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for-a-longlongtime · 3 months ago

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Guilty Pleasure (3/7) - dbf!Joel x reader

Sunday dinner with your parents and Joel is... weird. But also hot.

Rating: Explicit, 18+ only, mdni Series warnings (tba): Age gap (reader is 22, Joel is 42), masturbation (f), use of sex toys, oral sex, PiV, anal, hair pulling, dirty talk, getting caught, playful use of 'daddy' (no real daddy kink), outrageous flirting, groping, reference to m/m, Joel's arms should always come with a warning. No outbreak!AU. Word count: 1.7K A/N: I told you part III would follow soon! I had initially planned this for tomorrow, but then I figured I might as well turn dinner with da-- I mean, dinner into a Sunday meal, because why not. 😈 Thank you so much to everybody who has been commenting, reblogging (I appreciate you sharing it with others!!) and liking this fic so far! Things get messy today... let me know what you think. Is reader playing this right, or...?

< part 2 | series masterlist | main masterlist

Surprisingly, it's Joel who is late for Sunday dinner.

Not your father; he’s home early even, looking tired and stressed but trying to put on a front - which is far from the first time you’ve seen him do so. When you were younger, you once asked your mom why he never was more upfront about having hard days. Since he frequently appeared on tv to talk about new ventures or collaborations, you knew that his work wasn’t exactly easy breezy, but whenever you had asked him about it as a kid, he would brush off those concerns. “Somebody’s gotta do it,” or “I’ve got the experience to pull it off”, or any corny variation of that.

You used to love joining him at his office, something you got away with when you were still in primary school - which you realized later probably had to do with the sizable annual donations your father made to your school. Either way, it was exciting. The massive building where he worked, the technology, all those people looking extremely important in their outfits, swiping access cards in order to get into secure areas, so many meeting rooms, and not to forget the press room. You were in awe, determined to work there when you’d grow up, to follow in your father’s footsteps.

Until things came crashing down.

The missed plays, PTA meetings, and staying up late weren’t so bad initially. What started bothering you the most was how everybody seemed to give him a pass. Most of all your grandmother. She spoke about how your grandfather used to be in charge, many years before your father took over, and how good he was. How your father was so much like him. Responsible, in charge, a leader, ‘such a good man’.

And see - that was the problem. Because no matter how well you did at school or with the things you loved to do, it always felt like you were merely in his shadow. You’d never be respected the way he is - because you weren’t like him, or them, which everybody seemed to expect.

So you decided to not care. Absolutely zero fucks. You didn’t need his approval, or anyone else’s. You were going to do whatever you wanted to do.

This summer, that meant doing Joel. A lot, preferably.

Joel, sitting at the table with you and your parents, looking all broad in his green flannel, almost having missed dinner this evening - which of course you would’ve gotten shit for if it had happened to you. “Issues at the construction site, damn Tommy couldn’t handle it on his own,” he grouses as your dad puts a beer in his hand, while your mom assures him it is no problem.

Aside from Joel being so damn distracting with his presence, it’s weird to all be seated at the dinner table on a Sunday. It’s not just that this hadn’t happened since you moved home for the summer; it actually was something that hadn’t happened in many years. While your father is talking to Joel about his work day, you get up and wander over to the fridge to grab a beer, grateful for the hoppy refreshment as it hits your taste buds. Liquor would be better, but this will do for now. You watch your parents and Joel talk, not even being aware of you having stepped away from the table. You finish the rest of the beer and put the empty bottle aside, then grab a new one from the fridge to take back to the table.

The drink helps you feel a little more comfortable in your own skin, tune out the chatter that you’re not too interested in, and rather take advantage of the opportunity to watch Joel. Perhaps his mouth and hands in particular, as you imagine them on you, feeling that stubble against your own decidedly softer skin; your cheek, or between your thighs, or elsewhere. He doesn’t seem too aware of your eyes on him, talking with your mom about some pergola or something.

Meanwhile, your father does seem to be paying attention to you, which almost catches you by surprise. But unsurprisingly it takes just a couple of moments until he’s irritating you again. “Were you able to stop by at the DMV to get your license sorted out?”

“No, I haven’t. I’ll get it done, just let it go - okay?,” you sigh, annoyed that he’s bringing it up for the fourth time in a few weeks. “A rideshare to the nearest one is just so expensive. If I could just use mom’s car…”

Your mom pauses her conversation with Joel as she shakes her head. “Without a license? I don’t think so,” she says resolutely. “You’d better figure it out, because I don’t have any time soon to take you over there.”

“Now there’s a shocker,” you mutter to yourself, shaking your head when your father’s voice cuts sharp as he asks if there’s a problem. “No, there’s no problem. I’ll take the damn Uber, if I can….”

“I can take you. Tomorrow afternoon.” Joel’s voice barely interrupts you as he doesn’t lift his eyes from his plate, spearing a little cherry tomato with his fork. “Will that make you stop whining? Need to stop at Home Depot after, though.”

The comment thrills you unexpectedly, though that is tempered a lot by the grin you see on your father’s face, no doubt because of the whining comment Joel made. Asshole. “Can’t make any promises,” you respond breezily. “I’m good company in the car though, as long as I control the aux.”

Joel almost snorts at that, shaking his head. “Over my dead body, kiddo.”

*Kiddo*. It stings, you realize, as you hold on tight to your second beer that’s already half empty, your fingers pressing too hard on the chilly glass. You thought that you two had moved past that now - that being around him, and admittedly dropping some not so subtle cues, would have made it clear to him that you are anything but a kid.

“Well, you’re getting up there in age just like he is,” you say much too casually, leaning back in your chair as you take a long drink of your beer while you nod at your father. “So maybe that won’t be that long from now?”

Your mom hisses your name immediately, looking mortified, but Joel isn’t bothered one bit as he continues to eat his dinner. Meanwhile your dad remains quiet, but the look on his face speaks volumes. You give him a challenging look in return, then finish your beer as you get up from the table again. “Who else wants another drink?”

“I think you’ve had enough for now.” Your father speaks as he takes off his glasses, rubbing his temple as if he feels a headache coming on. “Just finish your food.” You consider ignoring his comment or pushing back some more, but then you get momentarily distracted as the kitchen lights seem to flicker.

“I’m headed out tomorrow at 10 am,” Joel suddenly interrupts your thoughts, now finally looking at you as he reaches for his glass of water. “Don’t be late.”

“For you? Never.” You manage to not bat your lashes as you sit back down and continue your dinner, but your dad is still looking not too amused. He’s easy to ignore though, and as you chew you listen with half an ear to what your mom is saying about some party. It’s not long before your eyes wander back to Joel again, wondering what you could say or do that actually would get under his skin.

He’s sitting right across from you, and without thinking too much about it, you slip your right foot out of your sandal, slouching down a little in your chair. Your heart is racing as you try to calculate the odds of getting it right, but then in an opportune moment when your dad leans over to Joel to talk to him about something, you extend your leg under the table and check whether you can reach Joel’s leg with your bare foot.

When Joel pauses his conversation for a moment, seemingly to gather his words, you know that he most definitely feels your foot against his calf. His eyes flash to you for a quick second, and you innocently smile at him as you slowly run your foot up a little higher, to his knee, while considering how far you could slide it against his thigh without it being noticeable to anyone else.

Meanwhile your dad reaches for the bread basket between him and Joel, taking out a dinner roll, and your heart beats faster when you feel Joel’s leg twitch against your foot. “Could I have the bread basket, please?”, you ask your dad, who nods as he picks it up and hands it to you.

You take the basket from him, picking one of the rolls - and as your dad looks over at your mom who is telling him something, you bring your glance back to Joel. He’s staring right at you now as you’re still rubbing your foot against the inside of his calf, and you see his throat work as he swallows.

“Thank you, Daddy.”

Joel immediately flushes and clears his throat, shifting his chair back a little so your foot can’t reach him anymore, and he reaches for his water so fast that he almost knocks the glass over. You can’t help but giggle, sinking your teeth into the soft bread as you’re feeling pleased - so the man *does* have a weak spot. It just takes the right approach to hit it.

“Think I’m gonna go clean up from work,” he announces as he pushes his nearly empty plate back, giving your mom an apologetic look. “Been a long day. The food was so good, though.”

“The food’s wonderful.” Your dad nods in agreement as he takes the last bite of his bread. “Did you still want to hit up the gym?”, he asks Joel as he reaches for their plates as he gets up from the table. “I’ve got about an hour now before I need to head out again.”

You dig your nails deep into the palm of your hand under the table as you watch the men leave the room, your eyes following Joel’s every step. Fuck, he’s hard. Or at least has a semi in those jeans. It makes you feel giddy and accomplished, and you can’t wait to tell your friend about this latest development.

next: part 4 >

series masterlist | main masterlist

🚨 Follow @longlongtime-updates to be updated when the next part drops!

#pedro pascal #joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #dbf!joel #tlou au #joel miller fanfiction

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livinginadumpster · 6 months ago

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One thing I really like in Dead Boy Detectives is the use of blood/gore/horror. With a TV-MA rating, a show with horror themes is obviously going to have some blood and violence, and there are clear instances if this in DBD, but while it's definitely there, it's almost never gratuitous. That's because scenes like the Devlin murders or Maxine's death aren't really about those deaths, rather, they're about the characters' reactions to them and the way the story is shaped by them.

In the Devlin house, the camera focuses not on the girls being killed but on Edwin, Crystal, and particularly Charles reacting to their murders with horror, shock, and anger. The blood splatters in a meaningful way, rather than simply a horrifying one, over the TV and the popcorn and the younger daughter's stuffed rabbit, tarnishing the innocence of everything it touches. While the tragedy of the murders themselves are important, the main focus is Charles' reaction to them as a result if his own trauma. Showing the minutia of the killings would take away from that, so it simply isn't there.

Even Maxine's death, while definitely played off more for shock value than the Devlin murders, serves a purpose. Episode 5 focuses on the failure of romantic relationships, on betrayals from those you thought you could trust, and the Maxine subplot adds to that. It begs the question, who can you trust in this world? At the end of the episode, the answer we are given is your friends, your found family, because love will kill.

It seems to me that the blood in hell represents the guilt of those it touches - Simon's wounds heal when he forgives himself; Edwin loses the blood covering him after Charles turns up to rescue him (albeit by a horrifying cause); the people in the Lust room are drenched in blood and get it on Edwin when they try to drag him down. It's not just there to demonstrate the horrors of hell, but to brand its inhabitants.

There are lots of other examples. The blood when Niko dies is there obviously because that's what happens when you get stabbed, but also (in my opinion) as a visual callback to her saying that red is the color of courage. The cat king's bloody corpse and Monty's blood-splattered face show Esther's ruthlessness and disregard for anyone in her path. Lilith is covered in blood as a symbolic part of her character design. Everything serves a purpose, narratively or symbolically.

(The only example of gore that served no particular purpose that I can think of was in episode one when the WWI ghost drooled blood all over Charles' face, but it was the pilot episode and that whole scene was meant to be shocking, so it can be forgiven.)

Anyway, I really like the way they use blood in DBD, because it shows such a level of detail and care. I enjoy horror but not gore so much, and to me it's refreshing to see it used so tastefully and executed so well.

#all of my well thought out text posts turn out way longer than intended #sorry guys the adhd said I wasn't allowed to shut up #dead boy detectives #charles rowland #edwin payne #crystal palace #maxine #devlin house murders #niko sasaki #thomas the cat king #monty the crow #esther the witch #dbda spoilers

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queen-haq · 9 months ago

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Fic: Never You (Penelope x Colin) - Part 2

Rating: R

Fandom: Bridgerton (TV show)

Spoilers: S3 scene released yesterday.

Summary: They may have been friends once but his callous words decimated their relationship. Determined not to have anything to do with him, Penelope is ready to move on. But Colin isn’t giving up, not at all. Friends or not, they are connected for life - and he intends to remind her of that.

Excerpt:

“You would hate me for not wanting to court you. You would be that selfish?”

“Of course you would think that.”

“What else is this if not punishment?”

Masterlist (contains links to Part 1 and my other stories)

Chapter 2

Penelope sipped her cup of lemonade, scanning the crowd in front of her. They were at Lady Hathaway’s ball, another social engagement in a series of endless ones, and she was bored. Whereas these events served a purpose in the past, now she was no longer in search of a husband or gossip. The gatherings weren’t all work however, there were many an evening when Eloise and she would die from laughter at others frivolity. And then there were the dances. Penelope loved to dance but she wasn’t very popular and not many gentlemen asked her to partner. Often Colin would be the only one. A part of her knew his invites were more for her benefit than his but she always assumed he enjoyed their moments together as well - but now that she knew how embarrassed he was to be seen with her, she cringed at those memories.

“Good evening, Pen. Enjoying yourself?”

She almost choked on the liquid at Colin’s unexpected appearance beside her. She thought he would avoid her company, hoped for it actually after their last conversation at the park, but there he was. Stubbornly she took another sip, refusing to speak to him.

“You look lovely tonight.”

She rolled her eyes.

“As pleasing as the new wardrobe is, I must admit it’s your hair that is most… intriguing.”

In her peripheral vision she saw his eyes roaming over her, and every nerve in her body tensed. It was difficult to breathe. For as long as she’d known him, she loved him. Being flushed and breathless around Colin was nothing new, but there was something different about the reaction he evoked in her now. There was no longer a soft, sweet warmth that enveloped her. Instead something dark and caustic surged through her, a swirl of tumultuous emotions that left her reeling with confusion when he watched her in the strange, new fashion that he had at the park and now. It probably had something to do with the anger she felt towards him but it wasn’t just that. She didn’t understand it, she didn’t like it, and she needed it to stop.

“Oh, you’d like to know how I am?” Colin continued, unfazed by her silence. “Quite well, actually. London air has been surprisingly refreshing, although I’m still not fond of the rain.”

“I do not wish to discuss the weather with you, Mr. Bridgerton,” she replied stiffly, straightening her back while her eyes remained fixated on the flood of people circling the dance floor.

“Then what shall we discuss?” he mused. “Would you like to hear about the gifts I brought back for everyone? Or would you rather share more about your time in the country?”

