#like I would say 'mom can I have that gray shirt? and she would be confused until I show her and she would go 'oh the blue one!'

[roosterforme]

Batting Practice Part 33 The Epilogue | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Some things never seem to change for Bradley. But maybe he worked at keeping them the same. Baseball, Everett and you.

Warnings: Fluff, swearing

Length: 3700 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female single!mom Reader

Check my masterlist for more Top Gun fun! Batting Practice masterlist.

Seventeen and a half years later...

"Happy birthday, Coach," you whispered, slowly coaxing Bradley awake. He could feel your warm breath on his cheek and the weight of your hand resting on his chest. 

"Mmm, Kitten," he rasped, placing his bigger hand on top of yours as he cracked his eyes open. And there you were, fresh from sleep yourself, and so beautiful with the early morning sunlight catching on the angles of your face. "It's Sunday. Why won't you let me sleep in?"

"Because it's your birthday. And we get to see Ev."

Bradley stretched and rolled over so you were pinned deliciously underneath him. "We won't get to see Ev until later this afternoon. He's going to have a very busy day."

"I'm not so sure about that," you said with a smirk as you dragged your fingers through his hair. Bradley knew he was going gray, but you claimed you liked it, including the few stray strands that found their way into his mustache. 

"You sound like you've got something up your sleeve. Wait, Molly's not coming over to break the stove again, is she?"

You started laughing as you wrapped your legs around his. "Not that I know of. But anything's possible with her."

"Poor Bob," he said, pressing a kiss to your collarbone. "And the kids, too. She's an absolute menace." 

Bradley pulled up your shirt and kissed his way along your breasts. If he was lucky, he'd get round one of birthday sex now and round two tonight after the game.

"Wait," he whined as you tugged your shirt back down. "What are you doing? It's my birthday."

"Yes," you agreed, kissing him once and then slipping right out of bed. "And I've been told I need to keep you on a very strict schedule. So come on. Get up."

"A strict schedule?" he mumbled. "Baby, I'm retired. My schedule revolves around making you breakfast, packing your lunch, coaching tee ball, and watching every single Phillies game."

"Well, I'll be making your breakfast today. And you can eat nachos or a hot dog for lunch even though you should be watching your sodium intake. And we will definitely catch the Phillies game," you said, reaching out to take his hand. 

With one more groan, he let you lead him downstairs where you told him to sit at the kitchen counter. He passed his display case on the way and paused to look at his first Coach of the Year trophy and the baseball covered in little faded hearts that he used to propose to you. He smiled at the collection of other baseballs, including the one from the first time his son pitched a no hitter. 

"Seriously, Bradley. We have a schedule to keep."

A few minutes later he had his World's Greatest Dad mug full of coffee in front of him. You kept checking the time as you pulled eggs and vegetables out of the refrigerator. Once 8:00 hit, you grabbed his phone from where it sat on the counter and entered his passcode as he sipped his coffee.

"Read this," you said, voice full of excitement. 

"What is it?" he asked as you thrust the phone into his hands. It looked like he was going to have absolutely no say over what went on today, so he was just going to go with the flow.

"An article. In the Philadelphia Inquirer. It just got released two minutes ago."

"Okay," he muttered, setting down his coffee and as he started to read.

WILL SEASON FOUR BE AS LUCKY AS ONE, TWO, AND THREE?

by Harrison Boyd

June 27, 2039

From his draft day nearly four years ago to now, Everett Bradshaw has been turning heads. We had collectively wondered as baseball fans from the City of Brotherly Love if we would ever have a truly elite pitcher again after Ronson's career ending injury. But as soon as the franchise acquired Bradshaw, we were allowed to stop wondering. We have reached elite status once again. And Bradshaw shows no signs of stopping. 

When I asked the freshly twenty five year old ace about the secret to his success, the first thing out of his mouth was, "My dad."

Bradley rubbed his eyes with his fingers and took a deep breath against the swell of emotions rising in his chest. "Kitten, what is this?"

You just shrugged as you cut up a green pepper for an omelette. "A feature article on Ev. Keep reading."

Bradley took a deep breath and picked up where he left off.

So I asked him, "Was your dad the one at your games who was cheering the loudest? The one who kept you motivated since you were a kid?"

"Not exactly," Bradshaw replied with a smile. "He was my very first coach. He actually still coaches tee ball in San Diego. He wins Coach of the Year so frequently, I think we've all lost count of how many of those little trophies he has at home. But anyway, I met my dad on the very first day I ever played ball. The very first time I swung a bat with instruction was from him. And he's the one who taught me how to pitch. His slider is still really hard to hit."

"You met your dad through tee ball? Through baseball? That's fascinating."

"Yes. I begged my mom to let me play. I was already obsessed with the Phillies by the time I was six. My mom took me to see them clobber the Padres at Petco Park, and I just thought they were the coolest team. So when she let me play tee ball, and I met my coach and learned he also loved the Phillies, I just wanted to spend as much time with him as I could. Turns out, they also wanted to spend time with each other. They got married a few months later. And then my dad adopted me."

While his birth name wasn't Bradshaw, Everett said he never had a close relationship with his biological father. "Really, he's not even worth mentioning. The only one I've ever considered to be my dad is Bradley. I can barely remember a time before he was taking me to the park to hit balls and teaching me how to keep stats. We did my homework together and collected baseball cards. He helped me apply to colleges. The video of him losing his mind when the Phillies drafted me went viral. My mom and my aunt and uncle are awesome, too. But my dad has always understood me in a way probably nobody else ever will."

During his four years at Vanderbilt, Everett earned a reputation as a fun loving, team oriented pitcher. But his stats were enough to catch the eye of every major league team. He pitched a no hitter against Stanford when he was nineteen, and he hit his first grand slam when he was twenty. And he's only cleaned up his form since then. For anyone not keeping track at home, Bradshaw already owns an incredible record in the MLB: he is the only player to pitch a no hitter as well as hit at least one grand slam for every year they played in the pros. His batting averages are practically unheard of for a pitcher. 

It's no wonder he was heavily scouted. And he assures us that his dad was there with him every step of the way. "I didn't know anything about contracts. I just wanted to pitch. But I spent a lot of time talking things through with my dad before I made any decisions. And now everyone is making a huge fuss about my new 440 million dollar ten year extension with the Phils, but to be honest, I still just want to pitch as many games as I can."

The 'huge fuss' is being made, because Bradshaw is now the highest paid pitcher in league history. The Phillies went all in on him, however Bradshaw did adjust his deal to assure that the team would be able to keep top catcher Sanchez as well. "If Miguel Sanchez isn't catching for me and the other guys in the rotation, then that's a big problem. The team needed to retain him as well. And to be honest, Harrison, nobody needs 440 million dollars."

Bradley set his phone down, rubbed his eyes, and said, "I still can't believe our son is the highest paid pitcher ever."

"I can," you replied, adding cheese to the omelette. "He's incredible. Keep reading."

When I asked him what he plans to do with 44 million dollars per year, he kind of shied away from the answer at first. "Well my girlfriend runs a nonprofit organization back in San Diego. She helps fund underprivileged children and schools. So a lot of my income goes back to kids in the city where I grew up and beyond. But I've also been working on a bit of a project myself."

When I asked him for more details, he folded his hands on the table in front of him and took a few beats to answer. "We talked a lot about my dad and what he means to me personally, and how he has impacted my career. But I also think it's important to remember that I'm just one guy. I'm just one kid who went through tee ball and little league. There are thousands of kids across the country who benefit from those types of athletic programs every year. And some of them, just like me, really need the positive influence that the coaches bring. So my dad doesn't even know about this yet, but I'm starting the Bradley Bradshaw Foundation, which will help fund a handful of youth tee ball programs every year. This is something I've been thinking about for a long time. The coaches bring the love and dedication; they shouldn't have to worry about equipment costs and field rental fees."

Bradley dropped his phone onto the counter and tried to wipe his eyes as he sobbed. "I can't even finish reading it."

You slid his birthday breakfast onto a plate and set it in front of him. Then you wrapped your arms around his neck and let him cry against your shoulder. 

"Why is he doing this?" Bradley asked you. "He knows how fucking emotional I get, Kitten."

You kissed the top of his head and whispered, "Yes, you're always very soft for us. But you're also soft and sweet for all the kids you've coached. Keep reading."

So he pushed his breakfast aside and picked up his phone once again. And once he blinked away most of his tears he read the last part.

When pressed about how he thinks his stats will pan out by the end of his fourth season, Everett 'Grand Slam' Bradshaw laughed and shrugged. "I don't know. I'm just trying for consistency. I'm trying to be a good teammate. I'm trying to make the best of every game I get to start. I'm trying to spend as much time with my family as I can. But if you really have a specific question about my stats, you should call my dad. He probably knows better than I do."

Bradley stood up from the kitchen counter and walked away from you. "I need a minute," he said, raking his hands through his hair. The love Bradley felt for his son was just simply part of him. He never took the time to try to pinpoint it exactly, because it was just built into him at this point. But he supposed it really was quite simple to reach back in his mind and pull out the moments when he started to fall in love with you and Everett. And it really was just because of the Tiny Eagles tee ball team. 

If he hadn't agreed to help Bob coach that first season, his life would be fundamentally incorrect right now. He didn't even like thinking about it. But it was because of his love for Everett, and you, and baseball that he stuck with coaching. He'd spent time with countless six and seven year olds over the last eighteen years. He'd missed some practices and games for deployments here and there, sure. But giving a little bit of his time and attention to a roster of kids each spring ended up changing his life. Because while his family owned his heart, Bradley found he had quite a lot of patience and love to share with more kids. 

"Bradley?" you asked softly, standing next to his untouched breakfast. "We can go see Ev when you're ready."

"I'm ready."

Bradley took a quick shower and put on his favorite jeans and his Phillies jersey with Bradshaw and the number 1 on the back. You were dressed similarly in your own Everett Bradshaw jersey; it had taken until your son was playing for the team for you to have what Bradley considered an adequate amount of Phillies clothing in your drawers. Once Bradley added his backwards hat, he was ready to go.

You took his hand and led him out to the new Bronco, and Bradley handed you the keys. He still felt like he was on the verge of tears again. "I need you to drive."

"Okay, Coach."

When you turned onto the Private Parking Only ramp at Petco Park, Bradley chuckled. "I still can't believe Ev is playing the Padres in San Diego on my birthday."

"You screamed like a small child when the schedule came out," you reminded him as you parked near the players entrance where the three of you had entered on your ballpark tour eighteen years ago. 

"Yeah, I know, but we hardly ever get to see Ev during the season unless we fly to Philly." He was already climbing out before you turned the engine off, and then he took your hand as you laughed. "Shit, Kitten... it's 10:00. The game doesn't start until 1:00. Are the gates even open?"

"We can get in," you assured him, and you pulled a lanyard out of your pocket with VIP printed all over it. 

"How did we get that?" he asked, leaning down to kiss you as you approached the gate together. "Ev usually just sends us box tickets."

But before you had a chance to answer, the security guard looked at the VIP pass and asked, "Which player are you here to see?"

"Everett Bradshaw?" you replied. "He plays for the Phillies."

The guard's face lit up and he said, "He just autographed a ball for my kids about ten minutes ago! Nicest guy."

"He's our son," Bradley said with pride in his voice, and you squeezed his hand a little tighter. 

"Come on in," the guard said with a bright smile, unlocking the gate and sliding it open. "You can wait in the VIP lounge right up this ramp to the right. Scan the pass to unlock the door. I'll call down to the locker rooms and let him know you're here."

"Thanks," Bradley replied, and you led the way up the ramp. "Baby, I'm still a little confused about why we're here so early."

"You'll see in a minute," you replied, scanning the badge. Bradley pulled the door open when it unlocked, and he followed you into the lounge full of plush seats, TV screens, and refreshments. And at the far end, perched on the edge of one of the long tables, was Everett. He was smiling as he tucked his phone in his jeans pocket, and Bradley thought he looked impossibly taller and stronger than he had two months ago when they visited him in Philadelphia.

Bradley's eyes filled with tears as he started closing the distance to his son. "Happy birthday, Dad," Everett said with a laugh in his deep voice, but Bradley was already wrapping him up in a tight hug. He just wanted to hold all six foot two inches and two hundred and twenty pounds of his son, and Everett let him. 

Bradley had to fight the onslaught of tears as the familiar feel of Ev hugging him back filled his senses, and the words from the article he read earlier flooded his mind. When he finally released him, he patted him on the shoulder. "You look good, Kiddo. Did you eat enough for breakfast? Are you still starting today?"

Ev smiled at him and nodded, "Yeah, I'm feeling good, Dad. I could probably use some of your pancakes though."

"Well why didn't you say something? I could have brought some with us. Kitten, why didn't you say something?" he asked you as you walked over to join them.

As Everett gave you an enormous hug as well, he said, "I'm thinking about sleeping over at the house with you guys tonight, since I'm not starting tomorrow. You can make me about a dozen pancakes tomorrow morning. Hi, mom."

You kissed his cheek and adjusted his backward Phillies cap. "I like your hair this way. You look so handsome, Ev.

"Of course he does," Bradley agreed. "He looks like you." And then he was rewarded with the twin smiles that you and Everett bestowed on him at the same time. "Listen, if you're coming back to the house later, I need to stop and get groceries. You ate everything in the refrigerator and drank all my beer last time."

Everett just smiled at him. "Damn, I really do miss your pancakes."

"Ev, that's an adult word," you scolded.

"Mom. I am an adult," he scolded back playfully. But he was grinning when he turned toward Bradley. "Did mom make you read the article this morning? From the Inquirer?" 

"Yeah," he whispered, nodding his head. "You didn't need to do that for me, Kiddo. But thank you."

His throat was tight with unshed tears as Everett gave him another hug. "I didn't do it just for you. I did it for the other coaches and kids, too. You were just my main inspiration. You always are, dad."

"Please, Ev," he said, sucking in a deep breath as he rubbed his son's back before releasing him. "I might never stop crying."

And he was once again met with Everett's smile and yours. "You're a softie, Coach," you told him, cupping his chin in your hand and kissing him.

"Always for the two of you." Bradley kissed your fingers and then laced them with his as he looked around the room. "How much longer can you hang out with us, Ev? You need to warm up soon?"

"Pretty soon," he replied. "I'll walk you up to the box to meet Aunt Molly and Uncle Bob and the cousins, but we need to stop and take care of something first."

"Take care of what?" Bradley asked, but Ev was already heading for the door past the tables and unlocking it with his own badge. Hand in hand, the two of you followed your son down a long hallway that ended near the locker rooms at a door that said PRESS AND PLAYERS ONLY. "Are we even allowed back here?"

"Well," Everett said, stopping in front of the door, "if you remember the tour we took when I was six years old, this is where we met some of the players."

"Of course I remember," Bradley said, leaning down to kiss your cheek. "That was one of the best days of my life. I told your mom I loved her that day."

"He did," you confirmed for Everett.

"You two have always been sickening," Everett replied with a smile. "But yes, we're allowed in here. Actually dad, you're the man of the hour."

"Man of the hour?" he asked. "Kiddo, you're the star pitcher. It's just my fifty-fifth birthday." 

But as soon as Everett pushed the door open and Bradley stepped inside, about twenty reporters and photographers started buzzing with excitement. 

"Ev, I'm still confused," Bradley said as his son rested a hand on his shoulder. He watched you smile and head to an empty seat at the back of the room. "What's going on?"

Ev rubbed his shoulder before giving him another hug and releasing him. "Every interviewer asks me how I became successful. And my answer is always the same. It's because of you, Dad."

"Ev," Bradley choked out, his throat tight with tears once again.

"So you're in high demand, Coach. I told a few media outlets we would give an interview together. Nothing too crazy. As long as you want to."

Bradley glanced around the room, and as soon as he found you with a bright smile on your face, he said, "Okay."

So he sat down where the players sit, and Everett took the seat next to him. They had on matching jerseys and backward caps, and it didn't matter that he adopted Everett, this had always been his son. They were cut from the same cloth. They understood each other. They were a family. 

Everett cleared his throat and announced, "Hey, everyone. This is my dad and my very first coach, retired naval Captain Bradley Bradshaw. He taught me literally everything I know about baseball. Everything I know about anything, really. He showed me how to pitch sliders and curveballs at Myers Park here in San Diego. He made sure I could lose a game with the same attitude as when I won a game. He and I met the first day I ever played tee ball and the very first day he ever coached. And he's been coaching the Tiny Eagles ever since. So I guess if you want to know more about me, then he's the man to talk to."

Bradley was still wiping tears from his eyes when the first interviewer raised her hand, smiled at him, and asked, "Can you tell us how proud you are of Everett?"

He turned to look at his son and smiled. "How much time do I have?"

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

Well, that's it! The tale of Coach Bradley! I can't thank you enough to everyone who has been lovely to me as I worked on and posted this fic. I can't get enough of these three. Thanks to @beyondthesefourwalls and @mak-32 (and thanks for the banner, Mak!)

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

Don't forget to check out Bob and Molly in The Curveball!

Still want more? Read Draft Day!

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#bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster top gun #rooster x you #rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley rooster x reader #rooster bradshaw fic #rooster bradshaw x reader #top gun imagine #top gun maverick imagine #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfiction #roosterforme #batting practice

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

good morning!! it's @henderdads' birthday!!!! happy happy happy birthday to youuuu cass!!!

The minute Eddie Munson turned 18, he could see it; the only color he would see until he and his soulmate kissed for the first time.

Yellow.

Rays and rays of warm yellow sunshine, the middle light (and middle light only) of the one stoplight in town, one half of their school colors, the dandelions spotted agross the grass between the trailers, the stubborn daffodils that keep reappearing in Ms. Wilson’s garden though she’s long since passed…

The half-toned things he’s told are green, half yellow, half blue, and that he got lucky his soulmate’s favorite color wasn’t black or gray (then he felt glad he’d settled on a different color than either of those by time he was older, he didn’t want to subject his soulmate to more black and white..

After Steve Harrington turns 18, he can see the color of the lipstick his mom wore in their last family portrait, the color of the punch that gets spilled all over Nancy’s shirt at Tina’s halloween party, the stripes and piping on his godforsaken Scoops uniform, the red of his own blood rushing down the drain beneath his feet.

The dark tone puddled beneath Eddie’s limp body in the Upside Down.

The same color splashed onto Dustin’s arms and legs.

Pressing his hands into it to stop it from spreading, to start it flowing again, Steve presses his lips to Eddie’s once…he hasn’t done CPR since he worked at the pool….twice…”C’mon man, don’t leave him like this.”....

The third time is when it happens.

The feeble beat of Eddie’s heart starting again, the push of breath into his lungs, the sudden flood of cool, dark colors around them. 

“Eddie? Eddie! C’mon man, stay with me.”

It looks like it takes a herculean effort to do so, but Eddie’s eyes open. “H–hey, Harrington. Wh–”

“I’m going to pick you up now, Ed,” Steve says, doing just that, tucking Eddie into his chest and starting for the trailer. “El is keeping the gate open for us but we gotta hurry.”

The four of them manage to get him out through the gate and into the RV, this time with Nancy behind the wheel. 

Having to let him go at the doors to the ER is one of the hardest things he’s ever had to do, but he manages, Robin telling him over and over again that she’d already called Eddie’s Uncle and that he’d be safe.

While they’re waiting, filthy and exhausted but victorious nonetheless, Nancy says to him: “It’s blue, by the way. The…everything down there has some sort of blue tinge to it.”

Steve doesn’t ask how she knew, just appreciates that he can look at something and she’ll tell him the name of the color. 

The pattern of the chairs is orange and purple, the plant in the corner is green (“All plants are some shade of it for the most part.”), the wallpaper is his favorite though.

“It’s yellow.”

“I guess I know what color Eddie’s been seeing the past few years..” It’s the first and last thing he says until Wayne Munson comes to get them.

“You three need’ta be looked at too. Not jus’ Henderson.”

He leads them back to a room, and Steve recognizes Dr. Owens there waiting for them.

They get looked over, they get cleaned up, and Steve gets a shot of something that’s supposed to help stave off anything those flying rats may have given him.

And for the next week, he stays. 

He and Wayne maintain a constant vigil at Eddie’s bedside. Wayne leaves for his shifts when he has to, Steve is allowed to stay because of his soulmate status, and Eddie wakes up a little more than a week later.

Wayne had left a couple hours ago, so Steve will have to call him at the plant but first: “Steve?” Eddie manages to croak out when his eyes crack open the first time.

“Hey Eds, welcome back to the world of the living.”

Eddie shuts his eyes and huffs a laugh, then cringes, “Still painful as always, I see.”

“Oh yeah? What else do you see?”

Steve watches his brow furrow as he tries to make sense of the question, watches as he opens his eyes again, a bit further this time, and when they widen in amazement as they travel around the room.

“What–? What the hell..?” The heightened beeping of his heart monitor makes Steve feel almost giddy, getting to watch him see this for the first time. “What nurse kissed me while I was out?” He pauses, staring down a painting of colorful wildflowers on the opposite wall before turning back to Steve. “And can they come back so I can get more pain meds?”

