#but at first glance it looks like people are gonna have problems with a uh

[hysteria-things]

hello again !! i know you just posted my last request but i have another idea !

• SMUTTY PLSZ

• matt/chris x teacher!reader

So basically, chris/matt are in senior year or any year in college and he has a teacher(reader) who's quite young and closer to their age but is still older and knowing men, she's already very popular in their school y'know y'know?

ALSO if you're gonna make the other students be a big part of the story too or add more plot, pls don't make the girls of the school hate her. it just feels unrealistic since in our school, it's mostly the girls that simp for the hot female teacher lmao

This idea was based on their video "truth or eat" i think(i forget everything) where he was asked if he's ever had a crush on a teacher and he answered yes w no hesitation and also the song "Teacher's Pet" by Melanie Martinez but switched genders.

i just think the male being the teacher and the female being the student felt overused/overdone(?)

Only if you're comfortable w this idea tho !!

TEACHER'S PET (part one)

read part two here

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dom!matt x teacher!reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: matt asks for extra help after class (even though he knows exactly what he’s doing)

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: SMUTTY, swearing, making out, oral (male receiving), throat fucking, p in v, unprotected sex (nuh uh!), degradation, cheating (cheat on tests, not people), hair pulling, spanking, breeding, ROUGH

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1,236

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: shoutout any of you in college i dropped out after a month i give you guys so much credit that shit’s hard😔

for @skadltmf :)

matt and his college friends sit at the round table in the food court. they’re at the home stretch of senior year with the spring semester starting tomorrow.

“i got that hot professor for one of my morning classes.” one of his friends brags. “she’s so fine.”

“who?” matt asks, and the two sitting with him stare at him like he should know this.

“professor l/n.” the other one starts. “literally everybody is obsessed with her. she’s only twenty-five; three years older than us.”

“there’s no way she doesn’t let students fuck her to get a good grade.” they both laugh, but matt stays quiet. his friends are in their conversation about you while matt thinks to himself.

he has you for a class too but at 6 PM.

you stand at the front of the class, teaching like a normal teacher should. half of the class never pays attention, anyway, but you still have to do your job.

they may not know, but you listen. you listen to what they say about you, and to be honest it boosts your ego.

one student in particular actually pays attention and takes notes, like what he’s doing right now. you couldn’t help but stare at him from time to time, and he’ll already be staring at you when you do.

you’re grading papers on your desk as your students work independently for the last fifteen minutes of class. you feel a presence, and you look up to see him there, fiddling with his worksheet.

you smile at him. “hello, matt. do you need help with something?”

“kind of. will i be able to stay after class?”

your phone lights up, and he glances at the lock screen. it’s a photo of you, your husband, and your son. “of course you can.”

he nods, going back to his seat.

the last fifteen minutes went by in a breeze, and all of the students left. except for one, of course.

you stand up and go over to the whiteboard, grabbing a marker just in case you need to explain something. “so, matt. what is it that you needed help with?”

“this question,” he says, stepping closer to you and pointing at the paper. you look at it confused because he already answered it. flawlessly.

“matt.” you chuckle. “you’ve got the problem right and showed your work perfectly. are you sure that’s the right one?”

his cheeks flush as he grabs your face, kissing you passionately. you pull away from his hold, weirdly sad that you did.

this is a first. you know the rumors that go around saying that you fuck students for an A+ but it’s not true. hell, you’ll lose your job.

he doesn’t say anything. he just stares at you, and you stare back. what you did next was a completely new person.

you go back in, his tongue inserting your mouth and swirling inside. this is so fucking wrong, but it feels so… right?

whining into the kiss, you move your hands down to his belt to unbuckle it. he chuckles, pulling away and pushing your head so you get on your knees.

he takes off his undergarments, revealing his—

your eyes widen. oh, god.

his red tip slides against your lips before you open, pushing himself into your wet mouth. “fuck.” he whispers.

grabbing onto your hair, he guides your head up and down his cock. he groans, leaning over and rutting his hips further into your mouth. your gagging fills the empty classroom, and spit starts to spill from your mouth.

it clicks in your head what you’re doing. you have a husband and child at home, for christ’s sake. you place your hands on his thighs and try to push your head back, but his grip is far too strong.

he slowly pulls out to watch his dick move past your lips, and slams back in. “take it, sweetheart. just like that.”

you keep gagging around him, your eyes becoming glassy as your mascara starts to smudge.

your lashes flutter each time he thrusts to the back of your throat before he stops. “s-shit.” he whimpers, but he doesn’t want to cum just yet. he closes his eyes to ignore the throbbing, pulling out of your sweet mouth. you cough, your lips swollen.

“bend over for me, yeah?” he smirks when you scramble to your feet. he grabs your waist, pushing your back so your stomach lays flat on your desk.

he lifts your skirt, moving your soaked underwear to the side. he wraps a finger around them and lets go, the elastic snapping against your core. you yelp at the sudden pain.

“such a slut.” he groans, inserting his tip into your folds but staying still. “letting one of your students shove his dick down your throat.”

he moves his tip out, but then puts it back in, thrusting it in and out teasingly. “bet you were thinking about this the whole lecture. i saw the way you were looking at me.”

you pathetically whine and nod. then, he grabs your hair so the upper half of your body is lifted from the wood. your hips dig into the edge of the desk as he starts entering you.

the stretch hurts, but it feels too good. your eyes flutter back, but a hand landing on your ass gets you out of your trance. he chuckles, taking the hand that’s not on your head and covering your mouth with it. “don’t be too loud, baby. don’t want the people outside that door knowing what a whore you are for me.”

he slides in deeper, a moan leaving your lips that’s muffled by his hand. he starts rutting his hips, going faster when you fit around him. “m-matt.” you gasp.

“so fucking tight around my cock.” he breathes out. your pleasurable cries and squelching of your pussy fill the room, along with his thighs slapping against your ass.

he removes his hand from your mouth, honestly forgetting that there are probably people around. all he’s focused on is pounding the daylights out of you. his teacher, mind you.

you grip the desk for support, moaning louder than any other time when his tip starts brushing against your cervix. “holy— shit.” you hoarsely scream, squeezing your eyes shut.

he lets go of your hair, your head immediately falling between your shoulders. “i’m gonna cum!” you warn, whimpering when he moves more mercilessly. both your thoughts and guts are getting scrambled at once.

“i wonder how disappointed your husband will be if he saw you like this.” he grunts and thrusts a few more times before continuing. “clenching around my dick, so badly wanting my cum inside you.”

you moan at his words. he feels so fucking good. you hate to admit it, but this is the best sex you’ve had in years.

“want me to fuck my baby inside you, you filthy whore?”

“y-yes, please,” you whine, repeating yourself over and over again.

you cum around him at the same time he stops deep, spreading your legs wider to finish inside. you moan one last time before becoming a rag doll, the bruises forming on your hips from them banging against the desk.

he moves your underwear back over your freshly bred pussy, kissing your shoulder and neck before whispering into your ear. “i’ll let you know when i need help again, professor l/n.”

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

@bunbunbl0gs @lexisecretaccx @thy-mission @angelic-sturniolos111 @sophssturn @mattsneezing @janiellasblog @blahbel668 @meg-sturniolo @hearts4chris @mattslolita @sturnbaby @imwetforyourmom @tillies33ssss @sturnifyed @mayhem-72 @ripmattitude @p1xieswrld @alorsxsturn @txssvx @sttzee @multiluvr @delilahprentiss @matthewsspecial @idkhowtosleep @sturniolho @suga-daddy-69 @tworosesblackthorn @luckistar-posts @gnxosblog

#matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo imagine #sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo smut #sturniolo fanfic #✎ ⤾ haleigh’s requests!

[shayyprasad]

right next door // part two | peter parker

summary: summary: you move in right next door to a cutie, problem is, he isn't much of a talker. or anything at all. but it's okay, because you're dead-set on getting him to warm up to you.

warnings: none, maybe cursing?

pairing: post-nwh!peter parker x fem!bubbly!reader

word count: 2.0k+ words

series masterlist!

full masterlist!

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you yelped, and in panic, threw down the dish towel onto the fire, hastily trying to get rid of it. you nervously glanced up at the alarm, sighing in relief when it didn’t go off.

well, that relief?

it lasted two seconds.

the loud blaring sound made you jump, and you whined.

“are you kidding me? you have to be kidding me. seriously, i mean, it’s my first freaking day here and i’ve already messed it up. everyone’s gonna freaking hate me. i’ll have neighbors that hate me! and then they’ll kick me out and arsenate me and-”

you cut yourself off, realizing that you had to get out of the apartment.

“screw you, stupid oven!” and for good measure, you threw the measuring cup at it, only slightly wincing at the loud bang.

sighing, you exited the flat, dreading what was yet to come. there were already people out in the hall, cursing and grumbling under their breath. you paused in front of the elevator before realizing that wasn’t going to pass. you slipped into the crowd that was already down the stairs, checking the time on your phone.

you didn’t bring anything else but that, knowing that it wasn’t an actual fire.

you know because you’re the one who set it off.

it was 10:47pm, so not everyone had been sleeping, but there was also a large chuck of people who were.

several people were dressed in their pjs, including yourself. all you had on was a black satin shirt, paired with matching shorts.

…which were definitely short.

you tugged them down as far as you could, biting down on your lips. you were on the literal verge of a mental breakdown. how did everything go so south, so fast?

were you really that incapable of taking care of yourself?

you needed to be more responsible, you thought.

you exited through the front, and the cold air hit you like a brick, making you shiver. to say it was cold outside was an understatement.

it was absolutely freezing.

blowing out breath, you watched as the white cloud dissipated. out of the corner of your eye, you spotted peter. mustering up all the courage you could, you walked over, hugging your sides to warm up.

“um, hi. again.”

he looked over at you, tilting his head slightly. your heart was racing, thudding against your ribcage so loudly you could hear it in your ears.

you held your breath, afraid that he’d hear your racing heart.

no, you scoffed in your head, that’s impossible.

“hey,” his voice was slightly raspy, mussed with sleep.

you shivered again, but not just because of the cold. your brows knitted in guilt, you must’ve woken him up as well.

“some idiot, huh?” you blurted.

“what?” he asked, recoiling slightly, as he straightened up.

“who bakes cookies this late?” god, you needed to shut up. now.

“uh, cookies?”

“well, you know. you can start a fire by baking cookies,” you stammered, trying to amend what you’d already said.

“yeah. i guess.”

you rubbed your arms harder, watching the firemen inspect the building.

“here,” you turned to see peter thrust something towards you. squinting, you realized it was a jacket.

“oh, no, it’s okay, really.”

“you’re cold,” peter said bluntly.

“yes, but-”

“just take it. you can return it later if it’ll make you feel better.”

“are you sure?”

“if i wasn’t sure, i wouldn’t be giving it to you.”

“oh, um, okay. thank you.” reluctantly, you slipped it on.

it smelled like pinewood and… peter, you supposed. you clutched it closer, inhaled the scent. was it weird that you instantly felt so comforted?

“it’s not a biggie.”

you smiled at him anyways, and he quickly looked away.

one of the firemen walked up to the crowd, throwing his hands up. “we’re good. just some dunce set it off. no fire or anything.”

you forced out a laugh, “yeah. what a dunce.”

waking alongside peter, you went back up to your room. standing in front of your room door, you smiled softly at him, no less bright than the one before.

he pulled out his keys, and you opened your mouth, “have a goodnight peter. sleep well.”

this time, he looked at you. for the first time, he actually held eye contact.

he really looked at you.

“you too,” peter murmured, before slipping into the darkness of his room.

-

if you were being honest, you weren’t sure if he liked you or not. truly, you couldn’t tell. last night, and he didn’t even really do anything, but it seemed like there wasn’t pure annoyance in his voice.

that was a start, right? i mean, that had to count for something? right?

right?

probably. most likely? you didn’t know.

honestly, you didn’t know anything when it came to him. you were trying to talk to him, but he kept brushing you off.

oh, well. you’d make it work.

you had dough left over from last night, and you really wanted to put it to use. “i can’t waste it,” you murmured, biting your lip. “but, god, i don’t need a part two of last night. that would be terrible. there goes any hope of peter freaking parker liking me back. as a friend, duh. for now. maybe.”

pulling it out of the fridge, you grabbed some cookie cutters and a baking pan. you clipped off the top of the tupperware box, tearing off a small piece of dough. it tasted like home.

you’d used the same recipe as your mother, in hopes that it would cure some of your homesickness. but standing here with raw chocolate chip dough in your stomach, you felt rather opposed to that.

sure, you didn’t have the best relationship with your family, but that didn’t mean you didn’t love them.

you did.

they were overbearing, and that was alright. they were just more careful given… given what happened.

it was reasonable. after all, you were all they had left now.

“nope. no. think happy thoughts. we think happy thoughts.”

no matter what though, you couldn’t help but reminisce about the times when you’d get scolded for eating the dough uncooked. you and… her.

“happy thoughts, y/n. ohhh-kay. where are those instructions?”

you didn’t really want to do this, but you also did. and didn’t (you had serious ptsd from that incident). after being indecisive a bit longer, you decided to make the cookies. hopefully, you wouldn’t burn them this time. first, you preheated the oven.

“okay, okay, i got this.” you glanced back at the phone, just to make sure you were doing this right. grabbing a rolling pin, you flattened out the dough (tearing off one more piece, just to… just to make sure it tasted the way it should. [it did.]). you picked up a cookie cutter before pressing it into the dough, sliding it around a bit to make sure it went all the way through.

you repeated the action a few more times, and then peeled away the excess. doing the same with what was left, you stepped back and admired your work, feeling confident.

“oven time!” sliding them in, you shut the door. you picked up your phone once more, setting a timer for 15 minutes.

maybe you could trial and error it?

since you had some time, you decided to get ready. you planned on giving peter the freshly baked cookies, and you didn’t want to show up in ratty, old pajamas.

you opened your closet, humming. you weren’t planning in going outside, so perhaps you could throw on a casual dress. filing through the racks some more, you settled on a light blue dress, once with short, puffy sleeves.

it was casual, but it was cute casual. you slipped it on, putting on some light makeup and brushing your hair. by the time you were done, you thought it looked quite presentable. you grabbed a random jacket from the corner of the bed and threw it on.

you moved back into the kitchen, checking in on the cookies. sure, they seemed a little misshaped, but they looked almost like how your mother used to make them. they were a soft, golden-brown at the edges, the chips melted into soft circles of black. you put on an oven mitt and pulled them out.

hesitantly, you picked one up and took a bit of it.

“it’s… not bad? it’s not terrible.”

and it wasn’t. it tasted relatively like one’s that would be made at home. “…kind of.”

oh, well. you didn’t have anything else to give to peter, so why not?

you grabbed the tupperware and set the dessert inside carefully, trying to fit them all in (except for a few for yourself). taking a deep breath, you swung the door open, locking it behind you. actually, you weren’t sure why you locked it, you were literally walking two feet away.

“new york is getting the best of me,” you muttered. new york was also getting you to talk to yourself more often.

it was deeply off-putting.

you paced for a couple minutes outside of his door, contemplating what to say. “hey, peter. you’re hot and i wanna smash you, but i need to have some courtesy first.” you paused.

“yeah, no. what about ‘i really like you and i have the biggest crush on you, despite the fact i don’t know you at all, but i need some friends before i totally lose it and i need you.’?”

you groaned, “that’s definitely worse. y’know what? i’ll wing it. i did improv in freshman for, like, three months. i’m basically a pro. how hard can it be?”

you inhaled and, after a moment, knocked. there was some shuffling and crashing on the other side, and instinctively, you leaned into the door, pressing your ear to it. not even a second later, the door opened and you went tumbling into someone.

well, not someone.

peter.

if it weren’t for him catching you, you would’ve face-planted. his arms were around your waist, and your hands were pressed against his chest. he smelled… like peter.

it was silly to describe it like that, but he had a certain comfort.

it took you a moment to process what just happened, but once you did, you pulled away quickly. “oh my gosh, i’m so sorry! i didn’t mean for that to happen at all!”

he raised an eyebrow, “i doubt you would.”

“um,” you dropped your eyes to the box, sighing in relief when it hadn’t opened when it hit the ground, “i just,” picking them up, “-here.” okay, so improv was harder than you thought.

you thrusted the cookies into his chest.

“cookies?”

“yes, uh, yeah… like a… thanks for being my neighbor?”

“i didn’t have a choice in the matter.”

“oh. right. okay, how about… thanks for the jacket?”

“the one you have on currently?”

“what?” you looked down, and as soon as you did, you turned bright red. “i honestly had no clue i was even wearing this! i-i just grabbed a random one, and y’know, i didn’t look-”

“relax. it was an observation.”

“okay. uh, okay. i’ll get this washed.”

“like i said before, no biggie.”

you fiddled with your ring, pressing your lips together.

“i thought you burned the last batch.”

you looked up, “sorry?”

peter shook the box lightly, “the last batch of cookies. didn’t you burn them?” there was a ghost of a smile on his face, and you felt your heartrate pick up.

“i don’t…?”

“i could hear cursing and a buncha noise. thin walls. and… you weren’t so subtle ‘bout it last night.”

“oops. sorry.” you rubbed the back of your neck, “that was me. sorry again. really, especially if you were sleeping. i’m seriously so sorry about that.”

“it’s fine. i wasn’t sleeping.”

when you glanced at his face, you saw how he looked torn. like he really wanted to say something, but he didn’t. “uh, thanks for these.”

“of course!” you winked at him playfully, “and if you ever need anything, i’m right next door.”

taglist!

@whatsupstark @ell0ra-br3kk3r

#tom holland x reader #tom holland #peter parker #spiderman #peter parker x you #peter parker x reader #fluff #angst #tom holland x you #peter parker imagine #right next door part two #right next door

[cosmicpearlz]

bruised heart

summary: you overheard a conversation that your boyfriends were having.

pairing: xavier thorpe x reader x ajax petropolus

…………………………………………………………………………….

at first, people at nevermore found the relationship between the three of you weird. but over time, they had gotten used to the dynamic. you didn’t care about the other people witnessing your relationship because you had the boys. they were the sole reason on how you found out your love languages were physical touch and quality time.

“bye yoko! i’m leaving to meet up with xavi and jax,” you waved to your roommate who you were really close with. principal weems decided to pair the two of you up because you guys were both vampires and yoko was able to help you, showing you the ropes of the school and managing being a vampire better.

you sneak your way through opheilla hall to go to the boy’s hall. looking around twice to make sure you’re in the clear before you were gonna open the door to xavier’s room. xavier’s room was always the spot because he had a single dorm and nobody would interrupt your time together. you go to place your hand on the doorknob as your enhanced hearing began to kick in.

“dude, i think she’s a little clingy,” you heard ajax say and it made you frown. you never thought that they had a problem with that.

“she’s also always right up under one of us,” xavier replied to ajax. they both shared a laugh making your heart drop to your stomach. how come they never told you? now they’re laughing at you, you felt stupid. stupid enough to trust your heart with not one boy but two of them. you let go of the doorknob quietly and back away from the door.

you didn’t want to stay for the rest of that awful conversation. so, you turned to sneak your way back to opheilla hall with tears that threaten to come down. once you made it back to your room, you walked in with your head down.

“y/n, you’re back early. did you get caught?”

“um no. i- uh i just wasn’t feeling good,” you bit your lip to keep it from trembling any more than it was. the sound of you wavering voice made yoko look up from her phone. she saw you fiddled with your fingers and your posture was slouched.

“are you okay?” you finally look up to face her and a tear slips out. a sign that you definitely were going to start sobbing.

“i walked up to the door and uh overheard them talking about how clingy i was. you don’t think i’m clingy right?” your eyes and cheeks glistening with tears while voice began to crack.

“no, i don’t think you’re clingy at all. why don’t you get changed and i’ll be right here to hold you.” you nodded and changed into your pajamas. you walked over to yoko’s side of the room and immediately started crying more when she wrapped her arms around you.

-

the next morning you felt like complete shit. your body ached from the crouched position you slept in, eyes slightly burned from all the crying and your head was killing you. you take a quick shower and do the rest of your morning routine before dressing in your uniform.

“you ready?”

“as much as i can be, i guess.” you and yoko start your journey together to the quad for breakfast. problem was everyone shared one big table meaning you couldn’t avoid your boyfriends if you tried.

you kept your eyes trained on the ground as you took your seat next to wednesday after getting your food. everyone glancing at each other knowing that your normally sat next to ajax every morning while xavier sat in front of you guys. so the two of them took a seat across from you.

“we missed you last night honey. is everything okay?” xavier was the first one to break the silence between the three of you.

“i wasn’t feeling well,” you whispered as you picked at the plate in front of you.

“why didn’t you tell us? we would’ve stopped by your-“

“ajax i clearly didn’t want to see you guys! leave me alone,” pushing the plate away and grabbing your things you walked to your first class. which just so happens to be fencing, a class you shared with the two boys. the table was quiet and nobody moved, it was unnatural to see you guys like that.

“did she just call me ajax?”

“is that not your name, idiot?” enid is quick to slap wednesday’s arm and sending her a look.

“it’s not the same wednesday, she always calls us by nicknames,” ajax rubs the back of his neck in attempt to stop the embarrassment. although, through tears last night you made yoko promise not to say anything that didn’t stop her from sending glares their way.

-

the whole school day, you managed to avoid them even in the classes you shared. it’s not like you wanted to ignore your boyfriends but it hurt you to even hear a conversation like that. you didn’t know how to express your feelings to them, so the best bet was to avoid. the knock on your door pulls you out of your book that you were reading on your bed.

“come in!” the door slowly opens and in comes your boyfriends who looked like kicked puppies. you rolled your eyes and crossed your arms to your chest.

“baby, we just wanted to talk,” xavier takes slow steps towards your bed with ajax following right behind.

“what is there to talk about?”

“why are you avoiding us?”

“maybe just maybe i truly don’t want to talk to you guys. have you ever thought about that xavier?” the boy scoffed at you and shakes his head.

“don’t do that.”

“don’t do what?”

“he means don’t shut us out babe. just talk to us, tell us what happened.” you huffed at ajax’s words and stood up beginning to pace back and forth.

“how come you never told me that i was being clingy? i-i would’ve stopped but no my boyfriends decided to talk about me behind my back. so much for fucking communication, right?” you couldn’t stop the tears from falling down your face.

xavier and ajax shared a look now knowing why you were acting like that. they felt guilty because it wasn’t their intention to hurt you. ajax closed the distance to grab your cheek wiping the stray tears that fell.

“sweetheart, we love that you’re clingy! we didn’t mean it a bad way. in fact, if you stayed longer, you would’ve heard us agree on how cute we think it is.”

“ajax is right. we absolutely love that you’re open enough with us to even be like that. we know about your past and we’re so grateful that you trust us.” xavier was now right by your other side making you cry even more. you had been wrong about the situation.

“i’m sorry, i just thought of the worse and i didn’t even stop to talk to you guys,” you spoke in a hoarse whisper.

“c’mon i think we’re in need of a date.”

“jax right now? i look like shit,” you sniffled and gestures to your outfit. you were wearing some sweatpants and a hoodie you stole from xavier.

“i think you look perfect sunshine. put on your shoes, we’re definitely going out.” you pouted playfully at xavier who grabbed your sneakers and gave you a pointed look.

“this isn’t necessary! we could just stay in and cuddle for the rest of the day.”

“we can do that later. me and xavier need to make it up to you,” ajax grins as you put on your shoes.

you grabbed your book and put it in your tote bag. once you checked you that you had everything, you raised your arms giving both of your boyfriends a small smile, “tada all done.”

“beautiful. absolutely beautiful,” xavier was the first to wrap his arms around you pulling you into a much needed hug. his embrace was warm and even after only one day, you missed the feeling of being in his arms.

“stop hogging up our girlfriend! i want a hug too,” xavier pulled back to place a kiss on your lips and immediately ajax throws his arms around you. you laughed as the boy hugged you tighter.

“promise not to shut us out next time?” you nodded your head with a smile at ajax.

“i promise,” ajax kisses your lips and grabs your waist pulling you to the door where xavier stood waiting for you both.

“glad that’s out of the way, now let’s go to weathervane!”

you were so lucky to have two people that really cared about you and your feelings. although, xavier and ajax called themselves the lucky ones being that they were able to have you in their life.

