#sun can make some mean breakfast egg

[notmyneighbor]

Let Me In ~ Doppelgänger Francis Mosses/The Milkman x Female Reader

Chapter 10

Word Count ~ 5k

Rating ~ Explicit

CW ~ fluff and smut

Also available on AO3

Fanart used with permission @kaworinx on Instagram and TikTok

taglist ~ @luthien-elvenia-asher @fishfetus @gaudesstuff @nekee-lilac02 @msdevil333 @rrnrjn @maskedpacific @yoongiwantsme @that-0ne-simp @kaislashes @charli33-b33 @finalitgirl @kawaiichookie @vexillum-moeru @blackcurrant28 @r4yyyyy @dazedin2d @mrsspector-grant

Monday morning comes all too soon.

You’d stayed up later than you’d intended. Talking about the wedding. You’d agreed on an outdoor ceremony. To be held in late autumn, maybe. Still nothing definite. Baby names. This still unresolved. You think you’d fallen asleep mid debate.

Your doppelgänger has to get up even earlier on mornings when he stays at the farmhouse.

He’s insisted you sleep in before but you never do. You don’t want to miss any time being with him. It was worth missing sleep. Maybe you’d have matching shadows under your eyes.

You smile sleepily at him. It’s still dark but you can sense he’s awake, looking at you. You reach blindly for his face. He turns it, kissing your palm, his hand covering yours.

“I love you,” you greet him. You can’t say it enough.

“I love you, too.” A little regretful sigh before leaving the bed. The sounds of him getting ready in the bathroom, less obvious as you make your way downstairs and get coffee going. The sky is gradually lightening now. You can see some small wild brown rabbits through the kitchen window, rummaging near the bushes for breakfast before heading back to the burrow. You watch them scamper and forage while you prepare your own breakfast, scrambled eggs and toast to accompany the coffee.

An arm wraps around your shoulders, drawing you backwards. You can smell soap and shampoo and aftershave. He’s gotten better at the routine. Getting ready faster. Or maybe just rushing to steal a few more of these moments with you.

You lean against the doppelgänger, your head dropping back as his lips find your neck, then brush the shell of your ear. The smell of the coffee and cooked food permeates the kitchen. Warm kisses before the warm liquid slips down your throat after your first caffeinated sip.

The same words are spoken each morning before he steps into the delivery truck. I love you. Be safe.

The familiar ache is present before he’s even left the driveway. You miss him already. You worry for him. The rising sun kisses the dew on the lawn. You wrap your bathrobe tighter around your waist and head back up the steps of the porch.

***

Today is the day you’re introducing your fiancé to your parents.

You’re not sure which of you is more nervous as you drive to their house.

“What if your father says I can’t marry you?” Francis’ copy inquires anxiously, not for the first time, his fingers twisting restlessly in his lap until you reach for his hand, clutching it tightly.

“He won’t. I told you, it’s just a formality. A cultural politeness,” you reassure him. Still unsure of how this meeting is going to go. You’re going to be lying to your parents, after all. Telling them you’re marrying a human resident of the building you guard, knowing full well he’s really an alien. “We’ll get through this, love. Last thing before we move in together.”

A crooked little smile at this reminder. Still nervous. Your mouth brushes his knuckles before you return your attention to the road. Not as much traffic on a weekend morning.

“I’m surprised they don’t live in the building you work at.”

“There weren’t any vacancies or else they might have. There’s quite a waiting list to get into a DDD guarded building.”

“Meaning my apartment will be in demand once I move out.”

“Yes.” You sigh. “I’ll missing seeing you there. But then, I’ll have you at home, so, it’s a fair trade off.”

“Making you get up extra early five days a week.”

“Worth it.”

Another smile, this one sturdier. He was relaxing a little. “I love you.”

“I love you.” You’ve arrived at your destination. A brick and mortar home close to downtown. The narrow strip of lawn immaculately kept. Window boxes full of flowers. Your mother is watching your approach through the screen door, unable to wait any longer, hurrying down the trio of cement stairs and wrapping her arms around you. It had been several months since your last visit. You really should come more often.

Maybe you would, now. With a grandchild in tow, one day.

She steps back to inspect you. Looking you over, making sure you were healthy, eating properly. Remarking on the color in your cheeks which only heightens it further. You introduce your partner to her, noticing your father still hovering in the background, near the stairs.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.” Francis’ copy closes the distance and holds out a hand and you beam with pride. You’d rehearsed this. Your dad looks stern, but that’s just his way. He accepts the offering, his eyes boring into your fiancé’s. Did he suspect? He couldn’t possibly.

“Well, come on in. We’ve got lunch ready for you,” he invites, and you sigh inwardly with relief. So far, so good.

“Your young man is so handsome,” your mother murmurs as you ascend the stairs. You nod, holding the door open for her. You can hear your beau talking to your father in the dining room. Your dad was definitely a sports fan, and you knew for a fact neither Francis nor his doppel followed any pastimes. Hopefully they’d found some neutral pleasantries to converse about.

“Let me help you in the kitchen, Mom.” She accepts, leading you into the room. Smaller than your own, necessary with these inner city dwellings. Everything was more compact. Efficient. “New wallpaper?” You observe, noting the previous floral pattern has been exchanged for a linear print.

“Yes, last month. Very contemporary.” You grab a pair of potholders and remove a casserole from the oven while she begins unloading side dishes onto the plates.

“That’s a lovely ring, dear. He must have saved up quite a lot for that.”

“Yes, it’s pretty, isn’t it?” You pause to admire the engagement solitaire you’re wearing. “Francis always lived quite frugally. Lives quite frugally,” you correct hurriedly.

“Well, nothing wrong with being sensible when it comes to finances. Your father will appreciate that sentiment.”

“Do you think they’re okay in there?” You gaze in the direction of the open doorway that leads to the dining room. You still can’t quite make out what they’re saying.

“Oh, I’m sure your Francis is doing just fine. Don’t worry.”

You finish helping her fill the plates and then lift two, carrying them into the other room. Your father is seated directly across from your fiancé. Talking about the apartments. News. The war effort. You dart an anxious glance at the doppel but he’s doing well, keeping his voice neutral, answering everything politely. You can tell he’s relieved to see you, though, the second you enter the room his eyes lighting on yours.

“Here we are. Now, Francis—do you go by Francis? Not Frank, or…?”

“Francis is fine, ma’am.”

“Francis, we’re not shy about eating a good meal. There are seconds if you want them, just ask.”

“Thank you.”

You sit next to your doppel and your mother settles across from you. “Um, before we dig in, Francis would like to say Grace.” Your parents weren’t devout, but they respected the faith well enough. It had been a constant practice before every meal you’d sat down to with the milkman’s copy.

“Oh, certainly.” Your mother bows her head, and you see a faint flicker of something—maybe approval?—in your father’s eyes before he follows suit.

The simple prayer completed, you find yourself demolishing the contents on your plate with enthusiasm. Nothing ever beats your mother’s cooking. You’ve missed it.

The conversation flows well, with only a few pauses here and there. You appreciate the fact that your mother keeps drawing the invader back into the discussion, making sure he feels involved, a welcome participant.

Your father is still a little reserved, much of the communication done with his eyes. Intently regarding your beau. Studying him. You abandon the napkin draped on your lap and reach for the pretender’s thigh to reassure him, squeezing lightly. He squeezes your hand back.

By the time dessert arrives—you’re suddenly wishing you hadn’t stuffed yourself quite so full, you should have left room, because who could say no to homemade apple pie?—you can see your fiancé is anxious to ask the question he’s wanted to all along, shifting a little restlessly in his seat, the fork sinking into the sugared crust forgotten.

“Sir, I’d like to ask your permission for your daughter’s hand in marriage.”

The room goes quiet, the movement of cutlery on porcelain still. “You’re going to provide for my girl?”

“Yes, sir.”

“She’s special. She deserves the best.”

“I agree. I swear to you I will do everything in my power to care for her and make her happy.”

Another pause. You’re holding your breath. Your mother is staring at your father, worrying her bottom lip.

“Well, I can’t ask for more than that. You have my permission.”

A collective sigh of relief from the guests at the table. Your mother’s hands clasp, her eyes shining. You press your lips against the doppel’s shoulder. He’d passed. You’d done it. You manage to clear your plate, offering to help your mother with the dishes.

“I like your Francis. He’s a fine young man. Respectful. Hard working. Maybe a little too hard working. The boy looks a little in want of sleep. Or is that your doing?”

“Mom!” You gasp, and she nudges your arm.

“I’m only teasing. But he’s a good man. He’s got your father’s approval, and you know that isn’t easy. Have you thought about a date yet?”

“We were actually thinking about the fall.”

“This fall? 1955?”

“Yes.” You finish lathering a plate with soap and rinse it, setting it on the rack to dry.

“That’s a little soon. You’re not…you know…”

“No, Mom. Not yet.”

“You know I’ve been wanting grandchildren. I know your career is important to you, but you should indulge in a domestic life. Stay home and raise a family. It would make me feel better not having you facing those horrible doppels day in and day out.”

“I want to help people, Mom. So others can have that kind of life. But I would take time off for a baby.”

“Only one?”

“Francis wants several.”

“I wish your father had,” she mutters, the dish sponge squeaking against the inside of a glass. “I’m with your young man on this. The more the merrier, provided you’re doing alright financially. Fill the house, dear. You won’t regret it. It will be the happiest time of your life.” She kisses your cheek. “That’s the last of the dishes. Let’s go find out what our men are up to.”

Your men, as it turns out, are outside in the front yard. Your father sounded like he was giving tips on lawn care. Poor Francis.

“Hey.” You slide your arm through the doppel’s, coming to your fiancé’s rescue. “We’re all done in the kitchen, if you’re ready to head out.”

He nods, shaking your father’s hand, then returning the hug your mother offers before heading to the car. You embrace your parents again, your mother already on her way back inside after bidding you farewell while your father lingers by your side.

“You like him, Dad?”

“He’s different, that one. Something about him…”

A little surge of alarm runs through you. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. Just something,” he murmurs thoughtfully, then shakes himself. “One thing’s for certain, though: he’s crazy about you.”

“He is, Dad. And I feel the same way about him.”

“Keep us posted when you set a date. You be careful with those doppels.” His lips graze your forehead and then he retreats indoors.

You settle behind the wheel, glancing over at your fiancé. “What do you think?”

“I think that was stressful, but overall it went well. What did your father say to you just now?”

“That he could see you’re crazy about me.” You lean over and kiss him. “Want to go home and celebrate?”

“Yes. Maybe wait a bit, though. That was a lot of food.”

“My mom always fills the plates like that,” you agree, starting the engine. “You did great today. I’m really proud of you. Really happy.”

“I’m glad, sweet girl. Me too.”

“Okay. Let’s go home.”

***

There’s an advertisement for an event the following weekend sitting on the kitchen table.

The paper had been folded and tucked into the doppel’s work pants, retrieved when you’d been gathering a load of laundry together.

“I forgot about that,” he murmurs apologetically, kissing the patch of skin behind your ear, making you shiver. “It’s a dance. I didn’t know if you wanted to go. Someone on my route gave it to me.”

Social gatherings were few and far between. Dangerous, these days. You generally avoided them.

It’s tempting, though. You’re conflicted again. Wanting to go out with your beau, being afraid of discovery.

“I’ll think about it.”

“Do you have to do the washing right now, or can we…?”

“We can.” You set the basket down and turn in his arms. His hands slide down your back, then shift to stroke over your hips.

“My beautiful girl.” His lips touch yours.

“My handsome doppel.” You return the gesture, your fingers carding through the hair curling at the nape of his neck. He needed another trim.

“Come upstairs with me.”

You follow him eagerly. He pauses midway through unbuttoning his shirt to cup your face between his hands, kissing you. He’s forgotten to undo his shirt cuffs, the sleeves still clinging when he tries to shed the garment. You come to his rescue and he stops you for another kiss. Little by little the clothing piles onto the floor.

Neither of you has switched the bedside lamp on. It’s just the two of you in the darkness. The moon is hiding tonight.

“I love you so much,” he breathes into your ear as he enters you.

“I love you.” You wrap your legs around him tightly, rocking up against him. Gentle movements. Filling you. Withdrawing. Stretched again. Plunging deep. The place where he ends meeting the place where you begin.