“I would not.”

“Alright, let’s discuss your falling out with Eloise. My sister refuses to speak on it but maybe I can pry the truth from your lips.”

“You’d be foolish to try.”

“How about a dance then? Would you join me for a waltz?”

“No.”

“Fine. Quadrille it is.”

Irritated, she turned to find him smirking at her. Her heart pounded in her chest seeing the wicked glint in his eyes, the mischievous tilt of his lips as he deliberately goaded her. “You’re trying to provoke me.”

“Is it working?” he asked with a cheeky smile.

“I won’t be indulging your whims, Colin.”

He pouted at her. “How unfortunate.” Eyes glued to her face, he drank from his cup. “Shall I take a turn about the room, Pen? Perhaps I’ll run into Lady Portia and ask her if she’ll arrange a dance for the two of us.”

Pen quirked her eyebrow. “I certainly won’t stop you from dancing with Mama if that’s what your heart desires.”

Colin laughed heartily, and instantly Penelope noticed Lord Fife and some of the other gentlemen glancing at them. And they weren’t the only ones. Nearby were Eloise and Cressida Cowper, watching her with disdain. Feeling self-conscious at all the attention they were drawing, Penelope stilled. “I’ve asked you to leave me alone, Mr. Bridgerton.”

His sigh was heavy with resignation. “I see we’re back to unpleasantries.”

“I don’t understand why you’re here. Aren’t you worried about Lord Fife and his gaggle laughing at you?”

“I don’t give a damn about what he says.”

“That’s certainly not true.”

The easy smile on his face dissolved, replaced with an intensity that held her transfixed. Regret loomed over his features. “I am truly sorry, Pen. I shouldn’t have said what I said. I wish I could tell you there was a reason why I behaved so foolishly but I can’t. I was intoxicated, yes, but that doesn’t excuse my behavior.” He took a step closer, his hands tantalizingly close to her own gloved ones. “I will do anything to earn your forgiveness. Please. Just tell me what you need.”

They were in a ballroom crowded with people but all she saw was Colin standing in front of her, his eyes soft and pleading, voice trembling with emotion. Yes he hurt her, wounded her so deeply that she spent weeks in despair trying to understand how he could be so cruel, but seeing him so torn up made her recognize he was sincerely apologetic. If she was honest with herself about that fateful encounter, what devastated her the most wasn’t him putting her down in front of others, but the sinking realization that he never really could love her. And that wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t fair to be angry at him for not reciprocating her feelings because love was not something that could be forced or demanded. And despite their newly fractured relationship, they were close friends once and she didn’t want him to continue suffering because of her. “I forgive you.”

Stunned, he stared at her. “You do?”

“Yes. We’ve both been unkind but it doesn’t serve any purpose to hold on to that pain.” She offered him a smile. “So you needn’t worry, Colin. Everything’s resolved between us.”

The cloud of worry departed from his face, his lips broke into a mischievous smile. “Does this mean I can have the next dance?”

She paused, her stomach twisting into coils. “Our friendship, Colin, it complicates things. It makes everything more difficult and…” Wringing her fingers together, she glanced down at her hands. “You’ll be traveling soon and I’ll be moving away from London once I’m married. We won’t see each other often and it wouldn’t be appropriate for us to exchange letters then. I wouldn’t want my husband or others to misconstrue things.” She looked up at him through her lashes. “It’s best if we end our friendship now.”

Before he could respond, they were interrupted by Eloise and Cressida.

“Colin, Penelope,” Eloise greeted them, her demeanor markedly cold as she turned to Pen. “Brother, I’m quite parched. Would you bring me some lemonade? Cressida will accompany you.”

“I would love to hear more about your travels,” Cressida cooed.

Jaw clenched, Colin kept his eyes centered on Penelope. “Pen and I are in the middle of a conversation.”

“Colin, be a gentleman!” Eloise chastised.

“It’s alright. We’re done speaking.” Penelope felt his keen stare upon her, he refused to budge, but it seemed to finally dawn on him that Eloise was not going anywhere. Reluctantly he walked away, with Cressida alongside him.

“Leave my brother alone.” Eloise’s words were saturated with heated rage. “Colin doesn’t know what you’re capable of, the damage you’ve caused to him and the rest of our family. He doesn’t deserve to be hurt by you.”

“Then you should tell him to keep his distance,” Penelope snapped back, and then regretted her tone instantly. “Eloise, I know you’re angry at me but you must know I would never deliberately cause Colin any harm.”

“You already have.” The pain in Eloise’s eyes was evident, causing a tidal wave of shame and guilt within Penelope. “Do you think he could ever forgive you if he knew the truth about who you are? He would hate you. We both know that.”

“Then maybe you should tell him.”

Eloise shook her head ‘no’. “I would never do that to my brother. He holds you in high esteem, the truth would break his heart. Like you broke mine.”

She stormed away, leaving Penelope staring after.

Her words weighed heavily on Pen’s mind, and she desperately needed air to compose herself. Her stride was quick as she made her way out of the ballroom, walking towards the large garden. There were some guests scattered around the grounds but as she went deep into the maze on the property, she found herself alone in a private corner behind the hedges.

For a long time she pondered Eloise’s words, the accusations echoing in her mind. As much as she’d tried to defend herself, Eloise was not interested in forgiving her. And deep down Penelope knew she didn’t deserve it. Her actions had hurt others, especially the Bridgertons, and even though she had only written about them to protect them, the end result was still the same.

Yet there was a part of her that didn’t regret her actions, because Colin was living the life he wanted and Eloise was no longer under suspicion.

Most of all, Lady Whistledown had given Penelope the kind of freedom she had never imagined. A voice to speak her mind and leave a mark in the small word she inhabited, and enough money to secure a healthy future. It was selfish of her but she didn’t care. She was Lady Whistledown and she was proud of it.

“You’ve been lying to me, Pen.”

She turned around immediately. Colin was only a few feet away, moonlight shining brightly upon him. He’d always towered over her, but standing there to his full height he looked regal and statuesque. While he’d never been a wallflower, there was something intrinsically shy about him from living in the shadows of his formidable father and brothers. He had indicated as much in his letters and in some of their private conversations. But the Colin from their recent encounters, the one staring at her now, appeared to be a different person. More confident, sure of himself. And it was reflected in his poise and gait as he sauntered closer. His thumb was pressed against the palm of his other hand, idly stroking his skin, as if in deep thought.

“You should not be here,” she replied. “If someone were to come upon us-”

“Your betrothed would not approve?”

“There would be a scandal!”

“Yes, of course.” There was wry amusement in his voice, his blue eyes twinkling. “I’ve been making discreet inquiries about your activities, amongst friends and others. I even approached Mrs. Varley and your mama earlier, and they both confirmed my suspicions.” He dipped his head to the side. “Albeit inadvertently.” Eyebrow quirked up, he sent her a teasing smile. “There’s not been any hint of a suitor, Pen. None at all.”

She peered at him, horrified.

“There is no engagement is there, Pen?” He came to a stop in front of her. “You lied to me. And I need to know why.”

Red hot anger coursed through her veins, she was so enraged that every sense of propriety and decorum left her brain. “You arrogant prick!” She charged at him. “How dare you?”

Before she could shove him away he gripped her hands, forcibly holding her tightly in his arms.

“Is it that difficult for you to imagine someone would want me? That there is a man out there who could love me and want to marry me? You find that so inconceivable, Colin?” Her breath grew ragged as she tried to break free from his grip. “Did it never occur to you-”

“You don’t get to end our friendship, Pen.” His eyes were dark and volatile, so deep that every moment she held his stare felt like sinking into the abyss. It was she who had lost her temper but now it was Colin who looked untethered, clinging to her. “You don’t get to walk away from us.”

Her heart beat thunderously in her chest, her stomach in knots as she realized she was trapped against him. There was no escape. He was occupying every inch of space, filling her senses with his scent, overwhelming her with his presence as his close proximity wreaked havoc with her insides.

“You are my friend.” Colin’s voice vibrated with raw, desperate urgency that shook her to the core. “My confidante.” Lips parted, his gaze trailed down to her mouth, down the length of her neck, settling on the highs of her breasts. No one had ever looked at her with such ferocity before, making her feel utterly exposed. “You’re…” His voice trailed off, like he couldn’t finish his thoughts; he was distracted, caught up in his world. Suddenly his hand was on her neck, the other wrapping around the back of her head. Frozen in his arms, she was simply too enthralled to move. His long lean fingers traced along her skin, searing through her heaving breasts, until his index finger hooked along the neckline of her dress.

It was such a simple thing, his finger tucked into the cleavage of her dress, but her body burned at his touch. She couldn’t take it any longer, unravelling in front of him as wetness gushed between her legs.

“Have you always been like this, Pen?”

She swallowed audibly. “Like what?”

His left hand loosened its hold on the back of her head, shifting so that his thumb now traced the contours of her lip. His gaze met hers, her body trembled. The complexity of emotions in his eyes was unsettling, she didn’t understand it at all. Why was he doing this to her? Why was he making her feel so completely vulnerable?

“So disagreeable,” he murmured, his soft breath humming against her skin.

And then just as she decided enough was enough and she needed to make her escape, his mouth closed over hers.

To be continued...

A/N - As always, feedback is loved and cherished, and encourages the muse to write faster :)

If you'd like to be added to the taglist, please drop me a note/comment.

#polin #penelope x colin #bridgerton #colin x penelope #my fics #never you

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bloomingforerza · 2 years ago

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Living with Style 5 + Sousuke head cannons

notes from bloom: @lamnwar thank you so much for requesting! i’m glad you enjoy my free! content 😂 you requested it over on my main blog, this is my writing blog! hope you enjoy :)

Haruka Nanase

🫧 When Haru moved to Tokyo for college, he asked you to come with him.

🫧 It’s a new city for Haru, and having you there eases his mind.

🫧 You’d probably argue about having mackerel for breakfast, lunch and dinner, so for your own sanity you decided to be the one who’d cook the meals.

🫧 Haru isn’t complaining, he thinks you’re an amazing cook

🫧 Every night he likes to break down his day with you, his head on your lap, the TV playing in the background. It helps him recharge his brain

🫧 He’s the type of boyfriend/roommate that would do your least favorite chore for you. Whether it’s laundry or dish washing or even cleaning a room, he’ll do it without even being asked

🫧 Makoto comes by every morning to make sure you both are awake and ready, since Haru’s routine has partly also become your routine.

🫧 Haru makes you come swimming with them in the mornings too. You attend the same college as Makoto though, and he hates parting ways with you after.

🫧 You have a special nighttime routine together that comes naturally after you move in. When you both are home for the night, after dinner Haru lets you snuggle into him for a little while and listen as you talk about your day.

🫧 He likes to be little spoon, but he also enjoys when you snuggle into him. He’ll press kisses to your head when you talk about rough moments in your day. He’ll laugh with you as well, never letting you think he wasn’t listening.

🫧 He’s the best listener honestly, but it’s apparent that’s only for you. He cares about what you have to say.

🫧 Boyfriend rating: 8/10. Roommate rating: 10/10

Makoto Tachibana

🫧 Gosh, living with Makoto would be a dream.

🫧 Makoto met you on his first day of college. After you started dating his first year of college, you began to sleep over quite often.

🫧 Considering you hardly ever stayed at home anymore, he knew it was risky, but he asked you to move in. He was so happy when you told him you would.

🫧 Waking up with Makoto every day is like waking up in a bubble. He felt the same, he woke up refreshed every day and never wanted to let you go.

🫧 But life had other plans. He was just thankful that you attended the same school.

🫧 After moving in, you began commuting with Haru and Mako. This included morning swim practice. Haru was kind to you, he didn’t get any weird vibe from you and you made Makoto happy.

🫧 He loves to dote on you. He has such motherly instincts for a man, it’s one of your favorite things about him.

🫧 He also likes to shower with you later on in your relationship. He loves to scrub shampoo on your head, and he’ll condition it and rinse it just for you.

🫧 He’ll even become confident enough to scrub your body with soap. That’s a fun morning.

🫧 Makoto just loves to make sure you are taking care of yourself. Feeding you is no exception. He’ll do the cooking.

🫧 But you don’t like letting him do EVERYTHING by himself, so of course you’ll help him by cleaning the dishes as he’s using them.

🫧 The two of you make a pretty good team. He likes to silently imagine doing all of this with a child between the two of you one day.

🫧 But he’s still not confident enough to let that be known to you. So he’ll just smile and soak in the present.

Nagisa Hazuki

🫧 Nagisa isn’t always the most responsible so you’re going to be pretty much on your own when it comes to most of the chores

🫧 But it’s okay because he’ll help you while you take charge. You’re vacuuming? He’ll pick up the large debris. You’re doing laundry? He’ll fold. You’re washing dishes? He’ll dry them.

🫧 He can’t cook but he’ll buy you dinner when he can afford it between rent. You just have to make sure it’s not something absolutely bizarre

🫧 He’s a huge puppy, always follows you around the house

🫧 Probably plays video games with you on your nights in.

🫧 Nagisa cares a lot about school, though, and when he’s not at swim practice during the week he’s studying.

🫧 He’ll forget to take care of himself, so you’ll bring him tea and snacks to help keep him motivated through the work. You might have to yell at him to not get distracted if he tries to get handsy with you.

🫧 He’ll invite you out to swim on Sunday mornings, and you’ll follow your workouts up with something extra healthy for breakfast.

🫧 He sometimes feels like you provide more for him than he can provide for you. But you’ll hold him and remind him you chose to live with him because you love him.

🫧 He tells himself one day he’ll have enough money to support the both of you. He hopes he can take care of you the way you can take care of him.

🫧 Waking up with Nagisa in your arms is almost like a safe haven. He likes to sleep in the honeymoon hug position, so you might have a little drool on your arm or shirt.

🫧 But he tries to make you breakfast sometimes and it’s really cute, especially when he starts to get the hang of it

Rei Ryugazaki

🫧 Rei is such a careful and practical man, but also a romantic and passionate lover.