Steve chuckles as he stands stiffly from the hospital chair he’d been all but glued to for the last week, reaching over Eddie’s head to press the call button.

“What’s so funny?”

“You, of course.”

“Thank you, I try, but what’d I do this time?”

“It wasn’t a nurse, Eds.”

Eddie blinks at him for a moment, confused, “I don’t quite have the brainpower for riddles, Stevie.”

Steve’s stomach flips at the nickname, “It wasn’t a nurse, it was when we were still in the—down there.” he pauses, feeling suddenly embarrassed. Did Eddie want it to be him? His first assumption was one of the nurses… “Someone had to give you CPR.”

He watches as Eddie scrolls through what he can only assume is a roster of their “Team Vecna”; Nancy? It’s been known that she’s been able to see in full color since she and Jonathan got together. Dustin? Yeah..no. Ro–

“And it wasn’t Robin.” Steve says when he sees Eddie’s lips curl into an ‘R’.

“Then who—”

It dawns on him at the same time the summoned nurse arrives with a new shot of whatever it is he needs.

She leaves with an excited “We’ll call Wayne!”, and Eddie drops his head back to his pillow.

Steve’s stomach twists anxiously. “Eddie?”

“So you’re telling me that the one and only Steve Harrington gave me the kiss of life and also the gift of colorvision, and I wasn’t conscious enough to experience it properly?”

Steve ducks his head, scratching behind his ear nervously. “Uh…yeah…? Sorry Eddi–”

“Can you do it again?”

His head snaps up again, “Huh?”

“And preferably before I lose the battle for my consciousness?”

Eddie’s face is soft and open, a smile quirking the pink of his lips and crinkling those dark eyes of his…Who is Steve to tell him no?

He smiles softly in return and stands.

Leaning forward with his weight braced to one side of Eddie’s head, the other hand coming up to cup his uninjured cheek, Steve kisses him properly for the first time.

The first of many many many more to come.

eeee i hope you liked this little thing!!! i've never written anything w soulmates before!! 🥹 i hope you have the most bestest day today, friend!! 🫶🫶

#i looked back at your trope tier list for this 👀 #damn was that tag game useful or what? #steddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steve harrington #eddie munson #soulmates #st #stranger things #eddie munson x steve harrington #steveddie #eddeve #noelle writes

[the-fandom-is-now-my-life]

Do you take requests? I have a brainrot here, with the Creator’s child being Childe’s kid

Imagine the one codenamed as Childe have a child, the convos of creator can be confusing to their people HAHHAHA

Or there’s this one ginger child that looks like one of Childe’s sibling but it is really just Tartaglia’s kid

The creator had a:

Carrot top child

WC: 500~

I kinda take request ig? I like reading what other people think of what I wrote and little drabbles about ideas

“He is a redhead but not quite like Diluc’s family” Venti waves a wood rattle In front of the baby's face his blue eyes blown wide and arms thrashing around.

“Such an interesting hair color” Morax covers his mouth, a grin forming at the familiarity with who he guessed sired that child.

“Whoever laughs alone something knows, Morax” the tsaritsa eyes him, her hands tying a small ponytail on “her little eurysaces’s” head. For someone who was so mad at the news she did become attached quickly. A mystery to all but morax.

“shouldn't you be the one laughing then?”

“Stop it, you two” you scold them as you take back eurysaces from the tsarina.

“childe, stop playing around you are scaring the child” you chime at him from the door, seeing him throw the kid up and catching him

“He doesn't seem to care, see?” he holds up his one year old, his auburn hair curling wildly in every direction and his mouth forming a smile.

“He is fear laughing”

“look at how happy he is! A little thrill seeker like his папа”

“Childe!” You yell as you walk to your lover and kid “what did I tell you?!”

And as if thinking you were screaming at your kid for eating a piece of candy before supper Ajax's mom starts defending her grandkid, already saying she was the one who urged him to have some but stops when you pass by her.

“I told you to stop trying to chop the damned wood, your shoulder blade is broken, just let your brother do it!” and she turns around to see her son holding up the axe and a small bunch of wood. For some reason he was bare chested.

“child, put on your shirt! You are embarrassing yourself”

“I didn't work out so much only to cover my muscles”

“папочка, stop embarrassing yourself…”

“Oh, ajax, it's been so long since we last saw you, since you father sent you to the fatui to fix your behavior you barely visit”

Childe settles his toddler on his hip, already knowing how long gossipy old neighbors can chat for “oh, it's been busy since their highness decided to stay in Snezhnaya, having to act as a bodyguard and all”

“Seemingly that excessive energy of yours at least did you some good at last” she smirks a bitter twinge of poison over her words, her gray eyes falling on the redhead on his hip “did your mother have another kid? I thought treucer was the last one, but she did say that about Tonya too” she glances over the two kids fighting with snowballs a few meters away.

His smile feels more forced and a thin vein pops just under his eyebrow and getting mixed with with his matching hair “No, treucer is still out spoilt baby brother, this one is my baby”

“But you are so young! Aren't you around 24? So bad you ruined your youth with such a reckless mistake” she grabs her forehead as she sighs without noticing you exiting the house.

“Oh? I would say eury is rather endearing, and it isn't like Ajax's career could advance much more” the poor lady almost falls over from the scare when she sees your face.

#genshin impact #gi #sagau #self aware genshin impact #genshin x reader #childe x reader #ajax x reader #tartaglia x reader #genshin childe #genshin ajax #genshin tartagalia

[kinkyliterotica]

(This image belongs to Sony and I do not claim ownership of it)

Venom x Eddie Brock x OC M/M/F Threesome Smut

Summary: Eddie introduces his new romantic interest, Shannon Walker (single mom), to his alien companion and partner Venom. After a glass of wine and a lot of reassurance she decides she’s ready to handle both men. At the same time.

Warnings: Smut, Possessive!Venom, Threesome, Size Kink, Monster Fucking, Slime, Creampie, Tentacles, Rough Sex, Deep Throat, Oral

———

(Part 1)

After a long evening of important conversations about single parenting, ‘where their relationship was going’, Shannon was feeling reassured and content. That was until Eddie let it slip that Venom had an interest in being…involved with her.

She adjusted herself on the couch. Her red dress rode up her plump thighs, her hands played with the stem of her wine glass. Eddie sat opposite of her, looking slapdash but handsome. In a wrinkled shirt with rolled up sleeves, and a pair of gray trousers. He looked so human, which made Venom’s head floating between them seem all the more strange, and alien. His white eyes were shiny and reflective. His teeth were cluttered, jagged, and completely intimidating.

Shannon laughed a little nervously and asked, “Wait, how that would even work. You know…the three of us?”

Venom wrapped his sleek tendrils around her back and pulled her closer to Eddie. Her skirt was almost entirely pooled around her hips. Venom spoke softly into her ear. As softly as he could with his deep otherworldly voice.

“I can show you. You’ve never seen the things I can do.”

Shannon’s own softer human voice shook, she asked “Have you ever been with a woman before-a human woman?”

“I’m Dylan’s father too, you know.”

Eddie looked between the two of them, unsure of how Shannon was responding to Venom. They’d never interacted like this before. He had always been the intermediary.

Eddie told Venom, “Alright buddy, ease up a bit.”

Eddie then spoke to Shannon, “I know you’re nervous, and if you want to turn to the door and bolt you can go for it. But before you do, you should know, we really like you. And if you give us a chance I’m sure we can change your mind about the whole alien thing.”

Shannon doesn’t say anything, she takes a small brave breath, picks up Eddie’s hand, and takes him to the bedroom.

Eddie’s apprehension faded quickly.

Eddie asked, “So I guess, uh, a little bit of freakiness turns you on huh?”

Shannon laughed and said, “You don’t know the half of it.” Shannon meant freaky in a very different way than Eddie and Venom did. She had some experience with deep throating and anal, maybe some water sports. This was freaky on a whole other level.

As they entered the bedroom, Venom’s tendrils appeared out of Eddie’s body. The appendages started to slide underneath her clothes, lifting them from her body expertly. Her dress was pulled down, her tights slid down to her ankles, her hair released from its small claw clip. She became alert, she was being touched in so many places by Venom’s cold tendrils it’s overwhelming.

Suddenly she was lifted off of the ground by Eddie while Venom slipped her clothes off of her body entirely. She starts panting, she couldn’t keep up.

Eddie leaned in closely and whispered, “Don’t be afraid, I’ve got you.”

Venom leaned into her other ear, “She’s not afraid Eddie, I can smell her.”

Venom growled and licked a line up her neck and jaw with his strong long tongue. She shivers violently, the sensation so foreign but so tantalizing. She stifled a meek moan. Venom laughed, and the sound rumbled in Eddie’s chest.

“She wants me.”

Eddie chides him, “She wants us, don’t you baby?”

Eddie pulls Shannon closer, burying his face in her neck and littering it with kisses.

Shannon stutters, “Yes, uh, yes. Sorry I’m just...would you two give it a rest for a minute!”

Eddie and Venom stop suddenly, worried they’ve done something wrong. Shannon pushed against them slightly, giving herself room to breathe. They had to work up to that kind of intensity. It was too much.

Shannon shook her choppy hair out of her face and started undressing Eddie. She pulls his pants around his ankles and pushes him down on the bed before ripping his pants off. He pushed himself up on his elbows, a wide smile on his face.

Eddie snickers, “Yeah I like that.”

Shannon smiled, “Shut up.”

Shannon crawled on top of Eddie and started licking and sucking in his earlobe. Her teeth graze the sensitive flesh of his neck, and now it’s her turn to make him shiver. This was much more comfortable, being in control.

“You two keep acting like I’m some flustered schoolgirl. You’ve got all the tricks and I’m just going to lay here and be amazed huh? Wrong.”

Shannon’s fingers drag down his chest and end up on his boxers. She slips her fingers beneath the waistband and grabs hold of his hard cock. She strokes up and down gently.

She continues, “I got laid more in college than you two have in your entire life. Now lay back and let me show you what I can do.”

Eddie laughed, and replied with a satisfying, “Yes ma’am.”

Shannon heard nothing from Venom. She hoped she’d shut him up, but in reality she knew he was lying in wait, biting his tongue.

Shannon pulled Eddie’s boxers down with his help. She shifted herself lower. She knelt on the floor and put her face an inch above his crotch. She wrapped her hands around his length and started pumping. Eddie moaned with relief. As soon as she got a steady pace she took out her tongue and licked him from ball sac to tip. Eddie nearly bucked off of the bed, and the moan he let out thrilled her even more. He was making him weak, making this strong man, this superhero, moan and writhe beneath her. She could taste the power.

Eddie wrapped his fingers in her hair and gently eased her away from his balls and onto his length. She adjusted her throat to his length, he’s a good size but not uncomfortable. She ran her tongue down his shaft as she wet his dick with her saliva. Her mouth made sharp wet noises that made Eddie’s cock throb.

Eddie looks down at Shannon, “Damn she knows what she’s doing, huh V?”

Venom laughed in a sickening and lingering way that made Shannon’s confidence wane.

“We’ll see my love.”

Shannon feels Eddie’s body adjust around her, the thighs she rested her arms on were suddenly growing, turning black, expanding all around her. The length in her mouth also grew, what used to fit comfortably between her cheeks was now extending into the free space between them. When the top of Venom’s length hits the back of her throat she gagged.

Shannon’s head shot up and glared at Venom, who laid back casually with his arms behind his head, his body eating up the whole length of the bed and then some.

Shannon scowled at Venom's cocky smirk, his teeth glistening. “No fair.” She complained

“You’re so nice to Eddie, what about me? I’ve been waiting as long as he has. Watching you from behind his eyes, feeling your body beneath his hands. Don’t I deserve some…attention?”

Shannon sat back on her haunches and laughed, “Oh, you want attention, is that it? You’re feeling left out?”

Venom hisses, his tongue rattling like a snake.

“Yesssssss.”

Shannon laughed and Venom sat up more quickly than she expected based on his sheer size. Suddenly he was towering over her. Her knees were still on the ground, she felt so incredibly small, so vulnerable.

Venom took his clawed hand and gently and lovingly stroked her cheek with it. The sensation was smooth and unlike skin, but it was comforting. She leaned into his touch and enjoyed the affection. The gap between them was closing, the distance between Eddie and Venom coming together.

Venom asked honestly, “Are you afraid of me?”

Shannon became determined. She shook her head ‘no’ and commanded, “Lie down”.

Venom settles himself and Shannon lowers her mouth onto his length. It’s huge and wet with precum, he is hard and ready for her. She can’t swallow the whole thing but does her best with her hand to substitute.

Venom interjects, “It’s not…too big for you is it?”

Shannon says stubbornly, “Of course not.”

“Good, I’ll enjoy trying to make it fit.”

Shannon stretched her throat to its absolute limit. His size was unimaginably girthy, her lips barely went down ⅓ of his entire length. Her teeth grazed skin but it didn’t seem to bother him. She pumped her head up and down, trying to mimic what she did for Eddie. Her hand worked tirelessly down his shaft.

After only a moment Venom shrunk away and Eddie returned. He picked her head up, her eyes filled with tears from the strain and he kissed her forehead lovingly.

Eddie sighs, “Alright that’s enough, I think we should take a break for a bit.”

Shannon wiped the tears away with the back of her hand. She sat up angrily this time. She had just gotten a rhythm going, and Eddie came out to ‘give her a break’. “I don’t know if you two are trying to drive me crazy, but it’s certainly working!”

Eddie held his hands up incredulously. “What the hell? What did I do?”

Shannon threw her hands down on the bed, “You bastards, you have me suck the biggest dick I’ve ever seen, tease me with the longest tongue I’ve ever seen, and you want to take a break?! I’m losing my mind over here boys!”

Eddie’s expression turned from concern to hunger as Venom took over again. His face grows that terrifying set of teeth and he wets them with his truly impressive tongue.

“You underestimated her Eddie, she loves the monster just like you do. You had better be ready, little human.”

Her whole world turned upside down and she saw a black blur move above her, pinning her down. Her shoulders pressed painfully into the cheap mattress.

Shannon squealed as Venom spread her legs and licked the tip of her clit with his tongue. She couldn’t hold back the pornographic moans as Venom showed her how long his tongue really is.

She fisted the sheets and cried out in pleasure while Eddie admired the view from behind Venom's eyes, God she is beautiful as she writhed around in the sheets.

Venom stopped playing around and fucking her with his tongue more roughly. He had incredibly precise control over the appendage and Shannon could feel him dragging it along her walls. She was soaking, both his tongue and the sheets. Everytime her hips threatened to buck off the bed, a new appendage shot out to hold her down. He was everywhere, all over her. Binding her, trapping her. When she was near total bliss he used his tentacles to play with her nipples. They were so skilled and knew exactly how to twist and pull to make her cry out.

Shannon could barely breathe, “You feel so fucking good.”

“I know, delicious thing, I know. Are you prepared to take something much bigger?”

Shannon tried to think through the lusty fog. She stumbled with her words, “Eddie first.”

Venom didn’t complain as Eddie fronts again.

Eddie leaned down and saw her wrecked and wet body. He kissed every part of Shannon that he could find, “You’re doing so good baby, god, I don’t know how you do it.”

Eddie grabs his length and strokes it before lining it up with her hole. What Venom did turned him on just as much as her.

“Did V make you wet baby, did you love it?”

Shannon moaned, “Yes, yes, he was amazing, I want you too please.”

Eddie shoved his length into her easily. She’d been properly prepared, and ever since she had her daughter she didn’t need as much preparation as she once did.

Eddie rocked into her and fell into rhythm easily. He grabbed her legs and hiked them over his shoulders when he lost her cunts tight grip.

Eddie shivered when he hit a good spot. The sensation traveling through his entire body. His eyes were shut tight, “Oh fuck you’re so hot. How long have you been waiting for this huh?”

Shannon nearly tore Eddie’s skin digging her nails into his shoulders. She cried out, “So long!”

Eddie and Shannon keep at a good pace, enjoying the feeling of their bodies finally intertwined and skin against skin. There was no music, no ambient sound, just the rocking of the bed and the sound of wet flesh between them. Eddie was strong, not unlike Venom. His pace and stamina was nearly superhuman.

Venom growled, “I need her Eddie, let me out.”

Eddie tried to soothe him, “Give me a minute, V, she’s not-“

Venom crawled through Eddie’s skin and suddenly Shannon is more full than she ever has been. She seizes up around his cock and feels like she’s going to burst.

She hears his chest rattle with another growl but she’d shut her eyes tight, focusing on keeping herself calm as her walls are stretched to capacity.

Shannon kept her eyes shut, unsure if she could handle seeing a dark monster above and inside her. She took a deep breath, “I’m trying Venom, please go slow!”

Venom resisted his urge to plunge into her. It wasn’t fair. She looked so happy taking Eddie, and all he wanted was a chance to make her that happy. To make her that blissful and wanton and slutty just like she’d been for him.

“I forget, you humans are so breakable.”

Venom moved his hips gently, his cock pumping as softly as he could manage, and still every time his hips moved towards Shannon her body seized up in pain. There was a part of him that enjoyed seeing her suffer. That wanted to make her cry and scream for him. But now was not that time.

Eddie was as desperate to have Shannon accept Venom as he was. He gave Venom a suggestion in his mind.

Venom agreed and picked up Shannon’s body and sat her on top of his lap. His legs rested beneath his hind quarters.

Venom took her hand and placed it on her lower stomach. She can feel the outline of his enormous cock on her stomach and she knew that it thrilled him. It felt almost frightening to think about how much she had stretched for him.

She gasped, “I-I can feel it. I can feel you, I–”

“Shh shh shh.”

The sound reassured her instantly. Venom held her close and supported her entire weight with his arms. She was not as small as she was when she was younger, but in his monstrous arms she weighs nothing.

His whisper sounded like a deep rattle, “Ride me.”

Shannon knew that this was an invitation to set the pace, she started out slow and worked her way up until she loosened up. Just enough that the stretching is no longer uncomfortable.

Venom drooled watching her. Her brows drawn together with focus, her hands dug into his shoulders to support herself, her skin sheened with sweat. His slick saliva dripping down his chest and hers, his white eyes watched her every move.

Venom smiled, “Such plump delicious flesh. You would make a tasty snack.”

Shannon felt a shiver of fear go up her spine. He wouldn’t be allowed to have her fear. Instead she spat back at him, “Not until you make me cum you pussy!”

Venom snarled at the challenge and threw Shannon onto her back.

“You’re lucky I like you little one. It will only hurt, a little.”

The time for gentleness was over. He plowed into her, he either ignored or was incited by her screams. He jackhammered his cock into her until her mind almost felt numb with overstimulation. Real tears were streaming down her face, her voice croaked from the effort. Her fingers dug into his arms.

A tendril wrapped around her mouth, silencing her. He leaned his enormous head down. Venom’s voice shook with excitement. His voice boomed, so loud and so wild she feared for her life.

“We’re just getting started little human. So much more of you to DEVOUR!”

Shannon shivered as she came vaginally around his cock, she screamed as she finished. Her walls pulsed around him, encouraging her partner to finish. Venom’s hands grasped her hips painfully against his. His cock was harder than ever, filled to burst. Venom punched the mattress beneath her, shredding it as he pumped her full of cum. It was hot and messy and she swore she could feel it crawling inside of her. Both of their bodies shook violently.

Venom recoils and Eddie is left, still cumming from his own cock as he pulls out of her. “You’re so fucking crazy I love it.”

Shannon felt the soreness settle on suddenly as her orgasm passed. All of that stretching did more damage than she thought and she was suddenly overcome with discomfort that dragged her pleasure down beneath its wave.

Shannon grunted, “Yeah that was pretty fucking crazy huh?”

Eddie gave Shannon space to sit up, he watched her face contort in pain and suddenly he’s concerned. Venom hadn’t been with a woman since Anne, and even then Anne was competitive even with herself. She would have never admitted that Venom could hurt her. Her pride was too great.

They didn’t know her the way they did Anne, their and Shannon’s first time together was impulsive and full of heady chemistry, but who knows how she felt now that the tension had been broken.

Eddie swallowed thickly, “Hey you uh, you doing alright there?”

Shannon winced as she touched her cunt, “Yes and no.”

Eddie sat cautiously next to her, looking at her face for reassurance, “To be honest I’m gettin’ a little concerned here. Was that the best sex you ever had or did we just massively fuck up?”

Shannon laughs abortively, “Best sex I’ve ever had no doubt, I’m just really really sore. I haven’t been stretched out like that since…ever.”

Eddie kissed Shannon, he stroked her face trying to comfort her, “You were such a champ, I can’t tell you how impressed I am.”

Shannon asked, “What about you, Venom?”

Venom’s head whipped around the side of Eddie, he nuzzles her face like a cat and she giggles.

“What about me?”

Shannon asks, “How was it for you?”

Venom laughs, “Would you care for me to show you how I feel?”

Shannon patted his head, “Later, I need to freshen up, and take a Tylenol. Maybe a shot of tequila if I’m being honest.”

Eddie nods, “Yeah, yeah, whatever you need.”