“Is it wrong to pray? To ask for something, is it so different than the words we recite before meals, these ones from the heart, will He answer me, a monster…” He whispers against your skin, your hair, musings you’ve mulled over yourself, surely he deserved it, if any did, you know what he wants, what you want, too.

“Ask, love. Ask, I’ll ask too, Francis…”

“Please���” His hips drive against yours. Sheathed faster. Impaled and then not, in rapid succession. His mouth is rough on yours, sliding sloppily off the edges, words half uttered, some in that strange native language of his.

Inside. Pressure. Contractions. An echoing pulse. Liquid heat. Your nails digging into his shoulder. His teeth scraping your throat. Filling you. Breathless kisses before the calm.

***

You don’t typically make small talk with the residents.

There’s always a kind of tension between you, their fates resting in your hands. You were trained to be professionally detached, but that obviously had failed in Francis’ case. Still, you’re gradually warming up to some of the others. The happiness of your relationship making words tumble free easier. Today it is the physicist at your window, Dr. Afton. He adjusts his glasses with a long practiced gesture, shoving them back up the bridge of his nose as you examine his ID and entry request. He is listed for the day and everything checks out. A quick call to his fiancée confirms what you already know. He’s legit. The real deal.

“Have you and Mia set a date yet?” You slide his documents back towards him through the slot.

“Spring, I think. You and Francis?”

“Autumn, maybe.”

“So soon,” he murmurs. His eyes flick down for the briefest of moments and you don’t misunderstand the significance.

“Oh, no, I’m not…I mean, we’re trying, but…” You flush heavily as you stammer. Your attempt at small talk was seemingly backfiring. Maybe it was best to just keep things professional after all. “Anyway, have a good rest of your day.”

The doctor stands looking at you expectantly. “The door?” He prompts gently.

“Oh, right. Sorry.” You hastily operate the door controls and the man leaves the entryway.

Your next attendant makes your face break out in a grin. Your beau has returned.

The replicant milkman deposits his required documents into the slot, grinning back at you. There’s an extra slip of paper there, something torn off his delivery list on the clipboard, perhaps.

I love you

You mouth it back at him. He lays a hand on the window. You match your palm to his, dwarfed by the larger structure.

“How was your day?”

“I made an ass out of myself in front of Afton, but yeah, good. You?”

“Not bad. Can I come in?”

“Uh-huh.” You press the buzzer. Your fiancé doesn’t take the elevator like you’d expected, instead invading the security booth.

“Sir, this is for DDD staff only,” you mock protest.

“Does it count if I’m going to be married to a DDD staff member?”

“Mmm, I’m not sure.” You’re about to step closer to him when you hear someone entering the building. A middle aged man you don’t recognize wearing a suit. The same DDD enameled pin on his lapel. You hurriedly take the papers and ID he offers while the doppelgänger takes a step back, still out of view of the window, near the open doorway.

“I’ll need to call to verify your identity,” you remark. You don’t get visits from personnel other than the cleaners that often, and if you do, you usually get notified first. The man’s face is expressionless. He nods and you proceed, dialing the number of the headquarters.

“Good afternoon. I have someone here from the R&D department. I wasn’t expecting…I see. Alright. Yes, thank you.” You hang up the phone. “They’ve vouched for you. What brings you here today?”

“Something that will revolutionize the screening process, we’re hoping.” He sets a briefcase down on the narrow ledge of the counter, using a key on a cord around one wrist to unlock it before thumbing the latches and opening the case. He lifts an object and places it on the ledge before shutting and removing the briefcase. “This device here emits a frequency that the doppels can’t resist. It forces them to come out of hiding, as it were.”

“How do you know?” You can see your doppel’s body tense in your peripheral vision.

“Oh, a little project we’ve been working on. Sometimes the cleaners bring us gifts. We don’t always exterminate…but I suppose you wouldn’t know that, once the screen goes down. Well, in any case, they’ve made for good lab rats. It’s taken us awhile, but I think this just might be what we need to turn the tide and gain the upper hand.”

“You’ve been experimenting on them,” you whisper, unable to keep the revulsion and horror out of your voice.

“Why not? It’s not like they haven’t taken their own POWs from our side.”

The urge to glance at your fiancé to confirm the truth of this is overwhelming but you resist. “Why would they want to keep us prisoner?”

“I’m sure something unsavory. Food supply. Experiments. Who can say? Disgusting creatures. But I don’t need to tell you about that. You encounter them on a daily basis. A nearly perfect record too, I hear. Only one…mishap.” He grins. His teeth are yellow. You find yourself disliking the man more and more.

“No one was hurt,” you say defensively.

“Thank goodness. Now, to the task at hand. This device is extremely simple to use. It’s already calibrated to the correct frequency. No need to adjust. Simply flip the switch. Undetectable to human ears. But very effective for the doppels. They’ll reveal their true form within seconds. Then it’s just a matter of calling the disposal team. Just think of the applications this will have once this gets approved for mass production. No more fear of the unknown. No more doubts. The ultimate weapon of retaliation.”

Your stomach turns with every sentence he utters. There would be no hiding for Francis. For the baby you would one day conceive. All of the happiness you’d felt earlier evaporates. You grip the edge of the counter as he demonstrates the switch to turn the device on and activate the frequency.

You hear the creak of the wood when the doppelgänger grips the door frame.

“Yes, I see, easy to use. Better conserve the battery, right?” You finally surrender to the impulse to glance over at the invader. His chest is heaving, his teeth razor sharp. Bloodshot eyes that plead with you, the familiar shimmer outlining his true, hidden form appearing.

“That is one of the drawbacks, yes. We’re still working on a more reliable power source.” He flips the switch off and you can’t help but sigh loudly in relief. “I’ve been instructed to tell you that you’re to use it only in cases when there is any doubt. You’ll still be performing the standard screening procedures. But if this has the results that I expect it will, I’m certain this will become the new industry standard. And give us the advantage at last. I’ll be collecting this after a one week trial. I’ll have a questionnaire for you to fill out after you’ve tested it out.”

“Of course.” You plaster a smile on your features, willing the man to leave.

“Shall I bring it to you, or…?”

“No, company policy prohibits anyone from entering the booth that’s not authorized. Technically you haven’t been, so…”

“Quite right. Well, I leave it in your capable hands, then.” The briefcase in hand, he turns and exits the building.

You immediately turn to see Francis’ clone sweating profusely, still struggling to return to human form.

“Francis! Are you alright? Love, it’s okay, I’m here.” Your hands cup the intruder’s face, disregarding the dangerous rows of cuspids stretched wide, peering into the crimson streaked eyes.

He shudders, his hands—claws—closing over your wrists. You’ve never seen him have this much difficulty. What was that evil frequency the scientists had discovered?

“Francis, it’s me. Come back to me, love. I’ve got you. You’re safe.” Another violent tremor. Then his grip on you lessens, his eyes clearing, the haze dissipating. The facial features rearrange to form the familiar ones of the milkman.

“Sweetheart,” he manages, his breathing still ragged.

“Yes, Francis. You’re okay.” You wrap your arms around him and he squeezes you tightly.

“The pain, love. You can’t imagine. We have to destroy that. We can’t…”

“We’ll think of something. Tamper with it. Lie about it’s effectiveness. I don’t know. Something.” As wondrous as it would be to have access to technology like that, you couldn’t risk its use for your doppel’s sake. For your future children’s. “I didn’t know they were experimenting on…is it true, what he said? Have the invaders been taking humans prisoner?”

He releases you. “Not my squadron, I promise you that. But yes. It’s true.” He draws in a shaky breath. “I know I said in the beginning I wanted to experiment…now, I would never condone…”

“I know. I know you.” You retrieve the device, deciding to store it in the lockbox under the desk for now. Francis’ doppel gives you a wide berth as you walk around the booth carrying it, backing away as you make the corner. “You should go upstairs and rest. My shift will be done soon.” He nods, still looking shaken. You embrace him again, watching as he steps onto the elevator, then your eyes flick to the lockbox.

A new complication that you didn’t need.

***

Francis Mosses’ apartment is silent that afternoon when you enter.

No record rotating on the player. No meal being prepared on the stove. There is just the doppel seated on the couch, the crocheted blanket draped over the cushions behind him. He hasn’t even removed his work uniform, except for the cap which is resting on the coffee table. He hadn’t locked the door or risen to greet you at it, his tired eyes shifting to watch as you sit next to him.

“Francis, are you feeling alright?” You’re wondering if the device didn’t have some lingering ill effects.

“Fatigued. I’ll be alright. I’m sorry I didn’t get the door for you. I’m still…” He holds out a hand that tremors as if with palsy. You’ve never seen him this ghostly pale.

“Do you have any appetite at all? Should I fix us something, or…?”

“Just stay with me, love.”

You snuggle closer to him, slipping off your shoes and drawing your knees up, tucking your stockinged feet to one side, your fingers stroking his forearm. You’re suddenly feeling tired yourself, the rush of adrenaline from earlier now leaving you feeling sapped of energy. There was a nice breeze coming in through the living room window. Your lover’s arm curls around you. You fall asleep.

It’s dark when you awaken.

You’re disoriented, blinking away the vestiges of a dream you don’t recall the details of. Francis’ doppel is cuddling you. Awake. You can tell by the rhythm of his breathing.

“I’m sorry I fell asleep.”

“We both needed the rest.” His lips press against your hair.

“How are you feeling?”

“Better. Physically, anyway. Mentally…I’m worried.”

“I know. Me too. We’ll figure something out, Francis.” You reach out blindly to find his hand. “Want to do something improper like skip to dessert and have cookies and milk in bed and forget everything for a bit?”

“Hmmm. Are you included in that menu?”

“I can be.”

“Then it’s a deal. Shower first?”

“Definitely.”

His lips touch your forehead. “You always make everything better.”

You’re more concerned than you’re letting on. But you don’t want to focus on that right now. You want the doppel to feel safe, secure. Enjoy the peace you’ve found together for tonight.

You feel him leaning away from you, reaching for the lamp. His condition does appear to have improved from earlier. Healthy color returned. Hands steady. You dig around in the drawer where you’ve stored some spare pajamas while he turns the shower on.

“Don’t fuss too much on what you’re wearing. It won’t be staying on.”

Oh, he was definitely feeling better. “Maybe I’ll just skip it entirely.”

“Now we’re talking.”

You strip off your work clothes, your fiancé already halfway undressed, finishing that task now and leading your into the deluge of warm water. You take a moment to soak your hair, then switch places so Francis’ copy can do the same.

You grab the bar of soap from the shallow ledge on the wall and begin lathering your hands together, working up a cloud of suds that you quickly smear across the cloned milkman’s chest. You take turns washing each other, hands lingering when they reach nipples, buttocks, between legs. You’re pushed gently back against the shower wall, the soap slipping from your grasp. The doppel cups his hands beneath the spray, splashing it over your body, making sure you’re rinsed, lifting one leg and guiding it to rest on the edge of the tub while he kneels down, blinking water out of his eyes, his damp fingers now working against your sex, followed by his tongue, sucking a mouthful of shower water and your clit in one go. You moan, raking your fingers through his damp dark hair, marveling at the feel of that frenzied muscle dividing your nether lips, plunging inside and then swirling around your clit.

You’re thinking of that alien cock of his, the one you’d mostly felt more than saw, and you suddenly crave the feeling of it again. You won’t dare ask him for that tonight, not after what had happened earlier when he’d been forced out of hiding, but another time, you want that in your mouth, back inside of you, fucking you missionary style, driving in deeply. You’re already swollen, dripping, that slick liquid thicker than the water pelting your bodies, a trail he follows with lips and tongue and even teeth, nipping at the soft skin of your inner thighs, the arc of one hip, the crest of your mound before he’s sucking your bud again. He’s leaning into you, offering you a chance to rest some of your body weight, the raised leg shaking as you find a swift release, bursting on his tongue, ripened hive spilling creamy honey before you’re rinsed clean.

He shuts the shower off and you’re barely swiped with a towel before he’s pushing you down into the bed, picking right up where he left off, sliding his erection into the place his tongue and fingers have just vacated.

“What do you want, sweetheart? Tell me, I’ll do anything you want.”