🫧 Living with Rei is endless smooth sailing. Of course all couples argue, but when it comes to living with Rei you don’t have to communicate with him on what needs to be done.

🫧 Everything is 50/50 between the two of you. Rei hates vacuuming, so you take care of it. If you hate doing dishes, he’ll do them.

🫧 The two of you will take turns cooking every night, with date night every Saturday after school. Whoever cooks, the other helps.

🫧 You both have different preferences when it comes to cooking so it’s nice being able to alternate.

🫧 If you have a bad day, Rei is the type of boyfriend to surprise you with baked sweets when you’re walking in the door

🫧 He likes to have fresh flowers for the apartment every week as well. He likes to say it’s because flowers can brighten up any room just by looking at them.

🫧 He will never admit it, but watching you get dressed is his favorite part of the day.

🫧 If you ask him, he’ll say its cooking dinner with you. But he loves watching you meticulously pick your outfit for the day, and then watching your every move when you put it on.

🫧 He just thinks you’re the most beautiful girl in the world, he could admire you all day long.

🫧 Rei is super smart, so if you ever need help with studying or homework he’s got your back 110% of the way. He’s the type who will help you solve it before he just gives you the answer, that way you’re still pushing yourself to try.

🫧 Just make sure you offer a thanks after you get an A ;)

Rin Matsuoka

🫧 Oh, geez. Living in Australia is a learning curve in itself for you

🫧 But your ever-so-caring boyfriend is there to help you every step of the way. He was in your shoes once after all

🫧 Rin loves taking you out for walks every morning. Sometimes you’ll both opt for a run, but most of the time you like to slow down with him and take in the new sights.

🫧 He loves to sit in the park with you at night, just to talk about your day together. He wants all of your grit, he wants to make all the bad disappear.

🫧 Rin is honestly the biggest romantic you’ve ever met. He’s the type of boyfriend who’d surprise pick you up from school and walk home with you.

🫧 He loves when you watch him swim. He always feels like he’s doing better if you’re there watching him. He’s definitely a show-off for you

🫧 Because he’s training to become a world-class athlete, making sure Rin is eating properly most of the time falls on your shoulders. He can cook, but there’s no guarantee he’ll cook something he should be eating.

🫧 But he’s ever so appreciative when you make his lunch for him, packing it with some nice snacks to help him power through the day.

🫧 When it comes to sleeping, Rin doesn’t always like to cuddle. But sometimes you’ll wake up in the night, and Rin will be holding you, big spooning you or holding you in a honeymoon hug.

🫧 Rin definitely talks in his sleep. Sometimes, when you’re lucky, you’ll catch some of the things he says. One time, you heard him say your name followed by “don’t let the chickens eat the rice.”

🫧 That had you cracking up for days. Rin always thinks your lying, but one of these days you’ll have to remember to record him.

🫧 He’ll get you back for making fun of him one of these days. For now, he’ll just laugh with you.

Sousuke Yamazaki

🫧 Life with Sousuke isn’t simple, and it’s not easy at times.

🫧 With his shoulder and just having surgery, you might have to pick up a lot of the house chores.

🫧 He always tries though, and that’s what counts. Healing should be his top priority, so you never hold it against him.

🫧 After his check-ups, Sousuke also likes to go on walks with you. Just to effortlessly talk and laugh about anything.

🫧 Waking up with him is so sweet. He tries to cook you breakfast since you always cook lunch and dinner. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t.

🫧 And when it doesn’t, he’ll just take you out to eat breakfast.

🫧 I feel like Sousuke is a chess man. If you have some free time, he’ll probably sit down and play a game of chess and just talk.

🫧 He always lets you think you’re going to win, but then he’ll put you in check before you even know it.

🫧 Pushing Sousuke to eat better is probably the thing you two argue about most. He drinks soda every day, it’s garbage and it’s bad for you.

🫧 He silently appreciates it though. Getting back into swimming won’t be easy if he lets himself get out of shape.

🫧 Sousuke is a simple man. He’ll bring you home a little sweet every day on his way home from work. Its his way of showing he appreciates you day in and day out.

🫧 He respects your space and you respect his. Honestly such an amazing boyfriend, and roommate. Helping him is never an issue.

#free! headcanons #free! x reader #haruka nanase x reader #makoto tachibana x reader #nagisa hazuki x reader #rei ryugazaki x reader #rin matsuoka x reader #sousuke yamazaki x reader #request

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the-goddess-of-mischief-writing · 1 year ago

Text

Countryside

Oneshot Summary; You visit John’s home for the first time on a dinner date.

Pairing: John Price x reader (sunshine!universe)

Rating: Mature

CHAPTER NO/ONESHOT: Oneshot

Word; 8.8k

Warnings; so godawful much fluff, smut (MDNI, 18+), p in v, dry humping, riding, dirty talk, clothed sex, implied age-gap, DO NOT DRINK AND DRIVE

Author; @the-goddess-of-mischief-writing

A/N: Ma boy is so whipped😭🥺 Like this is the fluffiest smut I’ve ever written.

SUNSHINE UNIVERSE MASTERLIST

You brush your hand down the silky material of your dress, eyes flickering, taking in your surroundings as you drive down a narrow road. It's barely big enough for two meeting cars.

The area you're passing through can't be called a suburban. Despite driving past varying sizes of houses and their properties rather than apartments, too few people live here.

You're a decent distance away from the city and have been for some while. Something that only becomes more obvious the further you drive. You've met bout a dozen other cars up until now and you presume there'll be even fewer further ahead. The houses you pass become bigger, the accompanying land more expansive.

Once again, you drop one hand to the edge of your dress, dragging your palm down the material to dry off the imagined sweat.

You don't know why you're nervous. This will be your and John's fifth official date and not even anything fancy. Still, it ain't no stroll through the park, wrapped up with a stop at the local coffee shop in your area. No weekday evening spent at your place on a whim. Nor some activity like the last time, when John arranged a liqueur tasting with one of his favourite retailers of his favoured scotch.

This time you are on your way home to John.

He'd suggested it during your last date when you relaxed at your place after the evening of liquor tasting. One that left you tipsy and him, though not close to even slightly intoxicated, smiley and definitely much softer around the edges.

The decision you two would spend the night together wasn't pre-decided. You'd planned to go on the drinking experience and then have something to eat. Afterwards, John would walk you home, and stay for some time, before heading down to his car parked outside your building, needing to go home, as he was scheduled at the base in the morning.

'No deployment, simply meetings and paperwork', he'd said, continuing his argument that more than a few hours was enough for the slight amount of alcohol to subside enough to drive, especially after eating well before and after.

But the night took a turn, though not an unwanted one.

After the tasting, you and John had strolled down the streets, the nippy air refreshing but not chilling. Your hand had been wrapped around his bicep, his warmth inviting enough that you pressed close to his side.

What stopped your tracks was when you passed a pub. John had mentioned he stops by when in the city, 'You should give the food a try, one of the best around'. You looked at him while he'd said it, tugging his arm. It earned his attention, his blue eyes dropping to you from the place across the street.

'I'm not opposed to a takeaway', you'd suggested, feeling how tiredness had gradually settled in your bones. John only smiled, neither he seemingly fancying a dinner at some restaurant, and pulled you with him to the place.

Familiar with the man behind the bar, he was warmly welcomed as you stepped through the doors.

Nothing happened when you returned to your apartment with a takeaway bag. Not as when John had visited that first time after meeting at Marissa's pub... or some afterwards. You'd only sat on your couch, eating dinner by the coffee table rather than the dining table as some random show played on the TV. One you and John criticised between bites.

The enormous portion made you feel stuffed halfway through, which made you flop back on the couch with a satisfied sound. Having balanced a fine line between sleepy and slowly clearing tipsiness, you'd watched John close the takeaway boxes, putting yours in the fridge while scrapping his empty one.

As he returned, he'd smiled down at you. 'Scoot over'.

You'd shuffled to make room for him and once John settled comfortably, you rested between his legs, your upper body on his as your head was propped on his chest.

The sound from the TV faded. The two of you laid like that, having talked and laughed. And then, when you parted from a kiss where you barely contained your giggles for long enough to happen, whatever dry joke of his not wanting to die in your head, 'Watcha sayin', wanna have our next cosy hour at mine?'

He'd taken you off-guard, brows having shot up as you studied John. Soon enough, however, you'd nodded with a grin and kissed him, jokingly having asked, 'Getting tired of the city, ain't you?' John had shaken his head in amusement. 'Only wanna show I want you at my place as well'. He'd made your heart flutter an unhealthy amount as you gazed at him. 'Should I wear that dress then, so I know I'll be let in?'

You'd referred to what John had said the first night he stayed at your place and his home had been brought up.

He'd looked almost bashful for a second before he brought you closer, arms tightening around your waist. 'Gonna let you in whatever you wear, but I wouldn't complain'.

You'd chuckled, leant in close and kissed him after that.

Afterwards, things had slowed and you wouldn't put it past yourself that you occasionally had fallen asleep in his arms. At some point, the soothing motion of John's hand travelled to your neck.

Neither of you had been too invested in whatever played on the TV compared to the other's presence.

'Should be on my way then', his low voice brought you out of your partly dazed, if nothing incredibly relaxed, state. You'd blinked your eyes open, not having slept but merely enjoying the moment. 'You don't think I'm letting you drive, are you?' You'd looked up at him. Yes, you'd wanted him to stay despite it not being the original plan. But John also had enough to be on the verge of a non-road legal amount of strong drinks just a few hours earlier. 'Ain't too many on my roads at this hour'.

He'd tried sitting up, but you stayed put with one of your hands pushed against his chest. 'Stay. Spare you the drive tonight and possible loss of license'. At first, he'd seemed reluctant, but once he'd fallen back into the couch, you'd known it was decided.

'Could almost think you planned this', John had said. 'Was your decision to taste scotch on a Sunday night when knowing you have somewhere to be in the morning'. As he'd shuffled the two of you around, you'd snickered. 'Clever, ain't ya?' He'd mockingly scolded you as you'd laid there, squished between his front and the back of the couch. You'd given him a sugar-sweet smile. 'Incredibly so'. His hand landed on the side of your face. 'Lucky for ya, I ain't gotta be in full uniform tomorrow and have the bare necessities in the car. Otherwise, I'd been forced to go'. You'd beamed after he'd pressed a kiss to your lips.

In the morning, you'd woken up when he kissed your forehead. Bleary-eyed, you'd gathered he'd been awake for some time as he'd already changed to what only could be the everyday attire for soldiers. Tactical pants in a muted blend of greens and beige with a tight-fitted green t-shirt.

'Not a bad thing to wake up to', you'd sleepily mumbled as you stretched, eyes unable to not sweep his frame. He'd chuckled, moving in for a proper kiss. You'd reciprocated the unhurried press of lips with a smile. When you parted, you'd fallen back to rest against the pillows.

'I'm on my way'. John's voice had been low as if not to drag you out of your lazy state too soon. You'd hummed. 'Have you eaten anything?’ He'd been unable not to smile. 'Pickin' somethin' up on the way for me and the lads'. You'd nodded, curling to your side, head burrowed into the pillows again. 'Alright then, have a good day, say hi to the others from me and buy them something sweet in my name'. He chuckled at your muffled reply, kissing your head before he walked out of your room. You'd walked around with a smile the whole day after that.

Now, you knew John would've been right. He probably would've made it home without much hassle that evening, as even now, during the considered universal rush hour, there weren't many people out on the road as you neared his address.

You crossed a bridge, a gentle stream of water beneath it. As you approached an intersection, you looked at the sat-nav, taking the designated right turn. That was when the asphalted road switched to packed gravel.

You were barely minutes away from your destination and your gaze was set straight ahead, attempting to find what property would be John's. However, you soon realise you didn't need to gauge which house would be his on this road, as it was only one at the end. And yet, you second-guessed the sat-nav with a swift glance down and then up. But it was correct, and the easily recognised black rover parked further up only sealed that you hadn't gotten lost.

"Cottage, my ass", you mumble when continuing down the gravelly road.

You saw the fixes John had done to it. The traditional structure of the house was clear, stoney and blocky looking. Walls that probably were coppery bricks previously were now white, structured walls. The roof wasn't tatched but covered in dark brown tiles, matching the heavy wood-lined windows and doors with influences from France.

Upon driving further, the gravelly driveway widened until you rolled up alongside the house's side, stopping beside John's car. The crunch from the wheels was replaced by your feet as you opened your door and jumped out of the seat.

You looked around, the greenery only enhancing the house itself. Despite the house being newly restored and with a fresh look, the land around it still inherits that rugged beauty of a garden let to grow as it pleased yet have behaved.

Wildflowers, in an array of different colours, are scattered here and there in the greenery. Some fruit trees spurt from the more open spaces around the patch of grass further ahead. Green hedges lined the house's walls, those being the most trimmed yet not squared to perfection.

When the sound of steps through the gravel sounded, you turned back, finding John walking from the slightly raised dais that creates a solid entrance to the door that remained wide open behind him.

"John, this looks taken out of a fairytale", you greeted him as he crossed the parking lot to reach you. A smile etched onto his features.

"Then you'll fit right in". John's eyes sweep over you, wrapped in a dress you more or less bought for this occasion. You'd purchased it on a whim, shopping for other things online, unable not to keep tabbing back to the pretty open back piece of shiny white material adorned in pretty yellow citruses and their green stems.

"Flirt", you return, smiling as he stops before you.

He curls an arm around your waist, gazing down at you for a few beats before his head drops. "Hello, love", he finally says close to your lips.

"Hi", you return. Seconds after, John presses his mouth to yours.

You're a bit stunned at his greeting. Previously a hug had been the only thing you shared initially, a kiss not coming until further in. But you don't complain, not at all. In fact, after the last time, it feels right.

As John pulls away for you, you smile up at him, the look mirrored on his bowed head.

"You have a bag?"

"Mhm, in the boot". You nod backwards. Only then does John let go of you, heading towards the back of your car.

This time, you'd made plans to stay or, more so, John had asked if you wanted to when you fixed the details of when and where over text. It had been a no-brainer to say yes.