Eddie helped Shannon up, she went to the bathroom and rinsed off in the shower. She gently lapped the water into her cunt as she tried to cool down the sensitive nerves. She dried off and decided she doesn’t want anything else touching her lower half.

She moved slowly out of the bathroom and saw Eddie and Venom pouring whiskey into glasses. They’re talking to each other but she couldn’t make out any distinct phrases.

Shannon smiled weakly when their face landed on her, “I know you’re feeling ambitious boys but I think I’m tapped out for the night.”

Eddie looked concerned once more, “Here, take a drink, let’s sit down, no more funny business.”

Shannon said, “If this is going to become a regular thing I’m going to need to get some desensitizing gel or something. My cunt is wrecked.”

Venom snarks, “Oh yeah I bet it is.”

Eddie snapped, “Would you shut up genius? You almost broke her in half. Show some respect.”

Venom's tentacles slithered out and picked up Shannon and placed her on the couch. He slid a blanket onto her and placed the whiskey in her hand.

Shannon smiled, “Mmm thank you.”

The three of them decide to watch a movie but the both of them were asleep before it ended.

#monster smut #x reader #oc smut #monster fucker #monster #venom smut #venom symbiote #venom x reader #eddie brock #eddie x venom #rough smut #unprotected sex #tentacles #dom/sub #carnage #we are venom #venom

[proxima-writes]

ok but now I need more Joel and reader neighbour domestics??? Like him leaving her a post it note with his internet password and him helping her feed the cats and she helps him with his plants and setting up the damn skeleton and then throwing neighbourhood barbecues together 🥺🥺🥺

okay so i literally couldn't rest until i wrote these up so if my assignments are work are late, i'm blaming you.

title: in a feud with her neighbor - bonus scenes

read the main work here

pairing: pre-outbreak!joel miller x female reader

rating: PG-13 (mild language)

word count: 1084

summary:

Fluffy bonus scenes for "in a feud with her neighbor" as suggested by anon!

Content warnings/tags: not a standalone work, pre-outbreak, no sarah, established relationship, still pretending the 12 ft skeleton existed in 2003, joel gets his butt grabbed by a neighbor. This is pretty much just fluff.

“The internet is out again,” you whine. You’re in your bed with Joel, the man turned on his side facing away from you. He looks over his shoulder, eyes narrowed.

“Good. Go to sleep,” he grumbles before burying his face back into the pillow that is now his pillow. It always smells like ocean salt and eucalyptus, while your own pillow smells like lavender and vanilla.

The sheets, however, are a beautiful combination of both.

You huff but reach over to your nightstand and turn off the lamp. You scooch in closer to him, snuggling up to his back and spooning him. You let his deep breaths lull you to sleep.

The next morning, Joel’s already left for work in the early hours of the morning, a kiss pressed to your sleep warm skin as a goodbye. When you shuffle into the bathroom to get ready, there’s a pink Post-It with familiar messy handwriting stuck to the mirror.

GetYourOwnPassword03

-Joel

________

There’s a package on your porch when you get home from work. You tear into it immediately, pulling out the new planters you bought as a surprise for Joel.

They were an Etsy find, a set of three white planters that say “WHAT THE FUCCULENT”, “LOOKIN’ SHARP”, and “DON’T BE A PRICK” and a bigger planter that reads “PLANT DADDY”. You giggle as you line them up on the counter.

Joel sees them when he comes over that evening, freshly showered and already wearing his pajama pants and your favorite threadbare shirt. He can barely stop laughing long enough to thank you.

“PLANT DADDY” sits in a place of pride by his front door, glued down to the concrete so that the cats can’t knock it over.

________

Joel is a grill master. He will spend a ridiculous amount of time at the deli, scrutinizing every package of beef while you hang onto the cart and wither away like a suffering Victorian woman. 

“Joel, please, I’m begging you,” you say, “just pick the steaks.”

“Hush, sweetheart, I have a process,” he replies, not once looking away from the two packages of New York strip he holds. 

“Just get both!” You beg. “Lots of steak! Great compromise!”

He glares at you. “We have to make a good impression.”

“A good impression on who? They’re our neighbors. They already like us! Half the moms in the neighborhood want to fuck you!”

Joel nearly drops the steaks. “They what?!”

You can’t breathe because you’re laughing so hard at the shocked look on Joel’s face. He sets both packages of steak in the cart before grabbing the handle from you and leaving you in tears in the deli.

Later that night, Joel finds you in the crowd and grabs your arm.

“I think Mrs. Matthews grabbed my ass,” he says. 

You pull him close, slipping a hand into the back pocket of his jeans and giving him a peck on his lips.

“Told ya,” you tease.

________

Joel watches the Home Depot website like a hawk as soon as September hits. His buddy who works at the store said that online orders would open within the first couple of weeks. Finally, the button turns from gray to orange, and he places his order immediately.

When it’s delivered a few weeks later, you’re so excited that you ask Joel to set it up immediately.

“It’s not even October yet, baby. Can you wait another week?” He asks. You pout, but you agree. Only if he’ll set up both skeletons on the first day of October and not wait until the last minute like he did the year before.

Which is how he finds himself teetering on the top rung of his ladder, trying to set the skull on the frame while you watch from the ground. When he finally gets it screwed on, he’s slick with sweat and cursing up a storm.

“How’s that look?” He asks when he gets down from the ladder and stands beside you.

You wrap your arms around his shoulders, tugging him into a kiss. 

“It’s perfect.”

________

Joel walks into your house one day, plastic bags hanging from his arms. The clinking of metal against metal announces his arrival.

“Joel? Whatcha got there?” You ask, drying your hands on the dish towel hanging from the stove, one that says “JUST ROLL WITH IT” with an image of a rolling pin beneath it. 

He sets the bags on the counter. “Cat food.”

You blink at him. “Cat food? You bought cat food?”

“Yeah, you mentioned you were running low. Besides, there’s a new calico out there so you gotta start puttin’ out more. Where’s the bowls?” 

He moves around the kitchen with practiced ease, grabbing a spoon and the set of plastic bowls you reserve for the neighborhood cats. It hits you at that moment.

You love Joel Miller.

Your smile is huge when he turns to look at you and he freezes like a deer caught in the headlights. You close the gap between you, wrapping your arms around his waist and hugging him close.

“I love you,” you murmur into his chest. His arms wrap around your shoulders and you feel the press of his lips to your head.

“I love you, too.”

________

BONUS BETTY CONTENT

Joel wakes early the next morning after his first night with you, your naked body still curled in his. He smiles down at you before gently pulling himself from your grasp, stifling his laugh at how you pout in your sleep before rolling over, snuggling into your pillow. He finds the stack of familiar pink Post-Its on your nightstand, scribbling out a note that he’s gone to pick up breakfast and coffee and would be back soon.

He puts on his now dry swim trunks and leaves the house, shutting the door quietly behind him. The neighborhood is still asleep, the sun barely cresting the horizon as he leaves your porch.

“Leavin’ so soon, Mr. Miller?” Betty’s raspy voice calls. He freezes, feeling like a teen caught sneaking out of his house. 

“Good mornin’, Betty,” he says, turning slowly to face her. She’s got a knowing smirk on her face.

“What was it I said about the two of you hittin’ it off?” She asks, tapping a finger to her lips. Joel can feel his cheeks heat. 

“You were right,” Joel admits. 

“I know, dear. I always am. Now, could you bring me back a doughnut while you’re out? Double chocolate. With sprinkles.”

“Yes, m’am.”

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel tlou #joel x reader #joel miller fluff #established relationship #idiots in love

[wingedquill]

notes on survival (a preview)

so i blacked out and wrote like 4K words of a new fic concept. I don't think I'll be posting it on ao3 until it's entirely done (really do not need another currently-updating WIP) but wanted to share the first little bit on here with y'all (CW: kidnapping, violence against children) ---

Here’s how it starts, for Steve:

He’s ten.

He’s riding his bike. It’s a bit late in the day, but not that late, not nearly his curfew. The sun is still high in the sky, and he can hear kids shrieking with laughter a few streets over. They’d invited him to play with them, but he’d turned them down cause he wanted to check on the tadpoles he’d found in the pond last weekend.

He gets to a stop sign. A car pulls up next to him: old, gray, forgettable. The windows are down, but it’s summer. It’s normal. He wouldn’t have thought twice about it.

A bang. A scream. 

“Help!” a voice shouts from the trunk. “Someone help!”

The driver looks over. Makes direct eye contact with Steve.

He knows, even as he starts pedaling, that he’s not gonna be fast enough.

***

Steve can’t really remember a time when he’d been un-messed-up. Not clearly, at least. He has the vague, stretched-summer memories of baking cookies with his mom, of somersaulting off the diving board at the public pool and getting yelled at by a lifeguard, of hiding in the woods simply because it was the best way to avoid his chores.

They’re nice memories, he thinks. Part of him wants to put them in a box and never touch them again. But they’re nice.

He’s good at pretending they’re all he’s made of.

But now he’s here. Walking through the woods. He’s not avoiding his chores but he’s also not hiding, and that’s probably the only reason why he’s not vomiting into the underbrush. Nancy’s hand is cold in his, and it’s enough of an anchor.

He’s not alone.

“Will!” he yells, his lungs burning with the force of the yell. “Will!”

He wonders if he got a search party like this.

***

They’re bumping down a road that’s more potholes than asphalt. The other boy won’t stop hyperventilating.

“I’m sorry,” he sobs. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, if I hadn’t—”

“It’s okay,” Steve says, because that’s what you’re supposed to do when someone apologizes. You’re supposed to accept it. 

He doesn’t even know what the boy is apologizing for, not really. He isn’t a kidnapper. He hadn’t tied Steve up and stuffed him in the trunk. He had only screamed for help. That’s what you’re supposed to do.

“I’m Steve,” he says. It’s important that the other boy knows his name. Vitally so. The man who took them isn’t gonna care, and he needs one person here who cares about him.

The other boy sniffles against Steve’s shirt.

“Ed,” he chokes. “I’m Ed.”

***

He’s cold. He’s tired. He’s gasping for air and his sides are on fire. 

Second verse, same as the first.

“We gotta get your shirt off,” Robin’s telling him. “We need to, Steve, your dirty, lake-gunk sweater is embedded in those wounds, I don’t want you getting a massive infection on top of rabies. That’s like, for sure definite dead.”

He drags himself out of the hunting shack and into the Upside Down. Eddie and Nancy are huddled together by a fallen tree, Nancy giving him a quick rundown of how the hivemind works. Neither of them are looking.

“I can’t,” he chokes anyway. “They’ll see–they’ll know.”

Cross your heart and hope to die.

She bites her lip. She looks like his mom had, when she’d told him he wouldn’t be seeing Ed again. Like she’s cutting off one of his limbs to save the rest of him.

“Steve, they won’t care,” she lies.

He shakes his head.

“I’ll chance the infection,” he says. “I mean it Robin.”

She closes her eyes. Scoots around to the other side of him, putting herself between him and Eddie-and-Nancy.

“I’ll dress the wounds quick,” she says. “And give you my overshirt. That okay?”

He takes a deep breath. Hunches in on himself. He’s always been a bit too good at making himself unseen. A bit better than he would like.

“Okay,” he agrees.

***

“They’re looking for us,” he whispers. 

He tucks his face into Ed’s shoulder, wishes they could hug. A hug would make this better, he thinks, if he could just get his arms around to the front. If he could just hug, and be hugged, he’d wake up. They’d both wake up.

They’d both be at home in their beds. They’d be safe. Mom would make him hot chocolate like she always does after nightmares, and he’d check to see if the robin’s eggs outside his window had hatched, and he’d be okay.

“Yeah,” Ed whispers back. “Yeah, they are.”

Around them, the car’s engine roars.

#steddie #stranger things #my writing #my fic #oh noooooo i wonder who ed could be #for those of you who remember me from my star trek days: no u don't

[rainbowmilk]

Hii I love the way u write the treech and reader storys and I was wondering if u can make a romantic lamina and treech story💗💗 thank youuu

A/n: Aww thank you!! I struggled to write Lamina, not gonna lie, but I think it turned out okay.

Warnings: angst

Paring: Treech x Lamina

Word Count: 849

“Lamina!” Treech called up to her. “Come down, you’re going to be late!”

He would have thought she hadn’t heard him if he hadn’t seen her eyes flit down to him. Realizing she wasn’t climbing down, Treech latched onto one of the branches and began climbing up to where Lamina was sitting.

“C’mon, it’s Reaping Day. You gonna show up with leaves in your hair again,” Treech said, flicking a strand of her hair.

Lamina, ever soft-spoken, replied, “I’ll be down soon. Just need a minute.” She turned back to staring at the sky. Treech couldn't understand why she liked looking at it, but it made her happy.

Treech could sense she wasn’t in the mood to talk. Lamina always took Reaping Day hard. He decided it’d be best to give her space, “All right, I’m off, see you after.” He said, patting her knee before beginning to climb down.

When he reached the ground, he was out of breath. He honestly did not know how Lamina could climb so high. Making his way back to the trail, he wondered if he should stop by the market and pick up something nice for dinner. It’d be a nice way to celebrate.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

When he arrived home, a warm bath was waiting for him. He scrubbed off the grime that collected while he was out and about. It always surprised Treech how much could accumulate out in the forest.

When finished, he slips on one of his dressier shirts and a worn gray blazer. While he’s adjusting his appearance in the mirror, his mom walks up behind him.

“You look handsome,” his mom says, pinching his cheek affectionately.

A smile stretched across Treech’s face, making him feel like a young boy again.

His mom walked over to the dresser, pulling out his dad’s old hat, “I want you to wear this,” she said as she placed it on his head.

Feeling choked up, Treech nodded, pulling his mom into a hug, “I’ll see you after.”

Walking out the door, he followed the rest of District 7 to the reaping

square. Having to stand in the crowded square was his least favorite part of the reaping…well, besides possibly getting picked. Treech’s thoughts couldn’t help but trail to Lamina; she hated crowds more than him, and he wondered how she was holding up.

Treech scanned the crowd for her. He spotted her near the edge of the girl section. Fear is plastered across her face as she fidgets nervously. “Nothing bad is going to happen to you.” Treech wishes he could whisper to her.

After what feels like an eternity, the mayor steps on stage and begins to read. Treech doesn’t bother to pay attention anymore; it's the same story every year. He only tunes back in when it’s time to draw the girls’ names.

The mayor reached in and dug through the slips of paper before pulling one out. He crossed back over to the microphone and read out the name, Lamina. You could’ve heard a pin drop. It was so silent.

Someone might as well have punched him in the stomach. He can’t breathe. The mayor must’ve read the slip wrong, Treech repeated like a mantra. They can’t have called Lamina. He almost convinced himself that was the case until a familiar auburn stumbled out of the crowd.

Treech felt the panic rising in his chest. He’d never felt this helpless before. She looked so fragile standing on the stage. He nearly sobbed when he saw she did have leaves in her hair. Everything in him was screaming at him to grab her and shield her from all the bad in the world.

Lamina couldn’t die for them. He won’t be able to handle watching her become another unwilling sacrifice for the Capitol.

Please, don’t take her away from me.

He was too lost in thought to even notice when the mayor moved on to the boys until he heard his name ringing across the square. A numbness settled in him; he felt as if he were in a dream, looking down on everything, not even in control of his body as he made his way to the stage.

Once on stage, he thinks that he’s never felt more exposed. The entirety of District 7’s eyes are on him. Next to him, he can feel Lamina’s sobs coming out in full force. Wanting to provide some comfort, he reached his hand for her to hold. She took it and gripped it as if it were her lifeline.

His own tears threatened to spill out. They were being sent to the Hunger Games. Oh god, he doesn't want to die…not like this.

He was too in shock to even fight back when the Peacekeepers dragged them off stage and tossed them towards the station. Lamina surprised him, though she fought them every step of the way, squirming against their grip.

Despite her struggle and his lack thereof, it didn’t matter because the Peacekeepers shoved them inside a cattle cart and locked the doors, leaving them in the dark.

#tbosas #treech tbosas #lamina tbosas #treech #treech x lamina #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #the hunger games #district 7

[gatitties]

Kidnapped

Manager Miniseries

─ Aoba Josai x fem!reader + Shiratorizawa

─ Summary: your friend insists that they have a practice match with your team and Oikawa is exaggerating

─ Warnings: none

5 < 6 > 7

The Shiratorizawa men's volleyball team was at the house of their beloved great ace, apart from doing a study session they decided to meet to talk about new techniques to win the tournament and go to Tokyo. Everyone was concentrated until the doorbell rang, the mother of the family opened by happily greeting the newcomer.

"What a surprise to see you here! I haven't seen you in a long time. What brings you here, honey?"

"Well..." you scratched the back of your neck, averting your gaze "my parents wanted me to come by, also to see if Toshi could help me with some issues."

"I was just going to leave, but Wakatoshi is in his room studying, he will gladly help you."

"Thank you, have a good day Mrs. Ushi"

"You too sweetie."

You entered the house saying goodbye to the owner, knowing that you would be alone before going to the room, you went to the kitchen to get a package of cookies. Your parents had forced to go so that Ushijima could help you study mathematics —a subject in which you were disgusting— knowing that he was a good student as well as that their families were very close. You walked unhurriedly to the well-known room, you entered as if were your own house, throwing on the bed without realizing that you practically crushed a boy. A boy who was clearly not your friend.

"Hey Tosh-"

You choked on the cookies when saw how there were more boys in the room, and to top it off, one of them was trying to get you off of him.

"Uh, sorry about that."

The poor black-haired man shook his head nervously and frantically as you backed away from him, muttering more apologies for putting him in such a situation.

"I-It's okay!"

Thunderous laughter filled the room, a redhead laughing tearfully as he watched the bowl cut boy grow more agitated by the second.

"(N) what are you doing here?"

“I need help with math, you know..." you played down the importance, brushing the crumbs off your shirt "but if you're busy I can come back another day."

"Wait, wait, Ushiwaka knows a cute girl?"

"Tendou, don't make those comments as if she wasn't here."

A boy with gray hair and darker tips scolded the redhead who teased him calling him 'semisemi mom' for scolding him, you ignored the small verbal fight in the background focusing on your friend.

"No problem, we are also studying, I will help you with your homework."

"Thanks Toshi, I promise to make it up to you."

While you were studying, everyone introduced themselves, the red-haired Tendou was undoubtedly the opposite of Wakatoshi, which you found funny, plus Goshiki was too adorable but just as intense as your friend, there was a mother here too, Semi, and they even had a sarcastic named Shirabu.

It was a curious group without a doubt. When the team finished their homework they started talking about volleyball, leaving you to concentrate on making derivatives and matrices. You sighed pulling some strands back, you couldn't concentrate so stopped for a while to look at your phone, it had been vibrating for a while, they were just messages from your team, you just left them on read to look at Ushijima who had his eyes on your figure for a few seconds ago.

"Is something wrong Toshi?"

"Yes." the whole team paid attention to their captain "I want a practice match against Seijoh."

Everyone seemed confused —even you— but of course, the others didn't know that you were the manager of the volleyball club, because you had only talked a little and about studies, but you thought that Ushijima wouldn't want to have a practice with your team when they always had won.

"You are their manager, right?"

"Yes, but today they don't have practice."

"Hey, hey, the cute girl also knows about volleyball, now I understand why you like her!"

"I... I don't like (N)." he cleared his throat. "So when could we have a match?"

"Well, if you want I can talk to them now, maybe they don't care."

"It will be good for us to try new things."

"Yes, we will defeat them!"

"Don't get so excited about that bowl boy, it's just a practice game."

Tendou laughed at Shirabu's comment, no doubt Goshiki and he didn't have the best relationship, but it was fun to hear the second year's sarcastic comments while the first year tried to return the comments to no avail.

"Huh? But I like his hair..."

You approached to be able to remove the black locks, noticing how he became rigid as a rock and his face exploded with pink tones, you decided to stop for his health, you would swear you could hear Goshiki's heart about to explode.

"I also want caresses!"

"Hmm if you insist…" you shrugged your shoulders to caress the redhead's head "wow why is your hair so soft?"

"(Nn)!"

Oikawa desperately ran towards you when he saw how you entered the gym together with Shiratorizawa's team —specifically, you were talking animatedly with Semi and Yamagata— quickly grabbing you to take along with your team.

"Are you okay? Have they done something to you? I won't let them kidnap you again."

"They have not kidnapped me, besides they are nice."

"It can't be, surely they are extorting you! Blink if you are in danger." He whimpered moving you from one side to the other, then you blinked but not because of your captain's request "Iwa-chan, they are harassing our pretty (Nn)!"

"Shut up Shittykawa, you need to blink to live, idiot."

"Ow, that hurts Iwa-chan."

You walked away ignoring the small argument between friends, leading the rival team to the locker room so they could change into their sports clothes.

"Hey (N) are they always like this?"

"Yeah, but I guess it's okay, it's funny."

Tendou laughed taking you by the shoulders as you walked back to the court, this action did not go unnoticed in the eyes of the Seijoh boys who glared at the interaction their manager had with the middle blocker, that only made Tendou become more attached to you.

"You could stop irritating the rival team."