Catering to you. You feel you should be the one making the offer. “I’m yours. I love everything with you. You decide. This is nice. This is…oh…good.” He’s picked up the pace, droplet covered hips kissing yours over and over. The shower water still clinging to him drips from his hair, splashing your forehead, your cheeks, your lips. You think of kissing him that day it rained on your front porch, already falling so fast, so far, Francis the bridge but the doppel the destination, it didn’t feel wrong, it couldn’t, when it was like this between you.

“Sweet girl, you’re so perfect for me.” A word you don’t know, but the tone is in the same vein, affection, lust, breathed beside your cheek, moaned against your throat.

“I want to learn it. All of it. Starting with your name. I love you.” The words are pushed into the mouth that closes over yours, hot breath, that thick cock of his incessantly drumming inside of your womb. You’re lost in the dark of his eyes, in that blissful realm he drags you back into, your body shattering around him, milking him, urging to be mated, claimed, marked as his. He calls you something that sounds almost like wife and you nearly are, bonded to this foreigner that’s crossed galaxies and mapped stars to build a new universe within you, starting with this, that sowed seed, fingers interwoven, cock buried deep, face burrowed in the curve of neck damp from the strands of hair clinging there.

After there is cold milk from the fridge and chocolate chip cookies, melting sweet on your tongue as Francis’ doppel holds you against him, licking at the stray sweet granules clinging to your lips. “Your first lesson,” he begins, and it is him speaking now, the invader beneath, that deeper voice stirring interest in your loins again already, twice sated but still eager for more. “My name is…”

#francis mosses #milkman #francis mosses x reader #francis mosses x you #milkman x reader #milkman x you #thats not my neighbor #the milkman #doppelganger #that’s not my neighbor

[pucksandpower]

grid kids : y/n having super bad periods like bedridden and seb try’s to tell the boys they can’t visit and they go into full like code red crisis mode

Grid Kids: The Best Medicine

Sebastian Vettel x wife!Reader x platonic!drivers

Summary: the grid kids do everything they can think of to make you feel better

Series Masterlist

Max enters the room gingerly, holding a steaming mug of herbal tea. “I googled it,” he whispers to Charles, who’s setting up a little essential oil diffuser on the bedside table. “This should help.”

Charles nods, looking at the variety of oils he’s brought. “Lavender for relaxation,” he explains.

From the other side of the room, Lando and George carry in an enormous heating pad. “This helped my sister,” Lando mutters, plugging it in, while George adjusts the settings.

Lance, a bit out of his depth but wanting to contribute, tentatively offers a stack of magazines and books. “For ... distractions?”

Mick, who’s been quietly observing, pulls out a small speaker from his bag. “How about some calming music? Always helps to set a soothing environment.”

While this orchestrated chaos unfolds, you, despite your pain, can’t help but be touched by the outpouring of care and concern. You try to sit up but the discomfort is evident.

“Hey,” Sebastian gently admonishes, propping you up with more pillows, “Let them fuss over you. They want to.”

As evening falls, the room is transformed into a comforting sanctuary. The soft glow from fairy lights, the gentle hum of calming tunes, and the subtle scent of lavender fills the room.

Feeling a bit better from all the care, you whisper, “Thank you, boys. But you don’t have to stick around, you know.”

Lando pulls a funny face, “And miss out on a sleepover? No way.”

One by one, the grid kids, following Lando’s lead, find a comfy spot on your enormous bed, cocooning you protectively in the center. Some snuggled at the foot, some propped against the headboard, and others squished in the middle.

With the soft chirping of crickets outside and the rhythmic breathing of your sons on all sides, you drift into a peaceful sleep, pain momentarily forgotten in favor of burrowing deeper into the love and warmth surrounding you.

***

The morning sun peeks through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the room. you stir, the pain still present but noticeably diminished. As your eyes flutter open, you’re greeted by the endearing sight of the grid kids sprawled all around you, each in varying poses of sleep.

Sebastian, having given up his spot on the bed last night, is asleep in the armchair, a book resting on his chest. George and Lando, squished up at the foot of the bed, are tangled in a mess of limbs, while Charles seems to have created a makeshift fort for himself with every pillow he could find.

The aroma of breakfast wafts into the room, pulling you from your thoughts. Mick, having woken up earlier, stands in the doorway with a tray. “Morning! Thought you might be hungry,” he says, a smile touching his lips.

“Oh, Mick,” you murmur, touched by the gesture. “You didn’t have to.”

He sets the tray on your lap, revealing a spread of toast with bacon and eggs, fresh fruit, and some yogurt. “We all pitched in. Well, mostly Max and Lance. They seem to think they’re on MasterChef or something.”

Laughter ripples through the room as the others start to wake, each stretching and yawning. Max, rubbing his eyes, adds, “Hey, those scrambled eggs were a work of art!”

Lance chimes in, “Don’t forget about the smoothie. That was my masterpiece.”

George, trying to subtly smooth out his bed head, quirks a brow. “If we’re being all domestic, how about a spa day? Right here, right now.”

Charles, still nestled in his pillow fort, chuckles. “In this room? With all of us? I’m sure that will end well.”

Max’s eyes light up, “I’m in! But only if someone does that cucumber thing on my eyes.”

Mick grins, “You mean a cucumber facial? I’ve got you covered.” He dashes out, only to return moments later with a stash of beauty products. “My sister left these the last time she visited. We’ve got masks, scrubs, the works!”

Amused and touched by the turn of events, you announce, “Alright then, let the spa day commence!”

Sebastian, skeptical but game, adds, “I’ve never had a mani-pedi before.”

Lando winks, “There’s a first time for everything, Seb. Give me your hands.”

As Lando starts on Sebastian while Lance gets to work on making more of his famed smoothies for everyone. Meanwhile, George and Charles, having taken over the facial department, start applying face masks, complete with cucumber slices for the eyes.

An hour later, the room is a delightful mess. Mick and Max have somehow managed to get more face mask on their shirts than on their faces. Lando’s meticulous nail painting skills are in high demand, and George is draped over the foot of the bed, a bright green face mask contrasting comically with his hair.

You, through bouts of laughter, look around at the delightful chaos. “Alright, time for the big question. Do you or do you not feel bonita?”

Lance, his fingers spread out to dry the bright pink nail polish Lando chose, grins. “I feel bonita.”

Charles, attempting to peel off his dried mask, replies with a dramatic flair, “I was born bonita but now? I’m radiant!”

Mick chimes in, “Can’t see through these cucumber slices but I’m pretty sure I’m the most bonita of all.”

The room fills with banter, laughter, and the gentle ribbing that only close friends and family can share. As the day turns into evening, the spa treatments wind down and the room settles into a comfortable quiet.

You, heart full, look around at the makeshift spa and the joy it brought. “Thank you, boys. Today was unexpected but absolutely perfect.”

Sebastian, his nails now adorned with a clear glossy finish, adds, “I think we should make this a tradition. Spa day before every race.”

Max raises his own freshly manicured hand. “All in favor?”

A chorus of “Ayes!” fills the room and so a new tradition was born.

#f1 imagine #f1 #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 fanfiction #f1 x reader #f1 x you #sebastian vettel x reader #max verstappen x reader #charles leclerc x reader #lance stroll x reader #george russell x reader #lando norris x reader #mick schumacher x reader #f1 fluff #f1 blurb #f1 one shot #f1 drabble #f1 fandom #f1blr #sebastian vettel imagine #max verstappen imagine #charles leclerc imagine #lance stroll imagine #george russell imagine #lando norris imagine #mick schumacher imagine #f1 x y/n #f1 x female reader

[reiluvr]

Suguru's Morning Routine

hello! this is a new account, just cause i wanted to start somewhere new! requests are open and im still working on everything so...

i'll eventually make a masterlist, once i've posted at least 5 works or so.

this is pretty much 100% fluff even though i'm a hardcore angst girl. just starting off easy. uhhh there's suggestive words but no smut.

just suguru being head over heels for you and toru <3

It's the way Suguru has his alarms set for at least half an hour before the other two ring. He's so used to this routine that he doesn't even really need the alarm, his eyes already open and hands reaching for his phone to turn the alarm off in case it wakes you two up. He turns his body, a smile subconsciously falling onto his face as he observes the mess of your hair. He gently brushes a few strands away from your mouth, fingers tracing your features as he grins.

Once his ten minutes of admiring you are up, his body shifts, neck craning to admire Satoru on your other end. His heart flutters as he watches the constant rise and fall of Satoru's chest, finding solace in watching the "honored one" look so mundane. His smile only widens further as his eyes trail down to observe how your legs entangle with Satoru's, Suguru being the only somewhat normal sleeper. In the quiet of the room, a small giggle escapes him as he thinks back to the beginning of the relationship, how hard it had been to get a good amount of sleep between Satoru's limbs stretching across the entire bed and you're constant mumbling. Now it's only one of his countless favorite things about his two partners.

He alternates between both of you, waiting until the sun has fully risen to quietly get out of bed, humming a soft tune as he turns on the coffee maker, already pulling out countless items from the refrigerator. It was honestly a blessing that Satoru was loaded, because not only did he eat for a family of ten, all three people in the house had very different tastes, leading to grocery weekends being quite hectic. He places three cups on the counter, practically adding only a few drops off coffee to the first one as he drowns it in creamer and sugar cubes. He moves to the second, not even trying to fight the smile as he notices the small paw prints on the side of the mug. He had gotten accustomed to finding cat themed items all around the house once you had moved in. It had been a nightmare listening to Satoru whine constantly about how "those stupid cats mean more than we do, right?" He adds two sugar cubes to the cat themed cup, pouring the coffee and topping it off with whatever nut based milk they had bought that week. By the time he turns to the last cup, Satoru's poptarts have popped out the toaster, so he quickly places them on a plate while he heats up a pan to prepare his own eggs. He quickly pours coffee in his own cup, not bothering with sugar or cream as he takes a few sips, mixing granola into some strawberry yogurt. By the time breakfast is ready, he can already hear Satoru's soft whines from the bedroom, the man already having found something to complain about. He places the poptarts on one end of the desk, placing the granola in the middle, and the eggs on the other end. No one spoke about it, but everyone knew they had an assigned seat.

He takes his coffee with him, leaning against the door frame of their bedroom as he watches. Satoru seems to be clawing at the bedsheets, one hand digging into the bed as the other is wrapped tightly around the bedframe. You stand there, hair a mess and clothes all ruffled, clearly just having gotten up, with one of Satoru's ankle in you hands, desperately trying to pull him out of bed. Suguru rolls his eyes, you'd think after years of living together, they'd be over this dramatic scene every morning. He sighs, placing his cup on the dresser as he shuffles behind you, hands wrapping around your waist as you drop Satoru's leg in surprise.

"For once, could you two just wake up normally?"

He has to suppress his smile as he hears your own frustrated complaints, already talking his ear off first thing in the morning.

"I woke up and he was literally laying on me! So I push him off and he start whining and crying, you know how he is, he's all like "you don't love me" and "I'll just go die, I guess". And then! Suguru, you're not gonna believe this, actually, you will, cause Satoru still acts like he's 16. He pulls me back with him as he's like, "Hey ma". MA? WHY IS HE TRYING TO HAVE SEX FIRST THING IN THE MORNING??-"

Suguru does the only thing that he knows will shut you up, pressing his lips against your own as he silences you, Satoru cackling in the back as you push Suguru away, already on another rant about how you're living with two men who are horny 24/7. Of course, you're just kidding, already back in Suguru's hold a few minutes later, both of you just swaying in place while waiting for Satoru to finish washing his face. (He has a 24 step skin care routine.)

The three of you finally settle into your places, both you and Satoru digging into the prepared breakfast in front of you. Suguru sighs happily, watching as a bit of yogurt sticks to your nose, Satoru pointing it out. He watches as Satoru throws his head back in laughter as you try to wipe it off, only smudging it more. He holds back to urge to tell Satoru not to speak with his mouth full. He watches as you rub your nose red, somehow still missing the smudge. He watches as Satoru finally reaches over, using the edge of his sweater's sleeve, it's Suguru's sweater but he's already accepted he's never getting it back, to gently rub your face, getting rid of the mark. By the time he takes a bite of his own eggs, they're cold. He just smiles and continues eating, a cold breakfast being a small price to pay for enjoying his morning with his favorite people.