Even though you'd only officially planned for one night, you packed enough for the whole weekend, a possible reason why a grunt resonates seconds before your booth is shut.

"You ready, or you wanna take in the view some more?" John joins your side, your bag slung over his shoulder.

"I'm ready". You smile, locking your car as he treks forward, beckoning you to follow.

You're immediately hit by an incredible smell when stepping over the threshold and into his foyer. Though your eyes sweep over the open space, noting some of the main pieces around the room, such as the built-in fireplace and thick wooden beams high above your head. Your gaze is instinctively drawn to the kitchen.

It was minimal, following the same colour scheme as the house's exterior. Dark brown cupboards below some light-coloured kitchen counter and windows on either side of the stove.

You rose to your toes, attempting to peek over the kitchen island, separating you from spotting the oven and whatever was in full swing of filling the open room with a delicious aroma.

"Started on a roast". A roast? Your eyes flicker to John as you drop down onto your feet.

"Didn't know you were such a good cook", you say, a smile forming.

"Surprised?" He cocks his brows.

You can't help but shrug, attempting to school your reaction by pressing your lips together. "Can't say I would've expected it, even though you invited me for dinner". John huffs in amusment.

"Mandatory to know how to make a decent Sunday roast". You chuckle, stepping towards him as your raise one hand, settling on his cheek.

Your fingers card to his beard. "Smell more than decent to me", you praise him, palm flattening and fingers curling backwards on his face to pull him in for a kiss.

It's a sweet exchange, shy of lingering too long not to develop into something more. But, as you part, you both smile at each other, content with the brief but somehow meaningful kiss.

"I'll show where you can put your things. The beef got some time left in the oven before I go pokin' at it".

You bite your tongue at John's comment, amusedly shaking your head as you slip off your white sneakers. He does the same to his shoes before you pad after him further into the house.

Rather than going through the open space of the first floor, towards the short hallway with only one door at either side, John steers towards the stairs. You follow him as he heads upwards. While he climbs the staircase silently, you notice how your steps sometimes make the wood creak.

When you reach the second floor, you instantly notice it contrasts heavily with the one below. Compared to the first floor, with its open space and conjoined kitchen, dining room and living room, making the space airy, the second floor was split into several rooms.

The one and first room John headed towards was positioned further down to the left. It was big and with seconds notice, you understood it was his bedroom.

You halt just shy of a step inside. The carpet is soft beneath your feet despite the lack of... simply most things that weren't essential. There weren't many decorations apart from the large mirror on the wall on the opposite side of the room and besides John's closet and clothing rack. Your eyes drift to what parts you from that side, his bed. It's large, placed against the wall on the right and with its end turned outwards. You realise it's the main piece of furniture in the room concerning the sparseness of other things.

That was where John headed as he continued inwards. He shrugged your bag off his shoulder, placing it on the foot of his bed. As he turned to you, he immediately broke into a grin.

"Look like a statue over there". John mused. Honestly, you would take his word for it. It was your first time in his home, meaning it would be impossible to be as bold and comfortable as he'd grown in your flat, enabling him to roam somewhat more freely.

You shift your weight. "Was promised a tour, or did you only mean your bedroom?" You replied, attempting to brush off the remaining nerves with jest.

His head tilted to his side as his hand rose, motioning you towards him, smile softer now. "Come here". When he said it like that, you had no problem walking forwards until reaching his outstretched hand and stepping into his embrace. "Happy to finally have ya here". A warm wave rushes through your body because there's no playfulness in his tone.

"Since when did you turn into a sap?" You reply, looking away from his intense eyes. Not having expected the turn of the conversation.

A hooked finger nudges your jaw towards facing John again, where he greets you with a grin curling his lips.

"And since when did you turn so shy?"

"Well, if you haven't noticed, I'm in your room this time", you reply, gazing into his eyes.

"Oh, I've noticed". John dipped to your level. "And I'm lovin' every moment of it". Before you could instinctually duck your head from the sweet words that struck a cord in your chest, John's lips moulded against yours.

His lips against yours made you relax. Your nervousness faded as he pecked your lips a few times, nudging his nose against yours as he spoke with eyes still closed. "Come down when you've unpacked your stuff and explored here, eh?"

"I'll be down in a few, then". John hummed at your answer, pleased that he felt whatever tension you'd gotten here with had faded.

...

As he'd said, John left you to unpack your things and explore the upper floor while he tended to the dinner downstairs.

Considering you think it's too soon to put any of your clothes amongst John's, you only put some you don't fancy creasing on the rack, leaving the rest in your bag on the floor beneath.

When stepping into the en suite with your toiletry bag, the things lining the sink surprise you. Aside from the toothbrush, there's an arrangement of bottles already lining the counter. You can't help but take a peak, reading 'beard oil' on the flask you'd picked up. You catch yourself smiling as you put it back in place amongst his other items, placing your products on the opposite side.

Stepping out of his room, you head halfway down the hallway, peeking into the room closest to John's.

It's an office, considerably less bare than his bedroom, concerning the bookshelf lining the left wall, the large Chesterfield club chairs facing each other with a smallish table between them before the actual wooden working desk further ached with its accompanying chair behind it.

You don't step inside, respectful of what most probably was his workplace at home. Instead, you continue forwards, past the staircase and towards the other two doors.

As you push the first open, you're met by a bathroom still amid renovation, the plastic sheets lining the floor, the stepstool and tools making it evident. Behind the second door is a spare bedroom. A giddy sensation enters your chest when you look around the considerably smaller space than John's. The room is adequately equipped for someone to stay there. And yet, he hadn't hesitated to settle you in his bedroom.

Without much more to explore upstairs, you head down, instantly spotting John in the kitchen. Though tending to a tray he seemingly had taken from the oven, he glances over his shoulder upon hearing you.

"Settled in?" He asks as he puts the tray into the oven again. This time without the tin foil now scrunched together on the stone counter.

"Mhm", you hum, unable to wipe the smile from your face. By now, your nerves were just a memory. You felt relaxed in a way you never had before. Something about John being so at ease made you fall into the same easy rhythm you always seem to have with one another.

After closing the oven, John straightens up. Putting away the oven mitts, he turns to lean against the counter.

By now, you've rounded the kitchen island, and though you'd planned on stopping there, John reaches forward, grabbing your hip and urging you near. You follow readily, never saying no to being close to him.

His hand massaged the meat at your hip, gently pressing and releasing the flesh as he gazed at you. It was a quiet moment. One where you looked into his blues just as intensely as his eyes flickered between yours. You barely notice how you drift closer, stepping forwards until your feet slot between his.

Your head is tilted back to look up at him. Though you tip to the side when his other hand raise to caress your skin.

It's a soft brush of his knuckles at first, then his palm settles partly on your jaw and throat, his fingers reaching to curl into your neck. The light press of his fingertips into your skin rocks you forward, meeting his lips.

It's not a heated make-out session despite your tongues intertwining. But it makes you warm, a shudder running down your spine. You feel soft and pliable against John as small sounds leave you both. Now and then, it urges small pauses where you linger against one another, neither of you desiring to take the next step where desperation bleeds into the actions.

...

The softness, that mushy feeling in your chest, remains. If anything, it only grows when you cook dinner together.

When you'd parted from John, asking if he wanted any help with the rest of the dinner, he'd attempted to make you sit down at the kitchen island as he opened a bottle of red, giving you a glass. 'You just relax, love', he'd said as he put on some jazz music, the tune humming from a speaker in his living room.

But you'd insisted on helping him and it ended with John overseeing the beef in the oven, checking the temperature religiously while also cooking the mashed potatoes. Meanwhile, you'd tasked yourself with preparing the vegetables and gravy.

Sometimes John stalled in his movement, standing there with his wine glass in hand. You stopped chopping the carrots upon feeling his gaze on you, finding him with a slight upwards tug in his lip. 'What you smiling about?' You would ask, unable not to reciprocate his smile. 'Nothin', he usually would shrug before stepping towards you, bringing you in for a short but wine-tinged kiss.

As you moved around the kitchen, asking John where one or the other thing was, you would place a hand on him, sometimes on his back, other times on his side. He would always glance towards you, you both knowing the kitchen was large enough that you could move without limitation.

When conversation naturally died out, and you stilled in the kitchen, every utensil needed to cook the meal already put forth, you unconsciously hummed along to the music.

You didn't notice. All your attention was set on the gravy you stirred in the copper saucepan. It wasn't until John stepped up behind you, arm curling around your waist, you would catch what you were doing, quieting down. Not because of the man plastered to your back, more so that you raised a spare spoon to ask him whether he thought the sauce tasted good. 'Hm, delicious, perfect timin' for the beef, as well', he dipped and said in your ear before parting from you.

Eating was as good as cooking the meal. It was a split between you and John being a good team in the kitchen, making a mouthwatering Sunday roast, and the atmosphere making it taste even better.

John had dimmed the lights on the first floor, setting a lovely mood without any candles needed. It made the dinner all gentle and slow. You talked, ate, only to talk some more.

Time ticked on, and you never wanted to look at the clock. But, in the end, both you and John felt full, cutlery laid down as you realised you made way too much food for two people.

The two of you agreed to dish off the table when the immediate sated feeling lessened, even if it took a bit longer than anticipated as you got stuck in a conversation once again. Although, when you both finally rose from the table, it felt good moving around.

You helped clean the table, wiping down the counters you'd coked on as well, but when you neared the sink, you were ushered away by John. Suceedinlgy persuaded that he would take care of it.

You took the liberty to roam towards the double French doors, just across the couch group, that caught your eyes during the dinner.

As you wander through the living room, the air is filled with the music and John's rummaging in the kitchen. The gentle sounds fall behind you when you near the white-lined doors.

Catching a glimpse of what's outside, your curiosity sky-rockets upon the lanterns lightening what seemed to be a patio.

You shift your glass from your dominant hand when the doors are within reach, hooking off the clasps with your freed fingers. Without much difficulty and sparing yourself of John calling out in aid, you push them open.

You let the doors stand ajar behind you as you step down onto the patio to let John know where you've gone when he's done.

The big slaps of stone covering the ground are cool beneath your sock-covered feet. They're seemingly placed to create a stable island in the gravel surrounding the four-by-four despite being in the same grey shade. The lanterns you'd spotted were embedded in the softer rocks along the edges of the patio, lightening the sitting area in a soft yellowy glow, further reflected by the grill a few paces ahead.

Your gaze rises, eyes roaming the scenery before you. To the left, around the corner of the house, you spot a lawn and an oasis of trees. But the beauty making you sigh is ahead of you.

A gravelly path that wraps around the house from the far right, one you only now realise is a continuation from the driveway as you spot the rear-end of John's car, separates you from a low metal fence. It's one of those you can see surrounding big-city parks' 'don't enter' areas. Not really stopping you but alerting you of the jeopardy of continuing. Further ahead, you spot the river, or more so, its banks. A lazy trickling gives away the body of water you drove over earlier as it drifts along John's property.

The sun peaks through the sparse area of vegetation and neighbours' roofs beyond the river. It feels like you're dreaming, standing here in the quiet evening. It's so unlike your evenings in the flat, where you can hear cars driving past, the sound penetrating the wall. And on warm evenings such as this one, when you're windows are ajar, you catch people talking as they stroll down the street.

The music from inside reach you still, gentler, quieter, but still a noticeable hum from within the house. It mingles with the trickle of the stream and some insects cricketing from within the surrounding greenery. You hum along to the song playing, only stopping when raising your glass to your lips, sipping your wine, eyes sweeping over the picture ahead.

"If this ain't a sight". You look over your shoulder, finding John leaning against the doors. One hand rests in his pocket, the other holding a low-balled glass with a russet liquid inside.

"Ain't too bad from here either". John smiles at your reply as your eyes flitter over his form.

"Poured me one, figured you favoured finishin' yours", he said, making a motion with his glass you presumed was filled with scotch.

"Yeah, I'm alright", you hum in response, smiling at him. John reciprocates it with a slight upwards tilt of his lips. You catch him pushing off from the doorframe just as you turn forwards again.

Like you, John didn't care to put on shoes as he stepped over the threshold and onto the patio. You'd learned that the man moved silently for someone of his stature. Nonetheless, you felt when he stepped up behind you. His presence gets even more apparent when he circles your waist from behind with his free arm.

You lean against his front, sighing as one of your arms rests over his. John shuffles, sipping his drink before he haunches slightly, notching his chin on your shoulder.

Your eyes slip close, humming along to the song again. Somewhere along the way, you and John begin to sway in place. It's a slow rocking motion, a shift of weight between the feet rather than dancing. Still, it makes you smile,

When you tip your head to rest on his shoulder, the arm around your abdomen tightens, drawing you closer with a heavy sigh.

"Love...". The pet-name whispered against your shoulder is more of a husky purr than anything else.

"Hm?" You question but get no immediate answer in return.

You wait a few more beats, anticipating him to continue his sentence. Instead, John kisses your exposed skin near your shoulder. It's followed with another press against the juncture of your neck. Then one beneath your ear, on that sensitive and lightly ticklish spot that's easily accessible from his current position.

You turn in his embrace, his arm still curled around your waist, hand now resting against the small of your back. While you keep your wineglass to the side with one hand, the other settles upon his chest. Grounding you both as you continue to rock gently.

You stare up at him, gazing into those blues that stray sunlight catches just enough to make shine. Something glimmers in his eyes, something enchantingly profound.

Your arm travels upwards, over his fabric-clothed collarbone and around his neck, fingers curling to play with the short strands of the chestnut at his neck. John's eyes slip close for a few beats, revelling in the sensation.

As they flutter open, his gaze is soft. Still, you catch the gentle fire in them. You can't help but card your fingers through his hair. Moving them up, up until you drag them downwards, grazing his scalp just slightly with your nails. You feel the shiver making John wet his lips and flex the hand resting on your lower back.

His gaze drops to your lips. Yours does the same to his.

You want to kiss him, lean in, slot your mouth with his, and give in to the sweet but slowly heating moment. You almost give in, swaying on your feet towards John. And yet, you pull away when he attempts to meet you halfway.

