. “Thanks. Very reassuring.” came a sarcastic mumble. Weasel rolled his eyes giving him an annoyed look. “Do you want me to help or not?” Tangerine just grunted in reply. Weasel leaned over to grab the first aid kit off the wall. “who even are you anyway?” Tangerine asked, raising a brow up at the other man.

”I work with ladybug. The name's Weasel.” He ripped open the first aid kit, gently pulling Tangerine’s hand off the wound, who protested at first, "I'd say nice to meet you, but, you know..” he trailed off, sighing “why are you helpin’ me? We're rivals.” weasel rolled his eyes at that. “Because we're fucked anyway and if the white death is really gonna come for us i’ll take all the help i can get.” Tangerine raised a brow, sighing and letting his hand fall. “i s'pose that makes sense.” “thank you.”

Weasel worked on bandaging up the brit's wound, said brit let his hands rest in his lap, deciding on switching out the empty bullets of his revolver for new ones to keep his hands busy. Weasel unbuttoned Tangerine’s shirt carefully, glancing at the exposed bit of chest briefly before he cleaned the wound best he could, bandaging it so he wouldn’t bleed out. Luckily the bullet only strafed his neck and didn't hit any important veins. “The bullet strafed you. You’re gonna be fine.” He reassured, smiling with a squeeze to tangerine's shoulder. “you were pretty lucky, you know.” that earned another scoff from him, baby blues focusing on weasel's face. “Luck my ass. It's all thanks to you.”

“Where’s your necklace?” he asked, noticing that it was gone. “My brother.. he..“ Tangerine trailed off, averting his gaze, a sad look in them. “he got shot. So i gave ‘im my necklace. Sentimental shit, Y’know?” He muttered with a sad chuckle, wiping his eyes. “I’m sorry to hear that. That sucks.” He whispered, sighing. “Yeah. It does.” A short, bitter reply from tangerine and a sniffle followed.

“Do you want me to..?” Weasel trailed off, gesturing to tangerine's face, asking to clean the wounds there too but wasn't sure if he was comfortable with that.

Tangerine shrugged softly, looking up at Weasel with a frown that pulled his Mustache down with it. It was kind of cute, really. “name's Tangerine, by the way.” He muttered hesitantly. Weasel smiled, holding the man's chin as he cleaned the cut on his forehead.

“Tangerine? Like the fruit?” The man's frown deepened. “Yeah like the fuckin' fruit. Why does everyone ask that?” The annoyance was clear in his tone, which earned a snicker from weasel. “Not everyday someone nicknames themselves after a fruit.”

He was careful when cleaning the wounds on tangerine's face, making sure he wouldn't hurt him any more than he already was. They made brief eye contact here and there, the tension obvious. Tangerines deep blue eyes were captivating, and his lashes were so pretty, long and curled perfectly.

When he was done patching him up, he helped him up, smiling. “Fuck the briefcase. I think we should work together so we can make it out of here.” Tangerine gave a tight nod at that, squeezing Weasel’s hand. “Yeah, fuck that damn briefcase,” He mumbled with disdain in his voice.

They sat in the Momonga part of the train, drinking water, eating some granola bars they'd found and gathering all the weapons they could find.

As Shigeru and Ladybug walked through that part of the train they were in, both Tangerine and Weasel watched them in confusion as they stopped at a toilet in the way between the train carts. “Thats the one my brother is in.” Tangerine muttered, brows screwed tightly together before getting up with Haste and walking toward both of them. “Hey! Dickhead!” He exclaimed, and Weasel got up to stop Tangerine. “Wait-”

Shigeru didn’t even pay attention to them, and ladybug sighed as he saw tangerine approaching him with a pissed look on his face. “Dude, look, let's not fight right now.” He tried to reason, but tangerine stopped dead in his tracks when Lemon sat there, looking around in confusion. “Tangerine!” Lemon exclaimed happily, getting up and pushing through both men to get to his brother. Tangerine’s eyes shot open, looking up at the other. “Lemon?! You’re alive, you fuckin’ wanker?” He asked loudly, smiling as he grabbed Lemon's shoulders. “You did wear the vest!” Tangerine exclaimed, eyes watering. “And you got shot in the neck!” Lemon pointed out. Tangerine shook his head as he pulled his brother in for a hug. “Come here you fuckin’ dickhead.” he whispered, sighing into the hug. “You scared the shit outta me. I thought i’d lost ya.” He sighed, cupping his brothers cheek as he looked up at him. “Nah, You know you ain’t gettin’ rid of me that easily.” Lemon replied with a bright grin of his own.

Weasel smiled at the two, holding lemon’s gun out to him. “I think this might be yours.” “My gun! Where’d you find that?” Lemon asked happily, taking it and kissing the barrel. “Oh, it’s my favorite. Missed ya, beautiful.” He muttered to the gun before looking at Weasel again. “Thank you.” “It’s no problem. See it as a peace offering” Weasel smiled, rolling his shoulders. “Offering accepted” lemon had a playful grin on his face.

“Now, we have to get ready to fuck ‘em up.” Lemon and Tangerine gave sharp nods at that, and all 6 of them prepared to kill the White Death and his goons.

── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──

Weasel slowly came to, sighing as his head pounded. He Squinted at the bright lights, the ringing in his ears slowly fading into flowing water and the crackling of electric wires. The last he remembered was fighting the white death's men, and holding onto a wall while the train cars pummeled down a hill.

He stumbled outside, head pounding as he leaned against the door frame of the train car. He could feel a warm wetness on the side of his face, and his side hurt. Everything was a mess; train cars crashed into the side of Japanese houses, messing up the street and the broken train cars laying strewn around. His eyes narrowed at the bright lights of the morning sun, and he clutched his side where he was sure he was at least bruised, if not worse.

”Where are the twins?” He asked Ladybug after the mess with the White Death happened. Ladybug shrugged. “Dunno. Haven’t seen them since they jumped out the train together.” Weasel’s eyes shot open. “They WHAT?” he exclaimed, shocked.

He groaned, holding his head as it pounded. He struggled to focus over the pain. He finally looked back up when the prince started yelling nonsense, and he rolled his eyes with a groan. “Can this bitch be any more dramatic?”

A shocked laugh escaped weasel's lips as a tangerine truck hit The Prince, killing her. His eyes shot open, looking around. As the truck stopped, Lemon jumped out, Laughing loudly. “THAT’S WHAT YOU GET! FUCKIN’ DIESEL, MAN!” He exclaimed, laughing at her corpse. Tangerine stumbled out as well, and they both were soaked to the bone, hair clinging to tangerine's forehead and shirt slightly see-through.

Weasel stared at them, smiling, his shoulders sagging in relief as he saw them alive. He threw his head back, laughs bubbling up in his throat at the sheer absurdity of the situation.

He stumbled his way through the debris - albeit very clumsily and sluggishly. He moved to stand in front of Tangerine, grinning. “Good work” he held his free hand out for a shake, and Tangerine rolled his eyes shaking it. “you guys weren't as useless as I thought.” He teased, and weasel scoffed, shoving tangerine's shoulder playfully.

“We make a good team.” Weasel smiled, taking a business card out of the back pocket of his pants, holding it out to Tangerine. “call me sometime.”

Tangerine glanced at the card, then weasel and reluctantly took it. “Yeah. Maybe i will.”

Weasel nodded, satisfied with that answer as he watched them walk off down the street.

── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──

Last edited: 19.11.24