#xavier thorpe x reader #ajax petropolus x reader #xavier x reader x ajax #percy hynes white #georgie farmer #wednesday #xavier thorpe fluff #ajax petropolus fluff #xavier thorpe #ajax petropolus

[beskarandblasters]

Group Therapy

Frankie Morales x F!Reader x Tommy Miller

Main Masterlist | Frankie Morales Masterlist

Author’s note: Thank you to @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin for beta reading! 🤍

Summary: Frankie Morales & Tommy Miller are both sent to a veteran’s support group by their doctors where they meet and become friends. Both men take a liking to you, the group therapist. And instead of getting angry with each other Tommy comes up with a fun little idea after therapy one night.

Word count: 4.3k

Warnings: reader is able-bodied, canon divergent for both TLOU & TF (no outbreak and Frankie moves to Texas, not Florida), age gap (Frankie is in his early 40’s & Tommy is in his late 40’s, Reader is in her 20's), this is a hipaa-less land ok, drinking, threesome, fingering, oral sex (M and F receiving), vaginal sex, semi public sex, creampie, pet names (darlin', sweetheart, good girl, dirty girl), slight degradation, no use of y/n

“I recommend going to therapy. There’s a support group for veterans at the baptist church downtown. It’s in the basement.”

Therapy? Really? 

Frankie sighs. Therapy is not really his thing. At least the one his doctor is suggesting is with a group. That way he can attend the meeting and coast by, just listening to other people’s problems and indulging in refreshments after. They usually have cookies at these things, right?

“Mr. Morales?” the doctor asks, snapping Frankie from his thoughts. 

Frankie sighs, “When is it?”

“Wednesday nights from six to seven thirty.”

It’s already Tuesday, Frankie thinks to himself. Another sigh. 

“Fine.”

-

Churches make Frankie uncomfortable now. He was raised Catholic as a kid but after everything life has thrown at him, he’s not sure what he believes anymore.

He walks down the steps into the rather institutionalized looking basement of the church, a stark contrast from the ornate interior of the upstairs. He scans the room for an open seat. And of course the chairs are arranged in a circle because why wouldn’t they be? 

He picks a seat off to the side of the circle. And to his delight, it’s right by the refreshments table. He takes a look around the room as he sits down. People of all ages are seated in the circle but there’s an abundance of older men for sure; older than Frankie. He takes a look to his right and sees a man with black hair and a mustache. The man notices Frankie looking and makes eye contact with him. A look of recognition washes over the man’s face even though Frankie’s never met him. 

“… Do I know you?” Frankie asks, after a moment of uncomfortable glances. 

“No,” the man chuckles to himself, “You’re just the spitting image of my brother, Joel, when he was a little younger, that’s all.”

“Ah, okay,” Frankie says, fidgeting in his seat a little. 

“Nervous?”

“Uhh-”

“I was nervous for my first session, too. It’ll get easier.”

“How long have you been coming?”

“This is my third week.”

That makes Frankie feel a little bit better; the fact that it doesn’t take too long to get assimilated here. The uneasiness in his stomach starts to subside, but only slightly. 

“I’m Tommy by the way,” the man says, outstretching his hand. 

Frankie shakes his hand, noting in his mind that Tommy has a strong handshake; an important judge of a man’s character, of course. 

“Uh, nice to meet you. I’m Frankie.”

“What branch were you, Frankie? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“Army. You?”

“Same!”

“No kidding,” Frankie says, but before he can continue the session begins. 

Two women walk down the steps into the basement before sitting at the head of the circle, presumably the group therapists. One of the therapists clears her throat and starts with, “How has everyone’s week been so far?”

A cluster of various one word answers are thrown into the circle. Frankie looks around the room before stopping his gaze on… you. You look nervous, too; like you feel you don’t belong here. 

A judgmental thought crosses Frankie’s mind. These two are gonna console a bunch of traumatized veterans? But he immediately feels guilty for it. Plus, he keeps going back to the lost expression on your face, an expression that betrays your innermost thoughts; you don’t think you’re good enough for this. 

The first woman nods and continues, “Well if you’re having a good week so far, keep it up. And if not, maybe we can turn that around. But to start, I just want to introduce some of the new faces here.”

“You might’ve noticed I’m not alone today. I’d like to introduce you to my co-therapist,” she says, followed by your name.

Frankie repeats the name in his mind a few times, deciding he likes the way it sounds. He doesn’t realize he’s staring at you until the other woman calls his name. 

“I’d also like to introduce Mr. Morales to the group tonight.”

“Frankie’s fine,” Frankie says sheepishly, cheeks heating up with embarrassment. 

“Of course. Glad to have you here with us. I’m Gin by the way.”

Frankie mutters a “thank you” and then immediately regrets it. That was dumb. What is he supposed to be thanking her for?

His palms grow sweaty and he presses them on his jeans to dry them, trying to quell his anxiety. 

Frankie’s too busy with his own anxiety to notice that Tommy’s looking at you. His eyes scan up and down your form, noticing every detail from the way your legs are crossed, the cut of your shirt revealing a bit of your collarbone, and the slight furrow of your brows. He can tell you’re nervous, too. 

Gin leads the session and you sort of stay quiet, just observing her techniques as to how she gets these men to open up. You notice that one person is talking a lot, responding to almost everything anyone says. If there was a way to be a try hard at therapy, he’s succeeding. You know his name is Tommy because before the session started Gin pulled you aside on the stairs and pointed everyone out to you. The group isn’t that big, consisting of only eight men. Gin got the call from Frankie’s doctor yesterday afternoon, notifying her that he’ll be joining. So now your group is a nice even ten, including you and Gin. 

You make eye contact with Tommy a few times throughout the session. And every time you do he shoots you a small smirk. You can’t tell if he’s trying to flirt or just being nice. Either way you can’t help but notice how attractive he is, with his dark hair and matching mustache perched above his lips. There’s a sort of playful glimmer in his eyes, too, almost as if he can flirt with you with just a look and nothing more.

Tommy isn’t the only one who caught your eye. Frankie’s sitting next to Tommy and although he looks like a nervous wreck, there’s something endearing about him. Past the nervousness you notice his brown curls peeking out from underneath his baseball cap. He’s a handsome man; a handsome nervous man. All you learn about him is that he was in the army and his nickname was Catfish. Maybe you’ll learn more as he attends more sessions. 

Soon enough, the hour and thirty minutes comes to an end. Everyone starts to stand up and gather their belongings. Frankie immediately heads to the refreshments table, taking a small stack of cookies and quickly flees the room. Tommy looks back at you, shooting you one last smile before following Frankie upstairs. 

He finds Frankie in the parking lot and walks up behind him, clapping him on the shoulder, startling Frankie a bit.

“Survived your first therapy session!” Tommy says.

“Oh, yeah…” Frankie responds quietly. 

“See you next week?” Tommy asks before walking to his truck.

Frankie sighs as if he’s contemplating it and decides, “You know what? Yeah, you will.”

He walks off to his truck and shoots Tommy a wave before getting in and driving away.

Until next week it is. 

-

It’s Wednesday again. Frankie spent the whole day dreading therapy tonight. Five forty-five rolls around, it’s time for Frankie to get in his truck and leave. He drags his feet down the driveway, hoping that no unwanted attention will be drawn to him tonight. The drive there he’s fidgeting anxiously, palms growing clammy and sweaty against the leather steering wheel. He pulls into the parking lot and backs to a parking spot that so happens to be next to Tommy’s truck. He shoots Frankie a small wave from his driver’s seat. And now Frankie starts to feel at least a little bit at ease. There’s something warm and inviting about Tommy that Frankie noticed. Maybe it’s because he’s somehow got the hang of this therapy thing after only three weeks. Maybe he could ask him how he does it over a beer after a therapy session. Maybe. 

“So last week didn’t scare you off?” Tommy jokes as they both get out of their trucks. 

“Not yet,” Frankie jokes back, offering a small, weakened laugh. 

“Proud of ya, Fish,” Tommy nods. 

And with that, they head into the church and down to the institutionalized, mundane basement. They sit next to each other again just like the week before and watch the others shuffle in. And then both sets of eyes fixate on you; you and the way your hips sway as you walk down the steps, holding your head up a little bit higher than last time. Maybe you’re starting to get the hang of this, too. 

You and Gin take your seats at the top of the circle and begin this week’s session. Frankie finds himself transfixed on the way you’re able to make him feel seen and heard, even with the little details he offers tonight, not quite ready to share everything yet. You do the same for the others, nodding your head when they tell you stories and offering sympathetic glances. He feels a little jealous when you do that for anyone else. But… why? Isn’t this your job? 

Perhaps it’s because there’s something else there. Wait no, that’s stupid. It’s his second day of therapy and he’s falling for this therapist? 

Get a grip, Frankie, he tells himself. 

Tommy noticed the way Frankie looks at you, because he was doing the same last week. And the two weeks before Frankie joined. Is he jealous? Nah, he gets it. He just smirks to himself and stares down at his boots planted on the floor. 

The hour and thirty minutes flies by. And Frankie’s almost sad it’s over, emphasis on almost. While he could stare at your pretty face all night, he can’t talk about his feelings and his trauma all night. 

He helps himself to some cookies at the refreshment table again, a feeble reward for finishing another session, before heading up the stairs. His gaze is locked on you until you’re out of view, almost tripping up the stairs since he didn’t watch where he was going. 

And Tommy watches all of this unfold and quietly chuckles to himself. 

He’s got it bad, he thinks to himself. 

Maybe he could help Frankie out. 

In the parking lot Tommy finds Frankie walking back to his truck. 

“Hey,” he calls out softly, not wanting to startle him. 

Frankie turns around, mid bite into a cookie, and looks at Tommy with an eyebrow raised. 

“You wanna get a drink next door at the Legion next door?” Tommy asks, pointing at the American Legion next to the church with his thumb. 

It’s like Tommy read Frankie’s mind. He swallows the bite of the cookie he has in his mouth and says, “Sure” before walking next door with Tommy. 

Over two bottles of Miller Lite Frankie thinks that Tommy’s going to give him tips about overcoming anxiety in therapy but the reality is… he couldn’t be more wrong. 

“I saw you looking at her,” Tommy says nonchalantly. 

“Huh?”

“You know who I’m talking about. Can’t say I blame ya. Been doing the same thing myself since I first started coming.”

“Oh, if you were interested in her first I’ll back off,” Frankie says sheepishly. 

“No. No, that’s not what I’m saying at all brother.”

“So then what are you saying? I thought you asked me to get a beer to give me tips about getting rid of the stress of therapy,” Frankie says, unsure of what Tommy’s motive is. 

“Oh, I have something that will get rid of your stress alright.”

“And that is?”

“Keep an open mind, okay?”

“Uhh-”

“A threesome.”

“You’re out of your mind.”

“I’m being serious, Fish.”

“Isn’t this crossing some sort of boundary?”

“We’d all be consenting adults.”

“So what do you suggest we do? How does one approach their therapist for a threesome?”

“Let me do all the talking.”

“That’s a given.”

“We’ll approach her next week after therapy, okay?”

Frankie sighs. This is such a bad idea. But he’s also not saying no. 

“Fine. But if this goes badly you’re finding us another therapy group.”

“Deal.”

-

What both men don’t know is that you’re catching onto both of them. As you and Gin are packing up the leftover cookies while Frankie and Tommy are grabbing a beer, Gin says to you, “Tommy and Frankie are so into you. I saw the way they were looking at you.”

“What? No they weren’t!” you say, shocked that she’d say such a thing. 

“They were! And I’m not saying they’re into you but I’m also not not saying they’re into you,” she says as you two walk up the stairs and into the parking lot. 

“Do with that what you will,” she finishes with a small smirk before walking to her car. 

Maybe she’s right. 

-

The past two therapy sessions were nothing compared to tonight. Frankie’s more nervous than ever. And not even for the actual therapy. Tonight Tommy’s gonna propose his plan to you. And Frankie is scared shitless for your response. He doesn’t even know how he’s gonna go about asking you. How does one ask their therapist to have a threesome? Because Frankie doesn’t have a clue.

Somehow the basement feels smaller than ever. Frankie can’t even look at the refreshments table without feeling like he’s going to gag. His gaze bounces back and forth between Tommy, you, and the floor. But somehow Tommy is maintaining his ever cool demeanor, leaning back in his hair with his legs slightly spread apart, head cocked to the side with a slight smirk on his face. 

And you’re going along with it, leaning fully into the idea of both men being attracted to you. And they both present their attraction to you so differently. Tommy is confident, never faltering his eye contact with you, his body language confident and flirtatious. Frankie, on the other hand, can barely bring himself to look you in the eye. The poor thing is a nervous wreck. And when he does look at you, a flustered expression washes over his face. You can’t decide which one you like more. 

Therapy wraps up and normally you and Gin stick around after to talk. But this time she quickly helps put the room back together before leaving, shooting you a wink as she walks up the stairs. 

Eventually the others shuffle out and it’s just you, Tommy and Frankie in the basement. The men both approach you but Frankie lets Tommy take the lead as they both discussed the week prior. 

“Hey there, darlin’. We were just wondering if you wanted to grab a drink with us next door.”

Frankie winces at the nickname and in anticipation of your response. But to his surprise you say yes without missing a beat. And before Frankie knows it the three of you are heading next door to the American Legion. 

Sitting at a table in the corner you, Frankie and Tommy have a couple rounds of beer. As you drink you notice Frankie starts to loosen up for once. The alcohol cuts the tension and the small talk opens him up, all thanks to Tommy’s lead. 

Eventually, the conversation hits a lull and Tommy clears his throat. For a beat he looks nervous, too. But it goes away almost instantly when he talks. 

“So darlin’, my friend over there has been dealing with some stress regarding therapy.”

“Completely understandable,” you say.

“I was thinking you might have a way you could help him.”

“Oh?” 

A smirk graces his face. It doesn’t take long for you to pick up what he’s putting down. 

“Me and him?” you ask, gesturing to Frankie. 

“Me, you, and him,” Frankie says quietly. 

“Oh,” you say, eyes widening. 

“Right now?” you ask after a moment of contemplation. 

“Eager little thing, aren’t ya?” Tommy chuckles. 

“Where would we do it here?” you ask. 

“I’m sure this place has loads of rooms,” Tommy says, “I’ll go look first,” he continues, before getting up and walking down the hallway across the room. 

After a moment you see him appear at the end of the hallway, motioning for you and Frankie to come over. 

“One at a time?” you ask, looking back at Frankie. 

He nods nervously and you get up to meet Tommy in the hallway. After a moment Frankie joins you, the three of you standing in front of a door. 

“Found just the place,” Tommy says, opening the door and going into the room. 

It’s a large room, full of folded up tables and chairs. Tommy closes the door after you and Frankie go in, and thankfully it locks.

“They must use this room for parties,” Frankie says. 

“This looks like a party to me, huh Fish?”

You can’t help but laugh. This dynamic between the two of them is too good. And it’ll be even better with you sandwiched in between them. 

“Let’s unfold one of those bad boys,” you say, pointing to one of the folded up tables. 

Tommy and Frankie unfold one of the tables resting against a wall. And you waste no time taking your clothes off. They turn around once they’re done unfolding the table and their mouths fall open, completely gawking at your naked form. 

“Now you’re definitely an eager little thing,” Tommy smirks, walking over to you and grabbing you by the waist. He starts by kissing your neck, sinking his teeth into it and nipping hard enough to leave a light mark. His hand trails from your waist down to your thighs, fingertips ghosting the soft flesh. Frankie watches as he kisses your neck and palms your thigh, his cock growing hard and straining against his jeans. You turn your head and look over at him, saying suggestively, “Well aren’t you gonna join us?”

Frankie gulps and walks over to you slowly, positioning himself behind you. He grabs your ass and kisses along your collarbone, on the side of your neck where Tommy isn’t. God, he’s so nervous. But it also feels right, being pressed up against you with his hands all over your body. 

Tommy sinks his hand between your thighs and you part your legs a little, just enough for his fingers to graze your cunt. 

“So wet already, darlin’. Bet you got wet just by looking at us back there in the church, huh?”

He’s not entirely wrong. You moan in response as he presses a finger against your clit, swirling around it tenderly. 

Frankie moves up your collarbone to your neck and then up to your ear, nipping the love with his teeth before tracing the shell of your ear with his tongue. Your knees buckle due to the different spots of stimulation happening all over your body. 

“Let’s get you on the table, darlin’,” Tommy chuckles, walking you over to the table with Frankie. 

You situate yourself on top of it, feeling the cool plastic against your warm back, the front of your body peppered with goosebumps as you await more touch. Tommy takes some of your wetness between his fingertips, rubbing them together and pulling them apart, your wetness stretching and following the moment of his fingers. He places them in his mouth, tasting your juices and moistening his fingers for you. He slides one finger in slowly just as Frankie starts to play with your nipples. He takes them between his index finger and his thumb with light pressure, watching the way your breasts move as you breathe deeper. 

“Harder,” you tell him softly, needing more. 

He pinches your nipples harder, eliciting a moan from you and a chuckle from Tommy. 

“Play with her body, Fish. Find out what she likes,” Tommy says as he adds a second finger. 

Frankie listens to Tommy and lowers his head by your breast, this time taking a nipple in his mouth. You arch your back at the dual stimulation, both men pulling the deepest moans from you. 

Frankie releases your nipple with a pop and brings his face by your ear, “Gotta be careful, sweetheart. Don’t want them to hear us, do we?”

You nod, looking him deep in the eyes when he pulls his head away from your ear, in disbelief at what you’re doing right now. But the line’s already been crossed and none of you give a shit. 

Frankie goes back to sucking your nipple and Tommy curls his fingers upwards against your walls, bringing his thumb to your clit and applying pressure. He marvels at the way your cunt grips his fingers and at how soft and spongy your walls are, feeling like heaven to him. You tighten around his fingers when you get close, in no time at all. 

“Gonna come for me, darlin’? Soak my fingers,” he commands. 

And you do, soaking his hand down to his wrist. Your orgasm intensified by Frankie’s mouth on your breast. The muscles in your core contract and release erratically before slowing down and stopping. Tommy pulls his hand from you slowly and walks over by your head, showing you the mess you made. 

“Good girl,” he says before putting his fingers in his mouth.  

“Better get down there and taste her pussy, Fish. She tastes so sweet,” he continues, licking his fingers clean. 

Frankie moves down between your legs, kneeling on the floor and hooking his arms around your thighs. He licks one long, slow stripe up your cunt and once he’s had a taste he becomes insatiable, lapping at your wetness like a man dying of thirst. While he eats you out, Tommy stays by your head, caressing your face and talking you through it. 

“He’s eating your pussy real good isn’t he, darlin’?”

You can only nod in response. 

“I can tell. Look at the way you’re squirming. Dirty girl getting her pussy eaten in a public place.”

Oh fuck. You’re already getting close to the edge again, thanks to Frankie’s work on your cunt. The way he eats you is indescribable; some of the best you’ve ever had, if not the best. 

Frankie pushes two fingers in your cunt, desperate to try and get you to squirt for him. And this is when you start seeing stars, back arched completely and the feeling too good to even be remotely quiet. And then you cum, hard and wet. Frankie was successful, your own release soaking the table underneath you as Frankie licks your cut coming down from its high. 

“Good girl,” Tommy says, looking at the mess you made. 

Frankie stands up and hastily takes his cock out of his jeans. Tommy does, too, before bringing a hand back to your face and saying, “You ready, darlin’? We’re gonna take good care of you.” 

Tommy and Frankie share a glance, like they both understand Tommy will get your mouth and Frankie will get your cunt. You nod and get ready for Tommy’s cock in your mouth. He holds your hair and eases it in, letting your jaw get adjusted. Meanwhile Frankie spreads your wetness on his cock and slides into your cunt. You knew he’d be big but it literally feels like he’s splitting you apart, his cock expanding your walls with each of his trusts. The table creaks and makes noises against the force of Frankie’s thrusts, all while Tommy fucks your mouth, both your cunt and mouth feeling completely full. 

“You like taking two cocks at once, dirty girl?” Tommy says looking down at you, his pupils blown wide. 

You hum with a “Mhm” and Tommy curses under his breath at the vibration. Tears spring in the corners of your eyes as Frankie fucks you deeper and deeper, the head of his cock grazing your cervix. He licks his thumb and brings it to your cunt. You’re not gonna last much longer. Your walls tighten up around his cock, getting rest for a big release. With one last thrust of his cock and swirl of his thumb on your clit, you’re coming and coming hard, crying out at the feeling. 

Your cries trigger Tommy’s orgasm, his hands gripping your hair tighter and his head thrown back in pleasure. He spills his cum down your throat and you swallow all of it before he takes his cock out, letting you catch your breath. 

He stands back and puts his cock away, telling Frankie, “She’s all yours now, Fish. Wreck that little pussy.”

And with that Frankie fucks you roughly, with so much force like he’s letting out his stress, frustration, and anger. A dark look washes over his face and it’s so fucking hot, like he’s using you; like you’re just a toy to him. 

You cum again, just as hard if not harder than the last one. Your whole body tingling, starting at your core and spreading outwards. And when you cum, Frankie cums, too, his cum painting your insides. He slows his thrusts before slowly pulling out of you and catching his breath. 

You sit up after a month and catch your breath, too, still in bliss of the moment but also realizing that you were probably in this room for a very long time and that you need to leave. You move to get off the table and Frankie helps you to your feet, while Tommy grabs your clothes. They help you get dressed since you’re truly spent. 

“Good girl,” Frankie says, kissing the top of your head once you’re dressed. 

“See? All that stress melted away thanks to you, darlin’,” Tommy chuckles, walking to the door. 

“One at a time,” he says. You and Frankie nod. Tommy leaves first followed by you then Frankie. On the walk through the Legion and to the parking lot you keep your gaze averted to the floor, because people are definitely suspicious. 

Tommy and Frankie walk you back to your car in the church parking lot but before they leave you Tommy says, “Same time next week?”

“Sounds good to me,” Frankie says, not missing a beat. 

“Deal,” you laugh before getting in your car and driving away. 

Group therapy has a whole new meaning. 

End note: Let me know if you’d like to see anymore Tommy and Frankie content from me!! Either separately or in this little threesome lmao

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#frankie morales x reader #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales smut #frankie catfish morales #tommy miller x reader #tommy miller fanfiction #tommy miller #the last of us #triple frontier #tommy miller x you #tommy miller x f!reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x f!reader #tommy miller smut #triple frontier fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction

[natalieironside]

"Secret Window, Secret Garden 2: The Revenge, by John Shooter" by Natalie Ironside

One morning Natalie H. Ironside awoke in her bed to discover she'd been transformed into a young Johnny Depp. "Dang," she said, shaking her head in consternation, "what a raw deal. This ain't what I need right now."

She'd only just begun to process this new development when there came a knock at the door. She opened it to discover an angry man who otherwise looked normal and unremarkable, holding a rolled-up typescript. He'd arrived in a car with Mississippi plates, which struck her as out of the ordinary because, as everyone knows, the state of Mississippi does not require front license plates. Being transformed into a young Johnny Depp overnight had not struck her as odd because, like a vagrant in a C.S. Lewis book, this was hardly her first rum do.

"You stole my story," the angry man said.

"Well, damn," Natalie replied, "that sucks if it's true. What makes you say that?"

They talked for a while, and it was clear the stranger meant well but had a fundamental misunderstanding of US copyright law. "I see what the problem is," Natalie said. "Come inside and we can have some like coffee or whatever and talk it out."

Disarmed, the stranger agreed. He handed her his typescript and said, "My manuscript--"

"Typescript," Natalie corrected. Then, contritely, she added, "Sorry. It just kinda bugs me when people refer to typescripts as manuscripts."

The stranger didn't know how to reply to that. "Just . . . just read it," he said.

After a cursory glance at the first page, she looked up in bemusement and said, "Well, I didn't write this at all. Stephen King did."

The man took back the typescript, muttering something about bringing the wrong paperwork and how he was gonna get in big trouble with the Weez for this one. Seeming at a loss for words without his intended prop, he said, "Listen, I, uh . . . I'm you. I'm like a manifestation of all the rage and resentment you keep bottled up."

"I, like, don't, though," she insisted. "I mean, I do, but not like that guy in the story did. Being open about the darker parts of our personalities is kind of a whole thing with me."

"Yeah, and that's why I'm here talking to you like this instead of going through all that rigamarole. What did you think of the story, anyways?"

"It's one of King's weaker works, if I'm being honest. It woulda made a great short story, but stretching it out into 5 hours just feels like a half-asseded sequel to The Dark Half. Plus DID and schizophrenia don't work anything like that--or, well, this--and that's always been a bit of a bent beam with the guy."

"Yeah," said the man. "Listen, can you just, like, write a story and put my name on it? I know you don't have to, but it would really mean a lot to me, and it'll get me out of your hair."

"Sure thing, man," she replied.

The end.