Semi looked at how his partner had fun seeing the faces that the others made, rolling his eyes, he went to warm up without wanting to be part of the scene, he wouldn't be part of the redhead's game.

"(N) can you hug me? It sure brings me luck in the match!"

He spread his arms with a catlike smile, narrowing his eyes in amusement at seeing his attentive rivals like owls, causing him to chuckle as he robbed their manager in a thinly veiled manner.

"Sure, why not?"

You shrugged your shoulders without giving it much importance —for you all kinds of hugs were well received— Tendou also took the opportunity to quickly kiss your cheek as a farewell, that's when he completely angered the Aoba Jōsai team, he couldn't hug you as if nothing had happened you were their manager. Unintentionally someone —Kunimi— threw a ball towards the head of a certain blocker, although the ball landed on your head because you were just separating from the hug.

"Oww…" you touched the affected part with a grimace, searching for the culprit, everyone gasped looking at Kunimi, who seemed to want to disappear at that very moment "Kunimi, if you wanted a hug, just tell me."

Bonus

You had insisted on cleaning the gym by yourself for making them train on a day they shouldn't have, they reluctantly agreed, leaving you alone, or so you thought, because a certain imperturbable boy was waiting for you to accompany you home like a true hunk.

"Toshi, I thought you had already left."

He denied watching you keep the key to the place, arms folded, patiently waiting for his friend to finish closing the gym.

"I'll walk you home."

"It wasn't necessary, but thanks."

You two were silent for a few minutes until Ushijima cut it off, looking at you with a certain sparkle in his eyes, he stopped causing you to stop walking as well.

"(N)" you looked at him with a raised eyebrow "I want a hug too."

You laugh internally observing the serious face of your friend to wrap him in a warm hug, he was a big baby.

#fem reader #reader insert #aoba josai x reader #shiratorizawa #seijoh x reader #xreader #haikyuu xreader #manager reader #manager miniseries #haikyuu x manager reader #oikawa #iwaizumi #matsukawa #hanamaki #kentaro #kunimi #kindaichi #ushijima #yahaba #watari

[darling-i-read-it]

Tea Kettle

Rupert Giles x fem!reader

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: literally nothing but smut, bj, unprotected smut, gray sweatpants (drooling)

Author’s Note: as always, smut is NOT my forte but i like to throw it out there every once in a while and he..id let him do things to me i wouldn’t confess to in church idk 

Requested: by anon, i would do anything for rupert giles smut😫

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director/creator

(not my gif)

“I don’t know, maybe you should both come out to the college and look?” 

Buffy’s voice was borderline pleading. You had gotten used to her strength and independence. It was rare that she wanted help so admittedly. You suspected an ulterior motive, but didn’t say anything about it immediately.

“We can be there by dinner if you think you need it,” you said, honestly. Giles was in the shower. You could hear the sound of the water hitting the bathroom tiles. The gentle movement of his body as the pressure shifted. “But I think you’re just getting used to college and you want some normalcy.” 

“I’m a big girl. If I felt that way, I would say it!” There was a beat of silence as you waited, toying with the phone chord. She let out a deep breath. “Willow has Oz. It’s weird!” 

“It’s your first night. You’re gonna be okay.” 

“If Giles had answered this phone call then he would already be in the car,” she complained. 

“He’s a pushover.”

“I know! That’s why I like him!” You both laughed gently. You wanted to be there for Buffy, your natural inclination was to go to her. She had been like a daughter to you through her high school years, despite the fact that you were mildly close in age. You just happened to graduate a couple of years before she did. But you knew the feeling of independence needed to come from allowing her to fly. She was a big girl. She could do it. 

“Buff.” She let out a soft sigh. “I’m not saying you’re on your own. I’m just saying you need some distance and some growth.”

“I’ve grown,” she pleaded. “I’ve killed a lot of people you know.”

“Vampires.”

“Potato potato.” 

“You’re a big girl and it isn’t going to hurt you to stay a night with Willow like a sleepover.” 

“God, you’re such a mom.” You snorted. The bathroom door opened. You craned your neck to the hallway from where you were sitting on the couch. Rupert was drying his hair, wearing gray sweatpants and a shirt. You raised an eyebrow. He didn’t notice, walking into the kitchen and fishing for the tea bags. 

“Have a good night's sleep Buff. If you still need us tomorrow, call.” “I will. Thank you.” She hung up the phone. You put your back on the receiver. 

“What did Buffy need?” Giles asked from the kitchen. His voice was smooth, the accent clear. He had sung some in the shower. It was a testament to how close he was with you. 

“She was feeling a little homesick,” you admitted. “She’s gonna be okay.” You turned your body completely, putting your arms up on the couch back. You watched him through the kitchen window, his back turned to you. You could see his arms defined as he started to pour some water into his tea kettle. You put your chin on your hands, admiring him. 

“We could’ve gone down to see her,” he said. 

“She needs space.” He shrugged and glanced back at you. He did a double take when he noticed the wide eyes you were giving him. 

“Are you alright?” 

“I’m fine. Admiring the view.” He chuckled nervously. No matter how long you had been together, he remained slightly flustered at your words. “When did you get those sweatpants?”

“I found them in my drawers when I cleaned them the other day.” He was still looking for a job after the library burnt down. He had plenty of time for house maintenance and random spring cleaning duties. “Why? Do you like them?” 

He came around the kitchen corner. You lifted your head up a bit and nodded, probably a little too eagerly. You reached your hand over the couch and nimbly grabbed at the chords on his pants. 

“They look nice,” you said, looking up at him. He raised an interested eyebrow. 

“I’ve just put the kettle on,” he told you, though his voice gave him away. Raspy, intrigued. 

“So?” you teased. He let out a shaky breath. 

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he muttered, dipping down to kiss you. You strained your neck to kiss him back, putting your hand around the nape of his neck. He completely succumbed to you, easily, without more complaint. It had been so long since Rupert had known a love like yours and he was so consumed by it that it almost hurt. Your mouth opened a bit, to give way for his tongue, which entered quickly. You let out a brief breath, pulling away and diving back in. Because he was still standing (though hunched), you had perfect access to his waist line. 

You slid your hands up his shirt, to the hem of his pants. He shuddered at your cold touch. His hair was still wet, dripping onto your face as you kissed. You gripped his pants, holding onto the top and slowly, slowly, moving them down. He groaned against your lips at the slow movements. Before you got too far, you stopped kissing him and sat up. He watched as you hopped over the couch so that you could properly get on your knees for him. 

He put his hand on your cheek, your jaw. You looked up at him. He turned on his heels so he was leaning against the couch. Your fingers were still on his pants, not daring to move them any lower. 

“Rupert,” you breathed.

“Hmm,” he moaned. “C’mon love,” he whispered. He put his other hand on yours. You tugged a bit, teasingly. He groaned. 

You finally pulled all the way down, his boxers and pants falling to his ankles. His dick sprang to life. You almost made a comment about how eager he was despite his age, but repressed it. You wanted him inside of you. 

You wrapped your lips around him, starting to bob your head without any more thought. You could hear his moaning and it only prompted you forward. He put his hand on the back of your head, bunched in your hair. You used his legs to sturdy yourself. 

“Good lord,” he muttered, head falling back. You went on like that for a couple of minutes, always impressed with his ability to last. When you finally came up for air you were covered in him. You looked up with doe eyes that drove him insane. “Get up here.” 

“Yes sir.” 

You stood up, ignoring the tingling in your knees. He helped you by placing you on the back of the couch. You held your hands around his cheeks, cupping them as he worked at your pants. Once he started he was always eager to get inside you. The words that slipped from his mouth were unintelligible and loving, rough but careful. 

You kicked your pants onto the floor. He put himself against you. He met your gaze. He looked at you with longing, lustful. You smiled loopily, your grip still on his cheeks. 

“Rupert, c’mon,” you muttered. He took your go ahead and shoved himself inside you, wet by your need. He put his head against your shoulder as he started to thrust, no thoughts given towards anything except his desire. Rupert had never been a quiet lover and his grunts proved it. You hung your head back, feeling as he moved inside every inch of you, each thrust long and hard. What he lacked in speed he had in stamina. 

You let out a yelp as he hit the right spot, your hair falling between the gaps of your back. You brought his face back up and kissed him, hungrily, his lips moving around by scarcely finding the right spot. It would’ve made you smile if you weren’t so tied up. 

“God,” he whispered, voice coming out desperately needy. Shaky. “I love you,” he groaned. The tension in your stomach grew as he kept hitting just the right spot. With each thrust you grew closer. “Are you close?” he asked. You nodded, quickly, forgetting to stop. 

“Is it okay-”

“Go ahead,” you grumbled. You didn’t want him to stop. You were on the pill. You pushed the danger aside and pulled him closer to you with your leg wrapped around his waist. 

His thrusts began to get sloppier but you hardly noticed, your own high coming over you. Your legs shook, gripping his body to keep you steady, in case you fell backwards onto the couch. He let out a long moan, indicating his own release. 

You let out a sigh, blissful. 

He stayed inside you, coming down. You hummed. 

“I’ll wear the pants more often,” he said, chuckling. Your laughter mixed in with his as the tea kettle started to whistle. You looked behind him and he followed your gaze, the laughter continuing. He moved out of you, the emptiness almost unbearable. “I’m going to get us something to wash us up,” he said. You nodded once. 

You pushed yourself off the couch and walked over to the kitchen. You took the kettle off the stove.

#rupert giles x reader #rupert giles imagines #rupert giles x fem!reader #rupert giles smut #spicy tag

[sunflowersandsapphires]

From Bright Light

When Skies Are Gray, Chapter 5

Series Masterlist             Next Chapter

pairing: Frank Castle x fem!reader 

summary: Frank’s life has reached a crossroads: he can either continue to seclude himself and pursue a dark, lonely future, or he can open himself up to connecting with someone again and maybe achieve happiness. Being the grump that he is, Frank has already committed to the lonely path, but his curious new neighbor might just turn that around. 

warnings: swearing (as always), very general descriptions of dissociation, Frank is clearly hurting and not handling things well, small descriptions of violence, last fluff chapter before angst

a/n: I am finally a few chapters ahead on both my WIPs! Hopefully I can start posting more regularly this spring/summer. As always, reblogs and comments fuel me!

w/c: 5.3k

Gritting his teeth as a rogue biker almost knocked him to the pavement, Frank ignored the man’s irritated screaming and stalked forward down the block. Despite the early hour of the morning and the lack of activity in the city, it seemed that the disgustingly high temperature had already put everyone in a mood. He certainly wasn’t a fan of the way the heat coated his skin and drew beads of sweat from his pores, soaking his freshly washed shirt all the way through before he even reached the cafe. It was uncomfortable, to say the least, but stopping at your workplace for coffee had become his new normal. And, given his deteriorating mood this week, deviating from his routine was sure to ruin his day.

So he persisted. Yanking his beanie further down on his forehead and shoving his hands into his pockets, he stared straight ahead and soldiered through the remaining few minutes in the heat before clasping his hand around the handle on the glass door, pulling on it hastily—and nearly falling to the ground when the door didn’t budge. The smirking face of your coworker Leo appeared through the tinted glass shortly after.

“Sorry about that,” The kid apologized, shoving the door open for him and stepping aside. “We technically don’t open for another hour.”

Staring at him quizzically, Frank threw a thumb over his shoulder. “Shit, I can go, if ya want. I didn’t—“

“You kidding?” Leo gave him an incredulous look. “The princess would have my head if I turned her prince away. C’mon in. I’m sure she’s expecting you.”

Rolling his shoulders, the marine straightened his spine and set his jaw, expression stuck in an embarrassed grimace. Stepping over the threshold and into the bakery, the air around him seemed to suddenly grow colder, a shiver running down his back. Glancing upwards to find the offending vent, he frowned when his eyes met a stretch of blank ceiling. Your coworker's smug voice brought his eyes back down.

“She's in the kitchen, Pete.” Though the kid wasn't meeting his gaze, Frank had the sneaking suspicion that he was trying not to laugh.

Flushing, he gave a curt nod, stepping around the counter and into the back room. It wasn't his first time past the batwing doors, but the scene felt surprisingly intimate nonetheless. Through the maze of steel tables and rows of ingredients, he found you. You were perched on a stool in the back corner, away from the dingy windows that peeked out front. Your back was turned to him, displaying the lopsided bow cinched around the waist of your dress. Spine hunched, you were gesturing wildly with one of your hands, the other holding a phone to your ear as you spoke in a hushed voice.

As the kitchen doors whooshed shut, you looked up, eyes wide like a fawn's. Giving him a tiny wave and a strained smile, you spoke with a bit more clarity.

“I gotta go, mom. I'll see you soon. Ok, bye.” Making a big show of hanging up the phone and slipping it into your apron pocket, your smile widened, finally meeting your eyes as you exhaled forcefully. Standing from the stool, you traipsed over to him, skirt swishing around your calves.

“Hey Frankie! Sorry about that,” You wrinkled your nose at the mention of the call. Finally reaching him, you wound your arms around his waist. While he normally melted into your warmth, his nerves were still on edge after the interaction with Leo—his body stiffly returning the embrace but maintaining a small, emotional distance for his own sanity.

Withdrawing from him, you frowned, brows curving inward with confusion. “Is something wrong?”

Blinking as he tried to form a coherent thought from the symphony of anxieties screeching in his brain, he shook his head. “Nah. All good.”

Narrowing your eyes, you moved away skeptically, headed for the front of the shop. “Alrighty then. Let me start a pot of coffee and—”

“D'you usually open early for me?” He blurted out, face itching as it was overtaken by his furious blush.

Your expression remained bemused as you shrugged. “Depends on when you get here, I guess. Why?“

”You shoulda told me.“ He murmured, heart pounding as your face began to fall. What he meant to say was that he didn't mean to put you out. That he had no idea why he'd been blessed with someone who was sweet enough to open her shop an hour early every day for weeks just to make him a cup of coffee. That he felt like an idiot for thinking that you were just especially slow in the mornings and not even considering that he'd been receiving special treatment. That he felt awful for interrupting your morning preparations for almost a month now because he was a sorry sack of shit who couldn't handle being restless and alone in his own apartment, so he decided to bother you every morning instead.

But all that his exhausted and anxiety-ridden mind could come up with were those four words. And his throat was so tight with emotion that they sounded gruff and angry.

Watching you swallow roughly and avert your eyes, he ached to apologize, to correct himself, to wipe that horrible expression of hurt from your beautiful face—but he was cemented in place, awaiting your response.

”I'm sorry, Frank. I saw you out there weeks ago while I was baking and I let you in without thinking. After that, I just never corrected you. I didn't want you to feel bad. I'm sorry.“

As if you'd flipped a switch, the life returned to his body, his posture sagging as you apologized. The pained expression you wore shattered his cold heart, driving him to finally explain himself.  

”Shit, no, don't be sorry, sunshine.“ He cursed, striding over to you and pulling you into a second embrace, a real one this time.

Sighing into his chest, your arms tightened instinctively around his waist as he kneaded a circle into your back with his palm. ”Are you mad?“

Resting his nose in your hair, his heart sank at the fear in your tone. ”Course not, honey. Next time I’m early, tell me to fuck off, ok?“

A few giggles burst out of you and you squeezed your arms around him one more time before pulling away. ”Not a chance, tough guy. Did you still want that coffee?”

“I mean, if it’s bein’ offered,” He shrugged, the barest hint of a smirk gracing his lips as you grinned and dashed out of the kitchen.

Grabbing a stool and yanking it across the floor, he set it next to the station you appeared to be working at. Straddling the metal seat, he studied the array of items strewn across the bench, trying to decide what you'd been working on before he arrived. Before he could decipher what half of the ingredients were, you'd returned with his coffee and a latte of your own.

Handing him the paper cup, your eyes crinkled as you smiled softly. “Here you are, sir. Your disgusting, unedited, hot black coffee.”

“Ya know, I don't think I'd get this much crap from the cafe down the street.” He scoffed, taking a sip of the scalding drink to hide his smile. “Maybe I oughta start goin' there instead.”

“That's always an option,” You shrugged, handing him a danish wrapped in thin brown paper. “But then you'd have to jump through those same hoops again to get free breakfast. Court the baristas, and all that. Whole lotta effort for someone who's already a fan favorite at another bakery.”

“Fan favorite, huh?” He tilted his head at you, poorly hiding his amusement with a raised brow.

“What can I say, Frankie? You've really grown on us. Even though you have shit taste in coffee.” You grimaced dramatically, eyes dancing with humor.

A laugh tumbled from his lips mindlessly. He shook his head before raising the danish. “Thank you. For the free breakfast.”

You responded with a clumsy curtsy. “Why, of course, sweetheart.”

“So,” Frank said around a mouthful of the danish, “What are you workin’ on?”

Beaming at him, you jumped up and down gleefully. “Eek! I’m so glad you asked. So—“ 

As you launched into an energetic dialogue about the myriad of new ingredients you were hoping to work with this week, Frank felt at ease. Somehow, your presence always seemed to have that effect, pushing away his negative thoughts and anxieties until he relaxed fully. You brought out a side of him that he’d locked away for years. Your voice was a soothing melody, washing over his head like ripples on a beach. The soldier inside him–that was constantly on high alert–was content turning away, resting while you were there to watch his back. Sighing deeply, he felt a smile creep across his face as you kneaded dough in front of him, narrating the process and answering his questions as they came. 

But, of course, the divine bubble you’d created for him was destined to pop. 

“Hey, lovebirds. We've got a line.” Striding right past you to the walk-in, your other coworker–Stacy–looked a bit exasperated with Frank’s presence, prompting him to blush sheepishly.

“Fuck, I didn’t mean to distract ya, sunshine. I’ll head out.” Standing inelegantly, and nearly bowling his stool over in the process, Frank avoided your gaze as he started to exit. 

“Oh no you don’t,” You scoffed, snatching him around the waist and burying your head against his chest. “You almost forgot your goodbye hug.”

Cradling your waist in his rough hands, he returned the embrace. “We couldn’t have that, could we?”

“Absolutely not.” You giggled, releasing him from your hold. “Have a wonderful day, Frankie. We still on for dinner tomorrow?”

“Sure, if you ain’t found better company.” He smirked at your resulting eye roll. 

“There’s no such thing, sweetheart. I’ll see you then. Take care of yourself please.”

“You too, sunshine.” He gave a limp wave, ducking his head as he braved the rush of customers out front. 

Curling his fingers tighter into their respective fists, Frank inhaled deeply as his fellow New Yorkers sped by him. The mass of bodies writhed along the city streets, blurring together as each person invaded his space, leaving as quickly as they came. 

Frank pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth to keep from retching. The amount of time spent in close proximity to strangers, even in the short walk to the restaurant, was enough to make him physically nauseous. His skin itched, the sensation flaring as each individual nearly barreled into him. 

The pinpricks of other people’s gazes dotted along his cheeks and neck, and he refrained from looking over his shoulder again to make sure he wasn’t being followed. Nostrils flaring he rounded the corner and marched down the sidewalk. His eyes were glued to the red awning attached to his destination. Just a hundred more yards. Eighty. Fifty. 

As he closed in on the building, his breathing was rapid, his muscles tense with adrenaline. He gave a stiff nod to the man holding the door and slid past him, into the overly air-conditioned restaurant. 

You’d warned him the place was uppity. A friend of a friend was the head chef, or something, and you wanted to support them during their grand opening. 

He wasn’t in the mood to be well-mannered, or consciously think about what utensil he needed to use at any given moment. And he sure as shit wasn’t in the mood to be surrounded by drunk, wealthy people complaining about the quality of their meals that cost more than a month of rent in Queens. But you’d invited him. So he came. 

He wasn’t dressed well enough. That much was made obvious by the look he got from the hostess as he stepped through the door. His dark jacket and worn jeans stood out like neon orange on a hunting trip. As he began stammering out his intentions to the uptight brunette, he heard your voice. 

“Hey Frankie!” Smiling as always, you were quite dolled up. You were wearing an ankle-length dress that he’d never seen before, and it accentuated your figure in a way he was incapable of processing in his given state. Your lips were coated in a shade of gloss darker than you normally wore, your hair styled and jewelry immaculately placed. He let his eyes roam fully over you before catching himself. 

“Shit. Sorry, honey. Hi.” He greeted, lamely. “You, uh, you look…good. Real good, sunshine.” 

Giggling, you looked at the ground bashfully. “Thank you, sweetheart. I wasn’t quite sure what to wear, to be honest.” 

“Me either.” He huffed, looking down at his clothes with a frown. 

“Well, I think you look very handsome, Frank.” You chuckled, beaming at him. 

“I’m under-dressed, I—“

“Hey,” You rested a hand on his shoulder, halting his words. “I think you’re perfectly dressed, ok? Don’t worry.” 

Narrowing your eyes slightly, you studied his face. He could feel you reading him, flipping through his metaphorical pages as you searched for the answer to your question. 

“Frankie, are you sure you want to have dinner here? I know you had a long day, and—“

Frank scratched the back of his neck. Long was an understatement.  The universe, ever determined to undermine the progress he made, had apparently decided he'd had enough peace for the month. Sleep, which had finally been coming easier for once in his sorry life, was once again escaping him. Night after night he jolted awake as the sounds of his wife's screams echoed in his ears.