The low sound of a complaint leaves John's throat as his partly-closed eyes flutter open. But you don't regret not succumbing to his presence. There's something about this moment. Something unlike all the others you've shared despite them being intimate too.

You can't help but smile, stepping out of his embrace entirely. It causes his brows to quirk and his head to tilt. Silent question of what you're doing as he merely watches you raise your eyebrows, smile still lingering.

His eyes only drop from yours to follow your hand as it falls from his neck with a caress, brushing down the same path it did when travelling upwards.

You don't shy from letting your palm glide down his chest and stomach. His attention is heavy on your hand as you feel his muscles' reactionary flex. That's until his blues snap up to watch you taking a step to the side.

You don't let your hand leave him. Instead, you continue mapping his body, sliding over his waist, just above his navy chinos, then around the side of his body, only to let your hand fall when you step around him with a press to his ribs.

In the corner of your eyes, you catch how John turns to watch you walk away.

His warm body had infected your own. Heat melts through your sparse layers of clothing and into your very core. Even more so when you feel his attention on you, positively having stoked the previous fire within them to make his gaze this noticeable.

When you reach the doors, you look over your shoulder. Even though John had turned, he was still in the same spit. And now, when you look back at him, gazes locking, you see the growing darkness in them. It eclipses his bright eyes like a solstice.

The quirk of your lips is hard to beat down. Not even the glass you rise to your lips can hide it. When dropping your drink, fingers shifting its contents with your grip around its bowl, you deliberately arch your brow, beckoning John with you as you step inside.

And he follows.

His steps aren't calculated or suppressed. They're heavy, meant for you to hear. He moves somewhat quicker than you to catch up when you stop by the table in front of his couch, setting down your wine glass. A second thud swiftly follows yours when he deposits his glass seconds before stepping into you from behind.

He doesn't throw you off balance, not from how his hands settle on either side of your hips, pulling you taunt against him.

"A bloody temptress is what you are". His face presses against the side of your head, sentence husked against the shell of your ear.

"Know you like it". The end of your sentence is breathed as John's hand slides down your front, between your thighs, gripping the fleshy part of your them.

"Fuckin' love it", he grunts, spinning you around with a movement that settles his hands below your ass. The skirt of your dress rises, the edge resting just in line with his pinky.

You barely have enough time to prepare before John crashes his mouth against yours.

A sound escapes from your throat, hands fisting the white shirt tucked into his pants, rucking the material free as you can't do anything but follow him as he walks backwards.

Just as you fully relax into the kiss, he parts from you. You're about to complain until you see why.

John had led you to the couch, sitting down as his shins hit the cushioned seat, naturally urging you to straddle his waist with a tug at your legs.

You obey him, not needing more than this man to look at you with want in his eyes to follow him down on the couch. With knees planted on either side of his hips, you settle in his lap with a slight wriggle.

The jostling makes you grind against John, who grunts as his fingers dig into your waist. But he doesn't stop you. Instead, he develops your action, pushing you down onto his groin, instantly moving your hips back and forth.

The rocking makes you gasp, your hands flying to his shoulder as you fall into the motion, canting your hips at the pace he sets.

"Wan't you to come just like this, love", he breathes, making you whimper. "Wanna feel you come all needy and grindin' on me".

"I-"

"S'pretty all the goddamn evenin'", he groans, his hand sliding under the skirt of your dress and hiking it to your waist, where the skirt bunches. Revealing your skimpy lace panties that make a low sound rumble in his chest. His pinky fingers insert themselves beneath the fabric curved over your arse. "Want you to drench this pretty fabric".

"They're gonna be ruined". John's hungry eyes flicker to meet yours as your head tips forwards.

"Want you to ruin them, wouldn't mind havin' you walk around my house all bare beneath this". He squeezes your waist, bunching your dress even further so he can watch each drag of your hips against his growing bulge.

"John". It should've been a scold, but it's barely more than a moan.

"Love my name on your lips", he breathes as he drags you harsher against him, bucking his hips into your heat to tease what's to come.

You shift your hips just the slightest and the seam of his slacks rub right against your clit. Unable to quieten the whimper, it cut through the air, your own sound making a shudder travel up your spine. You rock faster into him, your panties sticking to your folds from the wetness, something John must feel-

"Wan't you to drench those panties of yours, want to feel you soak through my pants, love. Want to feel how much you need me". You throw your arms around his neck, needing the leverage as he presses kisses down your throat and collarbones.

You can feel it building, gentle and not overwhelming, but still a fire in your stomach as pleasure curls there.

A soft moan leaves you when he guides your hips into your crotch, jutting upwards enough for him to press deliciously into you. The imprint of his cock against your dripping core makes your mind jump ahead. It's nothing more than a bend of the seem covering your pussy from direct contact, but you imagine grinding against his naked cock. Feeling as it nudges you from below, your clit, until positioned at your entrance...

You reach your peak, slumping rather than hurling over it as you lean against John, face burrowing into his warm neck.

"That's my girl", he purrs against your ear, kissing the places he reaches as your legs feel like jelly for a few seconds. You stir slightly, making John nudge your head with his nose. "M'how you doin', love?"

You lean back, gaze locking with his. "M'good, really good", you hum, leaning close to his lips. "Wan't you to feel good now as well". You press your weight down against the fabric straining over his groin.

John groans, not objecting as you reach down, unbuttoning his slacks. Not until you stand does he help you pull off his pants and underwear with a slight arch of his hips from the couch.

While he kicks away his clothes from around his ankles, you slip off your panties. And just as you're about to squirm out of your dress, he rises, sitting on the edge of the couch.

"Keep it on", he rasps, hands gripping your waist. "Wanna fuck you in this pretty dress". He pulls you back into his lap.

When you settle on top of his hard cock, John groans and you pant, reaching a hand around his neck.

"Could've just bent me over the counter earlier". You breathe softly with the rock of your hips, gliding his naked and leaking cock through your fold, feeling him tense underneath you.

"Don't fuckin' tempt me, love", John outright moans as you slide over his shaft on your own accord, his heavy paws doing nothing but clutch your flesh.

"Wouldn't have minded", you stutter as his cocks throbs against you, the pulsing prominent against your nakedness as your head drops closer to his.

"You wouldn't have, eh? That's why you're so wet? Imaginin' me bendin' you over in the kitchen and fuckin' you silly", John mumbles against your lips. You nod wordlessly. "So fuckin' dirty, love, aren't ya?"

"All for you", you sigh, causing John's breath to catch. His hips buck against yours, bumping the head of his cock against your clit, grunting a fuck beneath his breath as he feels your pussy clench on top of him, dripping your arousal onto him.

"So good for me, too bloody good", his voice is thick as he stills you, tapping your thigh with a firm press of his fingers. "Gotta be inside you".

You mumble a string of 'yes' and 'please' in return, rising onto your knees upon his urge.

John swiftly lines himself up with you and you soon begin to sink down slowly, head thrown backwards.

He feels bigger like this, his tips catching at your hole that usually has been prepped by his fingers. His girth drags against your walls once he pops inside, more than usual, forcing you to take it slow.

You clench around him despite your languid pace, causing John's hands to shoot to your waist, halting your movement as he inhales deeply.

"S-stop, love, just... need a moment". Your head tip forwards, met by his pupil-blown eyes, lips parted after his moaned sentence. You feel the restraint he puts on himself, his cock twitching inside you, his thighs tensing. Yet, he remains still, giving you both the time needed to accustom to this new position between you two.

When John's fingers flex slightly and he groans a soft 'yeah', you start up again. You lower yourself until it feels on the verge of too much before rising up, repeating the movement.

Slowly, you work John into you, letting out a shaky breath when your thighs settle on his, sitting properly in his lap.

He's nestled so deep, prodding something that makes your body tense. John feels you tighten around him, your shallow breaths making your body quiver on top of him.

"Takin' me so good", he praises you, one of his hands sneaking down to sit on your hip, his thumb rubbing circles into your clit. Your keen is enough of an answer for him to continue his ministrations. "Such a good girl, eh?"

Although making you flutter around him, John's sweet whispers make you relax while the attention on your clit naturally makes your hips rock. It helps you fall into a slow roll off your hips, still adjusting to his girth but with greater ease.

When finally there is more pleasure than pressure and strain, you rise and fall, starting a slow bounce that gradually quickens, making you mewl.

"Just like that, love". The hand placed on your hip, enabling his thumb to toy with your clit, press a last time into your bundle of nerves before sliding back. His other hand, the one that's rested on your waist, rides backwards, only to meet his other one as he grabs fistfuls of your arse. Your dress flips down, partly covering how his cock stretches you wide as he messages the flesh.

"Ride me so well", he grunts, head craning against the back of the couch, exposing his neck to you.

You take the invite to pepper kisses there, not half-hearted but sloppy presses of your lips and tongue. There's a saltiness on John's skin from the sweat pearls beading at his throat. But you leave an even wetter sheen in its place.

On a particular nibble close to the base of his throat, he slaps your ass, making you squeak and your hips jump. The sudden movement makes you both moan.

"Damagin' government property, eh?" He sounds drunk, voice ridden with lust as his half-lidded gaze meets yours when you sit up straight. Hips still working but slower, a circling motion back and forth.

"They're leaving their marks on you. I want to leave mine too". In the weeks you'd gotten to know John, the scars littering his body were impossible not to notice. Even though you didn't linger too long on the thought of asking about them.

A deep rumbling sound resonates within his chest as he leans up, knocking his mouth against yours in his hurry to feel your lips.

Your hands settle on either side of his face as you steer the hurried kiss, simultaneously deepening it with a tilt of your head. John swallows your moans that bleed into his mouth as you greedily roll rather than bounce your hips against his, attempting to chase your pleasure despite the fatiguing sensation in your legs.

When you part, both panting, one of your arms circles his neck, attempting to gain the help needed as you can't help but let your pace fade. Repeated whines leave you, breathed straight into John's ear, making a breathy chuckle pass his lips.

"Gettin' all whiny when you can't do it yourself, eh?" He teases, shuffling beneath you to plant his feet on the floor, enabling himself to fuck into you from below, meeting each roll of your hips with a thrust.

Your legs tremble, strength vanishing upon the added pleasure, making John wrap his strong arms tightly around your waist, forcing you to slump against his chest as you're kept stationary in his lap.

John's repeated movements make your toes curl as your burning thighs relish when dropping onto his lap, feeling him going deeper into you than before.

You can fully relax as you bounce with each powerful snap of his hips, reaching something so deep inside a zip of electricity shoots up your spine.

One of your hands digs beneath his shirt, enveloping his back, nails carving red trails into his muscles. His shirt rides up, making his tensing abs peek forth and something goes off in your brain, which makes you melt against him.

You're in his house. An almost too-dreamy evening behind you. The moment at the patio. Fucking on his couch. Half-clothed but not desperate, almost feeling like you made...

And that's when you start babbling, the feelings too many, too overwhelming.

"J-John, John, I'm gonna- I'm... you, f-fuck, shit". Your words are a mumbled mess compared to your thoughts filled with a single four-lettered word compromising your feelings.

"Come on, love, I've got you", he mumbled and his word made your orgasm rip through your, shockingly compared to the first one as you hadn't felt the crest of this one near.

You jolt in his hold, forehead leaning against his as you shudder, a broken moan leaving your parted lips. He comes almost immediately after. As if your surprised high tipped him over his similarly unnoticed edge.

For a few seconds, you only hear the pounding in your ears. Then, slowly, you notice the breaths, air swishing past your lips on each in and exhale. First your own, then John's puffing against your face. Next, you feel his sweaty forehead against yours, realising you're still pressed close to him.

You raise your head, which makes John's eyes flutter open, partly lidded as he watches you. Lazy smiles curl both your lips upward.

You lean down, the kiss is slow to be initiated, your limps simply lingering against one another before neither of you can keep away any longer.

When you part, you become acutely aware of his warm spend inside you. You attempt to wriggle off his lap to stop the sensation that makes your body quiver. But his heavy hands keep you still, causing your mixed juices to trickle around him nestled deep inside you.

"Stay like that", John mumbles.

"But-"

"Hm, not buts. Wanna have the pretty picture of you in this dress, creaming my cock just a bit longer". God, you're set on fire by his drawled sentence, hiding your face in his neck.

"John, you can't say things like that", you complain, face feeling like it radiates against his already heated skin.

If his satisfied chuckle isn't enough, the smugness in his voice tells you he isn't the slightest ashamed. "Can and will". You shake your head, burrowing yourself further into the crevice between his neck and shoulder. He exhales amusedly as one of his hands settles on your back, rubbing up and down soothingly.

You relax into him. "Didn't I say it would end the same?" You breathily sigh.

John hums at first, taking a few moments to deduce what you meant. "You knew what you were doin'". You emerge from his neck, looking down at him. Upon feeling your attention on him, his eyes flicker open.

"Maybe", you reply with a small smile. John rolls his eyes at you before settling his hand that's rubbed your back on your neck, pressing damp strands of hair against your sweat-covered skin.

"Yes, you did", he hums. You shrug, which makes him tug you down into a kiss.

"Can't deny you did the same", you part from him for a second to say. "With your staring and touches in the kitchen".

"Hm, fancy havin' someone to cook with", he said with a small smile and tilt of his head. "Could say I like havin' you around".

Your chuckle. "Well, I would hope so". John smiles up at you for a few seconds and presses a lingering kiss to your lips before saying anything.

"How much did you pack?"

You cock a brow, smile slowly curving your lips. "What would you think if I told you enough for a few days?"

His eyebrows jump. "Planned to stay the weekend, eh?"

"Suspected that you would ask". John chuckled heartily at that, making you bounce in his lap. It died off in a deep sigh as his hands dropped to your hips, thumbs circling your hipbones.

"Right you were".

You linger in the post-orgasmic euphoria a while longer. Sharing kisses and soft caresses until the stickiness between your legs grow uncomfortable, much like your sweat-slicked skin.

"Have a shower here that ain't in pieces and that I can use?" John chuckles before answering.

"Can use the one in my room".

You nod, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips before you attempt to get off his lap. But his hand remain firm on your hips. "John?" His name is a question of why he doesn't let you go.