#ka like a wind

[omgkatherine01]

Between Your Wings - Chapter 2: Walk Like Them

Series Masterlist

Chapter 1, Chapter 3

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x female reader x Rick Grimes (slow burn)

Please comment, like and share

After a little while, Merle was now calm, but Rick didn't release him from the handcuffs. After making sure T-Dog was okay and helped him sit on the ground and lean against the wall, you went to look down at the streets, there were walkers all around. Andrea joined you and she frowned lightly as she spoke, "My God, it's like Times Square down there."

"Yeah," you muttered and turned to your group.

Morales looked at T-Dog, who was holding the CB walkie, "How's that signal?"

"Like Dixon's brain--Weak," T-Dog said, making the older Dixon show him the middle finger. 

Morales sighed, "Keep trying."

"Why?" Andrea asked, turning to them, "There's nothing they can do. Not a damn thing."

Andrea walked past them and bend down to unzip your backpack. 

Morales looked at Rick, "Got some people outside the city is all. There's no refugee center. That's a pipe dream."

"Then she's right," Rick said as you sat down next to T-Dog, "We're on our own. It's up to us to find a way out."

"Good luck with that," Merle spoke up, "These streets ain't safe in this part of town from what I hear." He looked at Andrea, "Ain't that right, sugar tits?" You raised an eyebrow and rolled your eyes as he continued, "Hey, honeybunch, what say you get me out of these cuffs, we go off somewhere and bump some uglies? Gonna die anyway."

"I'd rather," Andrea told him, standing up and walking to your side.

"Rub muncher," Merle said, "I figured as much."

"'The streets ain't safe,'" Morales said, "Now there's an understatement."

"What about under the streets?" Rick asked and you frowned as you thought back. "The sewers?"

Morales frowned and looked at Glenn, "Hey, Glenn, check the alley. You see any manhole covers?"

Glenn walked to the other side of the roof, looking down the alley. He turned and walked back closer, "No, must be all out on the street where the geeks are."

"Maybe not," you said, making everyone look at you. You got up and continued, "Old building like this built in the '20s. Big structures often had, uh, drainage tunnels into the sewers in case of flooding down in the subbasements."

Rick raised his eyebrows, impressed, "How do you know?"

You shrugged lightly, "I've read about those structures one time... I have a photographic memory... I remember I've seen one in this building when I scoped this place up with Glenn."

Rick nodded lightly and looked at Morales before he looked back at you, "All right, then, lead the way."

You glanced at Glenn and then walked past him to the door. Rick, Glenn, Andrea and Morales followed you into the building. You walked all the way below to the basement, and you led everyone to the sewer entrance you memorized.

"This is it," you said as you peered inside with everyone, "It's the only thing in the building that goes down. But I've never gone down it. Who'd want to, right?"

When you met with silent, you glanced up and around to see they all were looking at you. Glenn glanced from everyone's faces to yours. You looked from them to the entrance, nervously, "Oh..."

"We'll be right behind you," Andrea assured you.

"No, you won't," you said as you looked at her, "Not you, I--"

"Why not me?" Andrea asked, cutting you off with a frown, "Think I can't?"

You hesitated to speak, but tried, "No. It just..."

Rick nodded to you in encouragement, "Speak your mind."

You let out a soft breath and looked around at everyone, "Look, until now I always came here by myself, or with only Glenn, in and out, grab a few things, no problem. The first time we bring a group, everything goes to hell."

Glenn nodded and you looked back at the rest, "No offense... If you want me to go down this hole, fine, but only if we do it my way." 

Rick nodded, "All right."

"It's tight down there," you said as you glanced back inside, "If I run into something and have to get out quick, I don't want everyone all in there get stuck. I'll take one person." You looked at Rick, "Rick, I've seen how you shot, and I'd feel better if you were out in that store watching those doors, covering our ass." You looked at Andrea. "And you've got the other gun, so you should go with him." You looked at Glenn, "Glenn, you be my wingman, sounds okay?" Glenn nodded, and you looked at Morales, "Morales, you stay here, something happens, yell down to us, get us back up here in a hurry."

"Okay," Morales agreed with a nod.

"Okay, everybody knows their jobs," Rick said.

You looked at Glenn, who nodded. "All right," you said and put your flashlight in your mouth before climbing into the ladder and started to climb down.

Glenn copied you and followed you down the ladder.

You reached to the bottom and looked up to see Andrea and Rick walking away. "Careful down there, guys," Morales said as he peered down at you and Glenn.

"Yeah," you muttered as you and Glenn peered into the dark sewers. You glanced behind you at Glenn who shrugged lightly, and you turned back to the darkness as you shined your flashlights.

"Come on," you said softly and took a couple of steps forward before you lighted your flashlights down at a rat, who squealed and walked away. 

You and Glenn followed it for a few minutes all the way to a grate. "Hey, can you cut through it?" Glenn asked.

"If we had a blowtorch," you answered with a soft sigh, and rubbed the back of your head. "I, uh, I don't have the items to make one like I did one time."

"What about Dale's hacksaw?"

"It won't do," you answered. You heard noises from the other side of the grate and shined your flashlight forward. A walker turned around to look at you and Glenn, eating a rat. It growled and reached forward, making you and Glenn jump back even if the walker couldn't get to you.

"Come on, come on," Glenn said as he grabbed a hold of your arm. He tugged you back and you both ran back all the way to the ladder. "Up, up."

Glenn moved so you climbed up first, while he glanced back to check the dark tunnel. "What happened?" Morales asked when you got up. Glenn got out after you a moment after.

"We can't get through," you said and walked past him to get to Rick and Andrea. You heard them following you and you rushed into the clothing store, just in time to see walkers had gotten through the outside doors and hitting the double doors.

"What did you find down there?" Rick asked.

"Not a way out," Morales told them.

"We need to find a way..." Andrea trailed off. "Soon."

"Come on," you said as you grabbed into Rick's arm and tugged him to the backdoor. You all ran up to the staircase and back to the roof where Merle and T-Dog were still there. Rick peered around the streets and then turned to you when you stepped over, "Got binoculars, by any chance?"

"Uh, yeah," you answered as you walked toward T-Dog who had your backpack near him. You opened it and diged inside. You pulled the black binoculars and walked back to Rick. "Here." You held it out and he took it. 

"Thanks," he said and looked through them for a moment before he pointed to the side, "That construction site, those trucks." He held the binoculars to Morales, who then looked through them, "They always keep keys on hand."

Morales looked down the streets with a frown, "You'll never make it past the Walkers."

Rick looked over him at you, "You got me out of that tank."

"Yeah, but they were feeding," you reminded him, "They were distracted."

"Can we distract them again?" Rick asked.

"Right," Merle spoke up, and you all looked over at him. "Listen to him. He's onto something. A diversion, like on 'Hogan's Heroes'."

"They're drawn by sound, right?" Rick asked.

"Yeah, like dogs," you said, "They hear a sound, they come."

"What else?"

"Aside from they hear you?" Morales asked, "They see you, smell you and if they catch you, they eat you."

"They can tell us by smell?" Rick asked.

"Can't you?" Glenn asked.

"They smell dead, we don't," Andrea said as Rick thought of a plan, "It's pretty distinct."

You studied Rick's expression and you frowned, "You have something on your mind, don't you?" He looked over at you and you pointed at his face, "That face right there, my dad had the same expression when he was up to no good."

That comment made him smile a little and he patted you on the back, "Come on." He walked back to the door, and you glanced at everyone before you all followed.

"Hey! Wha' about me?!"

You turned to Merle and shrugged, "Just... stay here." He sent you a glare and you quickly followed everyone to the door, you looked at T-Dog who smirked at you for the comment you gave the older Dixon. You let out a chuckle as you closed the door, and you shook your head as you both walked down the stairs.

Your smile disappeared when you got to the clothing store again and saw the walkers still trying to get into the store. You tensed and turned to Rick, watching as he grabbed coats and gloves. "What are we doing?" you asked.

"You and I--were going to go out there, and get that van, covered in Walkers' blood," Rick said as he handed you a coat and a pair of gloves.

You froze as you held the items to your chest. "What?" you asked softly, hoping you heard wrong.

Rick didn't answer and simply handed the rest of the coats and gloves to Glenn, T-Dog, Andrea, and Morales, all four of them were staring at him like he just made the most stupid and dangerous plan ever... which for you it was.

"If bad ideas were an Olympic event, this would take the gold," Glenn said, glancing at you nervously.

"He's right," Morales said and took a step to Rick, "Just stop, okay? Take some time to think this through."

"How much time?" Rick asked. "They already got through one set of doors, that glass won't hold forever."

Morales looked at you and then quickly at Rick, taking a deep breath, then he spoke, "I'll go with you then instead of Audery."

"No," you said quickly, making them all look at you. You nodded, "I'll go, I'll do it."

Rick nodded but the others were worried, which you appreciated their concern. "You don't have to," Andrea told you.

"I'm faster. I'll go with him." You looked at Glenn and nodded. "I got this." You looked at Rick, "But... I kinda of regretting saving your ass back there."

Rick didn't seem to take offend by that and just gave you a small smile and walked past you to the back door. You all put on the coats and gloves as you took a deep breath and you all followed.

Glenn opened the back door, and Rick and Morales ran out, and grabbed one of the Walkers that Morales and T-Dog killed, drugging the body inside.

Glenn closed the door, and you walked to the side. "Here, honey," Andrea told you as she stood behind you and lifted your braid hair up to the top of your head, and placed Glenn's hat on your head.

"Thank you," you said softly, and she rubbed your back before stepping away.

You all looked down at the body while Rick put on a face shield, smashing a fire axe box with a crowbar. He grabbed the fire axe and walked back to your side.

Rick held the fire axe up, about to chop the dead Walker but he stopped. He put down the axe and went through the body's pockets. You watched as he pulled out a wallet and looked through. "Wayne Dunlap," he read, "Georgia license. Born in 1979." He handed a card to Glenn, who stood next to you, "He had $28 in his pocket when he died... And a picture of a pretty girl. 'With love, from Rachel.' He used to be like us--Worrying about bills or the rent or the Super Bowl. If I ever find my family, I'm gonna tell them about Wayne."

Rick put the wallet back into Wayne's pocket, standing up, putting on his face shield. "One more thing..." Glenn trailed off, "He was an organ donor."

There was a moment of silence, before Rick started to hack away at the Walker, making you all look away in disgust.

"Madre de Dios," Morales muttered.

"Oh God," Glenn said, looking away.

You looked away again when Rick chopped again. You closed your eyes and listened to him chopping. 

"Keep chopping," you heard Rick's voice and opened one eye to see him handing the face shield and the axe to Morales.

Glenn groaned in disgust, "I am so gonna hurl."

"Later," Rick told him, as Morales started to chop the Walker a few times. "Everybody got gloves? Don't get any on your skin or in your eyes."

You froze when everyone started to dig into the body. "Oh, God," you groaned in disgust and tried not to move when you saw Andrea and Glenn approaching you with the guts. "Oh, God."

You closed your eyes and felt them rubbing them on your coat. You lifted your head up and opened your eyes and glanced down at Rick; Morales and T-Dog were rubbing guts on him as well, and you quickly looked up.

"Oh, God," Glenn said.

"This is really bad," you said and lowered your head down to see him and Andrea still putting more guts around you, "Oh, this is really bad!"

"Think about something else--Puppies and kittens," Rick said to you.

"Dead puppies and kittens," T-Dog muttered quietly yet you heard him. You tried to think only about Max, but you couldn't, all you could think about is the walker's guts rubbing on your body, and the smell.

"God!" you said and quickly turned around and vomited.

"That is just evil. What is wrong with you?" you heard Andrea snapping.

"I'm sorry," you muttered and cleaned your lips with your cleaned gloves.

"It's okay, honey," Andrea said as she rubbed your back. "You alright?"

You hummed as you nodded and turned back. "Sorry," you muttered again. 

"You suck," Glenn said, looking at Rick.

"Do we smell like them?" Rick asked.

"Yeah," Andrea answered. "Audrey." You looked at her, and saw she pulled off one of her gloves and had her gun in her hand. "Just in case." She lifted the side of your coat and tucked the gun in your pants.

You nodded in thanks as Rick spoke, "If we make it back, be ready."

"What about Merle Dixon?" T-Dog asked.

Rick pulled off one of his gloves, digging into his pocket. He pulled out the handcuffs key and tossed it to T-Dog. T-Dog looked at it and walked away. Rick looked at Morales as he put back his gloves, "Give me the axe." Morales handed him the axe. "We nee--we need more guts."

Rick started to chop again, and you quickly looked away.

"Oh, man."

****

"Oh, I hate you, I really really hate you," you said softly as Rick put the walker's hands around your shoulder.

"I'm sorry," he said as Glenn handed you a crowbar and him the fire axe, "Now, come on."

"I can't believe I agreed to it in the end," you muttered as you and him walked to the door.

Morales opened the door and you and Rick walked out slowly. You saw two walkers walking around the area and you and Rick exchanged a quick look before you both mimicked the walkers. The Walkers briefly looked at you but then turned away.

You closed your eyes briefly in relief but opened them quickly. You dragged yourself underneath a bus before coping with how they walk with Rick. You glanced around at the many, many walkers wandering around, as you walked along side with Rick.

"I can't believe it's working," you whispered.

"Don't draw attention," Rick whispered. A Walker walked between the two of you, looking back and forth from you to Rick before walking past.

You heard above you the thunders, and a moment after you felt water drops. You glanced up and saw the sun had disappeared behind thick, dark clouds. Oh no, oh no! you thought as you glanced around nervously as the rain started pouring down.

The rain will wash away the scent from your blood-soaking coats! You realized that as you noticed a few walkers staring at you and Rick.

You glanced at Rick nervously, "The smell is washing off. Isn't it?"

"No, it's not," Rick assured you, but you knew he was just saying it to try and keep you calm, which wasn't working when you both noticed a walker's stare lingering on him. "Well, maybe."

As more guts washed off, you knew the walkers realized that you and Rick were alive when one of them charged at you.

You jumped back and Rick crushed its head with the axe. "Run!" he said as he grabbed your arm and you both ran down the street with the walkers chasing after you. Rick killed a few of them before you reached to the fence blocking off the parking lot from the rest of the street. The two of you made it into a large van just as the fence collapsed and the walkers broke through.

"Go, go!" you said, and Rick drove back out from the parking lot and away from the walkers. "Oh, God. Oh, God. They're all over that place."

"You need to draw them away," Rick said, "Those roll-up doors at the front of the store--That area? That's what I need cleared. Raise your friends. Tell them to get down there and be ready."

You looked at him with a frown, "And I'm drawing the geeks away how? I--I missed that part."

"Noise."

You looked around the empty street and spotted a sport car. "Oh..." You looked at Rick, "Can I have your part of this plan?"

Rick raised his eyebrow, slightly amused. "You got this."

You leaned back and looked around the area and out of your window. You quickly got out and ran to the red sport car. You smushed the window of the driver side with the crowbar, tripping the alarm, and swiftly reached inside and unlock the door before getting in and hot wiring it.

"Yes," you said and closed the door. You leaned out the window and signaled Rick. He nodded and you leaned back and speeded out of the street, distracting walkers around the area.

You lifted your walkie-talkie and spoke to the others on the roof, "Those roll-up doors at the front of the store facing the street, meet us there and be ready!"

You drove near the store, and stopped, "Come on. Come on. Get closer. Get closer. Come on. Come on."

Most of the Walkers came to the car and you quickly drove backward. The walkers followed you and you continued to drive. You drove off and away from the street and glanced to the mirrors before holding up the walkie-talkie, "Everyone safe?!"

There was a moment of silent before you heard Glenn's voice, "Yeah! We all good! Except... Merle is still trap on the roof."

You looked forward in sadness, you didn't like Merle one bit, but his brother on the other hand...

Daryl will not like this.

You drove out of the city and into the highway but stopping. You quickly got out and popped the hood of the car. You opened it and quickly looked around to stop the alarm. You found the part and took it out, stopping the annoying alarm.

You through the part to the side and moved back into the car. You drove without stopping all the way to your camp. You saw everyone rushing forward as you stopped the car in the middle of the camp.

You leaned over the door and smiled teasingly at Lori who was the closest, "Hey, my sexy girlfriend!"

Lori laughed and shook her head as you got out of the car. "Nice car," she complimented as she stepped closer, and you both embraced.

"Thanks, I stole it," you said, chuckling as you broke the hug, and she laughed.

"Audrey!" You looked over to Shane and watched Carl running toward you with Max, who barked in excitement to see you.

"Hey, bud!" you said, kneeling down and holding out your arms. Carl jumped into your arms and hugged you tightly while Max jumped to your knee and barked in your face, making you laugh.

"Where's Andrea? Why is she not with you?"

You let go after a moment of Carl and stood up before looking at Amy, Andrea's sister. "She's okay. Everyone's okay. Except Merle."

"Then why is she not with you?" she asked about her sister before looking over your shoulder. You turned and watched the van approaching and parking at the entrance. Andrea was the first one who jumped from the back of the van, and you watched the sisters reunited.

You watched everyone reuniting before glancing at Lori to see her taking her son to the RV. Carl told you the day you met that his father was shot before the outbreak and was in a coma, but now he was told he was dead.

You looked down at Max and picked him up into your arms. Max was a huge help with the kids; playing with him was a good distraction for them, especially to Carl.

"Hey, helicopter boy! Come say hello," you head Morales calling out, and you looked to the van. Rick got out of the driver side, and you saw his expression turn to shock and disbelief. You followed his gaze to Shane, who stared at him in shock.

"Dad!"

You looked toward Carl and saw him running toward Rick with a huge smile, and Lori followed. Rick took a few steps forward before he bend down and pulled Carl into his arms. You stared in shock as you realized Rick was the father Carl spoke about.

"You're kidding me," you said softly, and couldn't help but smile softly with the rest of the group as Rick embraced Lori and Carl.

#the walking dead fanfiction #twd #twd imagine #the walking dead x y/n #the walking dead x you #the walking dead x reader #rick grimes imagine #rick grimes fanfiction #twd rick #rick grimes icons #rick grimes x reader #rick grimes x you #rick grimes x y/n #the walking dead daryl #daryl dixon #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon twd #daryl dixion x reader #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x y/n #andrew lincoln #norman reedus

[auteurdelabre]

Losing our Minds Together pt 4 Dad!Joel x f!Reader / Bill x Frank / Ellie x Riley

Summary: Joel hopes to be a good neighbor, Frank has Bill fix his AC and Riley and Ellie finally meet.

Rating: 18+ (for future smut chapters)

Word Count: 4.9

Warnings: This is saccharine slice of life with smut and a Soft!Joel PLUS Frank x Bill PLUS Ellie x Riley. You have been warned. There is smut for the adults in this story, but when it gets to those chapters you will have plenty of warning.

masterlist here

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"What an artist is trying to do for people is bring them closer to something, because of course art is about sharing. You wouldn't be an artist unless you wanted to share an experience, a thought." - David Hockney

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Ellie lays back on her bed, eyes on the ceiling. She can hear Joel downstairs making pancakes for her as he does any morning he's not at work too early. He's starting with Tommy this week, an uncle that Ellie has met only once. A nice enough man with a wife who speaks bluntly in a way that both thrills and intimidates Ellie. 

Ellie's room is as decorated as it's going to be. Not as girlishly done as the old room she shared with Sarah. This one is soft blue. Her bed is a slate grey with gold stars. She reaches under her pillow to pull out the small giraffe plushy. It's missing one eye, the fur is worn through years of pets. 

Ellie kisses is well -loved head before placing it back under the pillow when she hears her name being called. She pulls on a long sleeve shirt over her pyjama pants and pads down the stairs. 

She narrowly avoids the toolbox by the front door. It's Joel's first day at work with Tommy's renovation company and Ellie can tell he's nervous the minute she enters into the kitchen. He's been up for hours and she can see he hasn't slept much by the dark under his eyes. 

He gives her a tired smile before tilting his head to the table. 

"Mornin'."

"Morning."

"Sleep well?"

"Better than you," Ellie observes as she sits at the table, quietly thanking Joel when he slides her a plate of blueberry pancakes. 

He leans against the counter, watching her eat with a little smile across his face. Ellie knows he likes it when she eats. Makes him feel needed. 

"Gonna explore today while I'm at work, kid?"

"Maybe," Ellie lies as she pours syrup liberally over her pancake stack. She has no desire to explore this neighborhood, not in this heat. Right now the only thing she's looking forward to is art lessons with you. "Dunno though, it's pretty hot."

"Mhmm," Joel nods and glances out the window towards your house, distracted. Ellie catches his eye line and smirks.  

"But maybe I'll just join a cult if they have a pool."

"Uh huh."

"And get a nose piercing."

"Yup." 

Ellie rolls her eyes, taking a gulp of the orange juice at her elbow. Joel is forever reminding her of the importance of fruit and veggies yet she rarely sees him take his own fucking advice. 

Joel's still staring over at your house, body tilted against the counter, mug resting against his lower lip. 

"Her AC is broken," Ellie offers. Joel's head whips around to face her, brow quirked. Ellie holds in a smirk and spears a piece of pancake, eating it with gusto. 

"Really?"

"Yeah," Ellie talks through a mouthful of pancake. "Hope it's not too hot for my lessons."

Joel gets a contemplative look on his face, looking back at your place out the kitchen window before he places his mug in the sink. 

"Should go over and see 'bout it," he murmurs to himself. He leans over and places a gentle kiss at the top of Ellie's head. "I'll be home before five. You know my cell number, Tommy's is on the fridge. Call me if there's any problems, got it?"

"Yes siree."

Joel rolls his eyes at the honorific before hoisting his toolbox. 

"Oh and make sure that cult a' yours is okay with a noise piercin' before you do it," he offers as he leaves. "Wouldn't wanna get kicked out your first day."

///

“Stop being pathetic,” Frank whispers to himself that morning, smoothing his hair down for the thousandth time that morning. It’s early, the gallery not open yet. But he’s expecting a very special visitor.

Well, not a visitor exactly. Bill who after a very brief and very awkward coffee encounter the other day has agreed to come and look at Frank’s unit free of charge. The door to the gallery squeaks open and Frank sees a familiar stout man with a poorly trimmed beard make his way into the gallery.

Frank’s pulse skyrockets at the sight of Bill carrying his toolbox, the strain of it making his biceps bulge. His hands are so large and beefy and Frank is imagining a host of filthy things that involve them.

“Hey, you want a coffee?”

Jesus, Frank. Calm the fuck down. He’s not even in the fucking room yet.

“Nah, I’m good,” Bill says as he enters into Frank’s gallery, eyes on the man in the well tailored Hawaiian shirt. “Just point me in the direction of the unit and I’ll get to work.”

“Right of course,” Frank says with a shaky laugh. “You’re probably a very busy man.”

Bill grunts in reply, following Frank to the back of the gallery where the unit sits sputtering weakly. Frank swallows when Bill comes up behind him, voice low in his ear.

“This thing still under warranty?”

“Nope,” Frank frowns.

“S’a scam anyway,” Bill mutters. “Gimme ten minutes, looks like a pretty straight forward problem.”

Frank nods and feeling awkward he makes his way back into the main part of the gallery. He busies himself going over receipts and tries not to imagine how hot Bill looks grunting as he fixes the AC unit.  Frank pauses a moment before he pulls out his cell phone and composes a text to you.

[8:59am] Why the fuck did you make me meet Bill? I Had a very good thing going. Now he’s here in the gallery fixing the AC unit and he’s so handsome and I HATE YOU FOR THIS.

He’s about to send it when he hears his name being called from the back room.

“Frank?”

Frank feels his heart jump at the sound of his name being called. He quickly jumps off the stool and strides into the back room, almost stumbling over his loafers. Frank feels his entire body flaming not from the heat of the gallery, but from the sight of Bill’s budging arms as he twists the wrench to tighten the bolts.

“Just need you to hold here so I can tighten this last bolt,” Bill instructs gruffly. Frank does as he asks, holding the piece in place. At this nearness he can see each of Bill’s light eyelashes, see the streaks of grey in his beard and when Bill glances up at him as he finishes, Frank can see the tints of green in his light eyes.

“All done.”

“Great. I brought you a water bottle,” Frank manages weakly as he motions to the bottle on the floor at his side.

“Kind of you,” Bill replies gruffly. He obviously feels the heat as well because he takes the drink gratefully and gulps it down. Frank tries not to stare, but he can’t help but notice the way Bill’s throat bobs and the way the sweat glistens on his body.

“S’that all ya need?” Bill asks when he finishes the last mouthful.

No. I need your mouth on mine. I need you in my bed.

Stop it. You don’t even know if he’s gay.