#gojo x reader #geto x reader #gojo satoru #geto suguru #gojo x you #geto x you #satosugu #stsg #satosugu x reader #stsg x reader #gojo x geto #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader

[lackadaisicallizard]

Sundays

Growing up, Regulus hated Sundays. 

Sundays were mornings spent in church, pretending to the world that they were a perfect family. Sundays were stuffy clothes and tight ties wrapped around throats spouting nothing but lies about the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black. 

Sundays were carefully coordinated games disguised as family lunches, the entire extended family coming together to outdo each other in just how well they were doing. Sundays were masterclasses in manipulation, lies and deceit. 

But now, fifteen years later on the most ordinary of all days, Regulus can hear voices coming from the kitchen. 

“I think that’s enough eggs, Haz, why don’t you add more flour now?” 

“How much do I need to add?” 

“I have no idea, just pour until it looks right.” 

Sliding on his slippers, Regulus makes his way out of the bedroom and down the hall, stopping in the doorway of the kitchen. He leans against the doorframe for a moment, watching the scene in front of him. 

“How’s it going there?” His husband peers into the mixing bowl that seems to have more eggs in it than any hen could feasibly lay in a year. 

“The flour won’t come out of the bag,” Harry says with a frown. 

“Try banging on the end of it,” James suggests and before Regulus can even consider stepping in to stop him, their son does just that. He is far too much like his father for his own good sometimes. 

Flour ends up everywhere. 

“Papa’s going to kill me,” Harry groans through a layer of white dust. 

“Papa doesn’t have to know,” James says, “you finish the batter and I’ll clean it up.” 

Harry stirs it, a puff of flour rising into the air. “I think it may be beyond saving now, Dad.” 

“J’en ai marre,” their heads whip around at the sound of Regulus’ voice, both faces a similar mask of concern. “You two are useless.” 

He steps into the kitchen now, holding out his hand for the bowl, which Harry passes him with a guilty expression. “I love you?” 

Regulus’ own expression softens completely at that and he places the bowl on the counter before holding out his arms for his son. Harry moves into them without hesitation, being pulled into a warm embrace and leaning into his father. “Tu es la lumière de ma vie,” Regulus says, pressing a kiss to the top of Harry’s soft curls before pulling back and looking at him in the eyes. “That doesn’t mean you can get flour all over my kitchen though, compris?” 

“Oui papa, désolé. We were just trying to make you breakfast in bed.” 

“It’s true,” James cuts in, a smile pulling up the corner of his lips, “we know you’ve had a long week so we thought we’d make some pancakes.” 

Regulus smiles back, he can’t help himself. “I’m not sure which one of you thought you could pull that off considering the great scrambled egg fiasco last month.” 

“Those eggs were delicious and you know it!” 

“I had to go to the store for more and make them myself.” 

“… my comment still stands,” James says with a grin and Regulus rolls his eyes at his husband. 

“Harry, go and fetch the chocolate chips from the cupboard and I’ll attempt to salvage this.” 

Harry disappears into the pantry and as Regulus starts to decanter as much flour as he can from the very floury bowl, he feels arms wrap around him from behind. 

“I’m sorry about the flour,” James’ voice is low in his ear. 

Regulus hums. “I would say I’m surprised, but I’m not.” 

A soft chuckle followed by lips against his hair. “I’m also sorry for ruining your Sunday, love. I know it’s the first day you’ve had off in a while.” 

But the thing is, he hasn’t. 

Because Regulus knows what a bad Sunday feels like. They’re ingrained into his brain. 

But this right here? Making far too much batter to even out the mountain of flour that he can’t salvage from the bowl. Allowing his son to add almost an entire bag of chocolate chips to the mixture. Watching his husband smother a tower of pancakes with syrup and whipped cream. Cleaning up an incredibly messy kitchen together as a family after they’ve done. 

Well, this is what Sundays are now. They’re not perfect, or proper, or in the least bit civilised. 

And he loves every one. 

#marauders #james potter #regulus black #jegulus #jegulus raising harry #jegulus dads #I'm obsessed with them

[xxnghtclls]

Flickering Lights

Chapter 2: A Tall, Pink Haired Man

Chapter (1/3)

True Form Sukuna x Reader

For tags and synopsis, please see Chapter 1!

Bam!

You slam the door shut behind you. Finally you’re home in your small apartment, still thinking about what happened in your office. Sitting down on one of your two chairs, you absentmindedly tap with your key into the surface of your kitchen table.

Tap.Tap.Tap.Tap.

“Who was that?” you mumble to yourself, while your leg is wiggling nervously. “Where and… why? Four eyes and four arms, too?”

A pause.

Tap. Tap.

“HOW?” you blurt out loudly and distort your face in confusion. Your brain is so tired.

Shaking your head, you decide to get up and get a hot shower.

-Monday me- is going to have a huge problem, leaving the office like this.

“This” meaning a broken window, a crack in the floor and the wall. Your computer is for the trashcan, too. A fucking mess.

Motherfucker. 

You kind of hope it was a dream, a hallucination or a lightning. Monday you will get back to your same old habit, going to work and writing emails, lists and calculations. And then Tuesday. And then Wednesday. Thursday. Friday.

Sigh.

Rashhhhh

You close the shower curtain in front of your face and turn on the water. Warm steamy drops are tickling your face and calming your nerves. Sleepiness washes over you with the steamy warmth and you’re quick to finish soaping you up. You let out a big yawn, as you turn off the water and step out. 

“Time for bed.” you sigh, before you brush your teeth and dry yourself. Taking your phone with you, you carry yourself up the ladder to your elevated sleeping space. The perks of living in tokyo.

Mini studio apartments.

Crawling onto the futon, you pull the blanket up to your nose. A last time you peek onto your phone, before your eyes shut themselves.

- 01:38 a.m. -

“Goodnight...” you mumble, before you fall asleep. “Stranger.”

♫ Up with the sun, gone with the wind, she always said I was lazy-

“The fuck?” you breathe into the darkness, still half asleep, as you peek onto your phone, trying not to get blind from your display brightness.

- 6:00 a.m. - 

“Ughhh shut up, Bob.” you groan, as you shut your alarm off. You must have forgotten to adjust the settings in your alarm to workweek only, after you had to get up for an out of schedule meeting last saturday. 

But, today is free.

You close your eyes and think about what you want to do today.

Get new earphones perhaps. Get groceries. Find out who…who…  

Zzzzz…

After a moment, you send another peek to your phone.

- 10:12 a.m. -

“Good morning sunshine.” you grumble to your sleepy self, before you yawn and stretch. “Sorry Bob, now you can sing.” you mumble and put on Bob Seger’s song that ripped you out of sleep earlier. 

-play-

“Travelin maan, love when I caan. Turn loose my hand ‘cause I’m goiingg.” you sing, as you’re making yourself some eggs for breakfast, checking your social media inbetween. You roll your eyes, as you read that there’s some unnecessary discourse over something unimportant AGAIN and you swear to yourself, that you’re going to delete that app sooner or later. It just makes you angry. 

Fucking idiots.

Your eggs are ready and you sit down, take a bite and text your bestie Mio. 

Oy. Akiba in 45 mins?

👍

Good. Need new headphones. Mine broke last night.

No wonder. Get some real ones.

You huff at her text.

“No way.” you smile, as you’re putting your phone away and shove the last bite of eggs into your mouth. You need to get dressed quickly, in order to catch the next train to Akihabara. 

On your trainride, you stare out of the window across from you. Listen to the railway and see the houses passing by, the sun shining onto the roofs, before the train goes underground again. Silhouettes and moving lights run along the window.

Moving lights. Flickering lights.

And suddenly you remember last night. 

What happened?

That creature, that… man. 

How unusual he looked and how his eyes pierced through your soul. 

Uncanny. 

You wonder if you should tell Mio about it. 

Maybe not…

Maybe it was a dream or a hallucination or a lightning after all.

…That rip in space definitely.

But what if he was not?

“Excuse me, is everything alright?” an elderly woman that’s sitting right next to you asks you. 

You must’ve zoned out, looking so concentrated… maybe even, as if you’re constipated or something. 

“No, I’m fine. Sorry- I mean, thank you.” you force a smile at her, before you pull out your phone to look busy at least.

And you start to scroll on your socials. 

And scroll.

And scroll. 

And scroll.

Not thinking anything, just remembering that man’s face. Those tattoos. The nose.

Kinda pretty nose, you think as your lips turn into a pout.

Two slits in his eyebrows.

That mask.

So interesti-

Wait what?

Interesting…?

Sigh.

…He is.

You get out at Suehirocho Station and walk to the next 7-eleven, the point where you’re going to meet with Mio. She’s not there yet, so you decide to walk in and buy an Onigiri. 

Only one? 

No, two. 

For later. 

Of course you open the first one immediately and bite into it. The first bite is always the best.

Goddamn.

You love it. Closing your eyes, to savour the taste, you stand in front of the store, enjoying the bliss.

“Oy, peanut!” Mio’s voice comes up behind you. You turn around and nudge your head to her, shooting her a look. 

“What’s up?” you say with your mouth full.

“Got one for me, too?” she eyes your Onigiri.

“No.” you bite into it another time.  

She cocks her eyebrows at you, probably already knowing that you bought two and that you don’t want to share, before a little pout cracks upon her lips.

“Get your own!” you complain, before she pokes her finger into your arm. 

“I’ll get you some snacks later!” she coos.

“Fine!” complain and offer her a bite of your last piece. 

“Mwuah hah hah!” she laughs deeply in excitement, before she gulps down the whole remaining Onigiri. “I know you love me.”

“Ehhh.” you sigh, letting your shoulders sink, disappointed that she ate it all.

“Sorry.” she brushes off her hands on her jacket. “Anyway, let’s go, my greedy little peanut.” she says, before she hooks her arm into yours. “Did you cut your hair?” 

You laugh her question off, as you both start to walk into the city.

While on the search for new 5000 yen headphones, you both keep bullying each other lovingly, laugh and talk about the week. No matter how exhausting your workweek is, she always manages to distract your mind, makes you feel not as lonely. She really is the light of your week. 

You don’t really know how it came to this. To feel like this in this city of millions. You used to go out, to dance and fuck a guy every now and then. But maybe it was just the start of how you feel now. The nights of clubbing grew rare, the nights at the computer and phone listening to music grew more frequent. Because nothing could really satisfy it. This hole in your heart. Listening to music helps. Spending time with Mio helps, but only to a degree. Because you wish for a change in your life. More than work and eat and shower and sleep. More than everyday life.

However, you decide not to tell her about what happened last night. Maybe you’ve gone crazy after all. Even if you’re not, you still feel odd about it. Feel, like it might be the change you yearned for, an adventure. 

Feel like it only belongs to you.

Quickly you find some new headphones and earn a mocking joke from the side, while Mio continues to buy herself a new phone case. Huge, pink and with little glittery stones and charms.

So ugly.

“Don’t look at me like that, when you’re the one who walked around with a Hello Kitty phone for the longest time!” she complains.

“At least I wasn’t mistaken for a disco ball.” you sneer at her.

You walk to another store to get your promised snacks and after a while, when the hottest gossip is done being discussed, you catch yourself getting silent inbetween.

Because your mind wanders off.

Because you remember.

Those eyes.

Dangerous.

Sometimes she notices and throws you a glance, but you just wave it off, excuse it with sleepless nights because of work. 

And she buys it.

At least you hope she does.

“I need to get home.“ you sigh, as you arrive at the next train-station. “I still need to get some groceries. I’m gonna gonna see you next week?”

She sighs too and stops in her tracks. You turn and look to her, seeing her face turning serious. Suddenly the energy shifts. You halt and frown at her in confusion.

Something’s wrong.

“What?” you ask. 

“I need to tell you something.” she looks to the ground and it makes you worried.

“What is it?” you poke her shoulder. 

She hesitates.

“You’re gonna hate it…” she mumbles and your heart starts pounding. You hate situations like this. Last time she acted like this, she told you she lost the one pair of very expensive headphones you bought in your life. You hated her for it, but you learned your lesson. 