"Only lettin' you go if it's an open invite".

"And you called me a menace". You roll your eyes, despite not being against showering with this man pressed close to you. "Come on then". He let you slide from his lap, allowing you to tug him from the couch.

As your dress fell around your thighs again, John pulled on his slack, bare underneath.

"Going commando, not scared you'll dirty them?" His eyes jumped towards you as he made a scene of picking up your panties and putting them in his pocket. His boxers followed but were stuffed much less delicately into the other one.

"If you didn't notice, love, you already soaked them". He grins as your eyes flicker to his groin and the partly zipped-up pants. Indeed there was a half-shiny stain on the front.

You flush, cursing him under your breath, which only makes him laugh and pull at your skirt, making you step towards him.

"No need to be embarrassed, love", he kisses your cheek as you defiantly turn your head.

"No need to be so smug about it". You turn to John, looking up at him through your lashes. But it's hard to remain pouty when he softly kisses the side of your mouth, then your lips, despite the glint in his eyes.

"I'll make it up to you", he mumbles in-between sweet pecks before nodding for you to take the lead towards his room and shower.

This time, you're walking ahead as the two of you ascend the stairs, only to stall halfway when you catch a grunt and deep breath from John. You stop to glance over your shoulder.

"Doing good?" You watch his eyes flicker from somewhere low to meet your eyes.

"Real good", he says, stepping up to you. He kisses you briefly, remaining a breath away when he pulls away, looking at you. "But don't be surprised if we need to shower twice. This sight is a weakness for any man".

You hadn't noticed how his hand crept underneath the hem of your dress and beneath your skirt. But, at the end of his sentence, his fingers reached your bare pussy, swirling his fingers around your folds, sticky with both your juices. You gasp, eyes widening.

Though oversensitivity hasn't settled yet, his dirty action and the realisation he must have had a downright filthy view of your nakedness when walking behind you is the main reason for your reaction.

"You're fucking insatiable, John Price". Your pitched voice makes him smirk, pulling away his fingers.

"All for you, love". John's hand settles on your thigh, dotting your skin with your combined arousal as he tilts his head. You can't deny him the kiss he leaned in for after those words that already makes your achingly warm heart jump a beat.

When you pull away, you shake your head. "At this rate, I expect something sweet when we cuddle later".

"Asking for dessert, love?"

"Yes, I am", you huff, continuing up the stairs, feeling his eyes on you as you reach the top and step onto the solid ground of the second floor.

"Maybe you're the dessert, eh?" Walked right into that one, you think. Still, you send him a look.

"Dog, a downright dog", you scold him, but John only grins in return as he progresses up the stairs.

Your scold clearly doesn't work when John opens his arms with a suggestive wink. It makes you slap his chest when he joins you on stable ground. Though neither that deters him as he loops his arms around your upper arms, caging you against him with a defeated and delighted escaping you as you two stumble towards his room.

#john price #john price x reader #captain johnathan price #captain John price x reader #captain John price #captain price #captain price x reader #captain price x you #price cod #John price codmw2 #CODMW2 #cod fic #John price smut #John price x reader smut #John price x reader fluff #John price fluff #sunshine universe

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the-vampire-queer · 1 year ago

Text

The Vampires Digital Media Poll: Round 1, Bracket 5

Please reblog for a bigger sample size.

Results get posted on December 10th. at 5PM CST.

<- Previous poll | Next poll ->

If you wish to learn more about your options, either as a refresher or an introduction, press the "Keep reading" button.

What is First Kill about?

Summary: "Falling in love is tricky for teens Juliette and Calliope because one's a vampire and the other's a vampire hunter -- and both are ready to make their first kill." Source: Rotten Tomatoes

Source: First Kill (2022)

Cast:

Sarah Catherine Hook - Juliette Fairmont

Imani Lewis - Calliope "Cal" Burns

Gracie Dzienny - Elinor Fairmont

Elizabeth Mitchell - Margot Fairmont

Aubin Wise - Talia Burns

Additional information: Despite ending in cliffhangers, First Kill was cancelled and will not get a season two. Netflix cancelled it after they decided the completion rate wasn't high enough.

What is My Babysitter's a Vampire about?

Source: My Babysitter's a Vampire

Summary: "Geeky teen Ethan Morgan has a hot baby sitter, which most teenage boys would think is a good thing. The only problem is that Ethan's baby sitter, Sarah, is half-vampire (hence the show's title). Sarah drags Ethan and his pals, Benny and Rory (who was recently turned into a vampire himself), into a world of supernatural battles against creatures from their nightmares in order to save their town from vampires. Sarah hopes to one day become human again so she can save her soul -- and so she can spend less time protecting the geeky trio." Source: Rotten Tomatoes

Cast:

Vanessa Morgan - Sarah

Matthew Knight - Ethan Morgan

Atticus Mitchell - Benny

Cameron Kennedy - Rory

Kate Todd - Erica

Additional information: Taking place just before the tv show, there was a movie by the same name. Disappointingly, the tv show was cancelled after two seasons because they were unable to renew the international license.

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saltydkdan · 2 years ago

Note

Your Sonic Frontiers videos have genuinely made me want to get into the sonic fandom. Is this a choice I will regret? If yes, where do I start?

Well I’m biased, I love Sonic. Listen to me my guy, I know the Sonic fanbase has a “reputation” of being bad at times, but that happens with every fanbase. You don’t ever need to “engage” with a fanbase if you like the media it’s based around! It’s just a fun bonus if you want.

Anyway, here’s what I can say: If you end up liking Sonic, you will REALLY like Sonic.

Here’s some good starting points I came up with!

-The beginning! The original Sonic games on Genesis (Classics, light on story, but great games!) (Sonic Origins is a great way to play them on modern hardware, and then after, you can jump into Sonic Mania)

Going in order from the start is a really interesting way to see the growth of the series over time (just avoid spin off games or your journey will take FOREVER LOL)

-Sonic Adventure (Older, but still iconic. Voice acting and animations are jank but the lore is fun and it’s the start of “Modern” Sonic)

-Sonic Adventure 2 (My fav, fucking crazy story) (Shadow the Hedgehog’s first game, based) (If you play it on steam be careful, the game runs super fast depending on the refresh rate of your monitor, there are fixes online for this)

-Sonic X (TV Show/Anime) (Not recommended for everyone) (Re-tells the plots of Sonic Adventure 1 and 2 with added content) (Suffers from it’s English dub changes from the original but still awkward in a fun way) (Not considered “canon” per say these days, but it’s essentially a retelling of games with added non-canon stuff)

-Sonic IDW comics (The current run of comics, it’s canon is based on past games, but it’s written in a way where it’s easy to jump in and get acquainted with all the cast and story) (Has a much more centered narrative and explores a bunch of characters other than Sonic)

#sonic the hedgehog #saltydkdan #salty asks

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harleybeaumont · 1 year ago

Text

Never Have I Ever

Chaper 20 - Watershed

Book- TRR

Series- Never Have I Ever

Pairings- Bertrand x MC

Chapter Synopsis- What started out as a humiliating ordeal with Savannah has turned into a huge realization for Bertrand.

Chapter Warnings- language, sensuality

Rating - Mature

Word Count- 2,980

A/N- I know it's been a MINUTE since I posted, but I'm back and ready to continue this story! Since it's been a while since I posted the previous chapter, I'm going to include a snippet of what happened at the end of chapter 19 to refresh your memory.

_______________________________________________

Bertrand closed his eyes tightly and imagined Riley in front of him. Instead of the overwhelming scent of Chanel No. 5, he caught the faint note of Riley’s floral shampoo. Suddenly he could taste Riley’s strawberry lip gloss. He caressed her cheek, knowing there were adorable tiny freckles beneath his hand. He ran his fingers through her golden locks which were probably just let out of a messy bun or braid. He felt her arms wrap around him and she whispered against his ear, “Do you want me, Bertrand?” His mind flashed back to Riley laying beneath him, her plump lips curving into a sexy grin as she uttered, “fuck me, Bert.”

Savannah whispered against his ear, “Say my name. Tell me you want me.”

Bertrand smiled with his eyes still closed tightly and replied, “I want you, Riley.”

__________________________________________________

Chapter 20 -Watershed

Bertrand flailed his arms in an attempt to steady himself as Savannah quite literally tossed him out of her bedroom and into the hall. “Savannah, can we just talk about-”

“No, we cannot!” She shrieked, looming in the doorway with her blouse still unbuttoned.

A creak in the hallway snapped their attention to a very startled Riley, who was holding a bag of Chewy Chips Ahoy, attempting to return to her room to watch some trash TV with a late night snack.

“Oh, isn’t this just perfect!?” Savannah spat, now directing her ire at Riley.

“Savannah, please lower your voice! People are trying to sleep and we don’t want to cause a scene.” Bertrand whispered with his hands held in front of him as if trying to calm a wild animal.

“A scene? A scene?! I’ll give you a scene!” Savannah shouted, picking up a vase from a nearby table and raising it over her head, poised to hurl it down the empty hallway. Suddenly her entire demeanor changed and she took several deep breaths. “No.. No. Lady Savannah Jane Walker is better than this. That’s right. She’s a lady. She doesn’t need to lower herself to yelling and screaming and throwing things. Especially not over a man who turned out to be nothing more than a lying, cheating scoundrel.”

Riley watched the scene before her in utter confusion and brought a cookie to her mouth, chewing slowly. This was wilder than anything she could have seen on TV.

Savannah took another deep breath before fixing Riley with a murderous gaze. “And don’t worry, he’s all yours!” She spun around, stomping into her bedroom and slammed the door behind her, leaving Bertrand and Riley alone in the hall.

“Riley.. I..” Bertrand started, but Riley nodded her head toward her bedroom which was thankfully at the other end of the hall from Savannah’s.

“Come on. It’s probably safer if we talk away from.. Whatever that was.”

Bertrand dropped down onto Riley’s bed with his head in his hands.

She touched his shoulder softly, “What happened?”

He sighed and mumbled without lifting his head, “Utter humiliation. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Riley?!” Savannah snapped, breaking the kiss and jerking away from him.

“What?”

“You just called me Riley!”

“I’m certain I did no such thing.”

Savannah’s brows furrowed and she looked as if she might physically hurt him. “You did! You son of a bitch! I knew you had a thing for her!”

“No! It’s not like that!”

“So that tramp got her hooks into you!”

“Savannah, that’s not-”

“Don’t lie to me, Bertrand! Are you two having sex?”

“I-I-I.. no?”

“Oh my god! You are!”

At that point, Bertrand could do nothing but drop to his knees and beg. “Please don’t tell anyone!”

Savannah’s mouth fell open and she ran her hands through her hair, pulling slightly so several strands stuck out wildly. “You think I would tell people about this?! This is humiliating for me! The man I’m courting is sleeping with common trash! My reputation would never recover if people found out! Why this whole thing makes me-”

Savannah suddenly stopped and took several deep breaths, speaking with an eerily calm voice. “No, no. Calm down Savannah. You can fix this. There are still several eligible men at court. What’s that idiot’s name? The one who is going to be an earl? Neville? Yes. Yes. We can do this. There’s still time for you. You’re young and beautiful. You’re going to be a countess.”

Bertrand watched her with wide, and slightly fearful eyes before saying, “I am truly sorry for-”

Savannah’s expression once again turned heated. “Oh, you're going to regret this! When I think of all the time I wasted with you, you pathetic, stuttering mess of a man! Get out of my sight!”

He jumped up and rushed for the door and Savannah shoved him roughly into the hallway.

Riley rubbed his back soothingly, trying her best to comfort him. She wished she could have been a fly on the wall for whatever weirdness happened back there. “Ok, we don’t have to talk about it.” She smiled and held out the bag, “want a cookie?”

Bertrand looked up from his hands and burst into laughter and Riley couldn’t help but join in. He smiled genuinely, clearly thankful for some relief from the earlier tension.

“I should probably go.” Bertrand shook his head, looking back down at the floor. “This has been an.. unusual night.”

“Understatement of the century.”

He stood and headed for the door. “I apologize that you had to witness all of that. And I truly hope that you are feeling better than you were earlier today. I was quite worried about you.”

Riley smiled and held out her arms. “Come here.”

Bertrand returned her smile and stepped toward her, easily melting into her embrace. His heart instantly stopped racing. His body erupted in goosebumps and he felt warmer and safer than he had in his entire adult life. He wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in her neck, breathing in everything about her. The warmth of her embrace and the softness of her skin sent him into a comforting and calm place that he didn’t ever want to leave. Despite the horrible night he had, everything was suddenly right with the world and he couldn’t have been happier.

After a few moments, they separated and Bertrand headed back to his own room. As soon as he locked his door, he slumped into a chair, groaning as a new and bittersweet realization overtook his entire being.

There was no use denying it anymore. Riley was his calm, his home. And he was in love with her. Hopelessly, desperately, madly, and completely in love.

_________________________________________________

The following day, the court returned to the palace to prepare for Liam’s upcoming coronation, but the Beaumont’s stayed behind a few more days to attend some upcoming appointments. Bertrand was thankful for some time away from the court, in particular, Savannah. He desperately needed time to think about.. Well, everything.

Bertrand had spent the last four months implausibly falling in love with the woman he had been training to be a queen. When Maxwell convinced him to sponsor this woman, the only reason he allowed it was because having someone from his house be chosen would be a way to secure his legacy. But each day spent with Riley, made him care less and less about his legacy, and more about something new. Something he had never cared about before.

His own happiness.

Growing up, Bertrand always struggled with the guilt that inevitably accompanied any sort of happiness. His childhood and teenage years were almost completely devoid of any sort of joy. Under the scrutiny of his father, he had grown up far too quickly. There was always something he needed to improve on, and his father made sure to inform him of this on a daily basis. His adult life was spent going through the motions of trying to keep house Beaumont in good standing. There was no time for frivolity or romance in any way. Not until people in court began questioning why he hadn’t chosen a wife, did he begin to accept Savannah's persistent propositions for a date.

What was he supposed to do now that everything had changed?