“Yeah, thank- thank you,” Frank manages to sputter out.  Bill casts a lingering look in his direction before Bill is striding out into the gallery on his way out. Something catches his eye, a new painting hung by Frank for this month’s upcoming exhibition.

It’s a colorful painting of two men in chairs. One is sweetly smiling out of frame; the other is a grumpier looking man sitting with an ankle on his knee, staring away from the frame.

“S’a nice piece,” Bill observes looking at the painting. “I like that one. A Hockney, right?”

“Yeah,” Frank is impressed.

“Thought so, I’ve always liked his stuff,” Bill muses. Frank finds himself struck by this. Bill seems quiet and intelligent so he’s not shocked. But rarely do people know Hockey’s work in this part of Wyoming.

He feels Bill has shared a piece of him, a private sliver of himself and he wants to return in kind. 

“I like this one,” Frank says pointing to the piece next to it, “Domestic Scene”. In it a man lovingly washes another man in the shower. “I always thought it was a piece that showed such a quiet devotion.”

“Yeah, I see that,” Bill nods, gaze dreamy. “You ever meet him? Hockney, I mean?”

“Nah,” Frank shakes his head. “I wish.”

Bill glances at the piece a moment longer before casting a shy smile Frank’s way.

“Well, I’m off. Gotta open up shop.”

Frank nods in reply, wishing he wasn’t so fucking nervous around the man. He can’t remember the last time he felt this keyed up in front of another person. Frank is normally the smooth one, the calm, cool, casual one. But for some reason with Bill he feels observed, keenly watched by Bill’s light eyes and steady gaze.

Despite the nerves Frank finds himself desperate to keep the conversation going, eager to keep Bill in his orbit.

“Wait. Bill. I know you said you’d do this for free but I have to pay you.”

“And I won’t take a dime,” Bill replies cooly.

“You probably just saved me hundreds in a repairman call,” Frank smiles. “I insist.”

I insist on taking you out to dinner. Go on. Say it.

“It was ten minutes of work,” Bill insists picking up his toolbox with finality. “And I didn’t have to order a part. I am not taking your money, Frank.”

Frank nods stupidly, trying to force the invitation to come out of his mouth but all that escapes is a slow choked sounding thanks. Bill nods gently again, giving a tight lipped smile before heading to the main door of the gallery.

Frank feels ridiculous as he waves at Bill, hating the pit in his stomach as the man walks out the door and out of his life.

///

When you open the door to him Joel hides in a delighted grin. Your hair is wild, your eyes free of sunglasses and you’re wearing a deliciously short bathrobe that shows just enough to have Joel’s pulse spike. He pushes past it though, holding up his toolbox when you croak out a confused greeting.

“Morning.”

“Mornin’. Heard from Ellie your AC isn’t working,” Joel says his dark eyes playful as he scans behind you. 

He’s curious to see what your place is like. You stick out to him in this neighborhood from the furniture in your backyard to the unique way you dress and he feels like your house will showcase that.

“Don’t want my kid gettin’ lessons in a sauna, so I thought I’d come see if I could help.”

You blink at him slowly, one eye shut, the other peering up as if his words are only hitting you now, like the feathers of a pillow; slow and dreamy.  “Uh, it’s kinda early.”

In habit Joel glances at his left wrist to check his watch, wincing when he sees it’s bare. No matter, he saw the clock in the kitchen right before he left.

“It’s nine am.”

“Yeah,” you nod, stifling a yawn when Joel stares at you. He sees that you’re serious and he tries not to laugh. He’s been up since six and he feels like the day is well underway while you obviously feel that it’s just begun.

“I guess I could come by after work,” Joel offers, making a mental note: She likes to sleep in.

You look like you’re contemplating this, likely thinking of how today’s weather is supposed to reach scorching levels. You glance out at the bright sun and you shake your head, hiding another yawn behind the back of your hand.

“No, no now is good,” you say urging him inside with a wave. “Thanks so much for doing this. Lemme get you a coffee, how do you take it?”

“Warm.”

You give a smile that morphs into another yawn and as you walk towards the kitchen he notices the sparkly purple toe polish you’re wearing.

Joel steps inside the house, slipping off his boots and is immediately blown away as he glances around.  In most homes the style is subdued and calm, a restful sanctuary for when the world gets too loud. Inside your home it’s unlike that in every way. 

It’s a clash of color and style and a feast for the eyes. A colorful tasseled rug sit underneath an ornate amber-colored glass coffee table. A small bronze giraffe sculpture is on an antique desk by the vintage cone fireplace, sleek and beautifully maintained. Joel can’t help but wander over to it as he hears you humming in the kitchen. It’s an old tune he thinks he recognizes but can’t quite place. He peeks around the corner to see you facing away from him and reaching up into the cluttered cabinet for a mug, your robe creeping up the back of your thighs as you do. Joel feels his heart flutter before he moves back, eyes lowered to the floor deferentially.

He goes back into the living room, hands in his pockets and his eyes wide like a kid in a candy shop.  Nothing in yours home goes together and yet everything feels right side by side. Joel can’t stop looking at the antique furniture, running his hand along the back of a particularly ornate dining chair.

You pad back into the room handing him a mug with bright polka dots. It’s tiny in his bulky grip but he drinks from it nonetheless.

“Sorry, no milk or sugar,” you say with a feeble grimace. “Forgot to shop yesterday.”

“No bother, I drink it black,” Joel says before tilting his chin at your wall. “This place is somethin’ else.”

“Yeah?” you smile sleepily, looking around your home. You’re very proud of it yourself. It’s eclectic and weird and just how you like it. Collected pieces from your grandfather and garage sales.

“Yeah I’ve been in a lot of places, but nothing like this,” Joel admits, his eyes going to the art pieces on the walls. A particularly “You paint these?”

“I take it you don’t know Gérôme,” you say with a wry smile. “This is a print called Pygmalion and Galatea, are you familiar?”

Joel shakes his head, eyes floating from your face back to the framed print. He feels you come to stand next to him, your head tilting to look at it from his angle.

“Okay so it’s… hmmm,” you pause, thinking for a moment before launching into it. “Okay, it’s about this sculptor Pygmalion. He’s sculpting this beautiful woman Galatea out of ivory, and he falls in love with her as he does. Pygmalion is obsessed, bringing this sculpture gifts, kissing it. He goes to the altar of Aphrodite and begs her to bring this woman to life.”

“Weird,” Joel offers, tilting his head slightly as he listens.

“It’s beautiful,” you admonish him. Up this close he can smell the vanilla and lavender in your hair. “Imagine seeing life in everything. The stars, the grass beneath your feet, a slab of ivory. Anyway, he goes home and he kisses the statue. Her lips become warm. He touches her body, every part and every time he does it becomes real flesh under his fingers.”

 “He fell in love with something he created,” Joel shrugs. “Kinda egotistical.”

“Don’t parents do that with their children the minute they see them? Loving something they created so fiercely?”

Joel doesn’t reply. He can’t reply. But you don’t seem to notice because you’ve launched into something else, your voice rising excitedly.

“There’s also this carving about the same story in the MET by Rodin,” you say excitedly. “I really wanna go there and see it person. He modeled Pygmalion after himself in that one and I find that utterly fascinating. Putting oneself in the center of a myth and-”

Joel sees the way your eyes sparkle and he feels a strange pang start behind his sternum. Feeling his gaze on you, you seem to catch yourself, you cheeks heating.

“Sorry, I get carried away,” you tell him with an embarrassed laugh.  “In answer to your question, no, I didn’t paint that. I sell most of my stuff.”

“You don’t keep anything you make?” Joel asks with surprise. You get a strange look on your face and he feels like he’s said something wrong.

He disguises his discomfort with a sip of his coffee, wincing at how strong it is. He likes coffee, but this is more like motor oil.

“Thanks so much for fixing the AC unit. I bet you’ll feel better knowing Ellie will be in a house not a sauna,” you say with a tight smile. “I’m just gonna get ready but here, follow me, I’ll show you where the main unit is.”

Joel follows you through a hallway full of neon signs. It reminds him of old motels from the 70’s with sleazy characters and matchboxes at the front desk. He watches the way you sail over the hardwood, humming lightly to yourself. He wonders if you know you do that a lot.

 Joel’s shoulders are almost as broad as the door frame and he takes his time looking around. He walks behind you into what he now sees is your art studio. It’s cramped and colorful and he can’t stop looking around at it. Canvas, paints, charcoal, stacks of paper, old mason jars full of colorful water holding warped paintbrushes. A palette is on the floor covered with cellophane, a handful of palette knives sitting next to it.

You don’t notice Joel looking intently to the space around you. You’re moving your way over to the old AC unit in the far corner. There are two in your place, one in the bedroom and one in the studio, the two places you need it most. The one in here is currently hidden behind some unopened canvases.

A record player is sitting on the wood table to the far left, a stack of LP’s in their sleeves sitting beside it.

“You like records,” Joel observes as he trails a hand over one of the sleeves. “And you have good taste.”

“My grandfather did,” you answer as you busy yourself with moving some of the easels out of the way. “He had a huge collection. I’ve had to sell off most of it but I kept his favorites. When I play them it makes it feel like he’s still here.”

“I get that.”

Joel thumbs through your collection of LP’s, his dark eyes pausing over a few more familiar titles. He also watches you out of the corner of his eye, seeing you move hurriedly to get the space clean for him to work in.

“You don’t have to go to all that trouble,” he promises.  “I could do that.”

“I should have tidied it a long time ago,” you insist, brushing the hair from your eyes. “I don’t want Ellie to hurt herself when she comes over.”

Joel smiles at that. You finally lean back announcing that you’re finished.

“And now I’m going to shower because I’m sweating like a pig,” you tell him as you slide by him.  “I won’t be long. Let me know if you need anything.”

You leave quickly and Joel forces his attention from your bare calves and back to the unit he’s meant to fix. It’s a window unit shoved in the corner. You clearly put it there when it stopped working.

Joel sets down his toolbox beside it with a clatter, listening as you make your way down the creaking hallway, closing the door behind you.  His ears strain and he then hears your shower running and he can't help but swallow. He's trying not to think about the fact that you're naked in there, soaping yourself all over. 

Fuck. 

Guilt sears him and he turns his attention back to the wrench in hand and gets to work. It's not a big job, rather simple when combined with cleaning the filter (something you clearly rarely do). It takes a few tightened screws, a patch with electrical tape and when he tests it, it roars to life.

He glances at the nearby window and opens it, placing the unit inside the frame. He sets it up, plugging it in. As he does this he glances through the window, struck at how it faces his own home, specifically his bedroom. Unlike the rest of the home, those blinds and curtains are always drawn, but the realization that your houses aren’t as far from one another as they seem occurs to him. For some reason it sends a tingle down his spine that he can’t quite explain.

He breaks from his distraction when he hears your bare feet padding towards him and swallows the sudden lump in his throat. He straightens, placing the wrench back in the toolbox and shooting you a polite smile. He notices the shrill squeak when you push the door fully open. 

"Hey," you greet him with shower-damp hair smelling sweet wearing denim cut offs and a soft looking flowery t-shirt. "Find everything okay?"

"Yeah you’re good to go with the AC," Joel nods glancing over your shoulder. "Just noticed your door creaks a lot."

"Oh yeah it's annoying," you say frowning. "Been like that since last summer. Guess the wood is warped." 

Joel licks his suddenly dry lips, watching your eyes lingering on the door frame. "I can fix it for you."

You glance back at him quickly, eyes widening. 

"You've done enough," you insist, eyebrows saddling. "Honestly Joel the AC was already-"

He finds he wants to linger in your company. He wants to remain here in your strangely colorful home, feeling the warmth of your sudden goodwill towards him. He scrambles to find an excuse that will work.

"I don’t mind. It's the neighborly thing to do."

You falter at his quick response, looking into his warm eyes before movement outside the window catches both your eyes. Joel turns as your face breaks into a large grin.

"Sam!"

A young boy of no more than five stands waving outside your window. Joel sees the smile almost split your face in half. Joel watches the two of you mouthing words through the glass, your fingers and hands moving a mile a minute as you converse with exaggerated mouth movements. 

After a minute of this the boy turns his large, dark eyes on Joel in question, pointing at Joel and raising his brows before turning back to spinning a circle around his puckered mouth.

"This is my new friend Joel," you say motioning to Joel and finger spelling his name out before you continue on. "He just moved next door with his daughter."

Joel watches in fascination as the four letters of his name become something like art in your hands. He also feels his stomach flutter pleasantly at you calling him your friend. Friend is a good start. Much better than ‘hillbilly’.

"His daughter Ellie," you continue, fingers gliding through the air. "I want you and Sam to be nice to her. Introduce her to the rest of the kids on the block. Include her."

Sam nods, raising his fist and making a knocking motion in the air. He smiles at Joel and then back at you. 

"Pass it along to Riley if you see her," you add. "I think they will hit it off." 

Sam nods again. You smile jutting your chin for him to take off and he does, giving you and Joel and salute before taking off across the grass. Joel notices now that the boy is wearing a homemade cape of some kind. 

Joel watches you go back to moving the canvases, watching the way your body moves under your denim shorts and t-shirt in a way that he knows he shouldn't. He distracts himself from this, focusing on what just happened. 

"You know sign language?"

"I know enough," you shrug. "Learned it as a kid and I guess it stuck."

"Why'd you learn it?"

"I had a classmate that was deaf,” you say moving the canvases to the far side of the room. “She didn't have a lot of friends n' I felt bad so I learned what I could and the rest she taught me." 

Joel is momentarily surprised by this. From the first moment he met you he'd felt this sense that you were harder than you let on. Now he realizes that was a facade. You’re like Ellie in that way – tough exterior, warm gooey interior.  

"Full 'a surprises," Joel murmurs. You must hear him because you glance over at him from the other side of the studio, brows raised.

"Huh?"

"You," Joel explains kindly. "You're full of surprises."

"You think?" You smile cheekily. "I've always thought of myself as woefully predictable." 

Joel picks up his toolbox with a boyish grin and brings it over to the door frame. You join him in the hallway and Joel is taken aback at how good you smell, so fresh and clean like laundry hung in a garden.

"You've done so much this morning," you tell him and Joel can see the gratitude in your eyes. It's so strong he has to drag his eyes back to the door. 

"I like helpin'."

He feels your gaze on him and tamps down the delight blooming behind his sternum. Joel has always found a propensity in himself to help others that makes him feel good. He likes seeing the smile in Ellie when he builds her something she asked for. And now feeling you softening towards him makes him flush delightedly.  

"Thank you so much, Joel." 

"No problem," Joel says feeling strangely breathless at the increasing warmth in your gaze. He finds his hand twitching and quickly averts his eyes to the door to his right across the hall. Without thinking he grips the knob, twisting. 

"I'll just check this one too-"

"No!" 

You shout so loudly that Joel starts, his hand dropping from the knob. You put your palm around it, tugging it shut before it can creak open. 

"I-I'm sorry-" Joel starts, confused by the angry look that's crossed over your features. 

"S'fine," you mumble without looking at him, and suddenly all that shiny sweetness is gone from your voice and eyes. It's replaced by that icy tone you used when you called him a hillbilly that first night.

"I'll walk you out." 

Joel can feel the pit in his stomach forming. He's crossed a line somehow. He doesn't know how but he did and he immediately regrets it. He follows you like a chastised child past all your eclectic art pieces and at the door. He slips on his boots feeling wrong -footed. He tries to think of something to say to salvage what felt like a good moment but he can't think of anything.

"I'll see Ellie on Wednesday," you tell him when he backs out over the threshold of the door. 

"Yeah, sou-"

You close the door in his face before he can even finish the sentence. Stunned, he stands there a moment staring at the closed door. Suddenly there's the sound of a bicycle bell, the realization that the neighborhood is alive and likely witnessing everything. Joel feels red crawling up the back of his neck, shame and embarrassment. 

What the fuck happened?

And why is he so upset? He barely even knows you, so why does it matter so much? 

Joel crosses back to his place, internally telling himself he's not going to bother you again. You're teaching his kid, you're his neighbor and that's all it is. All it should be. 

///

It’s mid afternoon when Ellie is in the kitchen about to snag another cookie from thecupboard when she heard a soft knock at her front door. Joel has keys so she figures its you and pads eagerly over to the door, tugging it open with an expectant smile.

“Oh.”

Ellie opens the door slowly the rest of the way, her eyes fixed on the girl at her eye line. Too young to be here to hit on Joel like the rest of the neighborhood.

No, this is a girl Ellie’s own age with hair in braids tied in a bandana. She has dark skin that glows in the sunlight and wears jean shorts and a tank top. She gives off the air of confidence, even when she's here on Ellie’s porch. 

"Hey you're Ellie, right?"

Who is this girl? How does she know her? 

"Yeah," Ellie nods, feeling strangely insecure.

"Wanted to introduce myself," the girl replies, not even bothered by Ellie's reticence. "I'm Riley. I live across the street."

She sticks a thumb in the direction of the house you told Ellie about. "Riley she's about your age."  She realizes now why she’s introducing herself and Ellie feels a sense of gratitude for you going out of your way to get her socializing.

"I'm Ellie, oh uh, you already know that," Ellie sputters awkwardly. Riley gazes at Ellie evenly, a small little smirk on her full lips. She glances at Ellie’s moving boxes littering the hallway behind her, the long sleeves Ellie wears and the pale of the girl’s skin.

"Where'd you move from?"

"Texas."

"You don't sound Texan."

"Boston originally...” Ellie feels compelled to explain. “Then Chicago, then Texas, now here." 

"Lots of movin’."

"Yeah... Well," Ellie shrugs feeling strangely vulnerable. Riley seems to notice because she shoots Ellie a polite smile. 

"Cool," Riley nods. "Well I wanted to introduce myself. See ya around I guess."

Ellie nods, terrified she's going to say the wrong thing. Riley seems so cool, so self assured. Ellie watches the taller girl wave and saunter off the porch, her long braids dancing behind her. She doesn’t understand why her heart is pounding so rapidly, or why her cheeks are suddenly flushing even after she's closed the door on her guest.

All Ellie knows is that she wants Riley to drop by again soon.

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

Comments and reblogs make me real happy. And its free to do. So what's stoppin' ya?

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #smut #dad joel miller #joel miller #pedro pascal #fanfic #fanfiction #bill x frank #frank and bill #bill and frank #ellie x riley #ellie the last of us #ellie williams #ellie tlou #romance #slow burn #eventual smut #eventual happy ending #eventual romance #pining

[parkersbliss]

hi! may i request a five imagine set in sissy's farm in s2 where he hates y/n (who is a sarcastic but goofy ver of him) bcs he actually can't grasp the concept of love properly? and when y/n took the bullet for him, it gets really angsty?

Ready | F. Hargreeves

pairing: five hargreeves x reader

wc; 2.5K

warnings: cursing, blood, violence

synopsis: once he realizes you’re gone, five confesses

a/n: no bc the first time I saw this scene?? i was on the floor I was in FEAR

requests: CLOSED

Masterlist | Taglist | Prompt list 

—

“Uh guys,” Klaus said. “We might have another problem!”

“Ah, shit,” Five said. You follow after him, peeking over his shoulder.

“Who are they?”

“One’s the Handler, and the other is Diego’s girlfriend.”

“Lila, my ex-girlfriend,” Diego corrects.

“You know what? Doesn’t matter. They both look angry,” Luther observed.

“Yeah, well, your brother has that effect on people,” You snort.

Five kicks you in the shin for that. You let out a yelp and glare at him. He grins to himself before walking forward, “All right, I’m gonna go find out what they want. You guys stay here with Vanya and the kid.”

“I’m coming with you, too. Come on,” Diego said, stepping out with Five.

“Me too,” You chimed in, offering Five a small smile. The boy just rolls his eyes at you.

“You just have to follow me everywhere, don’t you?”

“Yup.”

The three of you stop in front of the Handler and Lila, nothing that they were both very unhappy. Except, Lila’s anger was directed more towards Five and not her ex.

“I love the smell of country air, don’t you, darling?” The Handler asked.

“Makes me wanna vomit,” Lilia deadpanned.

Five glances between the two. “What do you want?”

“To watch you suffer,” Lila replied.

You shrug. “Well, don’t we all.”

“What about me?” Diego asked.

“You’re not even worth my wrath.”

You raise your eyebrows at him. “Ouch, downgraded there, buddy.”

“Can you just shut up?” Five sneered, looking at you.

“Not with your dumbass around.”

“Easy, we’re here on official business,” The Handler broke in.

Five turns back to her. “And what business is that?”

“As the head of the commission, I’ve decided to eliminate the criminals responsible for the assassination of the former board of directions.”

“Yeah, right,” Diego scoffs. “We didn’t kill the board.”

“Well,” You said, dragging out the L.

“Uh, actually, Diego. That’s not entirely accurate,” Five mumbled, hands in his pockets.

The Handler tilts her head. “You didn’t tell them?”

“What the hell did you two do?” Diego demanded.

“What we had to go to get our family home,” Five said. “Until someone reneged on our deal.”

“Somebody wouldn’t have reneged on the deal if someone could’ve met a simple deadline. Alas.”

“You set us up to fail!”

“You set yourselves up to fail, friend — you and your brothers and sisters. Kind of the running theme of your little life, isn’t it?” The Handler chuckled.

Diego turns to Five with a shake of his head. “Dude, I can’t believe you killed the board of directions. You have no idea how messed up the commission is right now.”

“Messed up? Who’s saying that?”

“Everybody — Christ, even the janitors think it’s going to shit.”

“That’s not all he killed,” Lila suddenly spoke.

“What are you talking about?” Five snapped.

“Don’t play dumb, you prepubescent piece of shit.”

You scoff at her. “Okay, crazy lady, why don’t you shut your mouth? Only I get to talk to him like that.”

Five raises his eyebrows at you. He’s not sure if he should be offended or flattered by what you said. Though, he goes with offended because it came out of your mouth, and anything you say is stupid.

Like your stupid face. He hates it. That stupid smile that makes his heart skip a beat and your stupid little half-grin you always give him and only him.

It was disgusting.

For sure.

“Enough. The point is, all of you are going to die today. Hm?” The Handler cut you off.

“Oh,” Diego clicks his tongue. “Well, I don’t like your chances — seven of us, two of you.”

“You know, you’re right. Let’s change that.” The Handler snaps her fingers, and thousands of people blink into view. All of them carry briefcases and guns.

You let out a low breath. “Well, shit.”

“So, what do we do now?”

“Well, we got two choices: Fight and die now or run and die later. Either way, we’re food for worms,” Five said, rolling his shoulders.

“What’ll it be, boys?”

“Wouldn’t mind a few more minutes breathing air through the old windbags.”

“All right. Let’s get this over with, shall we?” The Handler grins, raising a red handkerchief.

“Run!” Five shouts, grabbing your arm and taking you with him.

Diego ducks, using his hands to cover his head. “We’re not gonna make it!”

Five huffs, grabbing Diego’s wrist and suddenly blinking you closer to the barn.

Diego groans. “Five, I think I’m gonna puke.”

“Diego, you puke, and I’ll puke,” You replied, flinching as bullets bounced off the tractor you’d hidden behind.

“What now?” Five questioned, peeking out from behind and ducking as bullets whiz past him.

“We blink into the house?” You suggested, gesturing towards the building with your hands.

Five narrows his eyes at you before grabbing you and Diego and trying to blink you away. His fists turn blue, but nothing happens, just warbling. “Shit, I’m out of fuel. I’m too tired.”

“Go! I’ll… I’ll cover for you two,” Diego said, standing up.

“What?” You shake your head. “Diego—”

But he’s already stepped out, stopping all the bullets and holding them there. “Go!”

Five doesn’t have to be told twice. He grabs your wrist and makes a dash for the building. Once inside, he shoves you under the table following after.

“A little harsh, don’t you think?”

“I just saved your life, dipshit.”

“Didn’t ask you to.”

Five just clicks his tongue. “Well, too bad. You’re welcome to step out and get shot.”

There’s silence, and you frown at Five. “Why do you hate me?”

“I—”

Before Five can answer, a high-pitched ringing sound is heard, and he puts his arm around you.

“What are you doing?” You shout over the noise.

But in seconds, the house begins to shake, and debris falls from the roof as Five covers you with his body. Which was odd considering his earlier comments. A loud crash is heard, and Luther hits the ground with a thud.

Five lets go of you, scrambling from under the table and going towards his brother. “Luther, you all right?”

“Oh, I think I swallowed my tongue,” he moans, rolling over.

Five rolls his eyes. “Luther, if you swallowed your tongue, you wouldn’t be talking, you big moron.”