Usually, his nightmares included his children too. Their disfigured bodies riddled with gore, haunting him well into his waking hours. Recently, his dreams consisted of Maria and Maria alone. Her manicured nails clawing at his chest as she choked on her own blood. Screaming for him, and sometimes at him. Because he didn't save her. He could never save her.

The disturbing imagery had compelled him to stay out of the house more often than usual, taking out his building rage on the cement and drywall of his team's current construction site. He was averaging a 12 hour work day in the hope that wearing himself out physically would force his mind to tumble into a dreamless sleep. It had yet to do anything more than accost his aging body with pain, add to the tab he was racking up at the dog boarding place currently watching Max, and make him almost late for his dinner with you.

Brushing off your concern with a shrug, he shifted his weight from foot to foot. ”'M alright, sunshine. Too hungry to turn back now.“

You smiled at his joke, leaving the space between you open for him to follow as you turned to move.

Petrified by the various stimuli his brain was trying to process, he didn’t tread after you. Giving him a once over as you stepped back, you gently pried one of his hands from his pockets, tugging him out of the doorway and towards a table in the back corner.

It was away from the windows and within sight of two exits, settling his uneasy nerves a bit. The restaurant was filling up as the minutes ticked by, but the tables were spaced far enough apart that Frank could continue to breathe. As he focused on your hand in his, and the way your eyes shone in the flickering candlelight, he could feel his stiff muscles slackening. Your soft thumb drew a line across his knuckles as you slid into the chair across from him. 

“Say the word and we’ll bail.” Your expression was adorably serious, bottom lip protruding with concern. 

“I ain’t bailin’, honey.” Frank forced a chuckle, biting back a sigh as you took his other hand across the table. “Did ya have a good day?”

Face brightening, you nodded as your smile wormed its way back onto your face. Launching into a story about a squirrel you’d saved from a busy street that morning, Frank found himself being lulled into a state of half-consciousness. Internally, his soldier instincts and logic battled fiercely, apparently too viciously for his brain to handle. After moving a mile a minute for hours, his mind had short-circuited when presented with safety. 

He wanted to lean into the comfort you always provided. 

To indulge in the stillness and feel content. 

To stop. Fucking. Fighting. 

To find a new home.

“Frankie, you ok?” Your soft question brought him back to reality.

Eyes flicking to meet yours, he tried to speak, the words catching in his tight throat. Coughing around the emotion clogging his esophagus, he nodded. “Fine. Why?”

Tilting your head, you raised one eyebrow at him. “You just seem...” You waved a hand around his face as if that would clear everything up.

“Sorry, sunshine.”

“Don't be. Did you want me to be quiet, or..?”

Shaking his head frantically, he squeezed his hand around your fingers. “No. Keep goin', honey. I like listenin' to ya.”

Biting your bottom lip, you looked at the table with a pleased hum. “Ok, well, you know our neighbor in 213B? Ms. Kaminzki?”

Nodding, he could feel his focus drifting once again, though you seemed more comfortable with the idea the second time around. You were too perceptive. It scared him sometimes, if he was being honest. He hadn't had a connection this deep since...

Before he could finish that thought, a waiter approached to ask for your order. Grateful to let you take the reins as he regained control over his frazzled mind, he watched with an amused fondness as you bonded with the newcomer over a love of root vegetables. 

Following your server’s arrival, dinner passed without incident–though you and Frank agreed that the prices were far too high for this to become a regular spot. Despite the fact that it was far from the best meal he’d ever eaten, he was happy to spend time with you.

Which is why he let you clasp your delicate fingers around his broad hand as you walked back to your apartment building. You were uncharacteristically quiet as the two of you strolled down the sidewalk. Given his actions over the last couple of hours, he wasn't in any position to scold you for being distant, but the behavior worried him slightly.

Letting his eyes drift sideways to study your face, the corner of his lips twitched upwards at your focused expression. Your face was contorted into a small scowl, pinched in a way he wasn't sure he'd ever seen before. A small, but distinctly annoyed, huff parted your lips as he watched. Clearly something was on your mind.

Bumping his hip against yours, he stifled a smile. “Ya plottin' my murder over there or somethin'?”

Nearly tripping as your concentration broke, you looked up at him sheepishly as he pulled you into his side to steady you. “Sorry, Frankie.”

“It's a'right, sunshine. Why's the cat got your tongue?”

Sighing, you stared at the cracked pavement beneath your feet, placing each step carefully so you wouldn't stumble again. “It's nothing, Frankie.”

“Fuck, you're startin' to sound like me, honey. That ain't good.” Frank frowned as you chuckled sadly. Your usual bright giggles sounded pensive and hollow.

“Just thinking.” You shrugged.

Internally groaning, he tried again. “Work with me here, darlin'. Thinkin' about what?”

Your lips quirked with a smile, lashes fluttering as you looked up at him. “Family stuff. I don't...I don't wanna bug you with it.”

“Would ya tell me if I swore I wanted to hear it?”

A glimmer of sass shone through with your smirk. “Maybe.”

Throwing a hand up to show the distance you still had to walk, he looked at you with a raised brow. “We got time. Hit me with it.”

“Fine. But know that it's stupid.” You pointed a finger at him with a stern look, inspiring a smile of his own.

Exhaling, you chewed on your lower lip between words. “Um, so I haven't told you much about my family. But they're, er...complicated. To say the least.”

Frank listened intently, squeezing your hand encouragingly when you hesitated.

“My mom and I still keep in contact but she's...difficult. She makes me kind of miserable, to be honest. But she's all I have left, so I put up with it. Unfortunately, that means she visits from time to time and I always sort of…” You trailed off, eyes becoming misty as your words failed.

“Sorta what, sunshine?” Frank prompted softly.

“Shut down, I guess?” You looked up at him, lips pursed. “Not to burden you with the details she just...she makes it really hard to not fall back into bad habits. And she's planning on coming up in a few weeks, so I was just lost in thought about it.” You gave a halfhearted chuckle.

“When's she comin'?”

“Three weeks from tomorrow.“ You whined, shaking your head. “It'll be fine, I just need to prepare for it, you know?”

“Would it help if you had company?”

Frank's question caught you off guard. “What?”

“I was wonderin' if it would help, if I was there I mean.”

Shaking your head furiously, you frowned. “Oh I can't ask you to do that, Frank–”

“Last I checked, you weren't askin'.” Frank snorted. “If ya don't want me there…”

“No Frank,” You turned to look at him earnestly. “That would be amazing! I just...you would do that for me?”

Nodding slowly, he brought his free hand up to cup your cheek. “In a heartbeat, sunshine.”

Giggling, you shook your head gravely. “What would I do without you?”

The rest of the walk back to your apartments was spent joking about things you could buy for Frank and slowly start placing around his house. You reached the front door to your building as he was finally talking you out of replacing all of his so-called “boring” glasses with vulgar mugs.

“Look, Frankie! This one is perfect for you!” You squealed, turning around your phone to reveal a poorly photoshopped white mug with the words “Moody Bitch” written on it.

“Fuck off.” Frank grumbled, strutting into the building ahead of you, not hiding his smile as you cackled gleefully.

You scrambled up the stairs after him. “Wait! I found a better one!”

“Nope. I'm done lookin' at your shitty mugs.” Fishing his keys out of his pocket, he unlatched the door, giving Max a scratch as the dog poked his head out in greeting.

“Hi, Maxie!” You cooed, your voice igniting Max's overactive tail. Crouching in front of him, you happily let him kiss your face as Frank slipped his shoes off.

“Ok bud, let her up.” Frank scolded gently as the massive canine began to tip you over in his eagerness to kiss every inch of you.

Standing with too much difficulty, you giggled as you finally managed to drag yourself upright. “Yikes. Pretend you didn't see that.”

“See what?” Frank asked, smirking.

“Thanks for a good night, Frankie. Oh, wait before we part ways for the evening...” You trailed off, shoving open your own door and dashing inside.

Still standing in his own doorway, Frank chuckled to himself as he heard you banging around in your kitchen. “Ya know, I was hoping to go to bed at some point.” He called down the hallway.

“One more second!” You called back.

Pretending to have fallen asleep against the doorframe, Frank's eyes were closed when your footsteps tread back down the hall.

“Ha ha. Very funny.” You deadpanned. “If you don't want this dessert, I can absolutely eat it myself.”

“Dessert?” Frank opened his eyes enthusiastically, accepting the plate you handed him.

The slice of whatever you'd handed him was thick and smelled of cinnamon. Its bread-like texture and swirl of filling looked painfully familiar...

“You promised to try the babka I made! So, here you go.”

Dread pooled in his stomach as his shaky hand grasped the fork you handed him. The enticing smell of the cake suddenly turned to something sinister, drawing acid up in this throat.

“I, uh...I what?” He stammered out, staring at the plate like the pastry had pulled a gun on him.

”The babka I made for Ms. Kaminzki? I mentioned it at dinner and you said you would try it for me?“ Your eyes were shining with anticipation, your tone edged with an anxiety that caused his own heart rate to spike.

His mouth remained shut, drying out as if he'd eaten a bowlful of sand. Spearing the slice of cake, he nodded as he took a small bite.

The blend of spices was something he'd tasted many times before, and he felt like someone had smashed a bottle over his head. Adrenaline surged through every vein, his hands trembling viciously. Bile was clawing up his esophagus, chills suddenly wracking his body.

“It’s great, sweetheart.” He muttered, still staring at the bread.

“Yah?” You asked eagerly, dress swirling around your ankles as you bounced on the balls of your feet.

“Mmmhmm, I love it.” Prying his eyes away from the ceramic plate he held, he glanced at you. Your face seemed to flicker, briefly—another familiar face forming a mask over your wide eyes and small smile. As his nausea suddenly became unbearable, he opened his door. ”I gotta go.“

“Oh, ok! Have a good night, Frank!” You called. He gave a limp wave.

Stepping backwards into his apartment, he locked the door behind him, chucked the pastry across his counter, and bolted to the bathroom.

Using your thumb to steady the piece of tape, you pressed it against the serrated edge of the dispenser to tear off a piece. Carefully draping the adhesive side onto the brown paper, you folded the final edge of the parchment over the babka. You couldn’t help but smile at the beautifully wrapped loaf.

All things considered, you’d been having a great week. The bakery had seen steady traffic, one of your favorite market booths had given all their regulars a huge discount on seasonal fruit, and your adorable elderly neighbor had been so thrilled about the babka you made her that she’d paid you to make one for her knitting club. Speaking of… A quick glance at the clock was enough to hurry you out the door to prevent being late.

Cradling the weighted parcel to your chest, you rushed out the door and down the steps—thanking your lucky stars that you didn’t break an ankle in your haste to make the delivery.

Ms. Kaminzki was an adorable older woman who lived on the floor below yours. You had offered to help bring her groceries in after she’d gotten hip surgery a few months ago, and the woman had been downright motherly to you ever since. She was constantly bringing you home cooked meals and complimenting your outfits, it was about time you made her something in return.

Of course, she’d tried to pay you for the first one and refused to accept a second for free—but there was only so much you could do to combat her sweet stubbornness. Which meant that this time, unfortunately, you needed to let her press a crumpled 20 dollar bill into your hand as you passed her the babka.

Accepting her cheek kisses and endless praise for your “baking talents” more readily than the cash, you ushered her into a taxi so she'd make it to her meeting on time. With the promise to visit her for dinner this week, you waved her off—nearly smacking someone behind you in the process.

“Oh fuck, I'm so—” Tilting your head as you took in the hooded figure in front of you, your brows shot up. “Frank?”

The man looked rough, to put it simply. Deep purple bruises sat under his puffy eyes, his posture hunched and face swollen around a split lip. He was avoiding your gaze, and he visibly flinched as you stepped into his space.

Straightening your fingers, you displayed your palms in a gesture of harmlessness. Though he was still curled in on himself, he met your gaze as you rested a hand on his bicep. “Sweetheart, what happened? Are you alright?”

Frank nodded curtly, recoiling from your light touch as he yanked open the door to your building. “Fine, sunshine.”

Huffing as he slipped into his old habits, you trailed after him.

“Thought we were past the whole 'pretending to be fine' shtick but, ok.” You muttered, nearly tripping over your skirt as you chased him up the stairs.

“I ain't 'pretendin' to be fine'. I am fine.” Frank snapped, not even sparing a glance at you.

“Sure,” You nodded, unbothered by his bad attitude. “Seems like it.”

Scoffing, Frank whirled around on the landing. His glower softened as he registered your furrowed brow. Deflating like a helium balloon, he flushed pink. “Sorry, sunshine. I'm just...havin' a shit day.”

“You sure it hasn't been a shit week?” You asked with narrowed eyes, hand coming up to cup his stubbled cheek. “This cut doesn't look fresh.”

Frank usually leaned into your touch as if it was the only thing keeping him together. While others made you feel self-conscious about your love of physical contact, your grumpy neighbor seemed to be as starved for it as you were.

Today, however, he remained rigid in your hold. His eyes were hollow shells, not holding the range of emotions you'd come to expect from his beautiful irises. Wherever his mind was, you were confident that it was not here with you.

Withdrawing your hand, you nodded your head toward the final flight of stairs. “C'mon, sweetheart. Up we go.”

His stare remained blank, but he followed your direction, marching up the stairs as if he was ready to drop—which, you realized, he probably was.

As he fumbled with his keys, you ambled towards your own apartment, trying not to look like you were prepared to catch him if he collapsed. As he tumbled over the threshold into his apartment, you caught a glimpse of the trash accumulating on his coffee table and counters. If you weren't worried before...

Eyes narrowing as he noticed you staring into his apartment, he gave a small wave. “Have a good night, sunshine.”

Though his words were sweet as always, his tone was flat and you weren't quite sure whether he meant what he said.

“You too, Frankie.” Before he could slip inside his apartment, you pressed a quick peck to his cheek. As your lips made contact with his scruff, one of his rough hands wrapped around the curve of your waist, squeezing gently. Smiling as you retreated, you let his hand linger on you for as long as he needed.

“I'm right next door if you need me, ok?” You promised gravely.

Finally dropping his hand, he nodded, a spark of the warmth you usually found in his expression finally igniting behind his eyes. Shoving lightly at him with an exaggerated frown, you pointed a finger at his chest.

“Go get some rest, Castle. You need it.”

He chuckled softly, finally disappearing behind the chipped white door.

Pondering for a moment, you could practically feel the cartoon light bulb pop out of your skull as the epiphany struck you. Flexing your hands in anticipation, you rushed into your apartment and beelined for your freshly washed mixing bowls.

Thanks for reading!! Please comment/reblog!

Taglist: @cheshirecat484 @xxdrixx @smhnxdiii @mattmurdocksstarlight @danzer8705 @mjsvinyl @softieekayy

#frank castle #my writing #the punisher #frank castle x reader #frank castle fanfiction #frank castle x you #frank castle x female reader #frank castle imagine #fc #gray skies #the punisher netflix #the punisher x reader #the punisher imagine #jon bernthal fanfiction #jon bernthal

[saminator]

the joys of being a masculine trans man

Today, sometime around 9:30 pm, I had an epiphany. Maybe I finally found the joy of being trans. I'd always heard people say it, but I thought it was bullshit. Until today, being trans had caused me nothing but misery and fury. If you asked me anytime before today, April 3rd, 2024, at 9:30 pm pst, whether or not I liked being trans, it would have been a hard no.

I have prom coming up. I'm going to the prom at the school I would have gone to if I'd stayed in my middle school's town. I know a lot of people there, and three of the people at that school are the only hope I used to have when I was 14 and 15, still figuring myself and the world out. Don't get me wrong, I still am, but I was so unhappy back then, and they offered me unlimited comfort. Anyway! I'm going to prom with them and I was kind of excited about it. I'd been having a hard time getting myself to be excited about anything lately. I told my parents I needed a suit for prom and they asked if I could wear something I already had. I said no. All I have are two blazers from the women's section that I got in 2021, one red and one gray, which are incredibly comfortable and nice but they were from a time when I wasn't allowed to shop in the men's or boy's section, and another 3-piece suit which is a bit too large for me that my ex-girlfriend (who's trans) gave to me because I would enjoy it far more than she ever did. I'd also borrowed a blazer from a friend, and again, while it was wonderful, it was also from the women's section. I wanted something new, something that I picked, something that fit me and made me feel okay. So, we started looking for one.

My dad and I went to the mall two days ago to try and look for a suit, but they were either really expensive, or just not my size. Then, my mom told me to look for it online and have my dad pick it up on the way back home from work. I did that. I ordered a gray blazer and dark blue dress pants from the boy's section. My dad got them home. I tried them on. I loved it more than I had ever loved any piece of clothing before. My dad was so encouraging about making sure I looked good and he kept suggesting different variations I could try of the outfit. After a whole hour of trying on different shirts under the blazer and showing my mom and having her feedback on it, I went to go change. Then my dad called me, saying "don't change! wear your blazer!" and asked me to move the trash bins into our backyard because it's extremely windy and they were being knocked over (also because HOA hates when trash bins are left out apparently). So I went to do that.

And I was walking down the driveway with the wind blowing in my hair, I thought Wait. Is this what they mean by the "joy of being trans?" Earlier, I couldn't stop staring at myself in the mirror because I looked so fucking handsome it was UNBELIEVABLE. My smile didn't feel ugly, my hair didn't feel shabby, my entire body didn't feel like a mistake. And now, in the wind, dragging the landfill bin behind me, I felt happy with being trans.

I don't care if others don't see me as a man. The mirror sees me as a man. That's all that matters. The sheer happiness I felt wearing a suit that wasn't someone else's or from the women's section or too big or not mine was crazy, Suddenly, my short height, my high-pitched voice that no matter how deep I try to make it still gets me misgendered, and my un-muscular body didn't matter. I WAS IN A FUCKING SUIT THAT I LIKED THAT FIT ME THAT WAS FROM THE BOYS SECTION THAT MY PARENTS ALSO LIKED THAT KEPT ME WARM IN THE WIND. I was smiling like a maniac on the way to the backyard.

I'm sure this experience doesn't just happen to masculine trans men. Maybe you're a cis man reading this and you're short, have a high-pitched voice, and aren't jacked up. I see you, and I know how isolating it can feel to be the way you are, no matter how hard you try. I've tried working out to get muscles. I can't gain weight easily. I'm literally 5'1'' and 90 pounds. I hate it. But who cares! I have a suit that's sexier than sex!

I love being masculine. That's something you won't hear people say often because masculinity is demonized because it was always weaponized in the past (and still is). But I'm not all of those men. I'm my own man and I choose to love and embrace masculinity. What is masculinity anyway???? Is it suits? Is it being built? Is it having a deep voice? Is it having a beard? Is it being tall? Is it doing taxing manual labor? No! It's none of those things objectively, not even the suits. I've said this before and I'll continue saying it, if wearing dresses or skirts or doing makeup makes you feel masculine or is your definition of masculinity, hell yeah! Go for it! To me, masculinity is home. It's looking at myself and smiling because I look good. It's wearing a suit and feeling warm and cozy and ready to do anything. It's having a better relationship with my parents because we're all trying our best. It's being daring and taking risks just because I want to. Femininity couldn't give me any of this.

Especially in a time like now, where no trans space is safe from discussions of the happenings of the world, the world where people want to erase us because they think we're a threat. The fact that people are afraid of us is astonishing. But we persevere, we wear our suits or dresses or overalls or corsets or fishnets or khakis or hoodies and we pursue happiness because it's comforting to think that it exists for us. And it does. If someone like me could find euphoria in being trans, anyone can.

But yeah, in conclusion, the joy of being a masculine trans man is trying on your prom suit with the wind blowing 18 miles per hour in your hair and feeling alive and manly masculine male >:)

#.txt #trans #transgender #transmasc #trans men #trans joy

[gayerthanevertbh]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧 - 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐.

not my gif!

pairing: best friend’s mom!natasha romanoff x fem!reader

summary: you know it was beautifully wrong when your best friend’s mother kissed your parched mouth. what’s even worse is that she’s a married woman and you’re just her secret affair.

warnings for this part: mommy!kink, slight praising, smoking (nothing too serious)

author’s note: so sorry for my inactivity, i had a writer’s block x but i’m back now and hoping to update as always. if i’m not active again, that’s probably because i’m busy with school and work. anyways, enjoy!

this series is 18+ minors dni! you will be blocked if you don’t have your age on your bio.

series masterlist || main masterlist || taglist for this series

Ever since Natasha introduced you to smoking cigarettes, you got yourself quite addicted to the taste. You have this understanding of people when they say cigarettes help them to stay calm and it works wonders for you. You would buy one pack each week and sometimes maybe two if you were that stressed. Natasha didn’t corrupt you because of it – thank goodness she gave you a blunt – and you loath to think that way with her because well, she didn’t ruin your innocence. You gladly took it, anyways.

It was a dreamy afternoon at the cottage where you were sitting on the bench, reading the novel that you can’t seem to let go of. Lucy was taking a nap while the two married women were upstairs sleeping. The sun shines through your skin as you turn the page of the book – getting invested with the story that was being told. You were so absorbed with your book that you didn’t hear a woman saying,

“Want to smoke with me?”