______________________________________________

Riley knocked on Maxwell’s ajar bedroom door, pushing it open when he didn’t answer. “Max? You in here? Ready to go?”

A retching sound from his adjoining bathroom caught her attention. She peered around the corner and found Max slumped over the toilet. “Max, are you ok!?”

“Ughhhh.. Don’t look at me.”

“Aw, honey, what happened?”

“Armando has a stomach bug.”

Riley ran some cold water over a washcloth and blotted his forehead and neck, “Ah, that makes sense. Since you always have your tongue down his throat, you caught it too.”

Max coughed and waved Riley away, “Thank you, but I don’t want you to see me like this. I’m too hideous!” He sniffled dramatically, “Remember me as I once was, Riley. The cool, sexy, charismatic, life of the party.”

“Max, you’re going to be ok!” Riley tried not to laugh at his melodrama. “I’m going to get you some sprite and crackers and pepto bismol. Do you want me to call the doctor?”

Max put his head in his hands, “No, Armando said his is almost over, so it looks like a 24 hour bug.”

After a few moments, Riley returned with a tray full of snacks and medicine and placed it on the nightstand. She turned down his bed, clicked on his TV and lowered the lights. Max staggered into bed and pulled the sheet up to his chin. “Thank you. You’re an angel, you know that?”

She placed the washcloth on his forehead and chuckled, “I don’t know about that.”

Maxwell gasped, “Oh no! Your appointment at the boutique is today!”

“I’m sure I can reschedule.”

“No way! Do you know how many favors I called in to get you into Levre Rouge Boutique at such short notice? You have to get a killer dress for the coronation and show up all those snooty, prissy twats!”

“But.. I don’t want to go alone.”

“Ask Bertrand!”

“Do you think he’d really want to go dress shopping with me?” Riley laughed skeptically, but paused when she noticed the thoughtful look on Maxwell’s face.

“I think he’d be happy to do literally anything with you, Riley.”

Her heart fluttered and she couldn't keep the smile from her face. She patted Maxwell’s hand and made her way to the door, still unable to stop grinning. “You’ll let me know if you need anything, right?”

“I will.” Max smiled and settled into bed. “Now go get something sexy, bitch.”

______________________________________________________

Bertrand waited in the crisp, white and red sitting area of the fanciest dress shop he had ever seen in his life. Levre Rouge Boutique had dressed princesses, celebrities, heiresses, and everyone in between. Whatever they chose for Riley to wear to the coronation would surely be jaw droppingly gorgeous. Not that she needed a new dress for that.

“Ready for the first one?” Riley sashayed out in a sleek, forest green dress that hugged her curves all the way down to the top of her thighs, where a long slit began, ending in a pool of silk at her feet.

She stuck out her leg, allowing the slit to open completely and Bertrand swallowed hard as his eyes betrayed him, taking in every inch of skin he could. “It’s um, um..”

She grinned and waved him over to her side in front of several floor length mirrors. “Come over and see it properly.” She twirled and flared the dress out. “It’ll need to be taken in a bit, and it’s way too long, but the seamstress said they can have any alterations done overnight. Apparently you Beaumont’s have a lot of clout around here for some reason.” She winked and nudged Bertrand, who hadn’t taken his eyes off of her. “That.. was a joke. I mean, obviously you have clout being nobility.. Bert, you ok?”

He cleared his throat and met her eye line, desperately trying to avoid the ample amount of cleavage protruding from the top of the gown. “It’s lovely. I mean, you’re lovely. I mean, you look lovely.. In the dress.” Bertrand cringed. Somehow he always made a mess of everything he said when she was around.

She smiled and took his hand. “Thank you.”

A plump woman with gray hair pulled into a tight bun blew into the room in a cloud of tape measures and fabric. She spoke to Bertrand with a melodic french accent, “We are honored to have you here, Your Grace. And what do you think of your date's dress? You two will surely turn heads at the coronation in a gown this exquisite.”

“Oh,” Riley turned toward Bertrand, and the two blushed simultaneously, dropping one another's hands and stepping back. “We’re not-”

“She's not my-” Bertrand started. “She's my, uh..”

“Friend!” Riley finished for him. “He’s helping me find a dress. We’re friends.”

“Yes. Friends.”

The woman regarded them skeptically, but grew wide eyed as she seemed to finally recognize Riley. “Oh, mon Dieu! I apologize. When Lord Maxwell contacted me, I did not realize I would be dressing the prince's American suitor! I am so embarrassed. I should have known-"

"It's fine," Riley assured her with a smile. "Don't worry about it."

Yvette regained her composure and turned to Bertrand slyly, "Date or not, you must admit that the green brings out her beautiful eyes, no?”

Bertrand met Riley’s emerald eyes and smiled. “It does.”

Riley grinned back at him and turned toward the mirror. “Madame Yvette, I’m a little worried this one might be too revealing for the occasion. The slit is so high. Would it be inappropriate to wear in front of royalty?”

Yvette tapped her cheek thoughtfully, “Oui, you may be right. Follow me, darling, we will find you something perfect.”

After an hour and a half of trying on dress after dress, Riley had narrowed it down to two. “Bert, I can’t choose! Which one is your favorite?”

“Oh, I don’t think it should be up to me,” Bertrand shook his head.

“Well technically you are paying for it,” Riley wrinkled her nose slightly. “Which I still feel bad about by the way.”

He smiled, “And I’ve told you before, don’t worry about that. Which one do you like the best?”

“Ah, I don’t know! Let me see the other dress one more time!” She changed out of the sequined, mauve gown and back into the scarlet one, then reemerged into the dressing area where Bertrand was waiting patiently. “I’m sorry, this must be so boring for you. We’ve been here forever and I’m so indecisive.”

“You cannot rush perfection!” Madame Yvette mused as she adjusted the dress on Riley, tucking and pinning fabric until it fit just right. “And this, darling.. This is perfection.”

Bertrand simply watched in awe of how gorgeous Riley looked in absolutely everything. He had seen her in ballgowns, pajamas, jeans, and absolutely nothing at all and she was always resplendent. And not just in her appearance, in everything about her. The way she carried herself, the way she could find the good in any situation, the way she cared about everyone.

His heart clenched as he imagined the two of them as a couple choosing an outfit for a ball they would be attending together. They would dance and laugh and everyone would be jealous of him for having the most perfect woman in the world on his arm. It was never going to happen, but it was an amazing thought.

Madame Yvette was called away for a phone call, leaving the two alone. Riley made her way from the platform to the couch where he was sitting and held out her hand. “Dance with me.”

Bertrand was sure he gulped aloud, but he stood immediately. “Dance? Here?”

“Ya, then I can see if this one feels right for a ball. Let’s give it a test drive.” She held her hand out and smiled, “please?”

Bertrand shook his head and grinned, before grasping her hand and wrapping his other arm around her waist. He looked down shyly and Riley leaned her body closer to him.

“Doesn't the fabric feel good? I’ve never worn material so soft and silky before.”

Bertrand nodded, still unable to look in her eyes.

She moved even closer to his body until there was no space left between them. “Touch it.”

He tentatively ran his hand down the fabric of her lower back, sucking in a sharp breath when she took his hand and brought it down further.

“It’s.. quite nice.”

Riley lay her head against his shoulder and he held her close as the two swayed together to the soft jazz music playing over the boutique's speakers. “I bet this seems silly, doesn’t it? Spending all this time picking out a dress.” Especially since there is no way I’m going to marry Liam.

“Nonsense. Besides, any time I spend with you is enjoyable.”

Riley felt a warmth in her chest at his words. “Bertrand, you’re too good to me. I really don’t deserve everything you guys have done.”

Bertrand stopped dancing and looked into her eyes, more serious than she had seen him before. “Never.” His thumb traced softly across her cheek and he leaned in closer. “You deserve everything and more.”

His pulse was pounding as she smiled sweetly at him. He swallowed hard, speaking directly from his heart for once. “Riley.. I need to tell you something. I-”

“Have we made a decision, madame?” Yvette called out from the hallway as she made her way back to the dressing room.

Riley and Bertrand jumped away from each other quickly and Bertrand took out his phone in an attempt to appear nonchalant. Riley looked down at her dress and smiled. “This is the one.”

_______________________________________________

When they arrived back at the estate, it was already dinner time. Riley quickly popped into Max’s bedroom to check on him, and found him sound asleep in bed.

“I’m starving.” Riley sighed as she made her way toward the kitchen, taking a seat beside Bertrand at the bar.

“What would you like to eat? The chef has left for the night, but I can call and have something delivered for you.”

“Anything.. But you pick! I am mentally drained and honestly don’t think I could make another decision tonight if my life depended on it.”

Bertrand opened his mouth to protest, but paused as an idea hit him. “I know just the thing,” he smiled shyly and pulled out his phone.

He was going to have to step way out of his comfort zone for this.

#never have i ever #bertrand x riley #bertley #trr fanfic #the royal romance #cfwc fics of the week #bertrand beaumont #maxwell beaumont #bertrand x mc

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novantinuum · 8 months ago

Text

Fandom: Steven Universe Rating: Teen Audiences Words: 3.8K~ Summary: A young human-Gem hybrid- a soul yet unknown to the rest of the Crystal Gems- takes their first brave steps towards greeting their heritage firsthand.

W o e, more OC content be upon ye

In this one, Jean meets Greg and the Crystal Gems. (There's a bit of Greg POV at the beginning, just to mix things up.) I had so much indulgent fun writing it, and hope anyone who checks it out enjoys.

Enjoy! <3

Absentmindedly humming a few bars of a commercial jingle he must’ve overheard on TV the other day, Greg finishes stirring up some instant oatmeal he just took out of the microwave. It’s a bit of a late breakfast for his tastes given the clock is nearing 10:45, but hey- anything’s better than nothing. Better to eat now than to find oneself running on low energy by lunchtime.

He licks his lips in anticipation, and carries the bowl over to the beach house’s living room couch.

Stars, what’s on his docket today beyond breakfast, anyways?

Groceries, for one. He’s running low on milk, butter, parmesan cheese, spaghetti sauce, and a number of vegetables. If he really wants to think ahead, now would also be a great time to stock up on bagels to toss in the freezer for later. No matter how many of those he buys, he always seems to be running out of ‘em. It’s also one of Steven’s days off from work, thus a good opportunity to try a video call. His son doesn’t always answer immediately, but that’s okay. He’s a grown adult now, a soul yearning to forge his own identity separate from the people and place he called home back in childhood. He needs his own space, and sometimes that just means ignoring your clingy ol’ man until you feel ready to chat.

And then, of course there’s his ongoing music project he can work on— a concept album of sorts, chronicling the tale of an optimistic, yet lonely young musician and his lover from beyond the stars. For nearly two decades her death silenced his work, but… seeing her framed face on the nightstand next to him every morning when he wakes up… living so close to the crystalline stage he knelt on when he sung his first romantic ballad to her… it must’ve stirred some aching desire that he hasn’t entertained in a very long while. He’s written about half of this album in the span of the last two months, and hopes to complete it by the end of the year. Beyond that he’s not sure where this project will take him… whether he’ll keep these songs close to his chest or email his old industry contact Sunshine Justice and see if she can hook him up with a decent recording studio for ‘em. Only time will tell, in the end. He’s got options.

But before he can get more than a few spoonfuls of oatmeal under his belt and reliably plan out his day, his musings are interrupted by a timid knock rapping against the front door.

Greg sighs, setting the bowl aside on the coffee table as he gets up to check who’s here.

If he had to guess, it’s most likely a recently arrived Gem— spellbound and confused— desperately trying to locate Little Homeschool after seeing one his son’s many adverts about it. That’s the most common visitor they see at the house entrance these days, beyond the rare training visit from Connie to refresh her sword fighting skills with Pearl. He’s not sure who else would go to all the trouble of hiking across the beach to reach this place. And anyways, if he’s visiting human friends in town, he always walks to their houses.

Which is why he’s surprised to open the door and see just… what seems to be a human stranger standing there, hands stuffed in pockets and expression filled with palpable apprehension.

The stranger is young— easily Steven’s age or younger— with a shock of short, wavy brown hair and teal tinted glasses, clad in overalls and a pair of ratty old tennis shoes.

He waves a quick greeting, a potent dose of curiosity painting his tone.

“Hi, uh… can I help you…?”

“Should I even be doing this?” Jean mutters to themself as they trudge down the far side of the beach, following the directions the cute pizza shop girl gave them last night.

But the closer they creep towards their destination, the sillier this whole stupid trip starts to feel. So they expect to… what? Simply drop in uninvited to the home of four of the most influential beings in the whole galaxy, and say “hey, guess what, you never knew I existed but I’m actually a half-Gem too?” Ughh. Oh, geeze. This was such a bad idea. Why did Dad even agree to bring them here? And what do they even want from this? To train? To harness whatever hypothetical powers they might have resting dormant within their gemstone? To… to just go on one of those zany, magical adventures they always dreamed about as a kid? To be freely invited into their little school for Gems? (Even though they’re not a Gem… not in all the ways that matter, at least.) Are they hoping to uproot their entire life and outright live here one day? Or are they literally only here because they’re craving closure to the questions they’ve been asking their entire life— who was Mother? Who am I? Is there any place in this vast universe for people like me?

What do I actually want to do with my life?

Heaving a long, exhausted sigh, they trek onwards anyways. After such a long road trip to reach this place, it’d be unthinkable to back down now.

A set of crumbled but monolithic stone arms come into view a few dozen paces further, a mere taster of the majestic vista awaiting them on the furthest point of the peninsula. Jean’s seen plenty of pictures of Beach City’s infamous temple statue online, sure— images of a regal, curly haired figure boasting enough limbs to rival a goddess— but nothing can prepare them for the sheer level of spellbinding awe that courses through their soul as they break around the edge of the cliff and finally gape upon it with their own two eyes. As melodramatic as the sentiment may sound, seeing this temple for themself is like tasting air for the first time, like waking up from a decade long fantasy to a world more vivid and colorful than they could’ve ever dreamed. Surely not a single photographer alive could capture the true scale of this ancient carving. A watery smile stretches across their cheeks while they drink in the sight. The cliffside is mossier than they expected. The earthy greens make for such lovely contrast against the colder browns and grays. Then, their gaze drops towards the statue’s navel… to the humble beach house nestled there within a set of stone arms.