Crossing your arms, you keep staring at her, almost holding your breath, trying to remember what kind of item you possibly could’ve lent her recently.

A pause.

“I’ll be on a work trip.-”

“Jesus.” you complain, as you exhale loudly in relief, rolling your eyes.

“For the next week.” she continues, a smug smirk on her face. So proud, knowing to have you fooled so good. “Coming back on Sunday night.”

You sigh.

“I’ll manage!” you exclaim snobbish into her face, but deep down, you know it’s gonna be hard. You’re not gonna see her for two weeks and you’re gonna miss her. A lot. Next to the fact that you can’t meet up with her next weekend, she’ll be busy too and not be able to text you much during the week either.

She punches your shoulder, before you grab her sleeve.

“Come.” you tug on it. “We gotta wish you a safe travel and return.” you mumble, as you drag her with you.

“Huh?” she exclaims, but gives up and willingly walks down to the underground with you. 

“I didn’t go to the Meiji shrine in a while. Let’s hang up an Ema there.” you fiddle with her sleeve, as you’re both sitting next to each other in the train towards Yoyogi Station.

“Is everything alright?” she asks and you notice real concern in her voice. 

She knows something’s up.

“I think I need to go out more, Mio.” you mumble. “If you’re not here to cheer me up, I need to see someone else then.”

“Sounds as if you’re already have someone in mind.” she jokes and you feel the heat rising in your ears, feel caught.

“Yeah.” you fake-laugh, before you try to change the topic. “Where are you going next week?”

“We’re going to have some meetings in Gifu. But also team-building events, this sort of stuff.” she says, while fiddling with her new phone case and you nod.

“Never went there.” you respond. “Tell me if it’s nice, yes?” 

“Sure, little peanut.” she smiles, before she looks back at you. You smile back before, looking around in the wagon.

“Maybe you should go out while I’m gone.” she says, making you look back at her. “Try to focus less on work and have some fun. Treat yourself.” she punches you in your arm again. 

Hard.

“Ow!”

“It’s just work after all.”

“I shall.” you hiss, while you rub your hand over the soon-to-be bruise, as the train stops at Harajuku-Station.

After a short walk, Mio and you arrive at the entrance of the shrine. It’s busy, just like the last time you visited, but as soon as you walk through the Torii, it grows calmer with each second. You might not believe, that in you’re a city of millions, when you walk through the beautiful area around the shrine. Trees and plants seal yourself off the loud noises of the streets. 

Quiet.

Maybe I need a vacation.

“I’m thirsty.” Mio longingly says, as you walk past the huge Sake barrels. 

You snort at her comment.

“Mio Mio Mioooo.” you squeak like a bird. “You called me greedy.”

“That’s what you are.” she chimes. “I know you still have that second Onigiri in your jacket.”

“Shut your mouth.” you smile, while you look up to see the sunlight shine through the branches of the trees, as a gentle breeze flows against your faces. It’s beautiful at this place, but somehow, a weird feeling grows in your gut. 

After a ten minute walk along the shrines nature, you arrive at the camphor trees where the Emas are hanged upon. Mio steps forward, reading some of the wishes that are already hung up. After purchasing a little wooden plate yourself, you tipple to the desks and start writing. 

For my lovely Mio. 

Please let her have the safest travel, a lot of fun and a more safer return to her little peanut.

You draw a little raccoon in the corner, since that’s her favourite animal and turn around, ready to hang it up, only to notice, that Mio holds a little wooden plate in her own hand as well.

“No! I already got one!” you wiggle it into her direction, before you hang it up. 

She steps into the corner of your eyes, hanging her own plate right next to yours. You’re about to complain that she bought an unnecessary one, as your eyes catch what she wrote.

For my lovely y/n.

Please let her have the most fun, good food and a little adventure, until her Mio returns.

“Is this for me?” you ask with wide eyes.

“Bro, it’s your name right there!” she sneers as if you’re stupid, tapping her knuckle loudly against the plate.

Your heart warms up, before you continue in a serious voice.

“You forgot to draw a cat.” 

“I cannot draw a cat.”

“Bullshit. Everyone can draw a cat.” you wave her off and turn around, only to see-

Oh shit.

You freeze in your spot, as you see that tall man from last night standing in front of the holy praying area of the shrine. His back is turned to you, but his height, his black cloak and the pink spiky hair is proof enough.

A sinister energy reaches your feet and crawls up your legs.

“What’s up?” Mio asks, as she notices how you froze in your spot, tugging at your sleeve.

Your heart starts pounding. 

Badum. Badum. Badum.

In the corner of your eyes, you see Mio catching focus on that man herself.

“I’ve never seen a guy that tall-“

“Me neither.” you mumble, while you keep staring. In the corners of your eye, you see many people walking around the mean, peeking and staring and mumbling about his unusual appearance.

He walks up the stairs, shoving a middle aged woman out of his way. She tipples, looses balance and-

Bam!

falls down the stairs, while he’s stepping closer to the doors that lead to the praying area. The huge doors, that now don’t seem to tall in comparison anymore.

“Disrespectful asshole!” Mio exclaims in disgust, as an appalled gasp is heard from the by-standing people and the feeling in your gut grows into a huge lump. Others rush to the woman to help her back up, and Mio wants to go forward too, but you grab her sleeve, holding her back. You stay silent, as you keep watching the man intensely, seeing him lay his right hand on the wooden surface of the saisen-bako that’s placed inbetween the doors. People start to talk to him, try to get his attention, but he is ignoring them, concentrated on doing what he came to do. 

Your eyes are fixated on his hand, a tattooed black ring decorating his wrist. The people around him grow louder and louder, but the sound grows mute in your ears. Almost as if you’re hypnotised, you watch how the wooden surface starts to vibrate, the lines between his hand and the wood start to blur. A deep humming starts to vibrate in your ear, just like last night.

Mio notices your trance and calls you, but you hear without hearing. 

Whatever he’s doing, it has you in his grip.

Mio calls you again, louder and snips her fingers in front of your face to wake you from your trance but you keep being fixated on his hand until-

“Hey!” another man loudly exclaims and tugs on his cloak to get his attention. Without even looking, the pink haired man flicks his left hand and suddenly the throat of the other man bursts with blood and his head falls from his shoulders.

Fwip! 

Pap.. Pap… pap.

Down the stairs it falls and rolls. Your heart drops and everyone starts to scream, as your eyes widen in horror. Blood splatters everywhere, as the head rolls and comes to a halt next to the woman, coating the holy grounds with red essence.

“Y/N!!” Mio calls your name again, now very loud and clear, making your body finally start moving.

You meet Mio’s eyes and grab her wrist, before you run towards the entrance, already seeing security guards run into the opposite direction. Other people run in panic as well, shoving you out of their way, almost make you stumble. For some reason, shortly before you can run through the huge gate, you need to turn around.

Turn around.

The time slows down.

Exhale.

You look.

Focus.

And he turns around, too. Making your eyes meet his for the split of a second, before you turn back forward again, running through the gate.

Inhale.

Sirens are already howling in the distance, as Mio and you and many other people run through the shrine grounds in order to get back to the entrance you came from. Your heart is pounding in your throat and your throat is as dry as sand, as you finally reach the streets. A glance to Mio and a nod from her confirm that you will not separate your ways right now. She’ll come with you.

Bam!

Zschk Zing!

You lock your front door behind you, as Mio sighs loudly, slumping down on one of your kitchen chairs.

“Jesus.” you sigh under your breath, your hands still lingering on the door-lock, your eyes staring into nothing. The image of that mans head rolling down those stairs keeps replaying in your head. 

“Gonna make tea.” Mio says, before she gets up and fills the cattle.

You blink and shake your head, before you turn around and sit down on the other chair on the adjacent corner of the table. 

You have seen some bad stuff on the internet before. Multiple times unfortunately. However it’s still different to see such things in real life.

“The police will get him right?” she asks. 

“Maybe they shot him on sight.” you mumble. “Most probably.” you try to assure her and yourself.

She hums and the kettle starts to whistle.

Louder and louder.

Louder and louder.

Until Mio takes it from the stove and fills your cups with water.

You take a sip and the warmth flows through your body, making you feel better in an instant. 

“I still got no groceries.” you mumble into your cup.

“Let’s just wait a bit. It’ll be safe in a few hours.” she mumbles into hers.

A pause.

And you ponder.

“He wouldn’t have slashed that man, if he let him do his thing in peace.” you sip absentmindedly. “Whatever he was doing.” you add and she glances over to you, cocking an eyebrow.

“If he didn’t shove that woman down the stairs, he wouldn’t have been bothered.” she responds annoyed. “Nothing he was doing can justify this.”

“Yeah.”

Another pause.

“Doesn’t matter now, they probably shot him.” she sighs. 

Your eyebrows twitch at the thought. Somehow, you don’t feel like it’s true.

A few silent hours go by, sipping tea, trying to calm down. Both of you avoid to read the news, try to distract you from what just happened, talk about anything, except about what happened at the shrine today.

And somehow, it works. They probably shot him after all.

The sun sets and it grows dark outside. Mio taps on her phone.

- 10:13 p.m. - 

“I think I should go now.” she sighs. “Gotta get up early tomorrow.” 

You inhale deeply, knowing it’s the last time you’re gonna see her for at least two weeks.

“Alright.” you exhale, as you stand up and walk her to your door. “Text me when you’re at the station, k?” 

“Sure, peanut. The police is probably still roaming around. And if not they got him.” she smiles at you and leans in for a tight hug. “Gonna miss you.” she whispers in your ear and it almost makes you tear up.

What today happened was a lot for you and now you have to deal with it alone, if the distraction looses its effect. For two whole weeks.

“Gonna miss you, too!” you sniff into her ear and press her against you, before you separate.

“Stop crying, bitch.” she jokes and boops your nose. 

You stick out your tongue and with wet eyes, you unlock your front door. 

“Here you go, your Majesty. Please return safely.” you bow, trying to overact your upcoming crying-session and it makes her giggle. 

“It’ll be fine.” she waves you off and walks down the hallway. “I’m a big girl.”

“Text me!” you yell after her, before you close and lock up the door.

Zschk Zing!

Silence.

Too silent.

You grab your back and pull out the new headphones you bought. In all the hectic you forgot to properly charge them, but luckily, they always are charged halfway up when you buy them. 

You sit down on your kitchen chair and go to your phone’s settings, to connect it via bluetooth with your headphones. 

It worked.

You put them on and scroll through your music library, not sure what will give you the right mood for now. If you want more distraction or if you want to cry. Already feeling an empty feeling spreading in your heart, you scroll and scroll and your eyes keep watering.

Maybe crying it is. 

Mio didn’t text yet and you hope she’s about to arrive safely at the station. It’s just a short walk anyway. You keep scrolling. Being a person who listens to almost everything, it’s difficult to choose sometimes. Closing your eyes, you tap on shuffle, letting fate decide what song to play.

But right in the moment, when the song is about to start, a loud knocking is heard on your door.

Knock. 

Knock. 

Knock.

You quickly look to the door.

Mio? 

Maybe she forgot something.

Without turning off the music, you put your headphones on the table and tipple to the front door.

“Mio, is that you?” you call.

No answer.

You frown in suspicion, before looking through the peephole. 

And your heart drops into your socks, as you see a deformed fish-eye version of a stranger.

A tall, pink haired man.

#flickering lights #flickering lights chapters #sukuna #true form sukuna #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #sukuna smut #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #true form sukuna smut #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #jjk x reader #fanfiction

[jesterwriting]

jester dear!! I had an idea, had some thoughts about it, and if you want you can make a drabble or a one shot, is really up to you.I heard an audio from tktk, that had some hurt/comfort?? So, maybe you could write a Law/Crocodile/Sanji/literally anyone you would like, the dialogue is like:

Character A: I'll take care of you.

Character B: Its wrotten work.

Character A: Not to me. Not if its you.

Hope that gives you an inspiration, I really just kinda want you to write something to have fun and all, but if not, totally fine, art has a strange way to present itself in our lifes, hope ya day/afternoon/evening is good, and remember to rest and eat a little!!!