Your head turns and see Natasha standing with a gray shirt along with her sweatpants that were loose. You shake your head and reply, “I don’t smoke–”

“It’s just me,” she cuts you off, chuckling. “Scoot over, kid.”

Kid, she says, you think to yourself while scoffing inwardly. I can’t just be a kid to her when she wouldn’t keep her eyes off me.

You followed her simple order and sat near the edge of the bench. She sits close to you – but not in a creepy way – and takes a swig of her lighter and flicks the ignition of it. Then, put it close to the bud of the cigarette.

Inhaling the smoke, she says, “What are you reading?”

You pressed her knees together and bit your bottom lip, then quickly replied, “Pride and Prejudice.”

“I love that book,” she remarked while blowing out the smoke that was inside her mouth. You can smell how thick the scent was; it was nurturing for you. “I’ve watched the film too.”

“Yeah, well, it’s one of my favorite novels.”

“Cute,” she says calmly. She looks at the side and watches your nose scrunching from the smell, finding it adorable. It’s like she’s staring at a girl who came out from a dream but never was from reality. It felt different. Sort of. She sighs, taking another blunt from her cigarette and blowing it in your direction averting your eyes from the woman who was staring at you.

Natasha only did that to get your attention.

“Want to try?” she offered the stick of her cigarette; smiling. Although you were too shy enough to say yes, you shook your head. Natasha took that for granted and inched herself near you until her lap was pressed against yours. How lovely.

“Nat–”

“I won’t force it on you,” she says reassuringly. “But here, just try. Inhale it through your throat then blow it out.”

“Would it hurt?” you asked with your timid soft voice. She nods.

“Only for a while.”

You want to be daring, be bold, and this is your chance to do so. It’s not like you want to act cool or even be lame but, maybe this could somehow change your perspective into whatever you’re thinking of. You’re just exaggerating at this point. So you nodded and took the cigarette from her fingers. Natasha smiled at you and watched intently as you put the stick into your mouth and inhaled it – then coughed out.

“My, my,” the woman quickly wraps one arm around your shoulder and pats your back softly, then looks down at your lips – noticing how crisp it was. “Easy, dorogoya, do it again.”

You nodded at her while still coughing out the smoke. After a minute or so, you inhale it again but this time slowly since you took it too fast a while ago. You can taste the itchy heavy smoke inside of your throat and finally release it; blowing it out in the air. Natasha was in awe while watching you do so.

“How does it taste?” she asked, smiling coyly.

You slowly crept up a small side smile and took another blunt but this time, blowing it straight at her face – making you laugh loudly. Payback’s a bitch.

She giggles rather softly and looks at you with her bright green orbs that spoke with adoration whenever she gazes at you. You replied, “It’s alright. Thanks for that I guess.”

“You can finish the whole stack, I’ll go light up another one for myself.”

And there you were, sitting beside the woman who gave you an unforgettable experience that will be a memory in your life. While you were finishing your last cigarette, you stare at Natasha who had her head all the way to the back of the bench; blowing out the smoke mindlessly. Her beauty was mesmerizing enough to make your stomach churn into this sense of need that you’ve never felt before. And the more you accept it, the more you’re not as scared.

What else would you be scared of, anyway?

—

“You smoke?” Lucy asked curiously while sitting down on a hammock that was hung in your room.

“Yeah,” you replied nonchalantly. “Why?”

Lucy drops her gaze at you and quirks an eyebrow, then chuckles afterward. “Nothing, I just never saw you smoke.”

Yeah, it’s because your mother gave me the first experience to smoke a fucking cigarette.

You sighed and leaned more against the hard wall; laughing quietly.

“Do you?”

“Do I what?” she mocks your tone while writing down in her notebook; her gaze never leaves it.

“Do you smoke, too?”

“I smoke weed, yeah,” she responded and let out a loud groan. “We should go shopping right now. Michael wants to take me on a special date later at night and your mom isn’t here so, sleep at my place. I don’t want you to be alone.”

You hate the thought of bothering someone who lives in that house and you’d rather stay at home than do that type of thing but what’s so good about it is that Natasha is there. She would want you there because once you step into their abode, that woman will bring you to her room and make love to you like it’s she means it.

So, you just nodded while finishing the cigarette between your lips. Quickly, you stood up and grabbed the air freshener that was on your vanity table and sprayed it all over the room to remove the thick smell of the cigarette. You can hear Lucy laughing quietly across the room and playfully, you rolled your eyes.

“Please don’t tell mom about this,” you pleaded but your tone stays the same. “I don’t want her to think I’m getting high or something…”

“Well, you aren’t technically,” she says. “Cover for me later? I might sleep with him tonight.”

“You said you’ll have dinner with him,” you said while remembering what Lucy mentioned before. You can hear a sigh coming out from her and she responded,

“I’m covering you from your mom so cover me too, bitch.”

You laughed, nodding, “Fine. But be home early, don’t want your mom going bonkers at me.”

She lets out a wheeze of laughter and turns to you, smiling like a dork. “Please, both of my moms love you. Especially mom, she seems to be very talkative whenever you're around. Probably because you remind her of youth or something.”

Lie. The reason why Natasha is so close to you is that she’s fucking you behind Maria and Lucy; which makes you seem like an awful, disgusting, slut. Which, again, may be you. But, you’re Natasha’s slut. She likes to think you’re her slut.

Lucy dropped you off quickly and told you once more to cover for her. Of course, as a good friend you are, you agreed and she left with no fear whatsoever. Between your personality with Lucy, she’s more outgoing than you are. You’re more of an owl; you’re kind of an introverted person, but if someone ever gives you a chance to do something daring, then you might as well take the opportunity – although you would have hesitations before that.

As quiet as a sloth, you were back at reading the novel that you left unfinished. It is 11 at night and your sleep paralysis starts to take over your body. You noticed how quiet it was around the house – almost as if no one was there. But, apparently, Maria was away for work while Natasha was left all alone in this big house she has. Currently, she’s upstairs in her room and unfortunately, you’re a wuss. You begin to wonder if she knows you’re here, probably not, and that made your heart sink, realizing that you will only have limited time with her due to the situation that is at hand.

You were about to fall asleep when you heard the creaking sound from the door and it made your eyes wide open at the sight of the woman standing right in front of your glory.

“I didn’t know you were here,” she says while taking a seat at the edge of the bed but so close to you that you can feel her. “I’m assuming my daughter is out with her boyfriend?”

You nodded slowly and pulled the blanket near to your face. Natasha sighed.

“That’s okay,” she beams and looks at you with the knowing smile that she always uses whenever you’re with her. Then, she hovers on top of you and pulls your back until you bottom down on her lap. Natasha hums in satisfaction and pushes her lips against yours; full of want and desperation. Full of need and adoration. You can hear her whisper in seduction,

“I was just watching those naughty videos you sent me, princess. You’ve made me wet.” She grabs your wrist and places the palm of your hand on her covered cunt, emphasizing how aroused the woman was. She was, in fact, so wet that you could feel it through the clothed core.

“Tasha…”

“Detka,” she whispers hotly on the roof of your mouth and brings her hand slowly upwards to your waist. You wanted her this badly but for some whatever fucked up reason that succumbs your mind, your hands pushes on both of her shoulders softly and her eyes lingered towards you; asking what was wrong.

“Baby?”

“Tash,” you tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear and smiled with no teeth. “Can we take it slow? I just wan’ feel you tonight.”

She looks at you with uncertainty then quickly shakes her head and nods, smiling back at you.

“Of course, my little dove.”

The woman wasted no time reclining her lips back at yours, making you let out the tiniest moan. Natasha can feel herself getting more worked up whenever you would make the littlest sounds – it was infuriating. In a good way. She brings both of her hands to cup your cheek so softly and deepened the heated kiss with her tongue sliding through swiftly. As soon as your tongues met, you were completely lost in translation.

“Gonna make you feel so good,” Natasha whispers hungrily and stands up while bringing your legs around her waist. You hold on tight while the woman brings you upstairs to the master bedroom until you can feel the mattress dipped within your body. She opens your legs slowly – trying not to hurt you in the slightest – and hovers you again with her muscular arms that were between your head. Leaning down, she kisses your cheeks chastely and smiles when you hitch your breath from the slightest peck.

“Gonna be a good girl for me tonight?” she asked with a teasing tone. You nodded frantically, pressing your toes deep into the mattress to control that sensational feeling that was between your legs. The woman above you stares at you for once and brings her lips back to yours; letting her control your body.

The feel of her lips weighs on you in a certain way that makes you feel this kind of spark that was igniting inside of your beating heart. Or your throat. Her hands were finally maneuvering to the side of your torso until she slips it inside your shirt, trickling her fingers all the way up to your uncovered breasts and squeezing them slightly; making her let out a breathy moan that was inside of your mouth.

“Oh god,” you pulled away with a whisper and put your hips up against her, suddenly feeling all needy and whiny.

Her lips traveled down to your jaw until to your neck, nibbling at it softly while her hands were going back down to your body until she could feel the hem of your shorts. She looks back up with her hooded lusted eyes and asked, “Can I?”

You nodded, “You don’t need to ask.”

Then, she smirks darkly, sending a chilling feeling through your bones.

Natasha leisurely pulls down your red cottoned shorts, leaving her breathless once your laced pink underwear is glorified within her eyes. You can hear her panting – see her smiling at the sight that she could possibly eat. Not even a minute later, her lips were finally back onto your parched mouth as she ruts her core against yours, making you pull away with a strangled moan that you let out.

“Make those pretty sounds for me, baby girl,” she begged utterly. You nodded, continuing to grind back with her as you felt the intensity of her nipping on your neck. Not long enough, your shirt is discarded while the woman tries to take off her own underwear with struggling hands. She was so aroused that there were some difficulties taking off her own panties and quickly you helped her, kissing her pelvis while pulling it down with ease; Natasha moans in a guttural way.

“Fuck,” she chuckles rather deeply. “I’m so horny right now.”

The woman slightly pushes you back down on the bed and continues to ravish her shaky hands all the way down to your hips, claiming it possessively. At this point, your mind has shut down in the way that Natasha kisses your stomach while whispering, “You are such a good little girl, all for me to use.”

What gets you so worked up is how this woman knows how to talk – especially when it comes to sex. Heated sex. Her words were so filth and praising that you could never ever get enough of them. She’s like a whole package deal. You gasped lightly when you felt her tongue lathering all over your folds, her nose pressed flatly against your clit, and whispering,

“You taste so good, little one. Got mommy all wet when I’m eating this tiny pussy,” she presses open-mouth kisses all over your open folds, letting out a humming vibrating sound while her tongue worked all the way down to your hole that seemed so small. You pushed your hips forward – needing more friction – until you can feel the woman’s hand inside of your thigh, slapping it gently that electrifies your entire body system.

“Be a good girl, sweetheart,” she demands with her innocent dark tone. “You have no idea what I can do to you. How much I will devour you right at this moment. All you have to do is lay back and beg, detka. Beg for mommy’s fingers.”

—

You caught Natasha staring.

Again.

For the fifth time today.

And god may never forgive you, but you loved it. It makes you feel excited and the attention given is unstoppable.

You were currently chopping off some carrots that Natasha asked you to do since she’s making soup for everyone in the house. Of course, you wanted to help the woman out. So, you followed her simple order and grabbed the nearest kitchen knife you could get.

The woman, who was leaning against the doorway, has her dark forest eyes gazing at your body like some perverted creep. As your bare legs were exposed, Natasha couldn’t help but think of a scenario where you had your legs wide open while she kisses your collarbone like some hungry animal; eating its prey. Her lips would trail up to your ear and whisper the filthiest words that she could never stop saying. You were at her mercy, her hands were all over your back while thrusting her strap inside of your tight hole that it was impossible to fit.

She finally realized what she was thinking of and stopped it immediately before her possessive side could come out any time soon.

“I heard you’re talking to a boy,” Natasha said with decency, even though jealousy was flaming through her veins.

“Oh,” you stopped cutting the last piece of carrot and huffed. You were talking to this boy last night and he was a great help with distracting you from Natasha because every day, it seems like you couldn’t stop thinking about her. His name is Peter.

“Oh?”

You chuckled lightly then continued slicing the carrot with your knife. “Yeah um, I guess you could say that.”

She hummed and took a step – leaning against the counter with her lower stomach. Her eyes never fail to leave you. Natasha says, “So it’s a date?”

So many questions. You thought to yourself randomly.

“I guess so.”

“You have to stop saying that,” she replies in such a serious tone – your body flinching from it. “Now tell me, are you?”

“I’m sorry, but that’s totally none of your business,” you say and take a step back, realizing what you have just said. Her eyes hardened by your monotone and dangerously walked towards you, her hands finding their way to your wrist and pinning it back down behind you over the counter. She leans close to your face and presses her lips against yours harshly – making your eyes roll back at her suppleness.

She grumbles into the heated kiss and brings her hand to your cheek to hold it steadily. You pinch your eyes together when her spit seeps inside of your mouth; moaning at its taste. Natasha pulls away and looks at you with her slightly hooded eyes, her forehead pressing against your sweaty ones.

You bit your bottom lip hard, feeling the fear of being caught at this scene where your best friend’s mother was cupping your face. It felt wrong, terribly, yet it felt right somehow. It’s like the universe planned this whole scene to happen. You hate to admit that you liked the way she kissed you, the way she shoved her tongue down in your throat like some barbaric human being.

“I–”

“Don’t go out with him,” she whispers breathlessly. “I’ve been wanting to do that ever since I met you.”

“Natasha–”

“Let me finish,” she sterns, pinning you harder against the cold marbled counter. “You think this is wrong, right? Well, I don’t. I think it was destined for you to meet me as I was destined to meet you. You make me so fucking crazy, Y/N. It’s not just about your looks, you’re fucking beautiful and breathtaking but…”

“But what?” you couldn’t help but ask with a timid, breathy tone.

“I think you’re mesmerizing and whenever you are near me I can’t help but think that I want you. I want you, so fucking bad. I need you.”

She wasted no time but to bring her lips back at yours, moaning uncontrollably when you accidentally bumped your teeth together as you tried closing your legs. But, Natasha was in the way and she could possibly feel your heat radiating through you without even thinking, she cupped your clothed core and chuckled at how you were responding to her.

She kept kissing you, loving you on that counter until you came several times with her humping you like a dog in heat. She never once tried thrusting her fingers inside of you as it was too risky to do that in an open space.

That day, your relationship with the married woman began and there was absolutely no way out of it.

taglist: @sayah13 @santasbitch @bepisbeansprouts @sabstance-blog @cl-e @s1ut4nat @lostremind @comfy-mee @how-to-disappearr @when-wolves-howl @sapphosclosefriend @korekiyoss​ @aru-son​ (can’t seem to tag the others, so so sorry x)

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha angst #older!nat #black widow #black widow x reader #wlw blog #towseries #smut and angst #natasha romanoff

[wrenreid]

Just Acting

Chapter Twenty

Gifts are exchanged, hot chocolate and donuts are consumed, and your mom plays Christmas music on the tv. After getting the wrapping paper in the trash can and cleaning up the living room, you sit on the couch. Your legs are folded under you, and a soft blanket lays over your lap.

Lola plops down beside you after putting her things up in her room. "When are you going back to LA?"

"Trying to get rid of me already?"

"Yeah, obviously," she smiles.

"My plane leaves on the 30th,” you tell her.

"Okay."

"Why do you ask?"

"I don't know, just curious." she shrugs.

"I think I'm going to ask Conner out on a date," You say pressing your lips together.

"Really? I figured you would say you have no time for dating,” she says.

"Well, I don't. But I figured why not start getting out there again?”

She nods. "Have you talked to Matthew recently?"

"Why did you bring him up while we're talking about dating?”

Lola laughs at you. "I was just wondering." She has a small smirk on her face.

"Shut up."

"I didn't say anything!"

"I know what you're thinking, Lola."

She smiles wider, and you roll your eyes.

_____

"Hey! It's Y/n, I was wondering if you'd like to go on a date maybe tomorrow?..... Does that sound stupid?"

"Be more confident," Lola says, leaning over you and your phone. "Demand it."

"I'm not going to demand him to date me!" You chuckle softly.

She laughs. "Fine, but don't say maybe. Let him know you want it, but don't sound desperate."

You nod your head. "I never thought I'd be taking dating advice from a kid who's never even had a real date."

"I have!” she says a bit defensively.

You chuckle again. "Okay, I'm just going to send something before I overthink it."

"Hey, it's Y/n. Let's go on a date soon?" You text Conner.

"Not bad," Lola tells you.

You sigh. "What should we do today?"

"What can we do? Most places are still closed."

It's December 27th, and you're bored at home.

"Ugh," you groan.

"Let's go drive around?"

"I'm down," you say. "Anything to get off this damn couch."

You get up and throw on black sweatpants and an unzipped jacket over your red t shirt. Lola changes out of her pjs, which you both had been in all day, and into gray joggers, a black hoodie, and a black beanie. You both slip on your shoes and head to her car.

Lola drives down random roads and you play dj. After a while, Lola pulls into the parking lot of a gas station and you get slushees. Your dad always thought you girls were crazy because you'd eat or drink cold things in the winter.

The sun is down and it's getting even darker out. Lola drives around some more and you guys just talk about random things and sing at the top of your lungs.

"Well, I have a date tomorrow," you say, taking a sip of your cherry slushee and texting Conner back.

"Ooh nice! What time?"

"Seven."

"So you're going to leave me all night?"

"I'll be gone for like two hours, Lola. Dramatic ass."

She laughs, starting the drive back home.

After about thirty minutes, you're back home and in your sister's bed. You lay down while she sits in a bean bag chair beside her bed.

—————

"If this goes south, text me and I'll act like Mom's dying or something."

You shake your head with a soft laugh. “Thank you, but I think it'll be fine."

You slip on a pair of black high-waited jeans then walk to your closet where you'd hung up some clothes you brought.

"Flannel or blazer?"

"This isn't a business meeting, Y/n."

You press your lips together and nod. "Flannel it is, asswipe." After putting on a white t shirt and tucking it into your jeans, you throw on an oversized black, white, and dark red flannel.

You'd already fixed your hair and put on natural makeup. You sigh, "Dating is so weird. Getting to know people is awkward and annoying. Why can't someone I already know well just me my boyfriend or some shit," you chuckle.

"Because someone who already knows you wouldn't want to be your boyfriend," Lola says. You glare at her. "I'm kidding. Dating in the adult world sounds horrible. It's so much easier in school because you see these people every day."

"And you have so many options," you smile.

"Hey, you could try girls," she winks.

"I've thought about it, just isn't for me I guess."

"Understandable."

"Do I look stupid?" You ask after slipping into sneakers.

"No. You look pretty."

You give her a strange look before saying "Thank you."

She gives you weird finger guns, and you shake your head with a soft laugh.

“Who's kid are you?"

"Yours,” she says.

"God, I hope not."

The two of you laugh softly, and you grab your bag. You head out of your room. "Bye."

"Good luck, don't act stupid."

You roll your eyes and head downstairs.

"Have fun sweetie," Mom says.

"If you need saving, call us."

"Thanks Dad," you say furrowing your eyebrows.

You borrow Lola's car and pull out of the driveway. The restaurant Conner and you decided on meeting at is pretty chill, not too fancy but not like a McDonald's or anything. It's a few miles east from your house. You drive past the suburban Philadelphia scenery, which is mostly nice houses and a bunch of leaf-less trees on either side of the roads.

Eleven minutes later, you pull into the parking lot of the restaurant. It's family owned and fairly small, but it's a nice low-key spot.

Conner is sitting in a booth inside. He smiles at you, and you make your way to sit across from him.

"Hey. You look pretty," he says.

"Thank you, not too bad yourself,” you grin.

"Not going to lie, I was hoping you'd ask me out. I was a bit nervous to ask myself."

"Why?"

"I don't know, you're all superstar now,” he says.

"I am not," you laugh softly. "Still just the random kid from school, except I'm older now of course."

Conner smiles. "You seem different though. Not a bad thing.... so what's it like out in sunny California?"

"A lot different than here," you say honestly.

"I bet."

"What about you? How's the business?" You ask, and he looks confused for a second.

"Oh, it's been going fine."

You nod, pressing your lips together. "Dating is weird," you say out of the blue.

He chuckles. "It really is. So how's Criminal Minds been treating you?"

"It's been really fun."

"Oh c'mon, give me more than that. Any juicy details?"

"You'll have to watch for yourself when it comes out," say with a shrug.

"Lame," he laughs. "I'll admit, I was a little jealous when I saw those pictures of you and that actor Gubler on the internet."

"You were?" You furrow your eyebrows.

"Yeah. I mean, I've always had a crush on you."

"That's a shocker."

"How so?"

"You never said anything in school about it," you tell him.

"What can I say, I was shy."

"Yeah totally, the big basketball star was shy."

He shakes his head. "Around you, I was."

"There's not much to worry about this Gubler by the way,” you tell him with a blush.

"Really? You seemed all heart eyes for him," he laughs.

"That's funny,” you say.