“That and you’d be choking,” You added, standing beside Five.

He lends a hand to Luther, hauling him up to his feet. “Come on, on your feet.”

Luther groans with the effort but steadies himself. “Hey, what the hell happened? What was that?”

“She must’ve redirected Vanya’s energy wave.”

“Yeah, I know, but how?”

Something cracks above you, and you feel yourself harshly shoved to the side, knocking against the wall as the bricks from the fireplace crash down onto Five.

“Watch out!”

“Five!” You scream, but then Lila enters the room, and you decide to remain tucked in the corner. Five was fine, probably.

Not like you cared… at least, you tried not to.

“What are you?” Luther asked.

Lila cracks her neck. “Someone who wants to kill your brother.”

“Well, that’s understandable. Diego can be a lot to handle.”

“Yeah, I was talking about Five.”

You roll your eyes at their exchange. Who did this lady think she was?

“Him, too,” Luther pauses, “but unfortunately, they’re family, so you’re shit out of luck.”

He swings a punch at her, but she catches it, causing his eyes to go wide.

“How is this possible?”

“Gotta believe in yourself, big boy,” Lila taunts before throwing him out the opposite wall. She follows after him, and you take your chance to get towards Five.

You pull at the bricks, trying not to panic when there’s no sound. “C’mon, Five,” You mumble. Suddenly a hand springs out, grabbing yours, and you yank the boy hard.

He lands on top of you, blood dripping from his head, but otherwise, very much alive. You sigh in relief, blinking harshly.

“Are you okay?” You asked softly as he rolls off of you.

He nods, looking anywhere but you. “I’m fine.”

You frown at his curt reply, but that was Five. What more was there to expect? He made it very clear he didn’t like you.

Something shuffles behind you, and you turn your head to see Lila again.

Five stands up, bringing you with him. “Looking for me?” He asks.

“Five—,” You start. He just looks at you, eyes pleading, and for some reason, you listen. Lila’s eyes flicker towards you, but before anything else happens, Five blinks in front of her.

“Don’t look at her. Look at me,” He said. “You wanna fight? Let’s fight.”

Both disappear in a flash of blue, leaving you alone in the wrecked house. You step through the hole in the wall, looking for the other siblings to see if you can be of help. You rush over to the group of them, lifting a tractor off of Diego.

“Yeah, but she can only mirror one of our powers at a time,” Klaus said with a raised finger.

“Who, Lila?” You asked.

Allison nods. “You sure about that?”

“Okay, I’m not sure about that, but she can only mirror it if we use it first, right? That’s confirmed.”

Everyone mumbles in agreement.

“So we just need to… not use our powers?”

“Maybe, and if we catch her like that, we can question her about her powers and stuff. Maybe she knows more about this than us.”

“Yeah, but first, we need to find her,” Diego said.

“She disappeared with Five,” You said, pointing towards the barn. “And I’m gonna assume those flashes of blue light are them.”

…

“Cause you’re one of us,” Diego spoke, stepping into the barn first. You follow with all his siblings, catching Five’s eye and moving towards him.

“What happened to you?” You asked.

He just scoffs. “Nothing I couldn’t handle.”

“Really? Cause you sure look like you had your ass handed to you.”

Five rolls his eyes. “Did you just come here to insult me?”

You shrug. “Why else?”

To check that you’re okay, to make sure you’re alive because I love you.

You miss the slight frown on Five’s lips after you said that.

“You don’t know me, Diego,” Lila spat, knife touching his chest.

Diego just smiles. “Don’t I? I know that we can be your family if you just let us.”

Lila glances around the room, and you offer her a small smile despite her antics to kill Five. Five gives her a tight-lipped smile, stepping closer to you and unknowingly brushing your shoulders together.

It happens in a split second. You heard the first gunshot, and you saw Allison fly to the floor. And yet, in slow motion, you can see the bullet heading for Five, and out of instinct, you shove him harshly to the ground before shortly following.

Pain floods your entire system as warm blood soaks your clothes. You turn your head to meet Five’s eyes as he lays next to you.

“Hey,” You breathed out before coughing up blood.

“You fucking idiot,” Five whispered, crawling towards you.

“I’m dying, and that’s all you can say?” You scoff, trying to cover the hurt. You didn’t know what to expect after saving his life, but it wasn’t that. But knowing he was alive was enough for you. Five was a hero, after all. You just hoped he knew a way to fix this.

Five just shakes his head, a hand brushing a piece of hair behind your ear. “No, I… there’s so much I want to tell you, but I can’t.”

You laugh. “You can’t, or you won’t?”

“I don’t know how.”

“You don’t know how to love?”

Five’s eyes turn glassy as he nods. “I’ve been alone for so long… I’m sorry, (Y/N). I’m so sorry. I never hated you. I always—”

“It’s okay, Five,” You cut him off, coughing harshly again as more bullets are heard. Five doesn’t look up to see Lila crumble to the floor.

“You’re crying,” You mumbled, hand finding his. There’s comfort in it, knowing that as you’re dying, Five’s comforting you. He’s holding you. That’s all you really ever wanted.

“I know,” Five admits. “Why would you do that?”

“Because I love you, even if you’re not ready to love me back.”

More tears slip down Five’s face, and he brushes them off your paling cheeks. He doesn’t know what to do. Your breath keeps getting shallower, your eyes don’t stay open anymore, and you just sound like you’re in pain. He wants to tell you everything. He never hated you. He just didn’t know how to love you. Maybe he didn’t want to in case this happened.

He was used to solitude, and he was sure he liked it until he met you.

He needed you.

Five opens his mouth to tell you he’s ready when someone else speaks.

“Oh, good. You’re still alive. Lucky you, you get to see how this all played out.”

The Handler raises her gun at Five, but before anything happens, she’s shot down by Axel. She falls limp by Five’s side, and he turns back towards you.

“(Y/N),” he starts before he realizes you're gone.

He falls back in horror, realizing he never got to tell you he loves you too.

Memories flood his brain, clouding his visions, and he can hear you laughing in some of them, smiling at him, caring for him when he never did the same. You didn’t deserve that. He always knew he loved you, but showing it was so much harder than he expected. But in the thirty seconds, you’ve been gone, Five realizes he has to push that to the side. He misses you, his family, and his future.

“Start small. Seconds, not decades.”

Five offers one more look at you and realizes what he has to do. His hands turn blue as he begins to reverse the last minute.

It’s like déjà vu, but as predicted, the Handler walks in, and Five snatches the gun from her. He points it at her and she raises her hand in defeat.

“It’s true, isn’t it? What Five said,” Lila shouted. “Answer me, is it true?”

“Well,” The Handler starts before being shot down.

Your eyes widen at the sight of blood dripping from her mouth, looking towards Five dropping his gun.

Lila runs towards the briefcase, followed by Luther and Diego.

Five, however, speaks to the Swede. “Enough.”

The man echoes it back and leaves.

As soon as he’s gone, it’s like time starts again as the siblings begin to talk. Diego and Luther already arguing, but Five just rushes towards you.

You’re startled when he hugs you tightly, one arm around your waist and the other on the back of your head.

“Five?” You ask.

He shakes his head. “I’m ready.”

“Ready for what?” You ask with a chuckle.

Five swears he's never heard anything better than that. He takes a while with his response, eyes tracing your face and taking in all your beauty.

“Ready to love you.”

Your eyes widen at his statement, but he just cups your face tenderly and kisses you. You melt into his arms, falling into them easily. His thumb rubs small circles on your cheeks before pulling back and resting his forehead on yours.

“Why the sudden change? Thought you hated me.”

Five just smiles. “I never hated you.”

“I never hated you either.”

“I know,” Five said smugly. “You were pretty obvious about it.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “Thin ice, Five.”

He just kisses you again. “Love you, sorry.”

“Mhmm.”

— END —

🏷 five taglist: @ClearBasementVoid

#five hargreeves #five hargreeves x you #five hargreeves x reader #five hargreaves x reader #five x reader #five x you #five x y/n #tua five x reader #tua #tua s2 #tua s3 #the umbrella academy #five headcanons #aidan gallagher #tua fic #tua five

[be-my-ally]

"...Elvis has left for Graceland."

This is, uh, what I did with some *generally helpful information* about mirrors in Graceland (although tbh there's not even that many references to them here) and bde withdrawals. I lied - I thought my empty promises wip would be out first, but when inspiration hits and a shorter fic just pops out of your fingers - and the alternative is the dreaded editing, you end up with this instead! Enjoy my lovelies - this is also a little (ok a lot) for @thatbanditqueen - enjoy the references to red Graceland, the correct suit for the exact date, and even his exact upper of choice in spring summer ’74! Oh! and the dress pictured below is YSL from 1973 xx (and also @ellie-24, and @whositmcwhatsit for encouraging me! Surprise! We were discussing films and I was writing this!)

summary: you’re elvis’ girlfriend circa ’74, and have a lot of fun congratulating him after his recorded show in Memphis. 

pairing: afab!reader x elvis (of the big daddy flavour)

warnings: 18+, thigh-riding, the ripping of an expensive rental dress, big daddy elvis in all his big daddy-ness, yet again - reader sucks his tits idk man I didn’t think was gonna be a kink for me but clearly it is, v. minor references to his drug abuse, p in v sex, uhhhh…. Oh mirrors! I know Graceland wasn’t as, uh, dirty as Hillcrest but I think he still had enough fun there, Elvis keeps his jumpsuit on. this is essentially unedited so pls ignore any typos - I'll give it a look over in the morning!

wc: 4.1k - We did it baby! Concise smut!!

March 20th 1974 - Mid-South Coliseum Memphis

“…Elvis has left for Graceland.” 

You’re delayed in leaving - a problem with the valet, or the sound, or something that someone has to sort out - so despite the fact that Elvis himself has left you are stood, waiting, with a couple of the mafia boys for the other car to be brought around. Undoubtedly to be stuck in the hordes of fans and traffic on the way out. You hated being stood exposed like this, it made you feel like people’s wandering glances weren’t just sizing up the King’s new girlfriend, but laughing at you - at how you’re no more special than the rest of them. Stood in much the same way they all were. Left behind while he was whisked away to his palace. 

The temperature had dropped since you’d arrived here earlier, and you wished you’d thought to bring a jacket but the weather was just starting to warm up and you’d been thrilled to be able to wear a little strappy number - a little part of you, or maybe a large part, wanting to show off a little for the home crowd. Silver and diamanté straps that held up the draping gently twisted fabric that flowed in a column, brushing your curves - it was, expensive and flashy in a subtle way - it was almost too much for the concert. But, as always, you’d been outshined by Elvis’ own crystals - the stark white of his sparkling jumpsuit brighter than any of the stage lights. You’d worn it mostly for him though, despite the fact that he’d barely glanced at you in it.

By the time you’re all loaded into the car, heading the barely ten miles towards Graceland, the novelty of passing down Elvis Presley Boulevard from an Elvis Presley concert to go and see Elvis Presley still hadn’t waned. You smile a little at yourself and you can feel Charlie laughing from the other side of the backseat of the car, “God makes me laugh every time I see that damn sign - as if he needed a bigger head!” You laugh with him, but you can hear the affection in his voice - as if you were being let in to a joke of the inner circle; the joke about his large head being simultaneously true but also at odds with his nerves mere hours ago. Despite your traffic fears you make quick progress and it’s mere minutes before you’re pulling up to the drive, parting the crowd and through the gates. You’re quick out of the car but you’re surprised not to see or hear him when you walk through the front door, until Billy, coming around the corner, sees you and points upstairs. You nod and thank him but, not seeing the point in rushing if he’d gone to bed, you head to the kitchen - fetching a drink and take your time finishing it. You start to slowly make your way up the main staircase, stopping to check yourself out in the large mirror on the wall, reapplying a little lipstick just in case he was awake. 

When you walk in, he’s pacing at the bottom of his bed, still in the sweaty white jumpsuit, walking back and forth, he gestures past his padded doors, towards the landing and the huge mirrors he’d recently had installed on the ceiling to match those on the walls. “Saw you take your time, something more important than me baby?” You frown, shaking your head - you forget, when at Graceland, that his eyes are everywhere; even as much as in Hillcrest. 

“Course not babe, of course not!” He tuts, but you’d not been expected him to look so awake so you hadn’t thought you’d had to rush up to him; despite your desire to see him, and congratulate him on the show. So you have no words to your defence - you can’t exactly tell him you expected he’d be half out of it by now. You glance over at the gold foiled nightstand on his side - the orange bottle for his dexedrine open and on display. He follows your gaze, his own eyes hardening a little, tiny little lines forming on the edge of his still-linered lids. Neither of you mention his sudden burst of energy and where it came from. He turns back to you, hands on his hips. It draws your attention to his outfit. He’d not even changed from his stage jumpsuit - a rarity since he was almost always in his robe by the time he’d passed through his bedroom doors. It strangely matches well in the dark, red, interior of the room - red crystals of the fire suit almost the exact colour of the carpet. But it also, oddly, made him stand out even more - the crystals seeming like they were everywhere, like he was made to be stood in this room; reflecting across the mirrors, and emphasising the white of the jumpsuit - his skin jumping out. The zipper was low, as it had been all night and you rake your eyes over his exposed skin. He’d been exceptionally physical tonight, the showmanship spectacular and it was displayed in his chest and stomach shimmering with his still drying sweat. You feel yourself growing wet. 

“Shut the door honey,” You do as you’re told, he’s gruff, almost as if he feels he should be apologetic but would never admit it, “Not had time lately have we, huh, baby?” You shake your head in response, uncertain what to say -  you hadn’t, he’d been so busy worrying about these concerts, and then afterwards about the live recording - about the intricacies of the sound, of how the crowd noise will be isolated. It meant that as excited as you were to see him perform in Memphis, in his home - you were more excited to get past it to the month long break he was going to have. But you also knew how privileged you were to get any time with him at all, and you knew how quickly his moods changed lately. Unwilling to say anything that might make him reconsider his plans and head back downstairs, leave you alone, waiting and wanting while he entertained. 

“Well. We’re here now.” He moves over to you, determinedly catching you in a kiss. You squirm a little, eyes closed, trying to will away the thought that you weren’t the only woman he’d kissed this evening, force away the images of him with the girls in the front row. There was fewer than normal, chaste pecks on the cheek - he didn’t want to mess up the recording after all. But still, you’d felt the envy growing in you, jealousy burning through your veins. He makes you forget this though, as he rubs his hands down your arms, warming where they’d already grown cold in the frigid air of his bedroom and his tongue slips deeper into you. You can taste the gatorade of the night, mixed with the sparkling water he’d probably downed along with his uppers - the faint tingle of the carbon dioxide still present. He kisses down your cheek to your throat, leaving traces of your freshly applied lipstick from your own lips before he turns you around, facing the headboard, and walks you towards the bed - your legs bump against the end. He tugs at the straps that cross on your back, impatient. You wince, trying to stop him; 

“Elvis, baby, it’s a - a rental, gotta be careful, it’s one of a kind -“ 

“Fuckin’ fancy shit - get it off then, fuckin’ hate when you don’t just let me buy you -”  Despite his harsh words he kisses across your shoulder in between his words. You cut him off, 

“It’s not for sale El, so you couldn’t have even -“ 

“You tellin’ me what I can or can’t do now mama?” He toys with the strap, you think fast trying to stop what you’re sure is coming - 

“El, seriously - I didn’t mean it like that I just - ah!” He pulls the chain clean off - square crystals spilling over the bed. 

“Fuck - E!” He yanks the other one, this time accompanied by a little tearing noise as the seam rips from the back. Before you have time to protest any longer he’s pushing down the twisted top, your breasts popping out. He grabs your chin, pointing it towards the back of the bed - where the large mirror hangs - you can see yourself reflecting from the mirrors on the other walls too - the glances of different angles almost overwhelming. 

“Look at yourself.” He maintains his grip on your chin while palming one of his simultaneously thick but still sleek hands across your boob. He twists a nipple as you gasp, pulling it out a little. He pushes you up with his other hand, forcing you to balance on your knees on the end the bed, his own thigh coming in between to force them further apart and support some of your weight as you sink down a little. He hikes the long length of the dress up, grabbing your wrist and forcing you to hold it up yourself although the maxi-skirt still drapes and covers your modesty. He lets go of your face, pulling you back against him harder with both hands, and his stomach, more pronounced than before, bumps against your back. You stare, mouth open, as you watch his large hands span across your waist. His head is bent over into the crook of your neck, sucking a bruise onto the dip of your collarbone, his sweaty, fluffy, hair tickling your chin. He moves his leg a little, bending his knee onto the bed too, forcing it further into your crotch, allowing you to grind down on him. 

He pushes you down himself, hands on your hip bones and the soft flesh there, moving you in little circles feeling you rub against him. He suddenly, frantically, pushes the dress up further - exposing you entirely. You gasp, as he unveils your little secret of the night - not only had you not bothered with a bra - the dress being far too revealing for it, but the soft slippy fabric had clung to whatever underwear you had tried, ultimately leaving you to go commando for the night as well. He grunts against your skin, looking at you in the mirror over your shoulder, 

“You been like that all night, honey?” He traces a finger over the undercurve of the swell of your tummy, tickling a little, as he rotates it in little circles - teasing you in its pattern that’s reminiscent of how he often touches you. 

“Ye-es, they - they showed through,” He tucks your ass into him, his belt digging into you, and preoccupies himself with stroking a finger the length of your vulva, his thigh slightly getting in the way until you push yourself up a little more. 

“Surprised you ain’t already ruined that dress, how wet you are - bet you were drippin’ all over the place. Watching me.” He presses a finger into you, just the very tip, gently, his other hand coming back up to your nipple - you clutch at his arms; “Weren’t you?” 

“Probably, probably E - can’t help it around you, not when you’re performin’ looking so good -” He laughs, pulling his finger away, crooking it as he pulls it up - knocking one of his huge rings against your clit. He draws you back - his body moving with his laugh causing you to bounce you on his thigh. You let out a gasp that quickly turns to a moan, 

“You think I look good darling?” You meet his eyes in the mirror, they’re bright and impish; a smug little smile on his face. Any other time you might have teased him - but not today. Not with your angle changing slightly when he pushes you forwards a little, his broad, large thigh pressing firmly into you again, you can feel your labia spreading against his jumpsuit, tight weave of the dancer’s gabardine rubbing against you. You bob your head quickly; 

 “Of course, of course E - you look, looked amazing; don’t want you to take it off.” He laughs, as if you’ve given him an idea - or perhaps confirmed something he thought before, 

“Well, don’t be shy - prove it to me baby.” You gape at him, trying to twist around to do something - although you’re not sure what, to prove it to him, but he stills you with both hands holding you in place. Before he lifts you, manhandling you where he wants you as he pulls you off of him - moving to sit down on the fluffy circular chair in the corner, he keeps a hold of you as he goes, but allows you to turn, before yanking you back onto his lap. Resting your legs on either side of one of his thighs. You can feel the crystals on your inner thighs, rubbing against you and you’re sure you’re gonna have a weird form of beard-burn by the time you get up, but you don’t let it stop you and you rock back and forth on him. He takes a second to strip your dress completely off, leaving you completely nude where before your belly button had been afforded a little modesty but nowhere else and you brace yourself with hands on his shoulders to arch your back, pushing your tits out and grind down on him.

“That’s it baby, show me how much you love this ‘suit, want you to get me all wet darling, not letting you up till there’s a spot on me,” You can feel your heat rising just from his words, and the rough material under you provides just enough friction for you to feel yourself getting close. 

He pulls you closer to him, so that you’re rocking your body practically into his crotch, and the movement is pulling the jumpsuit off of his chest a little, the tiniest hint of a nipple peeking out. You lean forward, rocking against him and shifting your balance with your arms around his neck for stability. You can feel every part of the chest section of the jumpsuit rubbing against your skin, pinkening it with the feel of the stones but, as your own nipple catches between a group of them with a little prickle of pain, you can’t help but moan, it only adding to to your building pleasure. He lets out his own little grunt as you move your head to his neck - causing him to fall back against the chair further. You’re practically horizontal now, although his feet remain on the floor and it puts your cheek in contact with his chest. You nuzzle into him, unable to resist licking when he’s so close - so shiny, so tempting. He bucks his hips as you do as if you’ve unlocked a hidden sensitivity of his. It only spurs you on more, moving to suckle on his little pink nipple, one of your hands coming away from his neck to stroke his chest hair. You only realise you’d zoned everything but his chest out when you feel a hand in your hair, pulling your head back and you suddenly realise he’s been talking, babbling at you, the whole time but you’d had such a single-minded focus you’d not even noticed. 

“Lord baby, you gots a hot little mouth, hot fucking little lips. God baby, your tongue, where’d you learn to do that, huh? Liable to make a man cream his pants like that, honey, and wouldn’t that be a waste?” He strokes your face and you smile, looking up at him, as he lets go of your hair and rubs his hands down your sides again. It’s only a moment later when he’s hauling you off of him, struggling to his feet. You stand there, flushed but growing colder in the frigid air with every moment that passes without being pressed against his burning body heat, your nipples pebbling. You watch as he surveys the room for a moment, his own arousal more than a little apparent in the stretchy fabric of the jumpsuit - before sighing, 

“Simple’s the best. Right honey?” 

“Sure, I’m - I’m sure that’s right El,” You agree, but not really knowing what you’re answering and he catches you by the arm pushing you backwards onto the bed, you gasp and scrabble backwards at his insistent pushing. A moment later you understand as he’s pulling the belt off, unzipping himself finally and, - oh, he’s not taking it off, he’s just unzipping the suit all the way, pulling his cock out. You groan, head falling back against the mountain of pillows. You’d never, never have mentioned how much you wanted this, to have his thick powerful body still encased in his jumpsuit as he fucks you. His magnetism, the sexual energy from the concert and his presence on the stage being impressed upon you with every brush of your naked body against the fabric - against the rhinestones. 

He pulls himself back a little before slipping a finger into you, ring bumping against your folds, it sinks in easily - you’re already so ready, just from bouncing on his thigh, and to be honest you’d been wet enough from the moment Also Sprach Zarathustra had turned into See See Rider. He hums, pleased that you’re soaking for him, and he doesn’t wipe off his finger before pushing it into your mouth, 

“That’s it baby, suck it off, taste yourself on me,” You obediently do as he says, sucking down - hollowing your cheeks, eyes wide. He pulls it out to balance himself on one hand, grasping his cock in the other, pumping it a couple times before lining himself up with your entrance. 

“Better be ready for me honey - ‘cause I’m sure as hell ready to sink into your tight little cunt.” You gasp as he doesn’t even wait for a reply, pushing himself into you. He’s pressing into you from all angles as you slowly adjust to his length within you, his soft tummy - crystals pressing into you from above, his musky chest just below your eye-line and his arm bracketing you into him from the other side of your neck. He stills for a second, before leaping into motion, struggling slightly to move himself more upright, keeping himself in you and pulling you close against him with a hold on your hips. You’re on your back while he kneels up now, allowing him to lift your butt a little, and thrust a little deeper. You squirm on him, little moans and gasps being released - you’ve not yet been able to get past having had the bedroom next to your parents growing up. He grabs your hips now, rings pressing in tight, to move your body onto him as he pumps into you. He’s talking the whole time - the man’s unable to stay quiet any moment he’s awake - 

“Oh god darling, never gonna be able to wear this suit ‘gain, Lord how’re you, so -” He thrusts in, hard, to punctuate his next sentence - “so - fucking - tight.” His breathing is already growing heavier, “How’re you so goddamn tight - like Lil’ Elvis is caught in a - ah - fucking vice. God, look at you.” 

You look up at him, fresh sweat starting to form at his chest and brow, he’s not even looking at you though, and you wonder who that last comment had been aimed at as he’s staring at his own reflection in the mirror. You’re glad though, when he smiles - eyes bright when he does glance back at you; whatever he’d seen had clearly cheered him up and out of his self-conscious mood, enough to encourage a sudden burst of energy again. He drags you back, lifting his own hips enough to spear into you at just the right angle. As he hits that perfect spot inside of you repeatedly he moves his hand from where it was still clutching your hip to stroke down across your mound, it’s a slightly awkward angle but he manages to swipe his thumb perfectly across your clit - your leg jerking, and your back arching in response. 

“Oh - Elvis, oh god, I’m so fucking close - babe you gotta, just keep -” He grunts above you, his thumb keeping pace, and his cock thrusting in at the same speed. It’s mere seconds, 

“Fuck - baby, you’re squeezin’ ‘round me so fuckin’ ti-ght, that’s a good fucking girl, my good girl.” Before it’s enough to send you over the edge, clenching down on him and shuddering, your mouth agape and your eyes shuttering closed as the waves of your orgasm crash over you. 