:]

pairing: sanji x reader & law x reader (separate)

contents: reader is depressed in sanjis, sleepy law, fluff, hurt/comfort

word count: 1.1k words

note: OH MY GOD I LOVE THE ROTTEN WORK QUOTE. literally got your request and had to run in circles for a second. i only did sanji and law, though i would be open to doing crocodile another time >:3 those two just came to me the easiest right now. thank you so much for your request! i seriously loved it <33

playlist: tire swing by kimya dawson

“Black Leg” Sanji

For some reason, you haven't been doing very well lately. Maybe it was the weather, or maybe it was because the sun was setting earlier than usual. You didn’t know. You didn’t care. The only thing you knew was that you were tired. It was getting ridiculous how exhausted even the simplest tasks made you. Eating shouldn’t leave you a husk, crawling back to your bed with a trail of slime in your wake. It had been a week since you last showered, and you were sure you stank to high heaven. Your hair sat odd on your scalp, greasy and unbecoming.

You let out a heavy sigh and buried your face deeper into your pillow. Another thing you needed to wash. At this rate, you’d get pimples, then you would look as gross as you felt.

Light flooded the room and you blinked wildly at the figure that had intruded in your very important mildew session. Sanji stood in the doorway, one hand on his hip, the other holding a plate of food.

“You need to eat, Y/N, darling. You missed breakfast,” He stated, always serious when it came to matters of food. As he made his way into your room, he turned on the lights, making you groan and shove a pillow over your face.

“Not hungry,” You mumbled.

Sanji ignored you and set the tray of food on your bedside table. It smelled delicious, bacon and eggs covering the smell of human sweat, though you knew it would inevitably turn to ash on your tongue. It was a shame you couldn’t taste Sanji’s delicious cooking right now, he made the best food you had ever eaten. Whenever you got the chance, you reminded him of that, if only to see him blush and swoon.

You knew he wouldn’t leave until you ate. Exhausted, you gave in and sat up against your pillow. With a sigh, you pulled the tray in your lap and shoveled a forkful in your mouth. You were wrong, it didn’t taste like ash, instead, it was entirely flavorless. Frowning, you shot a glance at Sanji, who sat on the edge of your bed, barely concealed worry shining in his eyes. He was smoking. You handed him an ashtray you kept nearby, just in case he dropped in.

Lighting up, Sanji gave you a bright grin. “Aw, thank you, Y/N.”

You snickered to yourself. There were practically hearts in his eyes at such a simple gesture. As you watched him swoon, you couldn’t help but feel the beginnings of guilt claw at your throat.

“You don’t have to do this.” You took another bite, fighting a grimace. “Take care of me, I mean.”

Sanji blinked at you like you just said the sky was green and the sun set in the east. “I want to take care of you.”

“It’s rotten work.” There was a smile on your face, as if to offset how miserable you felt. Like most smiles these days, it didn’t reach your eyes.

He took the fork from your hand and scooped a bit of egg onto it. Snorting, you leaned forward, mouth open.

“Not to me,” Sanji said as you swallowed. “Not if it’s you.”

Trafalgar Law

You found Law sleeping face down at his desk. Over the past several days, he had looked exhausted, only getting worse and worse as time passed. The dark circles under his eyes were almost black, so bad, he looked more raccoon than man. If he wasn’t wearing his hat all the time, you were sure his hair would be spiked in every direction from lack of care.

Humming under your breath, you knew what you had to do. There was no way you were going to leave him there to wake up with a nasty crick in his neck on top of everything else. You ducked under his arm and helped Law to his feet. He jolted slightly, startled by the sudden intrusion, but once he saw it was you, his eyelids sagged and he slumped against you. You laughed to yourself as his head lolled against your shoulder, hat falling to the floor. You would have to get that later.

The next few minutes were spent half-dragging, half-carrying Law into his bedroom. He was awake enough that his legs didn’t give out, but still too asleep to move them. You had to lead him forward, shuffling under him so you could coax him to put one foot after the other.

This was not the first time you had found him asleep at his desk, and you doubted it would be your last. It was, however, the first time he was too exhausted to take himself to bed without your help. If he was awake, he would be mortified. You didn’t look forward to the morning when he would inevitably remember being carried to bed, and decide, instead of addressing it like a normal human being, to avoid you for the next several days.

“Let go, Y/N-ya, I can do it myself.” Law tried to sound stern, but it came out as more of a tired whine than anything. You choked on a giggle. He must have gone without sleep for over a week if this was where he was at.

After what felt like a century, you made it to his room. Plopping Law on the bed, you smoothed out his hair, ignoring how he slapped your hands away, and moved to help him take off his shoes. Without you there to hold him up, Law flopped backwards with a snore. Fine, it was easier if he wasn’t awake to complain.

You set his boots down beside the bed where he would easily find them when he awoke, and lifted his hips by his legs to slide him fully onto his bed. The manhandling woke him up enough for him to groan and hit you with a glare that would normally send you running for the hills. Right now, however, it was sort of cute.

After twenty minutes of leading, sleepy glaring, and shoe removing, your captain was finally in bed. With a soft smile, you said, “Don’t worry, I’ll always be here take care of you, Law.”

“‘S rotten work,” He muttered, though you watched his eyes open to search your face. You tried not to think about that glimmer of something his sleepy gaze.

You grinned and brushed your thumb against his cheek. “Not to me, it isn’t. Not if it’s you.”

#one piece x reader #trafalgar law x reader #black leg sanji x reader #trafalgar law x y/n #trafalgar law x you #black leg sanji x yn #black leg sanji x you #sanji x reader #law x reader #IM NOT EVEN GETTING I LOVE THIS QUOTE SM #ACTIVELY STIMMED AND FLAPPED MY HANDS #THANK U SM <33 #.jesterwrites

[wonijinjin]

warm covers, sick cuddles

synopsis: you managed to get sick in the summer, what would be better than your dear boyfriend comforting you?

word count: 0.7k | genre: fluff, hurt/comfort, established relationship | pairing: wonwoo x gn! reader | warnings: mentions of symptoms of a common cold, wonwoo calls reader ‘sweetheart’

it was early in the morning when wonwoo woke up in your shared bed, the rain from a few hours ago still present on the sidewalks and trees. after sitting up he checked the time on his phone - 6:34 AM - then projected his attention in the direction of the other side of the bed; towards your sleeping form. the crisp morning evident on your skin in the form of goosebumps alarmed him to pull the blanket further above your body, as it had slipped away during the night. he was getting ready to leave the bed to make a surprise breakfast for you, but not without kissing your forehead. his lips touched your skin, and he halted his movements, furrowing his brows. your skin was too warm despite the chilly morning. he brushed away the hair which stuck to your face during your slumber, then placed his hand on your forehead properly, to his dismay sensing the same warmth he hoped was a fluke of his imagination.

when you awoke the sun was already up and shining, the emptiness of the bed next to you making wonwoo’s absence settle into your sleepy brain. you felt shivers run up your spine despite being under multiple layers of covers. just when you thought of getting up a tall figure appeared in the doorway. it was wonwoo, in his hands a fuzzy blanket; the one you bought together and loved the most, holding so many memories of cuddling while watching a movie, or draping it over each other when you waited patiently late into the night to welcome the other home, falling asleep on the couch in the process.

”good morning baby” you said, noticing how your voice sounded hoarse and strained. he left you without an answer, instead walking up to the bed and spreading the fuzzy material on the already existing layers of covers, crouching beside your tired form. “how do you feel sweetheart? you were cold weren’t you?” he asked in a gentle tone.

“how did you know?” you whispered, surprised.

“oh sweetie” he placed the back of his palm on your burning skin again “you are still quite warm, i think you are coming down with something, perhaps a flu. you were shivering when i checked on you, but i thought it was because of how early it was. guess it wasn’t the case judging by your voice and fever.” he stroked your hair gently, the way your face relaxed not going unnoticed by him.

“i don’t feel well wonwoo.” you said with a frown on your face. his eyes softened; he hated seeing you be so unwell. “my poor, sweet sweet baby.” he pouted, worry and care written all over his features. “i will bring you some medicine to help okay?”

“i should’ve expected it, i mean my immune system is not really resistant to the amount of ice cream i eat nowadays.” you joked, the pain in your throat getting stronger.

“i already set up some tea, it is still boiling hot, but when it cools down a bit i will bring it to you. what would you like for breakfast? i didn’t know if you would be up for it, but i made scrambled eggs and toast. i can make something different if that is what you would like.” he smiled, kissing your hairline. you grinned at this; he was so considerate, always taking such good care of you. “it sounds good, thank you.” it could’ve been anything he made for you, you still would’ve said yes. “then just wait here sweetheart, i will bring it to you with the medicine in a moment.” he was getting ready to leave when you grabbed him by the hand. “please, can you stay with me in bed for a bit before that? it can wait.” he kissed your hand and got under the covers, opening his arms, motioning for you to get closer. you landed in his arms, getting sleepier already, the sickness wearing your body out after being awake for such short amount of time. it didn’t take 5 minutes and you were already asleep, being protected by him and the blankets. he looked at your face, kissing your warm cheek, smiling to himself.

“i guess breakfast will be for lunch then.”

#seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #sick!reader #sickfic #seventeen fluff #svt imagines #sick #wonijinjin #wonwoo #jeon wonwoo #wonwoo x reader #comfort

[eddiemunsonspantschain]

Things Change - Ch.3

Pairing: Eddie Munson x pregnant!reader

Warnings: mention of abortion, visiting an abortion clinic (does not recieve one), pregnancy

Word Count: 3.7k words

Tag List: @boomhauer @corrodedcorpses @wroteclassicaly @blackwidownat2814

“So, what do we do?” 

Nancy and you looked at Robin. Robin stared back at the two of you and held her hands up. “What do you mean?” you asked Robin.

“Well, like, are you going to have the baby? Cause if you are… your parents are probably gonna kill you. Or, make you marry whoever the dad is, and that means no college. Your life wou-”

“Robin!” Nancy hissed, and you sighed.

“No, Nance. She’s right.” you grabbed Nancy's hand and looked at her. “I need a plan. I…”

“I don’t wanna say the word but…” Robin started, and you looked at her.

“I know… It’s not exactly a bad idea.” you murmur, taking a deep, shaky breath.

“Are you sure you want to do that?” Nancy asks, “There’s no going back, and I doubt it’s exactly comfortable.”

“I know there’s no going back,” you reassure her.

“Why don’t we do this tomorrow? We can scramble what cash we can, and it gives you time to think?” Nancy suggested, looking at Robin for support.

It was decided. Tomorrow, you would go to the clinic and get this taken care of. It was for the best… right? That was what you tried to tell yourself all evening. After Robin and Nancy left, you tossed the boxes for the tests and the tests themselves into your backpack, knowing your parents wouldn’t think to open up your backpack for anything. You tried to go about your evening the way you normally would, but the cloud hanging above your head made it hard to do so. You found yourself sitting at dinner, gently pushing your food around your plate. Just nodding your head when your mother noticed and noted that she worried about your health since you were rarely eating now. You managed a few bites to placate her, wondering if the little being nestled in your uterus would let you keep it this time. Somehow, they had, as your small dinner didn’t make its way back up your esophagus this time. Thank god for small favors. As you laid in bed, you stared at the ceiling, wondering just how you got here. Of course, your mind rifted back to that night. The way Eddie had looked at you like a starving man looking at his first meal in months. The passion in the way his hands grabbed at your flesh as he pulled moan after moan from you. Your hands drifted down under your blanket, stopping to rest on your stomach. To you, it didn’t feel as if you had gained any weight. It had only been about a month since that night or so. So when did pregnant people start to show? It apparently was enough to get a positive on a test. You pushed the blanket down, pulling up your sleep shirt and inspecting your stomach. It all looked ordinary. Nothing out of place. You huffed and shoved your shirt back down. What were the chances of four tests being wrong?

Before you knew it, the sun was shining into your room, signaling it was the next day. You turned your head to look at the clock. Sure enough, it was the morning, and you managed to wake multiple times through the night not feeling like you slept much at all. Giving up on the notion of sleep, you slid out of bed and got into some comfortable clothes for the day. Nancy was sure that the procedure would be an uncomfortable one, even if she had no idea what it entailed. You went downstairs for breakfast, managing two pieces of toast and the tiniest bit of eggs that almost made you gag. Then you sat up in your room and waited.