Here it is. This is the place. There’s no turning back now, not unless they want to return to their motel room a coward.

Their hands fidget restlessly at their side as they climb up the sandy stairs leading to the porch. When they reach the top, they cross towards the front door and— heart pounding— rap their knuckles against the frame as politely as they can muster.

Beat.

Jean can hear the shuffling of feet from inside. They shove their hands in their pockets as the footfalls grow closer and closer, before—

The door swings open. Their expression narrows in bemusement. The person they’re greeted by isn’t one of the famed Crystal Gems, but rather… a human. A somewhat plain looking human, if they’re frank. (Which— in this situation— is a good thing, because it finally disarms the sheer spine tingling anxiety that was racing up and down through their veins prior.) The portly individual looks to be somewhere around their father’s age, with greying shoulder-length hair and a full beard. He’s sporting shorts and what looks to be a band t-shirt.

The man flashes a quick wave, and then speaks.

“Hi, uh… can I help you…?”

Jean scrunches their nose— a nervous twitch they’re unfortunately hyper-conscious of in high pressure situations like these— before working to piece together a halfway coherent sentence.

“I, um— y-you don’t know me, but my name is Jean. Jean Maverick, and I’m… well, I’m kinda hoping to—”

Before they can even reveal the crux of their mission, they feel this person’s full attention fixate upon the upper facets of their pale gemstone, just visible over the neckline of their shirt. His eyes widen.

“O-oh, yes,” they interrupt their own introduction, cheeks reddening. “That. Y’see, I may not look it, but I’m actually part Gem, like all the Gems who live here in town, a-and—”

He shakes his head, giving a laugh tinged with a bit of what they can only describe as sheer disbelief. “No, no, trust me— I more than understand this kinda stuff. I’m Greg Universe,” he says, extending his hand in greeting. “My, uh… my son’s like you.”

It’s Jean’s turn for their eyes to blow wide open with shock.

“You- you’re Steven’s dad,” they breathe, reaching out for his offered shake.

“Yup, guilty as charged. Now, what can I do for ‘ya? You looking for Steven? The Gems?”

“Well, I was hoping to talk with the Crystal Gems, b-but…” They pause, their brow wrinkling inwards as the ticking cogs of their mind consider the possible implications of their fellow hybrid’s father being present. “Steven’s not here now, is he? I heard he left town a while back…”

“Nah, he did. He’s out living on the west coast right now. The Gems, however… now that I can help you with.”

Introductory small-talk concluded, Mr. Universe invites them inside to wait for the Gems, grabbing his phone from his pocket to— they can only assume— shoot a quick text to one of ‘em.

Jean glances around the interior of the house with ample curiosity, admiring the dense collection of old CDs and cassette tapes that fills much of the shelf space behind the couch. It looks like mostly classic rock and a bit of R&B, many of them artists they don’t recognize. (Though the name Kerry Moonbeam leaps out at them— they remember jamming to a few of his top hits while on the road with Dad, like “Midnight Spectacle” and “Life on Venus.”) On the top shelf there’s an intricately detailed pink sword on display, shattered just beyond the hilt. And on the far wall midway up the stairs they spot a colorful canvas portrait, featuring what looks like a grinning, teenaged Steven sitting at the front and Garnet, Amethyst, and Pearl poised behind.

All in all, it’s a very cozy, lived-in space… enough so to almost distract them from the crystalline cavern connected directly to the living area. Their interest immediately piqued, they give a sharp exhale and advance a few steps closer. Is that…? Why, yes it is! It’s a warp pad, just like the ones they’ve seen pictures of online. (And one in person, thanks to a tip from a local.) From all their research it seems that there’s a whole network of these low, crystal platforms stretching across the surface of the Earth. And as rumors go, Gems can use them to travel from one point to another near instantaneously. Jean has no idea if this ability is one that translates to half-Gems, though. They had no luck with the one they visited years back.

Their mouth scrunches into a little frown upon that musing. There’s still so, so much about Gems they don’t know, isn’t there?

“So, Jean,” Mr. Universe says, finishing up with his phone. “Where’d you say you were from, again?”

“Prudence, Calizona?” And when his expression merely wrinkles in unawareness, they add: “It’s, um… a small university town out in the middle of the desert, so I’m not surprised you aven’t heard of it way out here.”

“And you traveled all the way to Beach City just to meet with the Gems? Wow, that’s… a pretty big journey for someone your age. This must be real important to you.”

“Well, there’s no Gems out there,” they explain with a shrug. “I’ve always known I was different, but— I never got to learn anything about that part of my heritage, y’know? So that’s why I’m here, I guess. For answers.”

“Well, I really hope you can find what you’re looking for.”

Jean’s gaze drifts down towards the gem inlaid in their chest. “Yeah,” they say, resting their palm over the central facet. “So do I.”

A tiny frown blooms across the man’s face as he observes them further. They rock back and forth upon their heels as they attempt to dodge his frustratingly intuitive gaze, unsure of what else to say or ask. Such lingering attention makes them feel twitchy.

“Here, why don’t you have a seat,” he offers then, gesturing towards the flat cushioned sofa against the far wall of the living area. “They should be inbound any minute now. Can’t imagine them dawdling on news like this, heh. And hey, uh… while you wait, d’ya want anything to drink, or snack on, or—?”

“I’m fine, thanks,” they say, sitting themself down on the far edge of the couch and noting the soggy bowl of oatmeal left half uneaten on the coffee table right in front. It’s bad enough that they’re crashing this man’s morning routine, the last thing they want to do is completely put him out. Not to mention, he probably doesn't have much they could safely digest, anyways.

True to his word though, the famed Crystal Gems arrive on the warp pad with not a second to waste, ringed in by a beam of dazzling cyan light and the platform’s resonant chime. Heart pounding a coward’s thrall, Jean averts their gaze low to keep from downright staring at the trio.

Holy fucking shit.

“We came as soon as we could,” the pale, lithe one— Pearl— says to Mr. Universe, crossing straight into the living room like a soul on a mission with the other two hot on her heels.

It’s them. It’s actually them. The Gems they’ve dreamt of meeting ever since they were just a starry-eyed preteen researching a small town mystery in the vicious trenches of obscure conspiracy theory message boards. Their jaw falls entirely ajar in the shock of it all. Oh stars, be cool, be cool, be cool—!

“—is our mystery visitor?” Pearl continues with a quick gesture towards them, the first half of her sentence consigned to auditory oblivion with how damn rapid fire Jean’s thoughts are blasting around their head.

Mr. Universe nods.

“Yeah, I was grabbin’ some breakfast, and she—” (they don’t bother to suppress that instinctive cringe. Hoo boy, they really need to step in and complete their introduction ASAP, huh)— “just showed up at the door, askin’ after you.”

“They,” Jean blurts out, mouth entirely dry with anxiety at this point.

“Huh?”

“It’s… they, actually. They/them. Sorry, I- I kinda forgot to mention.”

His brows shoot up in understanding. “Ahh, gotcha. My apologies for not asking. Anyways, these are the Gems! Garnet, Amethyst, and Pearl… though I get the sense you’ve already done your research, huh?”

They nod, still working to shake that hazy, star-stricken sensation out of their system.

“So then, mysterious stranger,” the shorter, purple Gem— Amethyst— says, sliding right across the living room towards them. “What’s your whole deal? Gimme all those good deets!”

“I, uh… well, I’m Jean,” they stammer, clasping their hands together behind their back. “Jean Maverick. I’m eighteen, I use they/them pronouns as I just mentioned, and… my mother… was a Gem.”

They tug down the scooped neckline of their shirt ever so slight, revealing the full cut of their pale lavender gemstone to the room. Pearl lets out an audible gasp. The other two simply gape in stunned silence, not uttering a single word at all.

“And now you probably understand why I called you over,” Mr. Universe comments, gesturing towards them.

“Another hybrid?” Amethyst says, her brow furrowing as she glances up at Garnet, the tallest of the bunch. “Like Steven? Is that even possible?”

“It is now,” Garnet replies with an almost mystified tone, crossing her arms as she leans back against the counter.

“But for a Gem to shapeshift human reproductive organs for that long,” Pearl muses, hand balled at her chin as she paces back and forth across the wooden slats. “Stars, for anyone but a diamond, that should be unachievable!”

The purple quartz simply waves the notion away. “Pshh, nah, that part’s easy, P- you just poof, and then reform with those organs! I do it with a stomach like, all the time. Mainly, I’m just surprised that another Gem would come up with the idea to have a baby in the first place.”

“Or that another Gem was living on Earth uncorrupted all this time, and we never knew,” Garnet comments, expression uncertain.

They swallow hard. Normally they consider themself pretty skilled at overanalyzing people’s emotions— an unexpected perk of living with generalized anxiety— but Garnet in particular is dauntingly hard for them to read right now. Pearl’s an easy one… she’s invested in the mystery of their arrival here today, too busy sorting the potential puzzle pieces in her mind to give anything else surrounding her much notice. Amethyst seems equally as puzzled by their presence, although out of the three of them it’s her who’s been the most accommodating of their awkwardness, so far. (Jean thinks back to how Amethyst leapt in amidst that weird conversational lull to give them a chance to officially introduce themself, and finds it rather perceptive of her.) Garnet, though—? Is her tense yet closed-off body language signaling confusion? (At how they could exist?) Vexation? (That they exist?) Distrust, even?? (That they’re here, now?) Or is she chewing over something else entirely, something they couldn’t ever hope to guess with their extremely limited outsider’s context?

And why do they care so much about how the three of them feel in the first place? Chill, Jean. Geeze.

“Well, if it helps,” they shrug, “my dad said he met my mother out in the wilderness of Calizona, while on a backpacking trip.”

“Calizona, eh…” Amethyst says, squinting as she thinks. “Hey, wait— the Beta Kindergarten’s out that way, yeah?”

“What exactly are you suggesting?” Pearl asks, her eyes lighting up with clear intrigue.

“I’m saying… isn’t it possible that Jean’s mom just emerged late… like me? It would explain how she avoided the corruption. And their gem does look pretty quartz-like.”

“Sounds like a more sound theory than I could ever come up with,” Mr. Universe pipes up all of a sudden with a broad shrug.

“In any case, all our broad theorizations can wait,” Garnet waves them all off. Inhaling deep, her gaze levels straight on them. “I know you came here with a purpose,” she says.

A blunt observation, not a question.

Jean shuffles upon their feet, feeling as exposed as a budding nerve under the sheer magnitude of their scrutiny. The half of them that’s merely a tangled ball of anxiety masquerading as a person craves nothing more than to spin on their heels and bolt away— too scared of potential rejection, too scared of all the unknowns bleeding through at the very edges of their future’s canvas— but then… this is what they drove hundreds of miles for, yes? Plus, they don’t want to disappoint Dad— he knows how much they’ve dreamed of this moment, and they’re sure it’d break his heart if they backed down right at the cusp of achieving said dream.

It’s now or never.

Deep breath. Hold your spine straight. Brave heart, Jean.

What do you really want?

“I… heard about your school,” they begin, weathering that treacherous unknown to make direct eye contact with each and every one of them in turn. “And I know the technical purpose of it is to teach Gems about humanity, but… I was wondering if maybe… you’d also be willing to teach a half-human how to be a Gem.”

“Hmm,” Pearl hums, leaning back against the counter at Garnet’s side. “Well, I suppose we already have a sort of human exchange program at Little Homeschool. Anyone who’s curious about the work we do there is allowed to spend a day on campus and attend whatever classes they wish, provided they give our students a quick informal lecture on a topic that interests them. Perhaps we could discuss developing a program like this that’s more long-term in nature, and customized to your needs as a half-Gem.”

Their mind reels in giddy circles at the very notion. Them? An official student of Little Homeschool?? It’s an alluring prospect, to be sure.

“Hey, y’all?” Amethyst cuts in before they can move to respond, upper lip curling into a half-grimace. “Not to like, totally derail, but I just checked the time and we’re gonna be late for the fusion seminar if we don’t start heading on back now.”

The tall, ivory Gem winces. “Oh stars, you’re right.” Then, glancing across the living space towards Mr. Universe with a somewhat apologetic expression: “Sorry, Greg— you caught us at a bit of a busy time. Do you mind entertaining our guest a little while longer as we finish up today’s classes?”

“Why don’t you just take them with you?” he suggests. “Seems they’re interested in what goes on there anyways.”

“Bismuth or Peridot may have time to give a tour,” Garnet voices, breaking her little understood silence. (Oh, a penny for her thoughts right now…)

Jean beams at the idea, a joyous little burst of energy soaring through their system upon realizing they’re one step closer to realizing that shining desire they set their eyes on the day the ocean’s disappearance kickstarted their research into their Gem heritage in the first place— to actually nurture and embrace this part of themself. “I’d love a chance to look around, if it’s not too much trouble.”

The three Crystal Gems ultimately approve, beckoning for them to join them on the warp pad. It takes every single scrap of self restraint within their soul to not do the cringiest little happy jig as they scuttle across the floorboards and step up onto the crystalline platform. Getting to experience a trip on one of these suckers is honestly a dream come true all on its own. They’ve seen one in person before— back during their forum-surfing research days, they managed to convince Dad to drive them all the way out to a lone warp pad a local enthusiast posted the coordinates of— but couldn’t manage to activate it on their own. Now, though? With the possibility of joining Little Homeschool officially on the table, there’s no telling what they may one day learn to achieve.

Jean waves farewell to Mr. Universe as the warp activates, whisking the four of them away. It was super kind of him to take time out of his morning routine to help them contact the Gems— they’ll have to think of some meaningful gesture to thank him with later.

Pushing themself out of their comfort zone just to reach this point proved to be a bit of a challenge, but beyond the thorny confines of all their social anxieties, their future suddenly feels very bright.

#su #su future #(as in... it's Post that)#greg universe #garnet #amethyst #pearl #jean maverick #ocs #su fanfic #su oc #echoes of chalcedony #my writing stuff

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