“Oh, oh - god, Elvis -” His pace changes, and it drags you back from floating, as he just goes for it at a rapid pace, fingernails clawing at your skin, before his hips are stuttering and he’s quickly pulling out as the first streaks of his ejaculate shoot across your pussy, he pulls himself up, pumping it across your tummy, and you moan at the sight - him looking goddamn regal - sparkling in the dim light as he shoots across you. He moves one of his hands to rub it over you, between your folds and over your stomach -  into your belly button. Before he collapses on top of you,  practically smothering you, in an effort to reach your mouth to kiss you - your legs are so tired and tense but you can just about lift them up to come around to grasp at him, barely noticing the now-familiar scratch of the rhinestones, locking your ankles over his back. You’re probably smearing cum all over the jumpsuit but you don’t care - too desperate to feel him close to you. You lock lips for a long moment, letting him take whatever he wants, underneath him like this it’s difficult to feel anything but utterly submissive and at his mercy. Your lips are bitten and raw by the time he pulls away and rolls off of you, and you can’t do anything but lie there, your chest heaving as you try to catch your breath. You look over at him, and he’s in practically the exact same position, soft matted chest hair wet with sweat and his little rounded tummy poking out of the unzipped suit with his now soft cock resting outside too, but smiling up at the ceiling - 

“Wish I still had my scarf - wouldn’t even have to get up to find something to wipe us down with,” You laugh with him, just barely getting the effort yourself to stand, on shaky legs, you’re sweaty and damp yourself and you can’t imagine how he feels - going straight into this after a two hour long concert, so you chivvy him up, 

“C’mon then El, I’ll run us a bath - we can get all clean together,” He hums, sounding as if he’s close to his come down already, 

“ ’S-ok little one, I can - just need a, a, wipe down.” You frown, you like his musk but no way in hell are you getting back into bed with him like this, but you’re not quite sure how to say it without starting an argument, when strangely, for once - Elvis seems to sense your reluctance, “Alright, alright, fine. But only if I get you all wet and warm in my lap,” he laughs to himself again, “well - warm and wet again - huh, darlin’,” You giggle with him, walking gingerly to put the bath on, and as you stand up he’s already stood behind you - crowding you against the dark bathroom wall, stroking your sides with his thick fingers, he tips your chin up to look you right in the eyes - “Thank you for that though little one, needed - needed to see how much you like me, see me again, been - I’ve been so distracted I ain’t had chance to even look at myself in weeks.” You smile, 

“Of course Elvis, I’m all yours - anytime.” You pause, wondering if you should mention it, “Seriously though - we’re gonna have to get Bill or Ciro -  someone’s gotta fix that dress,” He just laughs at you, shaking his head - 

“Honey, I told you - I’ll just buy it.”

#big daddy elvis fanfic #big daddy elvis #70s elvis fanfic #elvis fanfic #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis presley smut #elvis x reader #elvis smut #elvis x you

[jades-typurriter]

Cherry Pops Under The Hood

This piece was my half of an art trade with @ricecreamart back in November 2023, starring her cast of OCs. She also did all the illustrations for this after the fact—if you're as much of a fan of plushie and mechanical stuff as I am (which, if you're one of my followers, there's a good chance), you should have a look at her work!!

The apartment was filled with all its usual signs of activity. The air inside was chilly—this deep into fall, the leaves had long since fallen and winter was beginning to butt in early. Ada hadn’t actually had to run her cooling fans in a long while, since it was cold enough even inside that her processors could be passively cooled, but she set them on low anyway. Her employers, Cherry and Nutmeg, appreciated any little bit of heat they could get, even the paltry amount that her system kicked out when she was just going about her business.

The two of them were seated at the kitchen table, snouts basking in the rising steam above their drinks. Ada relished in the mingling scents of Nutmeg’s tea and Cherry’s hot chocolate, and listened as the two of them bickered and bantered. Also as usual, Cherry was on the back foot in their flirty little playfight. Ada glanced over and saw all the tells that she was gonna be the first to get flustered: her eyes narrowed to help keep her face steady, her stubborn smile as though she was taking all of Nutmeg’s pokes and innuendos in good humor.

She smiled to herself and continued through the room, carrying a fresh load of laundry (and trying her best not to bury her face in the warm, soft fabric, another favorite new sensation of hers). She walked carefully—some component in her leg had failed recently, and the bundle of clothes was obscuring the ground in front of her feet. Though she tried to keep her gait straight, she could hear her own footsteps falling unevenly, heavy under her metal frame in spite of her padded exterior: thump-pmfsshh, thump-pmfsshh, thump-pmfsshh. One of Cherry’s ears flicked toward her and, grateful for the opportunity to retreat from Nutmeg’s teasing, she piped up.

“Hey, are you good, Ada? It sounds like one of your legs is dragging.”

“Yeah, uh…” she mumbled, her brows furrowing. “That’s a bit worse than I thought it was, actually… Here, lemme just set this down.” She dumped the clothes onto a nearby chair and, once again watching her step, ambled over to the table.

“‘ve you been having this problem long?” Cherry asked, resting her arm over the back of her chair to better face the housekeeper.

“You didn’t have to come in if you weren’t feeling well, you know,” Nutmeg added, setting her drink aside.

“Oh, I know, I just,” Ada hemmed, “I already have an appointment with the engineers that built this body for me, and y’know, they’re pretty busy… I figured, as long as I could watch where I was going, it wouldn’t be that much of a problem in the meantime.”

“Do you mind if I ask what’s wrong?” Cherry tilted her head. Ada had seen the expression before, on the number of occasions where she’d watched her fixing things up for other people—there was concern layered over it, but her interest was piqued.

“I think it’s a severed cable, the one that leads from my central nervous system to my knee. Or, maybe disconnected. I hope it’s not severed, uh. It could always be replaced, but it’d be much more of a hassle to have the whole cord unfastened and removed, and, y’know, it’s better to just not get damaged in the first place. Uh—”

“Do you want me to take a look at that for you?”

“Um.” Ada hesitated. Her fans, subtly, spun up. She hadn’t been examined by anybody besides the doctors and mechanics that had put her in her new body. For how many times they checked and double-checked her, from tip to tail and from paw to prow, that she’d be used to having someone poking around in her body, but… The last check-up had been months and months ago, before they were confident they could let her live on her own after the transition.

Plus, they were doctors, and it would feel… it would feel very different to have her friend get so close to her. Other than a doctor, it would actually be the first time anyone had gotten so close. But she had spent a good deal of time with Cherry since moving here, and she’d seen firsthand how good she was with her tools… Her fans spun yet faster; it occurred to her that they were becoming audible. Nutmeg’s eyes flicked between the two of them, which Cherry didn’t notice, but made Ada realize how long she’d been trying to think of what to say.

“Sure?” Okay, maybe she should have spent longer thinking about it. Nutmeg’s eyebrow jumped a full inch. “BUT, uh, c-ould we maybe? Do that in private? It feels a little… I don’t know, embarrassing. To have to strip and everything.”

“Oh, well, yeah. I mean, I wouldn’t ask you to get naked in the middle of the living room! C’mon, we can just do it in the den, you already know where my setup is.” She hopped out of her chair and, casually as anything, sauntered over to the den to wait for Ada to strip down to bare metal for her. Ada glanced back at Nutmeg; the wry smile she wore when she’d been pushing Cherry’s buttons was halfway back on her face—or maybe just half-concealed.

“You’ll be in good paws, sweetie,” she assured Ada, doing absolutely nothing to settle her nerves. Her wires. Whatever. “Do you need me to help you walk over there?”

“N-no, that’ll be—I’ll be fine, I just have to be careful. But thank you! Thank you, um,” she stuttered, eventually opting to just follow Cherry after realizing she wasn’t going to get any less awkward under the tanuki’s gaze. When she walked into the den, Cherry glanced over her shoulder.

“Just go ahead and get comfortable up here,” she said, patting a spot on the table. As she went back to rooting through toolboxes, she continued. “You said it was your knee, right? So you shouldn’t actually have to strip down. I promise I’m not gonna, like, look up your skirt.”

“Well, no, but—It’s not the c-clothes I’m worried about—well, I guess I’m worried about the clothes, too, um. Okay, just, you’ll see.” She turned away from Cherry—not that she was even looking. Gosh, why did this worry her so much?—and bent down to reach under her skirt. She fumbled for a moment before her paw found a zipper; she pulled gently, working it around the circumference of her hip joint, and began to roll down the now-freed fabric casing that sat over her metal frame. When it was about halfway down her calf, leaving her thigh and knee bare, she padded over next to Cherry and sat down on the table.

“Alright, are you—oh,” Cherry interrupted herself, finally looking over from her tools and seeing the exposed mechanisms. “Ohhh, I see, okay. My bad,” she apologized, rubbing the back of her neck. “When you said you had to strip, I thought you meant… your clothes. I forgot the fuzzy bits are separate, haha.”

“Oh, t-thats, totally fine,” Ada managed, unable to look Cherry in the eyes.

“I think I just, consider it… like, it’s your face, right? It’s like if you were trying to think of my skin as a separate entity from the rest of me. When I think of ‘Ada’, that’s just, what you look like.” Ada finally turned her head, just about at eye level with Cherry from her seated position. Their eyes lingered on each other for a moment; Cherry’s expression was still somewhat sheepish after the little misunderstanding, and something flickered behind Ada’s eyes that approached doubtfulness. Disbelief. Then a little smile broke on her face, and there was something very soft in them instead, softer even than her plush exterior. 

“That… means a lot to hear, actually,” she half-whispered, her eyes drifting downward. “Sometimes I still have to remind myself of it, but you’re right. This is me. It’s just, it’s almost a pleasant surprise every time I re-realize it, y’know? Like it’s too good to be true.”

“Oh, god, do I understand that,” Cherry chuckled, shoulders relaxing in the mercifully-broken tension. But hey,” she said, drawing their eyes back together. “you kinda get used to it after a while. Not in a way where it stops being fun, though!. Like, you still wake up some days, and it’s like it’s Christmas, but it doesn’t shock you like you’d lost track of the date, right? You still get to be you—it’s still awesome every time you remember ‘dude, this is your life now’—but you don’t forget that you’re you in the meantime. Y’know?”

“I can imagine. I get closer every day, I think. Physical… snags, like this one, remind me a lot of how things were before, but… I guess I have you for that now, right?”

“Right!” Cherry slapped a fist down into her open palm. “We’re gonna get you good as new in no time. You ready?”

“I-I think I am! Uh—” she stammered, pressing down her skirt between her legs. “Okay, now I’m ready!” Cherry giggled, then looked at her lap and back up at her.

“...Do your clothes even come off?”

“Sure! If. You take the rest of me off, too.” They stared at each other for another half a breath and cracked up again. That’s bedside fuckin’ manner, babey!! Cherry was doing a kickass job at this robot doctor thing already. She kneeled down, still giggling, to get a closer look at the laggy limb.

“Woooahh,” she mused, face-to-face with Ada’s bare knee. Her eyes were wide and sparkling like the robot had shone a little red laser dot on the floor in front of her. “Oh my god, Ada. I know we were just talking about how cool it is to be you, like, with a capital B and Y, but you really are an amazing piece of work!” She gushed for a minute straight about the suspension, a thick spring coiled around Ada’s stand-in for a tibia and fibula, which Cherry could see extending down the remainder of her leg underneath the metal sheath and the remaining fabric cover; that was to say nothing of the hydraulic struts that extended behind and above her knee, powering her locomotion.

“I kind of don’t want to touch anything there… at least, not if we can help it. I’m not gonna say I couldn’t do it—I’m pretty good, y’know,” she added with a flicked ear and a raised eyebrow. “Buuut, it’d definitely be more complicated to fix than a connection issue would, so let’s look around for that first, right?”

“Sure, sure. It should be higher up in my thigh. Thhhhhhat panel,” she recalled after some deliberation, pointing to a plate of metal on the inside of her leg, “should come off.” Cherry produced a screwdriver from her pool of tools and dutifully levered the compartment open, finding… well, it was much cleaner than she’d expected.

“Huh. I guess I gotta give ‘em points for wire management? I can see a couple other big cables running through here, but they’re all on the other side. This one seems to be the only one that runs to the upper leg. Kinda seems like putting all your eggs in one basket, though… If something happens with this wire, poof! There goes your whole thigh.”

“Just like now,” Ada sighed.

“Why would they do it like that?”

“It’s supposed to be like the femoral artery,” she huffed. “If you ask me, the human body is the last thing to be taking design inspiration from, but the engineers liked how tidy it was, and the doctors thought I was complicated enough as it was. They agreed that mirroring the bigger anatomical landmarks would make it so a non-specialist doctor could at least try to treat me.”

“Who the hell studies medicine and engineering?” Cherry muttered, peering further down into Ada’s chassis. “I can see it all the way to the end, though. Like, with a plug and everything still attached. It must’ve just come loose, so all I gotta do is—”

“NyaaAAAA—” Ada squealed. Her paws flew to her mouth; her fans revved full-force. Cherry’s claw had barely grazed the cable, but it felt like she had just rubbed her paw all the way along the inside of her thigh.

“Ah!! Did that hurt? Are you okay?” She looked up at Ada and saw the flustered expression half-hidden behind her paws. She felt a rush of air from the opening to the inside of Ada’s furry casing and realized that she was burning up. “...Oh.”

“I-I’m. Yeah, f-fine,” the mortified android managed, squeezing her eyes shut. “It was just, um. Sensitive. Sorry.”

“Oh, no, it’s no problem!! I should’ve looked a little bit more before leaping, I guess. I’m just,” she finished, bowing her own head again to hide the blush spreading across her own cheeks, “glad you’re alright. Lemme try it with some pliers instead—I’ll be more gentle this time.” She fished out a needle-nosed pair and, gripping the bundle of wire just beneath the plug, slowly finagled it into the socket.

Cherry instructed Ada to flex her knee; she could, just fine. She asked her to extend it, and she did, no problem! She rolled her ankle around next, even though it wasn’t originally the problem, just to make sure Cherry hadn’t accidentally knocked anything else loose while she was down there. She slowly snapped the panel back into place—this time, Ada had braced herself, and though she couldn’t look Cherry in the eye while she was working down there, she barely made a peep this time. They finally emerged from the den, Cherry holding the door open so Ada could make sure she could get around without difficulty again, and were met with Nutmeg eyeing the two of them over her mug.

“Did something go wrong?” She asked, voice full of exaggerated concern—after all, Ada was walking just fine.

“In my workshop?" Cherry gloated. "C'mon. It was just a loose cable. You’ll make sure not to flex your leg too far in the future, right, Ada?”

“Right!”

“Oh, good!” Nutmeg continued. “So, if you didn’t make a mistake in there, I assume you meant to make her squeak like that?” she asked, taking a slow sip of her tea and staring Cherry dead in the eye.

“Y’know,” she forced out, putting her best poker face back on. “I think I’m gonna take Ada to the park, just to put her through her paces. Doesn’t that sound nice, Ada?”

“Huh? I wasn’t done cleani—”

“Awesome! We’ll be back in a bit, Meg,” she growled, nearly shoving the girl out the door in front of her.

It wasn’t long before Cherry realized that she’d escaped from Nutmeg’s coolheaded quips without thinking to take a sweater—she’d jumped out of the fridge and into the freezer, with the way the weather had been recently. Ada offered to turn her fans up, and Cherry stayed nice and close to her (which was very, very easy, with how soft her exterior was). While the two of them walked laps to keep their servos warm and their blood circulating, they talked about all kinds of things. A simple “you mentioned ‘how things were before’” turned into swapping backstories: how Cherry got into tinkering with machines, how Ada got into a machine.

Of course, they had plenty of common ground, from the realization that things could be different, and the freedom that came with it, to the malaise that it had freed them from. Cherry managed to keep things light; like she’d said earlier, things only went uphill from the start of journies like theirs, and she was rarely without a crack that would break the gloom of a bad memory. It got dark faster than they expected, but it had more to do with how much fun they were having together than the shortening days. When it got too cold for Cherry to stand staying out any longer, the two of them walked back to the front door of her apartment building.

“Y’know,” she said when they arrived, “you didn’t have to walk me all the way home. It’s almost like the end of a date, or something.”

“What, with how much you and Nutmeg flirt while I’m around? It couldn’t be!” She froze; and Cherry felt the air around her begin to thaw. “Wait, could it be? Cherry, was this supposed to be a date??”

“I was just kidding, bestie, you don’t have to go critical on me. Usually, you get up under a girl’s skirt at the end of a date, right?”

“C-c’mon!” she cried, screwing her eyes shut again. “It wasn’t like that!!”

“I know, I know!” Cherry laughed. “Hey, c’mon. I promise it’s not like it’s gonna be weird or anything. Doctor-patient confidentiality, or whatever, right? But hey,” she said more softly, reaching for Ada’s paw. She paused before touching her, waiting for her to nod in confirmation before just going and grabbing things, this time. “We could make it a date, next time! If you want, anyway.”

“U-um. Yeah. Yeah!” There was a growing, fully snow-free circle spreading from Ada’s feet, at this point. “T-that would be, it’d be awesome! I would love that!!”

“Great! You know the door’s always open for you, bestie. See you soon?”

“I’m already scheduled to come over again in a few days!!”

“Sooner? I’m on my way to face the music. I was definitely losing to Nutmeg earlier. If you bail me out before she literally pushes me up against the wall, we can call it even for helping you out today.” Ada’s brow furrowed, a little concerned.

“She’s not… literally pushing you around, right?”

“Oh, no! I’m constantly asking for it. Literally, most of the time. I wouldn’t even complain if she did it tonight, but like… it’s the principle. I gotta save face after getting dressed-down in front of a guess like that, y’know?”

“Well, that makes two of us getting exposed in front of our friends, right? At least you aren’t alone.”

“Ha! Sorry again about that. But hey, maybe we can do that on purpose next time too, right?” She could see Ada freezing up again, and blew her a kiss goodbye to save her the trouble of finding her words again, ducking back inside; she could hear the air whooshing around outside all the way until she got back to the elevator.

plus a little bit of an epilogue for you =^w^=

I hope you enjoyed!! The transgender plushie robot catgirl is very near and dear to my heart. I know, I know, total shock. If you're interested in more of my writing you can have a look here and here. And please check Robin out too!! She's crazy talented and is the one who came up with Ada in the first place so

#writeblr #trans #trans author #plush furry #robot girl #robot #plushie #plush #robot furry #anthro cat #cat girl #furry fiction #furry writing #indie author #lesbian #transgender #wlw #objectum #<- its sfw but look. iykyk #my writing #short story #ricecreamart

[captainsophiestark]

A Reverse Steve Rogers

Jack Thompson x Reader

Masterlist - Taglist

Requested by @hawaiianpizzaenjoyer !! Thanks for the request, and for being so patient while I got it done! I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it!

Fandom: Marvel

Summary: Y/N, an Avenger, friend of Tony Stark, and the one who helped Steve Rogers adjust to the 21st century after he came out of the ice, gets flung back into the 1940s when something goes wrong on a training mission. She has no idea how long her stay in the 40s might be, but one way or another, it's going to be interesting.

Word Count: 4,684

Category: Fluff, Humor

A/N: This doesn't follow any of the season 2 timeline lol, just some vague stuff put together for the sake of this story.

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

"We could always just find another ticket for her and make up a reason for her to be there on her own..."

"Yeah? Like what? At this event, anybody with the slightest hole in their story is gonna stick out like a sore thumb.”

I looked between Peggy Carter and Daniel Sousa as they talked, frantically trying to figure out what to do with me tonight. They were currently in the middle of breaking up a secret society in Los Angeles, and they had a mission disguised as a date tonight where they'd be infiltrating a fancy party being thrown by said society.

Unfortunately for them, I'd landed in their laps (pretty literally) this afternoon, and accidentally thrown a wrench into their whole operation.

One minute, I'd been doing a training mission with the Avengers. The next, I'd been falling on top of  a desk in the SSR in 1947. I still didn't know exactly what had thrown me back in time, but no matter what the cause, the fact didn't change that I was here, and would be for the foreseeable future.

I'd almost had a heart attack when I'd looked up to see THE Peggy Carter, founder of SHIELD and total badass, standing in front of me. I think I freaked her and Daniel out a little by fangirling the minute I got up off the floor, but a stranger landing in the middle of their super high-level organization probably would've landed me in the interrogation room anyway.

Thankfully, I knew Steve Rogers pretty well, and so did Peggy. I'd mentioned his name briefly when trying to explain how I knew who she was, but then I'd been able to use what I knew about Steve and the stories he'd shared with me to convince her I was telling the truth about time travel.

Since then, we'd done some brief introductions and I'd been let out of the interrogation room. I'd been given the bare minimum details of the mission to understand the conversation, and now I sat on the edge of a desk watching Daniel and Peggy talk as they tried to adjust their plans.

"Perhaps Mr. Jarvis would be available on short notice to take her as a date..." mused Peggy.

"Whoa, Jarvis? Oh my gosh, the real person Jarvis is alive and walking around right now. That makes sense," I said, mostly talking to myself.

"That still doesn't solve the problem of them not being on the guest list," continued Daniel, he and Peggy only briefly glancing my way at the outburst.

"Maybe Howard could help us secure another two."

"He already wore out his welcome with these guys to get you in there the first time."

"Did you just say Howard? As in Howard Stark?"

Peggy and Daniel groaned in unison.

"Don't tell me you're a big fan of him too?" groaned Daniel.

"His ego's already big enough as it is," Peggy agreed.

"No, it's not that, I- uh... nevermind." I pushed off the desk, waving off thoughts of Tony. I still wasn't clear on how this time travel stuff worked, and I didn't want to go telling people about Howard Stark's currently nonexistent son without more assurance it wouldn't have any crazy impact first. "Look, you guys clearly don't have space for me in this mission. The best path is a small team, specifically a couple, who can enjoy the night like a regular date while still gathering intel and handling the mission."

Peggy and Daniel shared a look, and I could see an entire conversation passing between them. I continued.

"I might not know much about the forties, but I'm still a capable adult. I'm an Av- I was on a team with Steve to take on missions around the world. I'll be fine handling myself for a bit while you guys take care of business."

"Are you sure?" asked Peggy with a frown.

"We don't want to completely abandon you. Disappearing from your own time and reappearing in another can't be easy," added Daniel.

I gave them a faint smile, momentarily overwhelmed with memories. I'd first met Steve when he'd shown up in the future and needed someone to help him adjust. I'd been a SHIELD agent at the time, responsible for liaising with Tony Stark, so they figured helping a living legend adjust would be nothing compared to that.

They'd been right, and we'd hit it off the bat. When Tony eventually formed the team, I'd been on the roster. And now, I was the one being faced with adjusting to another time.

"It's not easy," I said to Daniel, the smile still on my face. "But I also don't need babysitters when those babysitters have important, world-saving duties to attend to. I actually have a little bit of an advantage, going back in time. I took history classes and whatnot, so I at least have some idea of how this world works."

"Well, if you're sure-"

"Alright! Sousa, Marge, fear not! The cavalry is here."

I turned at the sound of a new voice, but not before I caught Peggy and Daniel rolling their eyes so far back into their heads I couldn't see the pupils. A tall, blond man in a suit was striding across the room towards us, and a second after I started sizing him up he noticed me and did the same.

"Who's this?" he asked, coming to a stop in front of us. Peggy and Daniel didn't answer right away, apparently working together to gather mental strength before entering the conversation with this guy. I just leaned back a bit against the desk and watched.

Peggy and Daniel took a second to make significant eye contact, then sighed as one. Daniel turned to Jack, and Peggy subtly shifted closer to me.

"She's somebody who does a job like ours, but from the future," said Daniel. Jack just stared at him for a minute, then looked to me, and then back at Daniel.

"Sousa, despite what you might think, I'm not stupid."

"Jack, I get that it's hard to believe, but if you actually listen for two seconds-"

Jack huffed and crossed his arms while Daniel kept talking. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Peggy leaning in towards me, and I blocked out the boys' argument as she whispered to me.

"Y/N, I have a favor to ask of you."

"Hit me," I whispered back. Peggy sighed.

"Jack has recently had a moral epiphany," she started. I took half a second to give her a curious glance, and she just rolled her eyes in response. "It's been mostly nice, both to have him on our side and to finally have him respecting me and Daniel and anyone that's not an older man already in power.

"That said, we don't have space for him on this mission. All he's going to do is be a nuisance, and he's far less likely to agree to being benched than you."

"And I take it you have a solution for this?"

"Yes. But it would require throwing you under the bus to keep him occupied tonight."