By the time Nancy and Robin grabbed you, it was early afternoon. You slid into Nancy’s car. Robin sat in the back, counting up all the money they had scrounged up to pay for this. “You guys didn’t have to do that.” you murmur, all your allowance sitting in your pocket.

“Well, we couldn’t have you pay for it through insurance, and we wanted to be sure you had enough.” Nancy explained as she headed to the address for the clinic. The outside of the building was unassuming looking. Beige on the outside with a simple sign telling you the name and a phone number. The parking lot wasn’t empty, but you found your nerves spiking up. 

“Do you want us to come with you?” Robin asked, and you nodded quickly. 

The three of you went inside, each girl holding onto you‌. Robin held your hand while Nancy gripped the back of your jacket in support. You approached the counter, a woman looking up at the three of you and raising a brow. “How can I help you ladies?” she asked.

“Our friend is here to see a doctor.” Robin led, nodding to you.

“What’s the reason for your visit today?” the woman asked as she grabbed a pen and clipboard.

“Uh…” Robin glanced at you both.

“She has a… problem. We came here to get it taken care of?” Nancy supplied, cringing at how horrible it sounded.

The receptionist's eyes slid down your body to rest on your stomach. “I see. Fill this out.” she slid the clipboard over to you alongside the pen and you grabbed them quickly. 

The three of you retreated to the ugly teal and pink chairs that lined the room. You took a shaky breath as you filled out your information, trying to ignore the shakiness of your hands. You periodically had to stop as you filled out the forms. Just to help your sanity. The walls were the same ugly teal color. Not a bright, pretty teal, but more like someone had vomited up a teal color. The floor was white tiles with flecks of teal and pink embedded in the tiling. You wondered who you could file a formal complaint to for the decor and color scheme in this building. It was like it was mocking you that you were pregnant with gender specific colors. Your nose was also assaulted with the overwhelming scent of alcohol. Like the place was somehow too clean. Sterile. By the time you had finished the paperwork, your head was spinning from everything. Robin was gracious enough to bring it back to the receptionist. 

When your name was called, you stood on jello legs as you made your way into the back. The nurse led you to a room and motioned for you to step inside. “I’m just going to take some vitals.” she explained as she weighed you, took your height, measured your temperature and blood pressure before letting you know the doctor would be in soon. It thankfully wasn’t long until a man walked in and greeted you with a smile. 

“So, Ms. Y/L/N, tell me what brings you in?” he asked as he cleaned his hands and pulled on a pair of sterile gloves.

“I haven’t been feeling well. Randomly nauseous and I took four at-home pregnancy tests… they were all positive,” you explained, trying to look anywhere but at the pictures of mothers around the room and the diagram of a baby in a uterus. 

“Well, why don’t we do one ourselves, to be sure? When was your last menstrual cycle?” he asked as he pulled out what looked like a chemistry kit from a cabinet. 

“I missed it for this month. Should have been about two weeks ago, and I’m always regular.” you explained, and he hummed. The doctor was quick as he had you do the test. He asked more questions as it developed, and by the time it was done, it seemed clear to him, though to you it seemed confusing. 

“Well, congratulations. You are certainly pregnant, Ms. Y/L/N.” he watched you for a moment. “From your forms, you are unmarried. So I assume this was not planned.” he sighed and opened his arms as if he was offering something. “So, I ask you then, what would you like to do? We could offer care for your pregnancy or we could terminate it. It’s not a painless procedure, I will admit. But we could do it today. You would need sanitary pads and some pain medication as you will cramp and bleed for a time, but it is doable,” he explained. 

The more he explained, the quicker your breathing became. “I… I want…” you murmur, looking anywhere but at him. It was the right thing to do, right? To terminate it and just move on as if nothing happened? You shut your eyes as you took a breath, feeling the room spin. You vaguely heard the doctor call your name, but it wasn’t normal. It sounded like he was underwater, calling for you. Then, you couldn’t hear him completely. Thoughts rushed through your head of what your life could look like. Without a child, going to college and getting a good job. Eventually fall in love and maybe try again. Then you thought of how your life would be with the child you had nestled in your stomach now. Would they look like you? Would they look like him? Would they be smart? Or artistic and creative like their father? Something cold pressed to your head. Your eyes fluttered open, hearing someone call your name again.

“Shh, don’t rush now. You just had a fainting spell,” the nurse reassured you, dabbing your forehead again.

“Not the first time this has happened in this office, ma’am. I assure you.” the doctor spoke on your left, gently fanning you with a paper. 

“I can’t!” someone gasped, your hand clasping over your mouth. Was that your voice?

“You can’t?” the nurse questioned, looking at the doctor.

“I-I can’t do this. I can’t,” you breathed after moving your hand, “I can’t just get rid of them. I can’t, no.”

“It’s alright. Then we won’t… we’ll set up an appointment.” the doctor nodded to the nurse. “In a few weeks, we’ll have your first appointment to check on the baby. See how they’re growing. For now, let's get you some reading material.” The doctor motioned to the nurse, who quickly moved out of the room. “This is a big decision, but we’re here to help ladies like you in these times. These papers we’re giving you will tell you about some of the normal occurrences, things to avoid and if you have questions, just call the office,” the doctor explained, watching you as you sat up on the table. “First concern is, I need you to eat more. It will be difficult, but try your best. Everything you eat, baby gets.” 

The nurse returned, a bunch of papers in her hand. She held them out to you and you carefully took them from her. “We’ll see you in a few weeks for your first ultrasound.” she smiled, offering a hand to help you off of the table. Both of them watched as you slid off of the table.

“Thank you,” you murmured and quickly fled the room. You breezed past the waiting room and shoved the door open to head outside. You could hear Robin and Nancy call out for you and hurry to catch up to you. As soon as you got outside, you took a deep breath and tried not to vomit from the racing of emotions.

“Y/N? What happened?” Nancy asked, rubbing your back as you gulped down breaths.

“Is it me, or that was way too fast? I’m not a doctor or anything, but…” Robin spoke beside you.

“I couldn’t do it.” you gasped, shaking your head wildly. “I couldn’t get an abortion. I couldn’t.” you whimpered, feeling Nancy’s arms wrap around you tightly. She pulled you into her, hugging you hard as you took shaky breaths in an attempt to calm down, tears streaming down your cheeks.

“It’s okay. We’ve got you,” Nancy cooed, still rubbing your back.

“So you’re gonna be a mom?... Shit.” Robin breathed like she couldn’t believe it. Soon, Robin’s arms wrapped around you too and the three of you huddled there in a hug as you tried to make heads and tails of the decision you had made. 

Soon you nudged out of their hold, wandering back inside to make your appointment for your first ultrasound. The girls led you back to the car after that, taking you back home.

—----------------------------------------

One of the first things you did was go to the library. The public library as you wouldn’t dare use the schools. You checked out a couple of books on pregnancy, ignoring the look from the librarian as you took your newly acquired reading material home with you. You practically stayed up all night reading the first book you had grabbed, unable to stop reading about how your body was going to change. For almost two weeks, things had seemed the same. Robin and Nancy didn’t mention your pregnancy even once. Things went on as if nothing had changed. Save for them covering for you when you randomly get nauseous and have to run off. The only other person to check in on you had been Gareth, who had asked at a safe distance if you felt better or not. You apologized profusely for puking on his shoes and, thankfully; he had laughed it off. To your face, at least. Even Eddie had given you a weird look when you returned from the bathroom one movie night after puking up your guts. Robin slid you a soda when you sat back down beside her. You made a habit of turning the tap on when you were puking so no one could possibly hear you.

The hardest was at school. With how often you were having to run to the bathroom, it was hard for some not to notice. You silently prayed for the little thing no bigger than a pea to chill out. Yet here you found yourself, stooped over a toilet as your lunch greeted you once again for what felt like the millionth time. Despite your body yelling at you not to, you were trying to do as your doctor directed and eat more for the sake of your kid. You heard the bathroom door open, trying to be quiet as you spat into the bowl and grabbed a piece of paper towel. You wiped your mouth, tossing the tissue into the bowl and flushing. You could hear a couple of girls talking, recognizing the tennis shoes you saw under the stall door. You pull yourself up, dusting off your jeans as you grab your bag and slide out of the stall. The three girls in question pause as you walk out. You side eye them, moving to the sink and setting your bag on the ground as you go to wash your hands. The girls continue their conversation, quiet whispers about the upcoming graduation parties. One of the girls steps back and turns, intending to leave, but trips over your bag. You stop and look back, groaning, seeing the contents of your bag spilled on the floor. “Shit!” the girl curses and looks at you. “Watch where you put your crap.”

“Watch where you’re walking.” you snap back, grabbing a paper towel to dry your hands.

“It’s fine!” one of the other girls cut in. This one you recognize as Chrissy Cunningham, resident queen of Hawking High. She knelt down, grabbing some of your books and shoving them back into the bag. You kneel down with her, muttering a thanks as you shove some pencils into your bag. “It’s no problem, really.” Chrissy reassured you, reaching out to grab something else and stopping. “Oh…” she murmured, and you looked up from shoving your chapstick back into your bag. Her hand is paused over the familiar blue sticks. 

“Are those…?” one cheerleader asks, pointing down at them.

You quickly reach over, snatching up the tests and shoving them into your bag. You shove everything else in. “Thanks again,” you quickly murmur and get up as fast as you can, running out of the bathroom as you hear one of the other cheerleaders gasp and let out an ‘oh my god!’. You tried to quell the worry in your chest. What did those girls know? Nothing much, really. Just that you might be pregnant. The thing you hadn’t remembered, though, was a key detail. The way you and Eddie had been stared at when you left the upstairs bedroom at that party a little over a month ago.

—-----------------------------

Word spread quickly in a highschool but most certainly through a small town highschool. The cheerleaders had told the other cheerleaders, who told their boyfriends, who told their friends. Before anyone could realize it had spread like wildfire. Like someone had tossed a lit cigarette into some tall, dry grass on the side of the road. When the next day came, by then, the entire school had heard the secret. That there was a pregnant student in the school, and that pregnant student was you. 

Eddie was somehow the last person to hear about it. Though, he assumed, it was because he never really listened to gossip. It was hard to ignore when it was at his table, though. The guys were whispering to one another. They didn’t know about your and Eddie’s time together. He had purposefully kept it to himself to avoid the teasing from the guys. They had ragged on him more than once for purposefully ignoring what they deemed a ‘perfect girl’ for him and how Y/N had clearly liked him at one point. Not that he cared. As Eddie sat heavily in his seat, he looked at the group of boys at the table. Dustin and Mike looked unhappy, particularly Dustin, as the other boys whispered between themselves. 

“Would you knock it off?!” Dustin finally snapped at the other three older guys at the table. That made Jeff, Barry, and Gareth stop their conversation. Eddie had learned in his months with the freshmen that Dustin had a temper on him. Especially when it came to those who he cared about. That much he knew from the brief trip to the hellish dimension they had taken. He looked between the young freshman and the other boys, trying to assess what this was about.

“Relax, Henderson. We’re just… speculating.” Barry told him.

“You’re speculating about my friend. A good friend,” Dustin practically growled.

“We’re just curious, like everyone else.”

“I mean… it has to be true. She did puke on my shoes.” Gareth went back to the conversation as if Dustin had never interrupted them.

They were talking about Y/N then, Eddie surmised, because as far as he knew no one else has blown chunks onto Gareth’s shoes recently. “And why are we talking about Y/L/N being sick?” Eddie finally cut in, making all the eyes turn to him as if they only just noticed he had sat at the table. He snatched a tater tot from Dustin’s tray, popping it into his mouth as he waited for an answer.

“Cause according to people, Y/L/N is pregnant.” Gareth answered.

Eddie immediately inhaled pieces of tater tot. He coughed hard, beating on his chest as he tried to clear his airway. At the same time, Dustin stood up from his chair, sending it clattering to the floor. “It’s just a rumor! Okay! And if she is, so what?! That doesn’t warrant how people are talking about her!” the young man seethed, Mike standing and trying to get Dustin to sit back down.

“W-wait,” Eddie choked out, “According to who?”

“What?” Gareth asked him.

“You said according to people. Who said she’s…?” Eddie couldn’t even let the word slip past his lips.