"Okay..."

"What about you? I bet all of your dad's old lady customers are all over you," you giggle.

"Oh, totally. I get my cheeks pinched every day.”

A waiter comes and asks for your drink orders and leaves shortly after.

"Being in show business must be so much fun. I bet there's always something going on."

"Eh I sort of just stay out of it,” you say. “I’m not exactly a big name, so I’m not in all the drama.”

"What about on set though? There's got to be some drama there.”

You shrug. "Mostly just while we're acting. We're a family. No need for dramatics."

"Every family has drama," Conner says.

"Yeah, you would know," you laugh, referring to the family scandal his older sister brought onto them years ago.

"Hey, ouch," he says playfully. "So nothing interesting happens on set?"

You let out a breathy laugh and look at him questioningly. "We mostly just hang out and run lines. Or take naps. Trailer naps are the best."

Conner smiles. "Bet that's not the only thing fun in the trailer."

Your eyes widen. "Conner!"

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding. Unless you have something to add to that, then I am very curious."

"Shut up," you laugh.

"Hmm not a no."

"No. No," you chuckle, cheeks turning pink.

Your waters come out and the waiter takes your food orders. You decide on a toasted sandwich with fries.

He’s on his phone for a moment. “Sorry, my mom’s texting me about something with the store.”

You tell him it’s no problem and sip your water as the two of you talk a little more. "I'm going to head to the restroom," you excuse yourself and rise from the table.

You get to the restroom and your phone buzzes quickly after washing your hands “Hello?" You answer.

"Hey where are you right now?"

It's Matthew.

"I'm still in Philly," you say with a questioning tone.

"Yeah I know, but are you with someone?"

"That's none of your business, Gu-"

"Y/n, there's this guy who literally just tweeted some shit about you, and it's already blowing up."

"Wait what?" You question, running your hand through your hair while looking in the mirror.

"Are you with someone right now?" He asks again.

"Yeah, yeah this guy I knew in high school, we're on a date."

"Does his name happen to be Conner?"

"Yeah," you say, your chest rising and falling a bit faster.

"Shit. You need to go home."

"What did he say?"

"Don't worry about it, it's just a bunch of lies," he says softly.

"We, l I would like to know what's being spread about me on the internet."

"We'll fix this, Y/n. Just don’t look online right now,” he says, his voice oddly calming.

You nod even though he can't see you. "Right. Okay I'll tell him I have to go. Can you stay on the phone with me?"

"Yeah, of course."

You walk back to the table, not sitting down. "Hey, Conner, my mom needs me to come home," you point to your phone, "Something happened with my sister. It was nice meeting with you."

"Oh okay. We'll pick this up later?"

"Yeah," you muster up a smile.

When you get into your car, you see him watching you from the window. "Can I know what he said now?"

"Just some shit about how you’re a horror to work with and slept with one of your cast-mates in your trailer,” he says.

"What? That's- He was asking me a bunch of questions, I just thought he was making conversation. All I told him was that we were a family."

"He's a journalist, they love making u stuff for and reads.”

Technically one of the things he said wasn’t a lie, but it was not anything anybody was going to know about. You didn’t say it happened, he doesn’t know.

“I feel like a huge idiot."

"No, you're just a small idiot,” he says.

"Very funny, Matthew."

He laughs into the phone and you start the drive home. "When are you coming back to LA?"

"Next week."

"I got those tweets taken down."

"That was fast."

"I'm speedy," he says. “Well, I have people, and my people are speedy.”

"Thank you,” you breathe into your phone.

"Of course. If someone's going to spill the news you had sex in your trailer, it better be me."

You snort. "Shut up.” You sigh softly. “Friends?”

“Friends,” he agree. “I've got to go, my mom and I are taking matching sweater pictures."

You smile to yourself. "Have fun, Gube.”

“And I’m sorry for yelling at you.” Is what you’re about to say before the call ends.

"This is exactly why I hate dating," you say after recapping to your sister what happened.

"Because crazy money obsessed journalists normally spread lies on the internet, I get it, it happens to everyone."

You laugh at your sister, nudging her arm with yours.

While lying in bed, looking up at the ceiling, you realize something about yourself. Matthew annoyed the shit out of you, drove you crazy, and made you mad because you like him. A lot.

You couldn't handle Jordan because he was too comfortable, too boring. And Matthew... well, Matthew is loud and fun and makes you feel things you didn't know were possible.

_____

Lola stares at you with a satisfied smile on her face. She's definitely thinking 'I told you so.' "Just tell him."

"No. Nope. I messed shit up before, I can't afford to do that again. We're finally on good terms... I think, and I don't want to ruin it. And having to kiss someone for work after being rejected does not sound pleasant for me."

"Y/n, just woman up and tell him. You're not in high school anymore, you can't just avoid your feelings," Lila says.

She's right. You really hate when she's right.

"I'll tell him in person. I don't want to do it over the phone, and it'll give me some time to think about what I want to say," you tell her.

Lola nods. "Okay. Deal."

"Feelings are gross," you plop on your sister's bed with an exasperated sigh.

"Yes they are." Lola lays down next to you.

Luckily, you'd been able to go on Instagram and briefly explain the situation from last night's tweets. Most people believed you, and the deal was settled.

You go home tomorrow evening. You were originally going to stay in Pennsylvania until the second, but Aisha and the girls invited you to a New Year's Eve party. 

Lola and you decided to go to the movies together. You got ready and left the house.

The two of you ended up leaving the theater halfway through because of how bad the film was. It made for a good laugh though.

You drove to Sonic and ordered some cheese sticks and milkshakes for you and Lola to eat on the way home.

Since you had less than 24 hours until you left home again, you shared Lola's room with her for the night.

____

On the flight back to LA, you look out of the window at the clouds moving quickly past you. You'd just hugged your family goodbye an hour before.

The plane lands a couple hours later, and you take an uber back to your apartment. You take a deep breath as you walk into the place. It feels good to be back, but you know you'll miss your family soon.

After setting your bags down in your room, you plop down on your own bed. You get a text from Jess not long after saying she wants to see you tonight. You ask her to come over when she can. It's nice to be back with your friends in the noisy city you've gotten so used to.

twenty-one

tags: @pauline5525mgg @theintimatewriter @lilibet261 @greysviolets @jazzymariexoxoc @one-sweet-gubler @thatsonezesty13 @necromaniackat @awhoreforspencerreid @sebs-oxygen @scarredelirium @bts-sugaplum @awesomeness1679 @preciousbabypeter @yazzyu @cynbx @r3idsp3ncer @1010lizz @tiredbut-here @skulzombiw @lena-1895 @eevee0722 @danis-stuff-is-here @kylakins88 @daydreamingqueen1 @regulus-black-223048 @virginmusicloverr36 @inlovewithcharmers @kylakins88 @f-me-reid @matthew-gray-gubler-lover <3

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid angst #mgg x you #spencer reid #spencer reid smut #mgg angst #mgg fic #spencer reid and reader #mgg fem!reader #mgg x reader #mgg fanfiction #matthew gray gubler #matthew gray gubler smut #matthew gray gubler x fem!reader #matthew gray gubler angst #matthew gray gubler x you #matthew gray gubler x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid series #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid criminal minds #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fandom #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fluff #mgg #dilf spencerreid

[darkesttimelinestuff]

"Are you with me?"

Day 5 of Fictober and I'm still going!

Prompt #30 - "Are you with me?"

Find me on Ao3.

She doesn’t visit her mother’s house often. It’s too difficult with her busy schedule. She and Mulder are out of town more often than she’d like to admit. One of these days she’s going to ask him to slow down. Find more local cases. Their caseload and required travel isn’t sustainable for the long-term.

But, for now, she has to admit that there is a certain thrill to their work. She has witnessed things she never thought possible. And Mulder is a damn good partner. She even enjoys spending time with him on the weekends, which they’ve been doing very often recently. This thing between them, this electricity, keeps growing.

And her mom is out of town more and more. Matthew, though clear across the country, is taking up a good portion of Maggie’s time and love. Who can blame her? He’s wonderful. He is the innocence Dana Scully has sworn to protect. 

“Thanks for coming with me,” Scully says to Mulder. 

“Sure thing. I couldn’t let you clear out Maggie’s basement alone.”

“It’s actually not as much junk as I would have thought.”

The dusty boxes are piled almost one Dana Scully high. Which isn’t saying much.

“Accumulating stuff is hard when you move so much,” he says.

Scully considers this, wiping sweat from her brow with the back of her hand. “I suppose that’s true. ‘Only bring what you need,’ my dad always said. It’s rare we stayed anywhere longer than a year.”

“Must bring a whole new meaning to what home is,” Mulder muses. 

“Home was family and a temporary place to sleep. The four walls or the location didn’t matter much,” she says matter of factly. 

Mulder looks away and she wonders what home means to Mulder. They rarely talk about his family. Besides Samantha.

“So, which box do you want to unearth next?” Mulder prompts and Scully points to a large one nearest her. “You can get started on that while I load these Goodwill bags in the car.”

He ascends the stairs and Scully opens the box, gasping at its contents. She carefully pulls out each item and places them nearly on a nearby table. These are precious objects she hasn’t seen in years. Artifacts of her life with Missy.

When Mulder reappears and says, “Your mom is asking if you want pizza delivery or a sit-down restaurant. Any preference?” she doesn’t hear. 

“Hey, Scully. Scully! Are you with me?” he tries again, giving her shoulder a shake.

“Oh!” she startles. “Yes. Sorry. What?”

“You were a million miles away. Everything okay?” 

He eyes the contents on the table that have a hold on Scully. There are ancient bell bottoms and several shirts from a by-gone era, a set of tarot cards and diaries with little locks, a pillow with a large flower pattern, a ouija board, and a small gray bag. 

“Missy’s things,” she says weakly. “I uh… I thought we donated all of her things. I guess we missed this box. Mom must have thought it was mine since it was in this pile and uh…”

Mulder places a hand on her back and it steadies her. Grounds her mind and her heart. She is able to think more logically.

“I’m sorry. It must have been a surprise.”

“I certainly wasn’t expecting it.”

“What’s in the gray bag?”

She smiles and reaches for the drawstring bag, weighing it in her palm. Its contents rattle. 

“These were Missy’s gemstones and crystals,” she replies, spilling them into her palm. An array of colored stones cover her small hand. “Most are said to be imbued with energy for self-love and protection.”

Mulder made a noncommittal hum. She was probably informing him of things he already knew, but he stared at her and the gems with such an intensity. It meant the world to her. 

“And every full moon Melissa would put the crystals on our window sill to charge them. I teased her every month.”

Scully wiped a lone tear from her eye. 

Mulder didn’t say anything, just sat with her for as long as she needed. They were quiet for a long time. 

Finally, Scully said, “We should finish. I’m starting to get hungry.”

“Do you want to keep this box?” Mulder asked kindly. 

Shaking her head, Scully said, “No, that’s fine. We can donate everything. But I’ll keep the crystals. There’s a full moon tonight.”

[marvelslut16]

The Accidental Husband II

Pairing: Steve Harrington x reader (for now), Billy Hargrove x reader (eventually)

Series synopsis: (Y/N) is all set to marry her high school sweetheart Steve Harrington when a ‘glitch’ in the County Clerk’s computer system says she’s already married to none other than Steve’s high school tormenter, Billy Hargrove. (Y/N) has to jump through hoops to get her annulment papers filed in time for her wedding to the ‘perfect’ man. But will she fall in love with Billy while spending time with him in order to get him to sign the aforementioned papers? Or will she have the ’perfect’ life she’s been planning with Steve since they were in high school?

Word count: 2.7k+

Warnings: Swearing probably. Mentions bulling and beating up. Poor writing. Spoilers for season 3 if you haven’t seen it yet. Steve is OOC to fit with the plot. Spoilers for the movie the accidental husband. 

A/N: The reader is a year younger than Billy and Steve. This takes place in 91. After a year I have finally posted the second part to this series. Please let me know if you want to be tagged in it, I have a strict upload schedule for both of my series now.

Part 1

The weeks following the interaction with the lady in the nail salon you don’t think of her once, not even telling Steve that Billy lives near enough to you two that his future wife went to the same salon as you. Your life has been too busy to think about Billy, you have an evaluation coming up at work and Steve keeps evading wedding planning at the last second, leaving all of the decisions up to you. One thing he does decide to do with you for your wedding, is something he’s legally forced to do, which is to obtain your marriage license. You have a day off from work and Steve’s on his lunch break, so you take advantage of the gap in both of your schedules.  

Steve is dressed up in a black suit with a forest green tie, and emerald cufflinks, the exact opposite of the boy you fell in love with in high school. On a normal day you would wear a pair of jeans or overalls, a t-shirt, and a cardigan for both work and running errands, but today you're matching Steve in fanciness. You're wearing a gray skirt suit, with a pearl necklace and a pair of pearl earrings- a gift from Steve’s mom on your engagement. The suit is stiff and unbearably itchy, the tweed fabric rubbing your skin raw every time you shuffle or readjust your stance.  

After waiting in a line for thirty minutes, with Steve nagging and complaining that it was taking too long every three minutes like clockwork- you finally get called to file for your marriage license. You triple checked this morning to make sure you had all the necessary documentation so it could go as smoothly as possible, but none of that matters now. Not when this isn’t something that can be solved with something as simple as your birth certificate.

“I’m what?” you practically shriek at the poor man sitting across from you, lucky for him he’s behind glass or else you would have lost your senses and climbed over the desk to get a look at his computer yourself.

“You’re already married,” there’s a slight lift to his lip as he reiterates himself, almost as if he’s smug that all of this is happening to you. 

“Says who?” you're trembling with an oncoming panic attack so you reach for Steve’s hand, but he’s moved away from you at the news, acting as if you somehow got married behind his back. 

“The state of California,” the man deadpans, wanting you to get out of the seat in front of him so he can move onto a new couple. 

“That’s impossible,” Steve speaks up, voice oddly controlled. “We’ve been dating since high school, there’s no way she’s married. You must have the wrong (Y/N) (Y/L/N).” 

You nod frantically to the man, twirling your engagement ring. You can feel the eggs and toast you had for breakfast start to rise from your stomach and up your throat. This couldn’t be happening. You aren’t married, you’re supposed to be marrying the perfect man, your dream man, in two months.  

“(Y/N) (Y/M/N) (Y/L/N), born in Hawkins Indiana,” the man says, after typing in your name again and coming up with the same answer. 

“How do I fix this?” your voice goes up an octave on the word fix, your breathing picking up and sweat starting to accumulate at your hairline. 

“Annulment forms,” he pulls out a giant stack of papers and pushes them through the whole at the bottom of the glass divider. “Both parties need to sign them and then get it notarized, and bring them back.”  

“Who’s her husband?” Steve asks gruffly, angry at the situation in front of him and over the fact that he should have been back in the office twenty minutes ago. The guy presses a few more keys before revealing the name of your husband. 

“William Neil Hargrove,” you can hear your heart pounding rapidly in your head as the world starts to spin, you think you’re about to faint. This can’t be happening, this is just a nightmare. “You think you’d remember your own husband.”

“What?” the sheer volume of Steve’s holler and the pain the loud sound causes your ears, informs you that this isn’t a nightmare- that this is real and that it’s happening to you. The guy hands you Billy’s address, he’s about a thirty minute drive from your apartment. “Of course he’d live by the beach.”

Steve leaves with a scoff, leaving you to scramble and grab the three hundred pages of paperwork that you and Billy Hargrove would have to fill out. What are the odds that this computer malfunction would have you married to Billy of all people? Maybe it has something to do with Hawkins in both of your records and the two of you going to get marriage licenses around the same time.

“I know a good lawyer,” Steve assures after you’ve walked out of the building. 

“That really can’t be necessary, all we have to do is sign the papers and return them,” you try to reason, not wanting to have to deal with any of Steve’s stuffy and judgmental ‘work friends.’

“It is if we have to keep this quiet,” he glares at you and speaks through gritted teeth. “I have an important business deal in the works and I can’t have this mess screwing it up. And I’m sure it won’t look good to your principal, employing a woman who’s dating around while she’s already married.”

“That’s not true and you know it!” the mere accusation from him hurts, whether he meant for it to or not. You’d never do that, you’re not that kind of girl. And if he thinks you're capable of that, does he really know you anymore?

“I know it’s not, but that’s what it looks like (Y/N),” he hails a cab, turning to you and sighing as the yellow car pulls up beside you. “I have to get back to work and you need to go see Billy.” 

Steve slides into the cab without another word, slamming the door before you can protest seeing Billy alone. Steve doesn’t even hug you or kiss you goodbye, something he would normally do. Billy is back in your lives for three seconds and he’s already screwing up everything you’ve ever worked for.

~~

You change before you head to see Billy, a skirt suit is definitely not the first impression, or second first impression, you want to make. Deciding on a flowy black sundress with sun flowers all over it, pairing it with yellow and tan wedge sandals- matching the yellow of your shoes to the flowers on the dress. There's a tightness in your stomach the closer you get to his address, if you weren't so angry that you couldn’t get your marriage license an hour ago, you would swear you were actually nervous about seeing Billy again. You used to swear to Steve that you never found Billy attractive, for the sake of your boyfriend’s ego and confidence, but you were lying back then. Even with that ugly mullet Billy was undeniably sexy; the half unbuttoned shirts, the tightness of his jeans that perfectly hugged his ass, and the air of confidence he walked around with made him irresistible. 

Upon arriving at Billy’s apartment complex his neighbor informs you that he’s never home during the day, kindly pointing you in the direction of Billy’s favorite beach. Luckily you spot someone who looks eerily similar to the Billy you knew in high school walking into a cute beachside bar, so you don’t have to walk around the beach aimlessly in wedges trying to find the man. Entering the bar you're taken aback by how homey and cutesy it manages to feel; there are strings of little lanterns hanging from the wooden beams above you, tiki torches line the perimeter of the room, surfboards signed by famous surfers are hanging behind the bar like a back splash, and there are two types of seating- on your right are the typical high top tables you see in every bar, the seating on the left are multicolored plastic beach chairs set up sporadically in four inch deep sand. The windows to your right are open, letting in the cool sea breeze and filling the bar with the comforting scent of salt water. The thing you find most notable is something that people would typically not notice, the color of the walls. The walls are lined with fishing nets, life preservers, and even some starfish, so people wouldn’t notice the blue color of the walls, the same blue as your nail polish. Steve would hate this place, or at least the California Steve would hate it, but you love it. 

Your eyes dance around the room taking in the beauty of the atmosphere of the bar, before your eyes finally land on Billy. You never imagined you’d see him again and yet he looks just how you’d expect a twenty-something year old Billy to look; he’s cut off his mullet and his hair is far more sunkissed than it was when you knew him, he’s still rocking the half unbuttoned shirt and his jeans still accentuate his ass. The hoop in his ear looks like the same one he wore in high school, but the gold chain around his neck has been traded in for a wood bead necklace. No. he doesn't look like you expected he would, he looks way better, the smirk pulling at his lips as he reaches across the bartop to grab himself a bottle of beer could stop traffic. 

After a few seconds of shamefully ogling the man in front of you, you snap yourself out of it and walk towards him with purpose.  He doesn’t notice you approaching, too busy talking and joking with the male bartender. Billy seems to be sitting taller, less weight on his soldiers now that he’s away from Neil. 

“Billy Hargrove,” you say once you’re standing behind him, even though you had menat it more as a question than a statement. You had an entire thirty minute drive to his apartment and a ten minute walk to the bar, and yet you still couldn’t come up with anything more creative than just his name. 

“(Y/N) (Y/L/N), is that you?” he turns around on his barstool with a look that you can only describe as a smolder. 

“The one and only,” you internally cringe at your awkwardness, why can’t you manage to hold a simple conversation with an adult. Then again, there’s nothing simple about the coming conversation. 

“My girl said she ran into you while she was gettin’ her nails done,'' his pink lips wrap around the opening of his beer bottle as he takes a swig. “I told her there was no way that little pumpkin ever left Hawkins.” 

You glare at Billy at the use of your fathers nickname for you, you hated it to no end and he knew that. Billy would hear you complain to your dad for the nicknames and the hovering he did, just like you heard everything Neil said or did to Billy. 

“Moved here the summer after I graduated,” you shuffle your feet awkwardly. “Wanted to get away from all the shit that happens there.”

“You want a beer? Jimmy get her a beer,” he instructs the smiling bartender before you can even open your mouth to respond to the question. 

You gratefully take the beer Jimmy pops open for you, it’s cold and refreshing on this warmer than normal spring day. It’s been ages since you’ve last had a beer, probably not since the keg at Tina’s halloween part your junior year. The following year and a half in Hawkins was too hectic to party and drink. After moving to California you didn’t have a drink until you turned twenty one, and by then it was always expensive red wine or fancy champagne at one of Steve’s work parties.

“This beer is fantastic,” it’s a little heavy on the Hops side, but it tastes cheap and perfect. “I haven’t had a beer since we were doing keggers in Hawkins.” 

“No shit,” Billy muses, running a hand over his chin as if he were reminiscing the few keggers he went to during his time in Indiana. “So what brings you to this fine institution?” 