I paused for a second, giving Jack another good look. He and Sousa were still in the middle of a heated argument while Sousa tried to convince him I was actually a time traveler, and even though they both seemed exasperated, Jack also seemed to be enjoying the back and forth. A smile tugged at the corner of my mouth.

"Peggy Carter, it would be an absolute honor to assist you on a mission," I said, turning to her with a smile. "Even if it means spending the evening learning about the forties from a slightly questionable teacher."

"You're a lifesaver," she said, giving me a smile back. She pushed off the desk, moving towards Daniel and Jack to interrupt them but shooting me a wink first. "And don't worry, I'll give you an actual introduction to the decade after this mission is over."

I nodded, then Peggy got Jack and Daniel's attention to put their argument to rest and explain the situation. Jack raised an eyebrow when Peggy told him his job would be keeping me company, but she phrased it well enough that it didn't quite sound like babysitting for either of us. Finally, he agreed, and Peggy and Daniel headed out for their event, leaving me and Jack Thompson alone in the bullpen of the LA SSR.

He stood by the windows, staring out at the traffic below as I spun around in a swivel chair. I kept looking at him, but he didn't look over at me once, at least not that I could catch. Finally, after a few more rotations, I huffed a sigh and pushed myself up. I put my hands on my hips, but Jack still didn't look over.

"Alright, I'm bored out of my mind, which should not be a possibility less than three hours after I suddenly appeared in a different time period," I said. Jack finally looked over at me, raising an unimpressed eyebrow as he did. I continued. "You're supposed to be helping me adjust to this place, since I don't know how long I'm gonna be here. Believe it or not, it didn't take me that long to adjust to this office."

He sighed heavily, but stepped away from the window anyway, stopping a few feet in front of me with his arms across his chest. He stared at me for a few seconds without saying anything, and I just stared right back. I crossed my arms to mirror him and he snorted and rolled his eyes.

"You're really from the future?" he finally asked.

"Did the twenty minutes Peggy and Daniel spent convincing you not settle this matter?"

He grunted, then finally dropped his arms back to his sides.

"Fine. What do you want to do then?"

I grinned. "Any good places to grab a drink and a dance around here?”

****************

"This is only my first week in LA, so if this place ends up being terrible, it's the city's fault and not mine," said Jack as we stepped out of the cab together. I'd taken a second to find a dress to steal from Peggy's emergency disguise stash at the SSR, since my 21st century mission clothes would probably cause a riot if I went out in them, and then Jack and I had jumped in a cab to a spot in town he'd heard about.

"Boooo," I teased as he paid the driver and we headed in together. "You can't consider the possibility of the night being a failure before it's even started! It's a jinx."

"A jinx?"

"Yeah, you know. Like bad luck."

"I know the definition of the word jinx," he scoffed. "I just think it's ridiculous you believe in them."

"Oh, yeah, of course. Actually, I didn't want to tell Peggy and Daniel this, but in the future we've discovered that a lot of things people dismissed as superstitions or bad luck are actually true. Like jinxes. Oh, and breaking a mirror? That actually will mess you up! We didn't realize it until science advanced a little further, I think in the seventies, but it's true."

Jack stared at me for a few seconds, and I stared back with a perfectly neutral expression on my face. Then, he broke into a grin and nudged me with his shoulder.

"You're messing with me."

"I definitely am."

He scoffed and shook his head, but the smile didn't drop off his face. He sighed dramatically, looking up at the club in front of us, then held out his arm for me to take.

"C'mon. You're the one who wanted to experience the time period."

I smiled up at him, then looped my arm through his. He pulled me a little closer, and I'd be lying if I said my heart didn't speed up a bit as we walked into the club together.

Immediately I got hit with the music I associated with the swinging jazz of the 1940s as we stepped into a world of men in suits and women in old-style dresses, all twirling across the dancefloor together.

"Whoa," I breathed. Suddenly, it started to sink in that I was actually in the 1940s, more than 80 years from everything and everyone I knew. A new surge of sympathy for Steve welled up in my chest.

"You alright?" asked Jack, nudging me a little as we stood in the doorway. I took a deep breath in and out, then slowly nodded. "Okay, good. Let's go get a drink.”

I huffed a laugh as he pulled me through the crowd and towards the bar. We managed to find two stools, and Jack pulled my seat out for me before I sat down. I couldn't help giving him a slightly bemused look, which he grunted about as he took the seat next to me.

"What?" he asked.

"Nothing," I said, waving him off. "Just, you know... forties."

He turned to stare at me, his eyebrows knit together, but the bartender appeared before he could question what I was talking about.

"What can I get the two of you?" asked the bartender. Jack turned to me, letting me go first.

"I'll have an old fashioned, please."

Both he and Jack looked at me for a second, but I looked right back at both of them like they were crazy for questioning it (because they were). After a second, Jack shrugged and turned back to the bartender.

"I'll do the same."

The bartender nodded, then moved away to make the drinks. I turned and gave Jack a smile.

"Thanks for buying," I said. "I didn't have my wallet on me when I got sucked back in time, and even if I did, I don't think the bartender would be able to accept the kind of bills I carry. I'm not trying to get arrested for counterfeiting a few hours into being in the past."

Jack chuckled. "Sure thing. So, an old fashion, huh?"

"Yeah. It's Ton- uh, it's my friend's favorite drink. He got me drinking them, too."

"Hm. Future sounds like a wild place."

"Honestly, I'd say 1940 is a little wilder."

The bartender set down our drinks, and Jack put a few bills on the table. Then, once he was out of earshot again, I turned to Jack with a smile.

"Cheers," I said, raising my glass in toast. "To new experiences and getting to know each other and this weird ass trip back to the past."

Jack smiled, although I could tell he was fighting it, and clinked his glass with mine before we both took a sip.

"So, Jack Thompson... tell me about the forties."

Jack and I spent the next hour talking about everything from foods that hadn't been invented yet (ranch dressing!) to the weird, national popularity of baseball and how I couldn't wait to see people start getting the memo about the NBA. Some of it was informative, even helpful, but for the most part we just... talked. Laughed. Joked around and enjoyed each other's company like people who'd known each other much longer than a few hours.

For some reason, it just felt easy. Going into this, heading out with someone who was clearly a confident, if not arrogant, man from the 1940s, with Peggy's warnings on top of everything else? Well, let's just say I didn't have the highest of hopes. But by some miracle, whether it was our equally loud and teasing personalities or that fact that I proudly didn't know anything about baseball beyond the fact that games took way too long, rather than the ignorance or indifference he had been expecting... Jack Thompson and I got on like wildfire.

"I'm just saying, when you're watching a legend play, that's the only part of the game that matters!" Jack continued, defending his baseball stance. "And DiMaggio's a legend."

"Yeah, no shit," I scoffed, rolling my eyes to go with it. Jack snorted at my language, but I caught him grinning at me all the same as he took a sip from his drink. "But, unlike in other sports, your legend's only playing for like fifteen minutes out of every hour. Still boring!"

Jack opened his mouth, clearly ready with some other comeback that would do absolutely nothing to change my position, but before he could, the band started up with something I actually recognized.

"Oh my God!" I cried, setting down the now-empty glass that previously held my second old fashioned. "This song- we have to go dance!"

"You know this song?" asked Jack, only looking slightly bemused as he set down his glass and I dragged him towards the dance floor.

"Yeah. Steve plays it all. The damned. Time," I said, finally coming to a stop in the middle of the floor. I moved to drop Jack's hand now that I'd gotten him out here, but he just squeezed it tighter and pulled me closer. "It's one of the only songs from the forties he plays that I can actually stand."

Jack scoffed, wrapping an arm around my waist as we started twirling across the floor together. "You're actually friends with him? Sousa wasn't making that whole thing up?"

"What? No. Actually, I'm the one that helped him adjust to the future not long after he woke up in my time."

Jack nodded, looking thoughtful. "So that's why you recognized Carter? Sousa said you almost fainted from excitement when you first saw her."

"No. I mean, sort of, I guess. But I would've known her even without Steve. She's only the coolest, most badass woman and intelligence pioneer the world has ever known," I said. Jack snorted, and I scowled. "What? You disagree?"

He shrugged. "I mean, I'd probably argue there are some other intelligence pioneers that deserve mention. But... I guess no, I don't necessarily disagree. Just don't mention it to her, alright? I'll deny it, and I don't need her immortalization from a time traveler being thrown in my face every time I work a case with her for the rest of time."

I laughed, and Jack gave me a knowing smile before spinning me out and away from him. He twirled me across the floor before pulling me back to him quickly. We moved in perfect harmony, picking up our pace to match the band and putting the other couples to shame. We quickly got lost in our own little world, to the point that everyone and everything except the music disappeared. When Jack sped up, I sped up a little more, and we easily met each other's challenges, stupid smiles on our faces the whole time.

When a slower song started playing, Jack and I finally relaxed the pace, forgoing the elaborate dance moves to just sway in place and catch our breaths for a minute. I was still a little lost in our moment, enough so that I didn't notice someone else approaching us until he shoved himself part way between me and Jack.

"Hey doll. Mind if I cut in?" The guy leered over me, totally ignoring Jack as he reached for my hand without waiting for my answer. I scoffed, my tired-but-happy smile instantly turning into a scowl. Jack seemed equally frustrated and moved as if he was about to step in and do something about it, but I decided to just take care of it for the both of us.

"Actually, yeah, I do mind," I snapped, fixing the guy with an unimpressed look as I snatched my hand out of his reach. He seemed incredibly surprised by my response, but I plowed ahead anyway. "I'm dancing with someone already, and even if I weren't, I have no interest at all in dancing with you. So... scram. Or beat it. Or whatever people say now."

The man just stood there for a second, open-mouthed, blinking at me in stunned silence. Then, his expression shifted into a scowl and his face started to turn red.

"I- You- How dare you-!"

"Dude, get lost," I said, crossing my arms and staring him down as I talked over him. I glanced over his shoulder to Jack, who also looked shocked but in a pleasantly surprised way, and addressed him. "What's another good way to tell someone to go away?"

He shrugged, a delighted smile growing on his face. "Take a powder?"

"Really?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. Jack just nodded, so I looked back at the rude guy. "Alright, take a powder. Hit the bricks. Take a long walk off a short pier. Other creative ways to say leave. I want to dance to this lovely song with my dance partner here, who is not you, so... yeah. Take the blatant instructions."

The man whirled around to Jack, like he expected him to say or do something to reign me in. Jack just shrugged again.

"You heard the lady. I'm not gonna tell you anything she didn't already say."

The man scowled, whipping back to look at me again. I just met him with crossed arms and a look that told him I wouldn't be budging an inch. He spluttered a few more incoherent words in indignation, then stormed off the dance floor and out of sight. I sighed, then faced Jack again.

"How wildly out of place was that for the time period? Both him and me?" I asked. Jack grinned.

"Him? Not very. You? Insanely," he said, taking my hand again as we went back to gently swaying in place. He tugged me a little closer to his chest, and I smiled. "I gotta say though, I sure enjoyed watching it."

"Good. Because I don't actually care at all, and I had a lot of fun doing that."

Jack laughed, throwing his head back before fixing me with a brilliant smile. He twirled me out and away from him again, then pulled me right back into his chest. We swayed together, closer than we'd been all night, and to my surprise I started noticing more than a few butterflies squirming in my chest as I stared up at the SSR Chief. Hm, noted the more logical side of my brain as we moved across the crowded dance floor. Nice, my heart replied as Jack's strong hand laid firmly on my waist and my hand traveled to the collar of his shirt.

Jack and I spent the rest of the night at the club, enjoying the music, the dancing, and each other's company until the place turned on the lights and threw us out. A few times, other men came up to hit on me and "steal me away" from Jack. Each time, I dressed them down and sent them on their way, and each time Jack just grinned and watched me do it. I could still tell he was ready to jump in, that his instinct was to take care of it for me, but he seemed to enjoy watching the jerks splutter and babble in shock and surprise as much as I did.

Afterwards, when we wandered back out onto the LA street together, Jack insisted on escorting me back to Howard Stark's place, where I'd be staying with Peggy. It was going to be incredibly weird staying at Tony's dad's house, meeting him and the real-human Jarvis, but I could process that later. Right now, I wanted to focus on the amazing, less-weird parts of being in the 40s. Specifically Jack Thompson, who I'd just spent a wonderful night enjoying this new time period with.

Jack hailed us a cab, and I rested my head on his shoulder and watched the city go by as the taxi took us out of the city, to the massive Stark mansion. It was basically a 40s version of Tony's Malibu house, and a pang of sadness tightened in my chest when I realized I had no idea when–or if–I would see my friends again.

I took a deep breath and shook those thoughts out of my head as the car came to a stop. All of that was a problem for later, not now. Jack got out first, holding the door for me and offering a hand to help me out, which I took. Rather than dropping it once I stood, he wrapped it around his arm as he asked the cabbie to wait and escorted me towards the house. We stopped on the porch and turned to face each other, and I realized I actually really didn't want the night to end.

"Thanks for showing me around the forties," I said, giving Jack a small smile. "It was actually really fun."

"You don't have to sound so surprised," he griped, but a smile made its way onto his face all the same. "So... I don't know how long you're gonna be here, and obviously we've got a lot of other work to do with Carter and Sousa tomorrow, but... maybe I could take you out again sometime. There's still a lot of forties you haven't seen yet."

"I'd like that," I said, a warm feeling welling up in my chest. I hesitated a second as Jack and I stared at each other on the doorstep, then decided to say fuck it and keep doing what I'd been doing all night: following my impulses. "Quick question: in the forties, if I kiss you on the first date, is that going to scare you off or something?"

Jack grinned. "It might get a raised eyebrow from the cabbie, but I sure as shit won't be complaining."

"Good."

With that, I grabbed Jack's lapels and tugged him towards me, leaning up just a bit and giving him a kiss. It was short, really just a quick peck since we'd just met, but fireworks exploded in my chest at the sensation anyway.

Jack's grin stayed in place as we pulled apart, and his hand lingered on my waist an extra second before dropping to his side. He took a step backwards, towards the waiting car, even as his eyes stayed on mine. I rested my hand on the doorknob, watching Jack and trying to stay in the moment even as he walked away.

"Welcome to the forties, sweetheart," he called as he made it down the porch steps and into the driveway. "I'll see you at work tomorrow."

I waved, a smile on my own face to match his. "Can't wait."

Jack gave a short wave and one last grin before getting into the cab. I watched as he drove away, a smile still on my own face even after I knew he couldn't see it. Finally, after the lights of the cab faded back into the LA night, I turned on my heel and walked into the house.

I'd been in the 40s for less than twelve hours, and I knew for a fact that I hadn't even scratched the tip of the iceberg on exploring the time period, or what frustrations being eighty years removed from everything I knew would bring. But, despite all that, I'd had a blast tonight, and tomorrow I'd get to start working with THE Peggy Carter. Whether I was only here for another few hours or it turned into months or longer, I couldn't help being excited at the idea of everything that was yet to come for me, not least of all my next date with Jack Thompson.

#marvel #agent carter #jack thompson #jack thompson x reader #marvel fanfiction #marvel imagine #marvel one shot #agent carter fanfiction #agent carter oneshot #agent carter imagine #jack thompson imagine #jack thompson oneshot #jack thompson fanfiction #1940s #peggy carter #daniel sousa #howard stark #steve rogers #time travel #ssr

[lottesreads]

Why Me? - Part 2

Pairing: Bob Floyd x Mitchell! Female Reader (Callsign Mantis)

Warnings: Cursing, insecurities, pining, mommy issues

Word Count: 2875

Summary: We learn a little more of your history with your dad and Rooster, all while attempting to get Bob to talk to you more. All for the team. Definitely because you don't have a crush on him.

A/N: Here is part 2!! And I will be posting any new parts on this blog, and not the original one I posted on, sorry 'bout that y'all. Hope you enjoy, reblogs and comments are welcome!!

Part 1

After driving yourself to your dads small home, you thought back to what transpired, or rather what hadn't transpired at the Hard Deck. It was always the same with Bob. He’d hang around the edge of the group, occasionally talking with a couple of them, but never you. You had chalked it up to the fact he was afraid of you and your dad. The first time you tried to start a conversation with him by asking what he was doing over the weekend he looked around to make sure you were talking to him and not someone else. He then managed to choke out the sentence, “I- I’m going to um, to see the new Spider-Man movie with uh- with Fanboy”.

You unknowingly smiled at the memory of his shy hands pushing the wire glasses further up his nose. You just couldn’t help it. You’ve hardly spoken to the guy, but just the thought of him had you all smiley. It felt like you were in high school again. Sneaking glances at your crush that didn’t even know you existed. Except in this instance he most definitely knew you existed, but refused to talk to you because of your scary dad-boss. So not quite the same as high school.

Wait, no. This was nothing like high school because you definitely didn’t have a crush on Bob. This was NOT a crush. If you really think about it, it’s only infuriating because you worked together. Co-workers should be able to have at least small-talk with each other. He could barely look at you. But he smiled at you, and waved. So he wasn’t scared of you completely. 

Your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of your dad’s motorcycle making its way up the driveway. Of course. The problem himself. The door closed as he entered and greeted you at the kitchen table, “Hey kiddo.”

“Hey dad.”

“I thought you were gonna be at the Hard Deck tonight?” You sighed.

“Yeah, I wasn’t feeling it so I left early. Where were you at?” He sets his keys down on the counter and joins you at the table.

“Oh, just got some dinner with Bradley. Is everything ok?”. You glance up and squint at him, watching as he studies your face.

“Yeah, everything’s just fine”, you slowly let out. He furrows his brow, eyeing you carefully.

“You sure about that?”

“Yep.” You nod.

“Are you mad at me?” His brows continue to furrow.

“Nope.” You shake your head.

“Ok then”, he nods, hesitant to get up from the table. “Are you planning on staying-”

“I just think it’s kind of rude and stupid how some members of our squadron won’t talk to me because of you”, you huff out pointing at him. “Like they want your respect, but only yours. They don’t want anything to do with me in case I turn around and tell you about it. Which I wouldn’t! Unless they did something really stupid or disrespectful. But even then I would go above you because let’s be honest I don’t think you have as much authority as they think you do.” At some point of your rant your father had sat back down with wide eyes, knowing you were in fact not ok and mad at him.

“Are you done?” You sit there catching your breath and eyeing your father.

“For now.”

“Ok, who exactly are we talking about here?”

“No one in particular, just a couple people in our squad-”

“It’s Bob isn’t it?”, he asks. You stare him square in the eyes, trying hard not to appear as gobsmacked as you feel. The sound of his name coming out of your dad’s mouth has you freezing up. He couldn’t know, could he?

“How did you know?” He quiets a laugh.

“It would be kind of hard not to notice. But to be fair I don’t think he’s doing it to be rude.”

“Well, regardless if he meant it to be rude, that’s how it’s coming off. If someone you worked with avoided you at every opportunity, how would you take it?”, you reason.

“You shouldn’t be asking me that, pretty much everyone in the Navy tries to avoid me.” You throw your hands up, exasperated while he continues to chuckle at his own joke.

“Well, shit dad, is this genetic or something? It’s not like I can force him to talk to me.” He sighs and places both of his hands on the table in front of you.

“I mean as a Captain I still have some authority, contrary to some people’s belief that I don’t.” He says, raising his eyebrow.

“So what, are you going to order him to talk to me? Create mandated conversations?” He shrugs.

“No, I’m just saying I can create more opportunities for you two to talk. Get to know each other. Afterall, this is about working better together as a team.” You stare down at your hands, biting the inside of your lip.

“Yeah. Exactly. For the team.” You weren’t about to tell your dad your innermost thoughts. Especially because it most definitely wasn’t about a crush. Right?

True to his word Monday morning, your father gathered at the front of the classroom and announced who was going to be flying together that day. “Alright, today we’re going to be warming up with some dogfights. First up is Phoenix, Bob, and… Mantis, against me and Rooster.” He paused before your name acting as if he wasn’t planning this whole thing since Friday night. You rolled your eyes at his antics. But of course he would pick Rooster to be on his team.

Ever since the uranium mission he’s been wanting to do everything with Bradley. You get that he wants to make up for lost time, but two months later and he is still choosing him at every opportunity. You didn’t even know they were having dinner Friday night. Maybe if they bothered to invite you to any of their shenanigans you would be as close to Bradley as you were before.

Even though Bradley was six when you were born, the bond between you two was inseparable. He had been the older brother you never had, and in return you had been the annoying little sister he had never asked for. Regardless, he was just as protective and loving as an older brother would be. Carole was everything a mother should be and everything your mother wasn’t. If you were lucky you would spend the whole summer with your dad, away from your mom. Carole and Bradley would always welcome you with open arms. That was until your dad pulled his papers soon after Carole died. You were just as heartbroken and even at 12 years old you tried to comfort Bradley. He had pulled away without an explanation and when you asked your dad why Bradley wasn’t talking to you anymore he would simply say, “You’ll understand when you’re older.”

Eventually you found out and were just as mad at your father. But you were even more upset that no matter how many times you tried to reach out, Bradley never responded. When you were called back for the uranium mission, neither you or Bradley had bothered to clear the air. It wasn’t until your dad and him were on their way back to the carrier after you had presumed them both as dead, that you looked him in the eye for more than a couple seconds. You had hugged Bradley for the first time since you were 12 and thanked him for saving your dad. That was the end of it. You still shared more small-talk than you did with Bob, but that didn’t mean it was any less awkward. He hadn’t apologized for abandoning you, and you weren’t about to apologize for your father’s actions.

“Alright!”, your dad clapped, “Let’s get goin’”. You broke out of your trance and shook your head. One issue at a time.

You stepped out on the tarmac walking past Bob and Phoenix going through their pre-flight checks. “See you out there Phoenix!” Saluting each other you switched your sight to Bob’s, “Good luck Bob.”

“Yeah, yeah. You too.” He said, attempting to scratch his head, but dropping his hand once he realized he was wearing his helmet.

Once in the air it was all quiet. Phoenix is off to your right, still looking for your dad and Rooster who are nowhere to be found. This is it. Bob has nowhere to escape to, and Phoenix can act as a buffer if he freezes up again.

“So Bob, how was your weekend?” You attempt to ask casually. From your right Phoenix looks over at you, her brow furrowed.

“Oh uh, mine was good. How was yours?”, he asks,  a hint of apprehension still present in his voice.

“That’s good. Mine was OK, I saw you at the Hard Deck Friday night, but you slipped out before I could challenge you to a game of pool”, you say, still scanning the air for any sign of your dad or Rooster.

“Yeah, um”, he clears his throat, “I had to get back to my dog.” You glance back to their jet, both of them scanning as well.

“You have a dog?”

“Yeah, she’s a real sweetheart”, he perked up. Jackpot. Ask someone about their dog and they will not hesitate to go on and on. And on the plus side you wouldn’t mind hearing Bob’s deep voice say “sweetheart” again.

“What’s her name?”

Before Bob has the chance to respond Phoenix is cutting in, “Hey guys, I hate to interrupt this riveting conversation but we have company. Rooster straight ahead.” Before you know it, your longest conversation you’ve had with Bob is forgotten as you chase your dad through the skies.

In the end Rooster and Mav get the better of you and you’re out. Phoenix and Bob follow soon after, meeting you on the tarmac for your punishment of 150 pushups. After the uranium mission they had decided to keep the punishment for dogfights but knock off 100. After a failed exercise only a month ago Maverik decided to be nice and only add 50 back.

You let Bob drop down first so you can grab a spot next to him. Phoenix drops down next to you, letting out a huff of air.

“Sorry for leaving you guys hanging out there”, you apologize as Hondo starts counting out your pushups. Down. Up.

“It’s not like you could have helped us from beyond the grave”, down, “but I appreciate the sentiment”, Phoenix responds. Up. You look back over to Bob who is staring straight at the pavement beneath his hands.

“So what’s your dog’s name”, you ask, attempting to continue your conversation with him. Down. He looks over to you. Up.

“Sylvia”, he pants out. Down. Sweat starting to form on his brow, as well as yours. Up. “She’s a border collie, 7 months old.” Down. “Got her from the shelter”. Up.

“That’s sweet.” Down. “I find it funny how”, up, “we’ve only been a permanent”, down, “squadron for two months”, up, “and you’ve already”, down, “found yourself a dog.” Up. He smiles at you, while trying to take deep breaths through his nose.

“They posted her”, down, “on their instagram”, up, “and I just couldn’t resist”, down, “those big brown eyes.” Up. You turn your head to smile at him. Down. He smiles back before you are interrupted by your dad and Rooster walking victoriously past you. Up. Both you and Bob turn away from each other and continue with your punishment. Down. His face forces into a grimace once more. Up. You focus on the soles of both of their boots walking into your field of vision. Down.