“Right!” you sit on the bar stool to his right, pulling the annulment papers from the painted canvas bag you grabbed while you went home to change. The bag was a gift from your first ever group of students, back when you were student teaching. 

“What’re these?” he asks at the loud thump of hundreds of pieces of papers landing on the wooden bartop. 

“Annulment papers,” you let out an uncomfortable laugh. “Funny thing happened when I went to get my marriage license today. They told me I was already married. To you.” 

“What are the odds, huh?” he takes another swig of his beer. 

“It’s pretty crazy,” you push the papers closer to Billy. “You just need to sign these and you’ll have me out of your hair for the rest of your life.”

“Finish your drink and we’ll catch up,” he gives you one of his perfected smirks. “Then I’ll sign the papers.”

“As long as you sign them,” you sigh and take a swig of your own beer, it soothes the anxiousness rising in you. “I don’t know why you want to catch up, we barely talked in high school.”

“We can fix that now,” he leans towards you, wetting his plush pink lips with his tongue. “So who’s the lucky son of a bitch you’re gettin’ hitched to?”

“Steve, uh,” you pause wondering how he’ll react to the name, your hand comes up to anxiously rub the back of your neck. “Steve Harrington.” 

You watch as the kindish smile he has falls from his face, before he quickly replaces it with a forced one. You still don’t get why he has always hated your future husband. Steve hated Billy because he came to Hawkins fists and words swinging, targeting Steve particularly when he was the most vulnerable. How could Billy’s only motive for attacking Steve be to get popularity?

“You’re still with that pathetic little bitch?” he gives you a look that you can only describe as disappointed. But why? Why does he care, all he needs to do is sign the damn papers and you both can marry the loves of your lives. 

“Hey now! Steve is a caring man, one that can provide for me, that’ll take care of me.”

“Well ain’t that just love,” he scoffs. “Providing for ya ain’t love, it’s the least his pathetic ass can do, especially after what happened at the mall.”

You tense at his words, trying to ignore the memories that his comment has stirred up. You don’t respond, focusing on the label of your beer bottle instead, pulling at the edge of the label that was already starting to peel back before you ever touched it. You  clear your throat before taking a large gulp of your beer, you can practically hear Steve and his mother telling you how unladylike you look at that moment. 

“Can I have a shot?” you ask Jimmy, who’s been quietly and awkwardly lurking on the other side of the bartop. “I really don’t care what it is, as long as it’s strong.”

He looks a little apprehensive at your request, granted it is a little early in the day to be pounding back shots, and to an outsider the mere mention of a mall shouldn’t want to make someone drink. But Billy nods at him, so Jimmy complies, grabbing a clear liquid from the top shelf and pouring me a larger shot than you would get at any other bar. 

The rest of the day is a blur of shots and talking to Billy about everything that has happened to you since you last saw him. You tell him things that you would never tell him if not in a tipsy haze. Like how you haven’t been back to Hawkins since moving away, or that one time at a college party you got drunk after a fight with Steve and made out with a random couple, even telling him that life with Steve is boring and monotonous- something you’ve never been able to admit before. The last thing you remember is hanging off of Billy and singing ‘Rock You Like a Hurricane’ way off key to him and the rest of the bar- now full of patrons being that it is now close to midnight. 

@justfangirlthingies @mysterious-adventurer @obsessedsadgirl

#billy hargove x reader #billy hargrove #billy hargrove x y/n #billy hargrove x you #billy stranger things #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfiction #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove imagine #steve harrington

[yourmomxx]

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐕: 𝐒𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐂𝐇

warnings: none

word count: 3.4k

When Oliver Otto was thirteen, he made a vision board. His friends at school gave him the idea.

“That way I can have all my dreams on one place,” Cooper Bradford had said. And Oliver had been sold.

He installed the poster on the inside of his closet door. That way, he would have to look at it at least twice a day, and be reminded of what he was working towards.

It was a fresh feeling of reward.

As fate would have it, it was that only a few days later, when Oliver did his weekly affirmations, partnered with excessive research over what to show off at his resume, he found out about Harvard’s constant need for male ballerinas.

Ballerinos.

Oliver jumped off his bed and took a look at himself in his tall, full-body mirror.

Slim waist, long legs. He stood on his tiptoes. Nicely rotating ankles. He lifted his arms, tensed them up. Strong shoulders.

Yes, this could work.

The next day of school, in the fifteen-minute break just between English and Calculus, he made his way quickly to the teacher’s office, where he asked for “Mr Donovan”.

The man that was brought to him was pretty much the same height as Oliver’s mom, had slicked-back, blond hair that started to slightly gray around his ears, and a muscular body like a goddamn bear.

How he should ever imagine that man in a leotard, Oliver did not know.

“My name is Oliver Otto,” He introduced himself. “And I would like to sign up for your beginner’s ballet class.”

Mr Donovan almost doubled over with excitement. For someone looking as intimidating as he did, that was an unexpected reaction for Oliver.

Donovan smiled brightly at Oliver, and squeezed his hand extra tight and long when he shook it.

He said something about how inspiring it was that Oliver had such a profound passion to not wait until the next year to start class, and how excited he was to finally have a male dancer in his group.

“Between us,” Mr Donovan whispered, “I think the parents don’t quite believe me anymore when I say that male ballet dancers are just as popular as female ones. Think it’s all just for the movies.”

He smiled again, and shook Oliver’s hand again, and complimented him on his determination again.

Then, he slipped back into the teacher’s office. Oliver made it back to his class just in time for the bell to ring. For him, ballet classes started already the next day.

Oliver didn’t know if he could tell Cooper about it. If the older boy would use this as an opportunity to make fun of him and kick him out of their friendgroup. He couldn’t afford that, and his social status wouldn’t survive it.

If Luz were still here, Oliver thought, then she probably would know what to do. He had talked to her about his relationship with Cooper a few times, when she was still Viv’s housekeeper, and they abused her basement as a fashion workshop for their remodeled shirts.

Oliver had been sorting their third or fourth stack of money when the topic had been first brought up. “If I want to be as rich as Cooper Bradford, we will have to keep this up for quite some time,” He had said. Luz had squinted her eyes in interest. Some people would say that this was the way she always looked, but Oliver had learned to tell the difference. “Cooper Bradford?” She had asked, rolling the ‘r’s in his name so wonderfully, ”Isn’t he the pretty boy whose parents are never home?” Oliver had nodded. “You get me, Luz.”

She had tilted her head. “What do you care what one of those entitled rich boys thinks? He your friend?” Oliver had shrugged, suddenly very focused on their money again. It couldn’t hurt to count it all again. “I don’t know,” He had said, sincerely. “I mean, I think we are on our way to becoming friends, but - I don’t know.” Luz had nodded.

“Boy friendships are always complicated. That’s why I never had them.” Oliver raised his eyebrows. “What am I to you, then?”

“A business partner,” Luz had said, “A damn annoying one.” But Oliver could swear he had seen a small smile on the tips of her lips.

“Alright, Luz,” he had said. “Same time, same place tomorrow. Supply and demand, you understand.“ Luz had shaken her head and stashed her share into a loose tile on the floor.

“You’re so demanding,” She had said. “You’re gonna be an amazing rich person.”

And Oliver had grinned.

Now, he was more unsure than ever before. After his birthday party, he thought that him and Cooper Bradford had formed somewhat of a connection. Maybe a friendship. Hopefully.

That’s why he didn’t know, should he tell him about his plan? Him doing ballet had the power to ruin the image that Cooper Bradford had of him, and even if Oliver didn’t like admitting it, he cared deeply what the other boy thought of him.

Cooper Bradford started spending time at Oliver’s house more often. Back then, when Luz had mentioned that the Bradfords were never home, or everytime that Cooper had told him in what different country than America his parents were again, Oliver had not given it too much thought.

But when it was another day that Cooper entered their house, without knocking and just perching himself on the couch, Oliver first started realizing how lonely Cooper actually had to be. If he had his entire house, that was a castle, with movie rooms (plural) and pools (plural), and a game hall, and whatever else … what other reason would there be that he’d spend his days with Oliver?

In a house that was as big as the Bradford’s living room, with two annoying siblings, an out-of-style Dad, a Mom that always yelled at him, and a vase from El Paso as their most luxurious object.

At first, Oliver hadn’t understood. But maybe he was starting to.

“I decided to take ballet classes to get into Harvard.” He dropped it casually one day, after the evening his mother had invited Cooper to dinner, but before the time she pretended to be pregnant. They were sitting in Oliver’s room, he himself on the bed, Cooper on the desk, attempting at their homework.

Cooper raised his head from his worksheet, looked at Oliver.

“Chill.” He said.

He lowered his head again.

Oliver’s eyebrows shot up. “That’s it?” He asked, baffled. “You’re not gonna … say anything else?”

Cooper looked up, wrinkled his eyebrows, thinking. “I can play piano,” He stated. “When you’re good enough I can assist you by playing music.”

With that, the conversation was over for him, and he turned his focus back to his worksheets.

That was the moment that Oliver Otto decided it. Eyes trained on the hunched figure of the boy with the dark blond hair, it came to him like enlightenment. Cooper Bradford was his best friend. In the world.

Cooper Bradford was his best friend in the world.

He focused on his homework again. The smile didn’t leave his eyes.

Cooper Bradford was his best friend. In the world. It was nice to hear himself say that.

Or think it.

Because now, everytime when Cooper laughed with Jamie Miller, or charmed the hell out of a blonde girl from his biology class, he reminded himself steadily, that Cooper was his best friend, and no one else’s.

It was a refreshing form of reassurance that Oliver had not know he needed.

Spending more time with Cooper Bradford also meant seeing Kendra Nolan more often, because they’d grown up together and liked each other like siblings. Kendra was probably the only thing about Cooper that Oliver couldn’t stand.

Not that they talked much, it was merely the occasional eyeroll when she realized Oliver was sitting at her dinner table, or the time-to-time scoff when she talked about something she got from the money that he didn’t have.

Those things didn’t annoy him in Cooper, obviously. Because Cooper was his best friend.

Although, regarding Kendra, he had a feeling, that, since his birthday party, she seemed to only half hate his guts, and he didn’t find her voice quite as annoying as he did before.

“Alright, you two douche-nozzles,” she addressed them one day, while they were doing their homework, which Oliver found very rude by the way, and added to the mental list of things that he disliked about her.

“Listen up.” Without being asked, she sat down at the table next to them. Another mental note. “Halloween is coming up, which means you, Cooper, have to help me organize the Halloween Party this year.”

Oliver perked up. The annual Halloween Party for teenagers was as much of a tradition in Westport as trick-or-treating was in all of America. The place where it was hosted rotated and changed around from year to year, all of the kids quietly competing over who had the best and most epic party of all time. And this year, apparently, it was Tannyhill’s turn.

“Any idea what you’re gonna do?” Oliver asked him. Cooper shrugged. “I usually let my party planner handle all this stuff.”

Kendra threw him a murderous glare. It made Cooper retreat his words almost instantly.

“Buttt, joining forces I’m sure we’re gonna figure something out,” He added slowly.

“Aha,” Oliver let out. Cooper had once told him that it was one of Kendra’s hobbies to plan the parties that he had. She was in charge of all of his birthday celebrations, and a big factor in Tannyhill’s Christmas decorations.

He turned to her. “And do you already have any ideas what you’re gonna do this year?” Oliver asked, now directing the question towards Kendra. She picked at her nails. “A few.”

Hah. Liar.

“Oh, really?” Oliver probed. “Such as?”

“I don’t know. And I’m not gonna tell you. I was only here to talk to Cooper anyways. I don’t know why you’re always around him.”

She grabbed her things and stormed off. Oliver raised his eyebrows.

“Don’t worry about her,” Cooper said, “She takes a while to warm up to people. The first time I slept over at their house, she put a mouse in my bed.” He leaned closer and whispered, “She caught it herself.”

Right. That was totally normal.

**

Oliver Otto did not chase successions, fame, or pride. No, he carefully laid out the first bricks and waited until they came crawling to him over the bridge that he had built. It was a strategy, and it worked.

When Kendra Nolan rang his doorbell on a Saturday afternoon, he opened her with a smug smile already plastered on his face, his winning smile, that he definitely did not rehearse in front of his mirror.

"Kendra," he purred, "What brings you to my humble realm?"

She clenched her jaw and pursed her lips. The obvious discomfort this interaction brought her made Oliver’s smile only wider.

“Can we talk?” she murmured through pressed lips, and Oliver leaned forward, one hand behind his ear.

“I’m sorry, what was that? I’m afraid I couldn’t hear you.” She shot him a glare.

She was good at those. If looks could kill, his family would’ve had to bury him the first day he sat down at Cooper Bradford’s table of popular kids at lunch with his tray of spaghetti.

“Can. We. Talk.”

Oliver took a step back and gestured for her to come in. “Of course we can.”

Kendra stomped past him. She didn’t take off her shoes.

In his living room, a person like Kendra tended to look sort of out of place. Her entire appearance seemed put together, which couldn’t be said about his house, and the newspapers or sunglasses sprawled everywhere.

Most of her clothes probably cost more than his furniture. And yet, if only for this moment, she was completely at Oliver’s mercy. Oh, he was going to relish in this moment.

“So, Kendra, what is it that you wanted so desperately to talk about? With me?”

He was enjoying this way too much. Maybe he should consider therapy in the future.

She shoved her hands in her pockets. “’s about Halloween.”

Oliver gestured for her to continue talking while he took a seat next to the kitchen isle.

“I’m helping Cooper throw a party.”

“And?” He dragged. She let out a breath.

“And Cooper Bradford is terrible at planning things. There, I said it.” She threw her hands in the air and let them clap to her side again.

“Okay,” Oliver said slowly, “I still don’t get why you came to me about this.”

“Yes, you do,” Kendra said. Yes, he did.

“No, I really don’t.” He crossed his arms. “I guess you have to say it to me.”

She took a deep breath, one that lifted her shoulders and scrunched her face up. Oliver smiled, tight-lipped and evil. She wriggled on his rod like a fish, and he was holding her barely above the water to get her freedom.

If this was how detectives felt, when they pressured their victims into confessing a crime, maybe he should consider changing career paths.

“Canyouhelpmeplanthehalloweenparty?”

Oliver leaned forward, one hand behind his ear. “I’m sorry, what was that?”

A frustrated groan left her throat. “Can you help me plan the Halloween party? There. Happy now?”

Oliver leaned back, a smug grin on his face at her annoyance.

“Now say that again, kneeling down, and add a please.”

“The only thing I’m gonna do kneeling down is punch you where it really hurts, Otto,” she spat.

Oliver’s eyes widened. “Fair enough.”

She straightened her shoulders. “Alright, so, this was completely humiliating and degrading for me. So, now, if you please-“ She frantically waved her hands around, “-would just help me with this?”

Oliver bit the inside of his cheek to refrain from letting a sarcastic remark slip of his tongue,

“Alright, so what do you need my help with?”

Kendra sighed and took a seat on a stool next to him. “First of all, an idea. You know, when people think Bradford, they think rich. Which means they think big, and glamorous, and unique. So the party has to be all of those things.”

“Please tell me again why you aren’t letting your party planner do all of this?”

“Because I like it,” Kendra admitted. “The planning, and the having ideas, and preparing everything. I think it’s fun. I’ve just been so busy with school lately that it feels like my mind has closed off to anything I enjoy. And also I have the money to make any sort of extravagant imagination I have come true.”

Oliver nodded. “Well, then you’ve come to the right place. I do have extravagant ideas, which you have the money to fulfill.” She grinned.

“Alright, so what are we working with? Do you have a direction, a theme, something like that?”

Kendra hummed. “I know that I want something unique. You know, not the typical ‘webs around the house’ thing. I have the money for more, and I wanna use that.”

Oliver slowly nodded his head, thinking. “Alright, alright. I mean, the typical thing doesn’t sound so bad. You know, Haunted House themed. Spiderwebs, maybe some blood around, eyes in the punch bowl.”

“Okay, fine,” Kendra said, “Let’s go classic. But then we should have some sort of climax. You know, like an interlude at midnight. Something that fits the Haunted House theme. I’m thinking maybe scare actors and flickering lights.”

Oliver grinned. “That’s not a bad idea.” She smiled proudly.

Then, an idea struck Oliver and he perked up. “Tell me, Kendra,” he said, “How big is your garden?”

**

If you had asked Oliver Otto three months ago, he would have told you he would never consider letting Kendra Nolan even into his house, not when Cooper wasn’t there. Hell, if you had asked him a week ago, he would’ve probably said the same thing. Even stranger was it, that currently, he was sitting on his bed, Kendra Nolan on the floor in his room, helping her design invitations for the Bradford’s Haunted House party. He still thinks their names should be credited in that title in some way, but after the dozenth eyeroll and sigh he got from Kendra on that topic, he let it rest.

“Your ideas were really good, Oliver,” Kendra suddenly said, and clicked the lid on a black marker. “I hope your mom has that same talent.”

At Oliver’s confusing look, she added, “Well, because of the Spring Gala.”

“How do you know about that?” He asked. “Your dads don’t even volunteer at school.”

“They don’t,” she shrugged, “But, Westport moms have the habit of dumping all the stuff they should go to therapy for on their children. We know just about everything about just about anything.”

“That’s badass.”

“Totally. Although I now know terrible things about Tabetha Thornton that I wish I didn’t.”

“Other than her name?” They snickered.

Maybe Oliver should be concerned about the fact that they clicked so easily instantly when they weren’t fantasizing about tearing each other’s faces off…

Nah.

“Seriously, though, Oliver,” Kendra said, after another moment of silence. “You had a great idea with this. Thank you.”

He let it sink in for a second. Then he scoffed. “Don’t turn all melancholic on me now, Nolan. Come on, we had a good thing going on! You work me up with some banter, I work you up, and when we’re older we’d relieve that tension between us by heavily making out.”

Oliver fell back when a pillow was chucked forcefully at his face.

**

The day of the Halloween party arrived, and so did Oliver, at the Bradford estate wearing his last-minute costume-solution to cover up what he liked to call his “scream-deficiency”.

The house – estate, castle? – in itself looked marvelous. Yes, maybe a bit cliché, with cotton webs and rubber spiders floating around everywhere.

But Kendra had made sure to keep her promise and use all the money that Cooper was willing to pay, and use it well. Strutting through the house, Oliver made out pumpkins with distorted grimaces, candles hanging from the ceiling like in Harry Potter, flashing lights in the dark atmosphere to imitate a thunderstorm, and the occasional mist being pumped out of a smoke machine.

Oliver rotated around his own axis, admiring the look of the house. If he hadn’t been here almost as often as he was at school, he probably wouldn’t have recognized Tannyhill at all.

From his left side, he noticed a girl approaching him. She was wearing a long, orange skirt, with a black top and long, puffy sleeves, and a black top hat throning on neon-orange colored hair.

Oliver smirked and opened his arms.

“How fitting is that? You’re a witch.”

Kendra came to a stop in front of him and shoved his shoulder.

“That’s rich, man, what are you? One of the living action figures in Michael Jackson’s Thriller?”

“I’m Bane. You know, from Batman. The super cool assassin with the mask.”

“Oh yeah, right, Tom Hardy. Well, Venom, you better watch out because I saw at least already three Bruce Waynes slash Batmans at this party. It’s gonna be a long night for you.”

Oliver shook his head, grinning under his mask. “You really set this up nicely. The skeletons sitting at the tables are a creative touch.” He almost peed himself when he sat down next to one of them, but she didn’t have to know that.

Kendra put her hand on his shoulder. “We did that. I couldn’t have done it without you.” And with a bit more hesitation, she added, “Also, you’re not as douchey as I thought you would be. To be honest.”

Oliver’s smile grew wider. “Why, thank you.” And, because fair’s fair, “And you’re also not as much of a bitch as I thought you were.”

Kendra grinned unconvincingly. “I hope you choke on an eyeball.”

Oliver grinned back. “I hope your hair gets caught in one of the murderer’s chainsaws and your scalp gets ripped with it.”

She waved her fingers goodbye at him, and then melted into the crowds. Oliver got on his way to look for Cooper – who was, funny enough, dressed as Batman.

When the clock struck Midnight, the official Haunting House was opened. It was a small hut, set up in the Bradford’s Garden. Well, small might be understated, but the passages inside where definitely narrow.

It had been Kendra’s idea to hire scare actors for this time, and let them roam the inside of the House as murderers, wizards and witches, to give the guests something to remember and a good scare for the way.

As Oliver stood in line next to Cooper and Thomas, hearing the screams of the group that went in before them, he was the happiest he had been that night for the mask that he was wearing.

And boy, did it pay off.

When I look out my window Many sights to see And when I look in my window So many different people to be

They're strange, so strange It's very strange to me

You've got to pick up every stitch Oh no, must be the season of the witch

-Season of The Witch, Lana Del Rey

guys I'm really sorry this is so late but my laptop broke down and I couldn't charge it in time anyways, I hope you enjoy it still!

tagged: @ficsnships @amorhedera7

#coolivier #cooper bradford x oliver otto #oliver otto #cooper bradford #american housewife #lana del rey #season of the witch #Spotify