“Having fun down there guys?”Rooster asks tauntingly. Up.

“If I weren’t using both my hands-”, you speak, down, “I would be using them to tell you to fuck off.” Up. “But since my mouth works perfectly fine-”, down, “Fuck off”. Up. You hear Phoenix chuckle off to your side, and look over to see Bob trying to stifle his. Rooster huffs. Down.

“You telling your Captain to fuck off?”, he asks, looking over to your dad. Up.

“No.” Down. “That was just for you Brad-Brad”. Up. The sweat is dripping off of your face at this point while you look up at Rooster. Even though it was a joke, he can still feel the animosity coming off of your words. Up.

“Come on Mav”, down, “Let’s go and relax under the AC.” Up. “Enjoy the rest of your pushups, Mantis.” Down.

“God-”, Phoenix says once they’re out of earshot, “I’ve never seen Rooster”, up, “act like  such an asshole before.” Down.

“What can I say?”, up, “I just bring it out of him.” Down.

The rest of the pushups are completed in silence as the three of you focus on finishing them as fast as possible. You aren’t even thinking about Bob after your dad and Rooster left. Still not understanding how they can act so buddy-buddy without bringing you into the mix. They didn’t even care. You were just an afterthought. Actually you weren’t even a thought at all. They didn’t think of you when they went to dinner last Friday, and they didn’t think of you as they walked back to the ready-room.

“Alright, 150, you guys are good”, Hondo announces. You fall flat to the ground, still in your flight suit, as Bob rests his elbows on his knees, taking a seat. All three of you are breathing heavily as Phoenix gets up and offers her hand. You wave her off.

“I think I’m just gonna lie here for a second and rethink my life choices.”

“Suit yourself”, Phoenix says, resting both hands on her hips, “I’m going in search of some water. You coming, Bob?”

“I’ll be there in a second.” Phoenix walks off as you look to the side at Bob once again. He’s still sitting there catching his breath, the same as you. This had to have been the longest he’s sat next to you, or talked to you. Breaking two records in one day, who would have thought? You sit up and mirror Bob’s stance. You two sit there catching your breaths, watching as he fiddles with his thumbs. Every once in a while pushing his glasses back up, still slipping due to his sweat. You track a bead of sweat as it falls down the back of his neck and into his flight suit, completely distracted until he stands, offering you his hands. Not just one. Both of them.

You place your smaller ones in his. They’re warm and rough from the tarmac, and you don’t want to let go even as he brings you to full standing. You start to get lost in the ocean-blue of his eyes before you remember where you are. All too soon his hands slip from yours as you softly give him a “thanks”. It’s your turn to play with your hands as you try not to forget what it felt like to hold his for that brief moment. The two of you begin to leisurely walk back to the ready-room. The sound of him clearing his throat brings your gaze back to him.

“So, um, you play pool?” he asks.

“Yeah”, you smile, remembering your brief conversation in the cockpit earlier. “And I recall seeing you play from time to time.”

“I like to practice from time to time. I have no game”, he smiles.

“Well, I’d still like to play you. If you’re up for it?”

“That’d be an easy game for you, but yeah. I’ll play you.”

“Oh come on Bob! The key to winning is confidence. You gotta be confident in yourself”, you say pushing his shoulder. Even through his flight suit, you feel the muscle tense.

“That’s not something that comes easy for me.”

“Well it should”, you blurt out. You both stop before the doors and stare at each other. He gazes at your face and hair. You realize you must look insane from all the pushups. Pieces of hair flying everywhere and the flush of your face matching Bob’s. “Anyway, what are you doing Friday?”.

“Nothing”, he shakes his head.

“Great, 6:00 at the Hard Deck, don’t be late”, you smile. He opens the door for you as you thank him once again. You can’t believe you just did that. Granted, it will be a busy Friday night and the squad will presumably be there, but still. You have plans with Bob.

Bob watches you walk down the hallway to the lady’s locker rooms. Did that really just happen? He was baffled you were engaging in that much conversation with him, and even more surprised at the fact he was reciprocating it. It just felt so easy once he started. It was that damn smile again. He couldn’t help but get lost in yours. Self doubt started to creep back into his mind as he walked further down the hallway. Why were you so interested in talking to him, spending time with him? It had to be some kind of joke. That’s all it ever was.

#bob floyd x reader #bob floyd fic #bob floyd fanfiction #robert bob floyd x female reader #top gun maverick #top gun fanfiction #mavdad #top gun fandom

[hedgiwithapen]

Oooh can we get a continuation of that ‘bb!Clark kidnapped by US Govt’ au—in which tween Lois is accompanying her dad on a Take Your Child to Work Day or something, and (sneaks off and) meets his trainee superweapon? Or maybe Sam brings Clark home for dinner one night to acclimate him to average human life before an undercover mission?

followup to this one from earlier this DHD weekend! It came down to the babysitter coming down with the flu. Reluctantly, Sam assured Mandy this would be a one time occurrence, and then sat Lucy and Lois down in an empty conference room, with a stack of coloring books, markers, textbooks, and a backpack full of distractions and snacks from home.

“Stay in here. Do not leave this room,” he said, giving his girls each a quick, loose hug. “Lois, do your homework. Lucy, draw something nice for us to take to Mommy, ok? If you get bored, uh.. just… text me, I’ll have something else for you to do.”

Lucy saluted, already scribbling. Lois saw her dad wince as the markers skipped across the paper and onto the table. “Ok, sir,” she said, but she could see the look on his face, and beamed, like it was just a joke. It was, mostly.

“Lo, I mean it. Stay put.”

She nodded, serious. The minute he was gone, she glanced into her palm. His keycard almost glittered in the light. She grinned, and then sighed.

She did her homework. Both her parents--usually Mom, on her good days-- insisted homework had to come first. She did six math problems of the fifteen assigned, which was basically half, right? Swinging her legs, she looked at her Language arts assignment, which was the same as starting it, which was close enough to finishing it. She could write a book report in her sleep, and who needed to study for a spelling test, anyways?

Lucy kept coloring.

"I'm gonna go explore," Lois told her sister.

"Daddy said to stay here," Lucy said.

"Yeah, well, I'm going anyways. You in?"

"I'm coloring," Lucy said, very serious. Lois took that as a 'no.'

The keycard locks made a very satisfying beep and click noise, lighting up green when she pressed her dad's badge against them. The first few rooms she poked her head into were empty, or boring. Filing cabinets were cool to climb on, but She was getting too big for that, and they never had much interesting in them, just papers. Adults loved papers.

One room was labeled 'secure, no unauthorized personnel' which Lois thought was a great sign, literally and figuratively. There had to be something really cool through it. She swiped the keycard against the scanner, already up on her tiptoes like that would get her in faster.

The light inside was red, like the photo darkroom she'd seen on a school trip once. "Coooool," Lois breathed, peering around. Movement drew her eye, and she took a step back, already rehearsing the story she'd give if she got caught.

Her eyes adjusted before whoever it was could yell at her, and she realized why.

A boy about her age was sitting in the corner on a camping cot, looking at her with wide blue eyes.

She took a step forward. "Hi," she said, boldly, sticking out a hand. "I'm Lois. Who are you?"

"I…I'm a weapon," the boy said with uncertainty, not moving to shake. Lois frowned.

"I'm a journalist-in-training," she said, finally dropping her arm. "But I was asking your name."

He blinked, lifting a hand to his neck. Lois's eyes widened. "Oh my god," she said. "That's--um. Are you…ok?" She'd thought for a second he was like her, waiting for a parent to finish work, but that was a shock collar. Like the kind for dogs. And he still hadn't given her a name, and she wasn't much good at math but one plus one absolutely made two and this plus that absolutely made This Is Bad.

"No," the boy said, in such a small voice it broke her heart.

She crossed the room fast. It was easy, being much taller than it was long or wide. "Um, it's gonna be ok," she tried. They were empty type words, words people used when nothing was going to be ok, but this was something that could be fixed. Her fingers felt for a latch, and found a sensor instead.

Her Dad couldn't have known about this. He wouldn't. But he had a lot of clearance, so maybe the card would be programed anyways? She tried it, and a red light clicked off as the collar dropped away. "Is that better?" she asked, hopefully. The boy just shrugged.

"I--think so," he said. "I want to go home."

"Okay," Lois said. "We just have to find my dad. He's gonna be mad I stole his card, but that's okay! it's for the greater good. He'll fix this." She reached for the boy's hand, tugging him to his feet. "C'mon."

Opening the door again was easy, but she hadn't realized it was soundproofed until she opened the door. Some kind of alarm was going. Glancing up, she noticed for the first time the camera pointed at the door, stuck to the ceiling. She would have waved, sheepishly, at getting caught, but she was too angry.

A bunch of people in the uniform her dad wore stood in the hall, blocking the way back to the conference room. They held guns. Lois swallowed. "I'm Lois Lane," she said. "My dad's General Samuel Lane. He's in charge. He outranks you. I need to talk to him." They were the words he'd taught her if the military ever tried to intimidate her, and they sure were trying now.

"Lois," her dad's voice echoed over footsteps, and Lois's heart leaped even as she felt the boy behind her shrink back. Like he was scared. She was scared too, of the guns, but not of her dad.

"Dad, some people were holding this boy pr--"

"Lois, get away from it, right now."

"It?" she echoed, blinking in confusion.

"Now, Lois. That's an order."

"Dad?" she asked. "I don't… you--knew about him?"

"It's a weapon, Lois. It'll hurt you. Come over here."

"No." She couldn't. She wouldn't. Something in her gut told her that this was wrong. She trusted that more than her dad. It hadn't failed her yet. She gripped the boy's hand tight. "I won't let you hurt him."

"Clark," the boy whispered behind her, still sounding so scared, like he thought it might be the last thing he'd get to say. She nodded.

"I won't let you hurt Clark," she corrected herself.

She saw the hesitation in her father's eyes. She lifted her chin.

"Lois…" her father said. He closed his eyes, and lifted a hand.

The soldiers in the hall lowered their guns.

#dammit hedgi day 2023 #My Adventures With Superman #Lois Lane #Same Lane #Clark Kent #implied happy ending? i guess? as happy as it can be with uh ma and pa still dead #clark is going to need a lot of therapy and mom lane needs a divorce tbh

[streaminn]

Coffee Enid [#2] 👍

After that faithful day of Enid serving her coffee and freshly baked pastries, she didn't think any of it about the punk, gothic, business woman???

Enid didn't know what to think of the short 5'1 woman that hardly overlooked the metal counter of her stand. But she was cute, in a death-punk way??? So many questions in the poor wolf's mind but she didn't think any of it.

Even after receiving a $100 tip in her jar JUST after she opened and served her FIRST coffee and pastry of the day.

However, that tip changed the game for her, at least in the equipment of one better mixer that wasn't a hand-me-down from her bestie, who also was her employee that did deliveries at their bakery. Listen, the wolf had an act for people, so she wanted to be on the front lines, and selling coffee.

Bitch wanted to bust out her lattee-making art skills she learned on TikTok and cafes!

But yes, Enid needed to conduct business and better improvements with her team aka her best friend group, so she was gone for 4 days, her usual clientele knew her situation so she didn't think any of it.

But to her surprise, someone was waiting for her at her stand, standing there like a stray cat looking for its owner or "hand that feeds them", Enid was quite shocked so she said something.

"Hey! It's you that left that tip, thank you so much for that and I am sorry for the wait!" Enid said unlocked the stand and set up for the day.

"It's not a problem, I give credit where credit is due."

"Oooh, so you must have losts of credit?" The wolf laughed.

"Yes."

Enid looked at the woman confused for a moment before laughing and fixing the final machine to ready, while also putting on some drip coffee because people like drip too, no hate.

"So what can I get you today?" Enid grinned leaning on the counter.

"... Quad over ice, and... Whatever you prefer on the side."

Enid raised a brow as she smiled. "Coming right up, may take a moment."

"Take your time."

When Enid prepared the goth's quad she spared fleeting glances at her, before humming to herself. The wolf fixed the coffee just like the last time and popped the lid on it, and grabbed a fresh prepackaged sandwich, a simple cold-cut turkey sandwich with bacon and tomatoes.

She handed her order to the goth, "You seem like you skip meals, that's not good so I packed a sandwhich for you, hope you like it!"

"How do you-" The goth grumbled but gently grabbed the bag and coffee, almost bashfully. The wolf couldn't tell, she looked too. Uh. Murderous.

So she said the total, to which the goth paid with the exact change and a large tip again, and then left without another word.

"She gotta be a serial killer."

"a serial lady killer," Enid mutters off handedly before snorting and going to make herself something to drink

Goth killer is pretty after all, maybe next time Enid could ask for a name instead of this extra digits?

Or, she could not do that

Smh Enid, where's her professionalism!?

Well, it's still nice company. Always a joy to see that scathing glare and the way her brow furrows.

It's... Cute, one can say. in a 'I am totally gonna murder you,' way.

Like a cat!

Oh that's a lovely image

#Enid's a touch delulu in her boredom #Wenclair #theblackwolfalpha #Writing #Coffee Enid au

[vintageshanny]

Tape of Blue Hawaii

Writing Prompt: “How are we going to solve this problem?”

Content: 18+

“Presley, what do you think you’re doing?” Norman Taurog came storming over to where Elvis was rehearsing the dance sequence for “Slicin’ Sand.”  Elvis stopped what he was doing and nervously walked over to the director.  “Wh-wh-what do ya mean?  I-I w-was jus’ rehearsin’ for the next scene,” Elvis stuttered.  Norman leaned in closer and said, “You’re flopping all over the place, and your balls are practically hanging out.  This ain’t a porno, y’know.  Go see Stella in wardrobe and see if she can help you hide that thing somehow.”  Elvis looked down at the tiny white swim shorts he’d been given to wear for most of the movie and muttered under his breath, “You could just let me wear a swimsuit that actually fits me in it.”  He headed off to the wardrobe department, his heart pounding at the thought of Stella, the beautiful wardrobe assistant who always called him honey, having to help him figure out how to hide Little Elvis.

“Um, Stella?”  Elvis walked through the door, hesitating when he saw Stella looking through racks of costumes.  She was wearing a red sundress and had her dark wavy hair held back with a headband.  She looked absolutely beautiful, and his breath caught in his throat for a moment.  She glanced up and looked at him through her cat-eye glasses.  “Yes?  Oh, Elvis, it’s you!  How is the filming going?  Is something wrong with the shorts?” she asked, noticing he was wearing his sexy little costume. She tried not to let her eyes linger too long on his very exposed thighs. “W-w-well, k-k-kind of,” he stammered out, wondering how to explain this without humiliating himself.  “Norman said I, uh, need to do something different for the dance sequence.”  “Something different, honey?  What do you mean?”  she asked, a little confused.  “Uh, well, h-h-his words were that I’m floppin’ all over and m-my balls are almost hangin’ out,” Elvis could feel his face flushing as he wondered if he should have worded it a little more delicately in mixed company.  Stella tilted her head back and laughed.  “I thought that’s why people were coming to see the movie,” she smirked as she eyed the little white shorts.  “I-I-It’s not funny, Stella, this is embarrassin’,” Elvis whispered.  “Oh, honey, let’s see what we can do to help you,” she smiled.

Stella walked over to a drawer of supplies and pulled out what looked like a big roll of tape.  “Wh-wh-what’s that for?” Elvis asked nervously.  “We’re just going to tape you up for this scene so you’re not jiggling around too much.  It might feel a little uncomfortable, but it shouldn’t hurt,” she said calmly.  “Tape me up?” Elvis’ jaw dropped a little.  “Or down, we’ll see what works best,” Stella grinned.  “Stella, are you messin’ with me?” Elvis whispered.  Stella reached out and squeezed Elvis’ hand reassuringly.  “It’s going to be fine, hon, I can help you.”  Oh, shit, Elvis thought.  The beautiful flirty wardrobe assistant is going to help me tape my cock and balls.  This shouldn’t be embarrassing at all.  

“Okay, you’re gonna have to strip down, honey,” Stella announced as Elvis’ face turned beet red.  “It’s okay, we’re all professionals,” she added with a little wink.  Elvis gulped and closed his eyes as he pulled the swim shorts down his legs and stepped out of them.  He couldn’t bear to look at her face and see the reaction that other Hollywood costume people had shown him in these vulnerable moments.  Stella couldn’t help smiling as she looked at him standing in front of her fully nude, trembling a little bit, his eyes squeezed shut. From their first meeting, she had found his odd mix of confidence and bashfulness so enticing. Seeing him in this vulnerable state had her heart racing while she also wanted to soothe his nerves. “I-I-I’m sorry, i-i-it’s probably not wh-wh-what you’re used to seeing,” he muttered with his eyes still closed.  “Yeah, it’s a lot bigger,” Stella said, sounding a bit impressed as her eyes wandered from his beautiful face down to the soft chubby length of him hanging between his legs. Elvis’ eyes flew open at that and he watched her observing him, taking everything in with those big green eyes.  “No, I meant because it’s, um, because I-I-I’m not…” his voice trailed off.  “Oh, that,” Stella understood what he was trying to say.  “That doesn’t bother me, honey.  I’ve seen them all before, and this one ranks pretty high.  Or pretty long,” she laughed at her own dirty little joke as the flush on Elvis’ face spread down to his chest.  “Sorry, hon, I didn’t mean to embarrass you, but no wonder Norman doesn’t want this flopping around out there.  You’re liable to cause an injury.  Let’s get you fixed up now.  I’m gonna have to touch you a little bit, okay?” she warned.  

Elvis sucked his breath in sharply as Stella reached her hand out and cupped his balls to tuck them up against his body.  “Ohhh,” a moan involuntarily came out of his mouth, and Stella had to stifle a giggle, not wanting to make him feel insecure. “Oh, shit, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to do that.  I-I-It’s just sensitive there,” he mumbled.  “It’s okay, Elvis, I’d be more offended if you didn’t feel anything when I’m touching you,” Stella reassured him.  Elvis smiled his crooked little smile at that and she continued trying to position him.  As she leaned down a little to get a good angle, he made the mistake of looking down where her sundress had gaped open a little at the chest.  The soft skin of her breasts looked so enticing, he would love to just reach down and caress them and…oh no, oh no, oh no…Elvis closed his eyes again right at the moment he felt Little Elvis spring up to attention.  Stella watched in awe as Elvis’ cock grew hard, the head emerging a little bit from inside his foreskin. She licked her lips at the sight of him, wondering what she should do. Or what he might let her do. “Hmm, we might have a problem here, honey,” Stella murmured.  “I’m not gonna be able to tape you down when you’re hard as a rock like this.  Although I do appreciate the attention,” she teased.  “Aw, Stella, I-I-I’m so embarrassed,” Elvis whispered.  The next words flew out before he could stop them, “but Little Elvis just loves being touched by a beautiful woman.”  

Stella bit down on her lip and glanced up, a little surprised at his sudden forwardness, but unable to resist the temptation literally staring her in the face. “So,” she said, running a finger over Elvis’ trembling cock, “how are we going to solve this problem?”  Elvis looked down and shivered. “I-I-I don’t know, can ya help me baby?” he asked lustily.  Stella nodded and sank down to her knees.  She wrapped her hand around his cock and moved it slowly up and down.  Elvis groaned loudly as Stella wrapped her mouth around his leaking tip and lapped up his precum with her warm tongue.  She held the base of his cock with one hand, his pubic hair tickling her skin, while the other wrapped around him and squeezed his muscular buttocks.  “Damn, baby, your mouth feels so good,” Elvis moaned.  “C-c-can I touch you honey?” he asked, his large hands rubbing over Stella’s shoulders. In response, she grabbed one of his hands and slipped it inside the front of her sundress. She felt his fingertips reach inside the cup of her bra and flick over her nipple, causing her to moan around him. “Fuck, Stella, you look so beautiful sucking my cock like that.”  As she bobbed her head up and down on him, she continued to run her hands over his butt and thighs, feeling the rippling muscles of his body.  “Oh, Stella, I’m gonna cum, you’re gonna make me cum, baby,” Elvis’ hips stuttered as he thrusted one last time and unloaded his hot cum into Stella’s mouth, watching in adoration as she swallowed him down.  

“Oh wow, that was amazing,” Elvis whispered, stroking Stella’s hair gently as he helped her back to her feet and leaned in to give her a soft kiss on the lips. “I’m glad I could help, honey,” she whispered sheepishly as she straightened the top of her dress.  “Not really part of my job description but I could tell you needed it. Now let’s get you taped while we have the chance.”  Elvis laughed a little hiccupping laugh and said, “With a beauty like you in front of me, our window of opportunity might be small.”  Stella glanced down and smirked.�� “That might be the only thing in here that’s small.”  Elvis laughed again and blushed.  After Stella finished taping him, he put the shorts back on and asked, “How does it look?”  “Well, hon, I have to say I prefer to see you flopping around in all your glory, but maybe I don’t want everyone else to see you that way,” she winked. Elvis tilted her chin up toward him and said, “Stella, I’ve had a big crush on ya since we met. Maybe we can both see each other in all our glory sometime, huh?”  “I would love that,” Stella said, a blush creeping into her own cheeks as Elvis planted another sweet kiss on her.

@missmaywemeetagain @thatbanditqueen @ellie-24 @be-my-ally @whositmcwhatsit @from-memphis-with-love - thank you always for your support and encouragement of all my dirty thoughts about Elvis. Love you! 😘

#Elvis #writing prompt game #blue hawaii #elvis fan fic #Elvis x oc #i love this man #Elvis smut

[ambrossart]

good morning!!! I hope this week is better than your last, I’m looking forward to the next chapter of Paper Men! I was rereading and noticed that it seems, of all her love interests, Patrick is the only one who doesn’t hold her to this impossibly high standard. I was wondering if you did this intentionally (because I can tell everything you’ve written so far has been) or if this could change? I feel like this is partially why I root for Patrick even though he’s bad news, he’s different than Henry and Vic… he’s openly interested in Evelyn and seems to admire her (admire might be a strong word for him) differently than the other guys have been. idk if any of this makes sense lol. just seems unlike Vic and Henry, he doesn’t need Evelyn to be perfect.

Well, tomorrow (or uh… today, technically) is my birthday, so this week is already gonna be better than the last lol. I was just really busy with work last week, and I'm still getting used to my new writing schedule. Normally, I have a little free time during the afternoon to write, but not anymore. Now I have to do all my writing late at night. I don't love that, but I don’t really have a choice.

Anyway, it absolutely was intentional to have Patrick treat Evelyn differently because I want people to understand why someone like Patrick (who, at first glance, probably doesn't seem like Evelyn's type) might appeal to her, especially at this point in her life.

When it comes to relationships, Evelyn is very direct. If she likes someone, either romantically or platonically, it's pretty obvious that she likes them. Evelyn's not good at holding in her emotions, and that, unfortunately, can be overwhelming for a lot of people. We saw that with Victor when they were kids. Evelyn came on very strong right out of the gate and Victor couldn't handle it, so he kept pushing her away until Evelyn eventually gave up and moved on. Then she got “involved” with Henry, which was a slight improvement but came with all kinds of other problems. And you’re right, he does hold her to an impossible standard. Henry demands perfection and absolute loyalty from his partner; otherwise he doesn’t feel safe. That’s all well and good for Henry, but it’s not exactly fair to Evelyn.

Frankly, Evelyn’s exhausted right now. She’s tired of putting all her time and energy into one-sided relationships. She wants to be wanted. She wants to be desired. So now here comes Patrick, who is very consistent and clear about what he wants: he wants her, that’s all. He doesn’t play hard to get. He doesn’t pull away. And he doesn’t place any expectations or restrictions on her. With Patrick, Evelyn can do whatever she wants. She can be clingy and emotional. (In fact, Patrick wants her to be emotional. The guy’s a leech; he feeds off that shit.) She can’t cross a line because Patrick has no boundaries. It’s basically impossible to make that man uncomfortable. That’s gotta be pretty liberating for someone who’s used to walking on eggshells.

Most importantly, Patrick displays a genuine (or at least a seemingly genuine) interest in her, her life, her hobbies. He asks questions. He listens. He remembers. Does he have an ulterior motive? Of course he does, but does that really matter? Eh, I’ll leave that up to you. 🤷🏻‍♀️

Right now, Patrick is exactly what Evelyn needs, and I think if she ever lets her guard down, she’ll be surprised by how attracted to him she really is.

… which is what Patrick is counting on. 😂

#the man is trash #but we like trash here #answered asks #thanks for the ask! #paper men #ambrossart