“Like… everyone in the school….” Barry answered for him. “It started yesterday. Supposedly, some cheerleaders saw tests or something. Spread through the school after that. We only just heard it a couple minutes ago from the band kids.”

“And we know how unreliable the rumor mill is.” Mike reminded them, “According to the school, Eddie is Satan himself. Remember?” he scoffed, done with the gossip about you, as Dustin was. Eddie wasn’t surprised by that. He had always thought of you as stuck up. Good grades, normal parents and basically everything Eddie wasn’t. He had met you just after he had recovered from everything that happened in the Upside Down. Even though you had learned about everything that happened, you hadn’t had to see that place yourself.

“Come to think of it… is Y/L/N in school today?” Jeff questioned. “I wouldn’t have blamed her if she skipped out.”

“She was in the morning.” Mike murmured, “but I haven’t seen her since… this morning.”

“Her car was still in the parking lot.” Dustin added, stabbing at his ‘meatloaf’.

So Y/N was still in school. Eddie’s eyes slid around the room, searching out Robin or Nancy, since you’d most likely be with them. He managed to spot both girls, but the spots beside them were empty. After lunch, Eddie went searching for you. He knew he had to speak to you. As far as he knew, he was the last person to be with you. So unless you had hooked up with someone else after your time with him… he knew what it meant. He wanted to hear it from you, though. To know if it was true or not. Through the rest of the day, Eddie didn’t see you. After school, he searched the parking lot for you, but you had slipped away some time before the actual end of the school day. He knew your address. He had driven there before for movie nights with the party or dragged over there by Steve. Eddie heaved himself into his van, shutting the driver’s side door heavily. He sat there, thinking. Had he really been that distracted that night to think twice? Then he remembered you had told him you were on the pill. Did you lie to him? No, that seemed stupid. Why would you lie about something like that? While he wasn’t sure of you in that way, he doubted you’d screw your chance at a college education to have a kid now. Eddie watched the skull necklace dangling off of his rearview mirror swing as he thought about how he was going to do this. He couldn’t be a dad. He knew nothing about being a dad. His own father being one shitty excuse for a dad. He shoved his key into the ignition, heading to the trailer park.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson imagine #pregnant!reader

[being-addie]

Little Ways to Love Your Life

I love performing little rituals to enhance my life. It's infinitely satisfying and it reminds me why living is so beautiful, on days when I start viewing the world through a pessimistic lens. This is your reminder that there's so much beauty in the mundane, just start looking for it :)

Here's some things I do that make me love my life just a little bit more:

Wake with the sun:

There is nothing better than opening your eyes to golden sunshine on your face. The golden hour has this quality that makes you feel like royalty.

Move your body:

Give your body a dose of endorphins by doing some exercise! Go for a hot girl walk, hit the gym for a sweaty HIIT sesh, or just groove to some Just Dance. I promise it will make you feel like you can conquer the world.

Smell sweet:

Put on a playlist and sing as you shower. Lather yourself up with sweet-smelling soap, and after you step out of the bath, slick on some vanilla scented moisturizer, and perfume. Don't forget deodorant! Make sure to stick with organic products because chemicals can irritate your skin.

Food = love:

A full stomach is a happy person. Make yourself a cup of coffee, and a hearty breakfast. Take note of the way milk swirls into the dark coffee, how the egg sizzles in the pan. Allow yourself to just exist in the moment, where you are taking care of your mind and body.

Self-love:

While I eat healthy 90% of the time, on days I really need to feel excited, I go buy a pain au chocolat from my nearest artisan bakery. It's one of my favourite foods to indulge in and it always makes me smile. Likewise, buy yourself something nice. It could be a new shirt, a bouquet of flowers, or designer chocolates. Indulge in yourself. You deserve it.

Look at beautiful things:

I don't mean window shopping or aesthetic Instagram pictures. Go out and observe. Look at the shape of the clouds, and how the trees dance in the wind. Pet that cute dog. Smell the wildflowers. Disconnect from the online world, even if it's for half an hour. Give yourself that much time.

Take pictures:

Screw retail therapy, taking aesthetic pictures is my new thing. Take so many pictures. The way sunlight filters in through your window, a cat stretching, a close-up of a flower, your Starbucks mocha latte. Unleash your inner photographer.

Pursue your hobbies:

When I'm down I play the piano or whip out my glue gun and craft my worries away. Doing something you love instantly puts your brain in a good mood. It could be tennis, gardening, quilling, birdwatching. Whatever you love. Do it.

Restrict your social media:

I was unknowingly comparing myself to all the girls I saw on Instagram and it was so detrimental to my self-esteem. I ended up deleting the app. I'm currently planning on reinstalling it by July next year. Delete the apps that do not make you feel good. You will have more time to dedicate to work, hobbies, family and relationships.

Finding joy in the mundane is the most healing thing you can do. Make your routine special, and switch it up once in a while. Don't shy away from your dream life, because you DESERVE it. You deserve EVERYTHING you ever want, okay? Now go get it. xoxo

<3

#self care #self improvement #self love #level up #level up journey #self love journey #glow up #college #tips and tricks #it girl #that girl #perfect #life #routine #self development #personal development #self growth #wellness #leveling up #level up tips #leveling up tips #leveling up journey #dream girl journey #dream girl #love your life #romanticize

[auteurdelabre]

So much to lose part 4 - Mean!Joel x f!Reader

Pairing: Dark!Joel x f!Reader

Rating: 18+

Words: 6.5k

a/n: hope you like it and that you’re enjoying where I’m takin’ this.

masterlist here

Chapter 3 here

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

Chapter 4: Early Riser

It's earlier than usual when you wake up, disturbed by the events of yesterday. You try to fall back asleep but it proves impossible. No matter how many times you shift, rearrange your blankets or fluff up your pillows, you simply cannot go back to sleep. Your mind is already awake with vivid memories of yesterday's patrol assaulting you every time you blink. 

Make me come.

Blink.

You want me to fuck that smart mouth?

Blink.

No smart mouth unless you want it fucked dumb.

Blink.

With a groan, you finally pull yourself from bed, letting your feet dangle on the edge of the mattress before finally shoving off and hitting the chilled floor. You shower and dress quickly deciding that the dining hall will be emptier, that perhaps you'll have a bit of quiet to read and eat this morning if you feel like it. 

You slip your current paperback into your jacket pocket before heading out the door. Your feet crunching over the solidifying earth as you walk along the path that leads into town. It’s chilly this morning and drizzling with the droplets stinging the high of your cheekbones. There aren’t many people milling about as you near the center of town, but you know the dining hall opens at 5 am.

When you reach the dining hall you're surprised to see about fifty people inside, some chatting over their meal, others quietly chewing, some gathered around the long table with the food options. You'd assumed it would be even emptier given the hour, but it seemed you're not the only early riser in Jackson today.

You step in, shaking off the droplets that cling to your jacket. Already the dining hall is much warmer and inviting than the outside.

You hear your name being called from the far side of the room and you tilt your head to see Jennifer waving at you, backlit by the morning sun streaming in the window behind her. She looks almost angelic. You pause like a caged animal, unsure of whether or not to reply. You don’t really know Jennifer.

A few heads turn when she calls to you again, curious. You're not well known here yet, you still feel that same anxious panic at being perceived by so many eyes. 

You give a half-hearted wave to Jennifer before going over to the large wood table and pull out a metal tray. With efficiency you pull one of the pre-packaged breakfasts consisting of eggs, jerky and a pancake with syrup.

You grab one of the chipped mugs beside the makeshift carafe and pour yourself a cup of the tea before placing everything on a tray. 

Jennifer calls your name again, motioning for you to join her as others nearby look on. Surprised at the attention you do, feeling much like you did in high school when the popular girls deigned to speak to you, that same flutter in your stomach, the same constriction of your throat. 

"Hi Jennifer," you croak as you approach. 

"Hi," she says your name brightly, taking a sip of her tea before sitting across from her. "I don't think I've ever seen you here in the mornings."

"Not this early usually," you mumble. "I usually sleep in."

"Bad sleep?" 

"Kinda," you say shrugging. You take a slow sip of the hot tea, hoping this will slow down her questioning. But Jennifer is just shooting that vague Mona Lisa smile at you. 

"How was patrol?"

You try not to look stricken at the question. Instead you turn your attention to your eggs, stabbing at them until the yellow yolk runs over the plate. 

"Was okay. Kinda boring."

Jennifer nods, and you can see that she's really just fishing. She's trying to be polite in asking you questions, but you know that how you feel about things isn't what interests her at all 

"Does Joel talk much during them?"

"You want me to fuck that pretty mouth dumb?"

"No," you say with warming cheeks. "Barely at all."

You glance up to see that Jennifer has a faraway look at her eyes. Likely imagining the romantic scenario of the tall, dark and brooding Joel Miller. You want to break her illusion, inform her that there's nothing nice about a man who treats you like garbage. 

But for girls like Jennifer, she'll never understand that. She won't understand that men can be cruel just as easily as they can be kind because beauty like hers is favored, even cherished. 

You muse that perhaps if she was paired up with Joel and patrols that there might be the chance for a romance. That he might be taken in by her beauty and her quick smile. That he would be soft for her, perhaps even gentle. You imagine that he wouldn't cover her eyes and whisper husky vulgarities in her ear before spilling himself over her knuckles. 

No, with Jennifer he'd be slow and syrupy. He'd teach her to shoot with infinite patience, his hand caressing her hip as he showed her the proper stance. 

Joel isn't ugly, but he isn't the most handsome man at Jackson, nor the youngest. Jennifer could have her pick of men you think, with her angelic features and youth. It puzzles you that she'd want to pursue such a man here when in the before time she likely never would have spared him a glance. 

"Can I ask what interests you about Joel so much?" 

Jennifer is surprised by this question, her focus drawing back to you. 

"Sure," Jennifer says with a shy smile. "I guess ever since I got here I've heard stories about Joel Miller. Joel Miller the smuggler, the expert marksman, the fighter. Then I see how sweet he is with Ellie and I think 'how can two such opposites fit into one man?' One remarkably sexy man."

You stare at Jennifer, not having expected such a thought-out explanation. She shoots you a toothy smile.  

"I've seen him with the horses too. He's always so focused, so stern but gentle. Can you imagine what someone like that would be like in the bedroom?" At this she gives a small titter before covering her mouth with her hand. 

You try not to look repulsed. You have a feeling you know exactly how Joel Miller would be in the bedroom. You've already had somewhat of a preview and you can't say you're impressed. 

"Plus let's be honest," Jennifer adds in a voice sharper than before, less sweet around the edges. "There's not much else to do around here unless you have a hobby or you like manual labor. Studying Joel is fun."

The way she talks about him makes him sound like a science experiment. A thesis topic she wants to fuck. You think of all the men that you've seen with her in the Tipsy Bison. Has she ever really cared for any of them? Or have they all been stories, theories, puzzles to solve?

She's welcome to Joel though. Maybe if she cracks him she can share some insights.

You turn back to your breakfast, thoughts on your week ahead. You think you need to find a new hobby. Maybe you can volunteer in the nursery? Your mind drifts to Chestnut and his sweet disposition. The only good thing to come out of patrols is getting to spend time riding again. You'd forgotten how much you missed that. Maybe you could volunteer taking care of the horses?

Jennifer sighs thoughtfully to herself, drawing your attention back over to her. You realize you know so little about Jennifer aside from the fact that she does patrols and wants to fuck Joel. She’s making such an effort with you that you feel poorly for not doing the same.

"What did you do before patrols?"

"I used to be in textiles," she chews thoughtfully. "Whenever folks in town needed stuff repaired or they need tents or curtains. Kinda whatever was necessary. I still do it sometimes if they need help."

You nod, chewing your breakfast. “Why did they move you to patrols?"

"I'm pretty good with a shot. Had riding experience."

"You know how to shoot?"

Jennifer nods, smiling proudly. "Yep. Grew up with three brothers in Louisiana. They used to take me hunting. We didn't have any money so if we didn't catch anything we didn't eat, so I learned pretty quick. It's why I know how to sew too; had to make all my own clothes." 

You look at Jennifer's beautiful face and delicate bone structure and are struck by how much you assumed about her. You saw her as gorgeous and charismatic and just assumed that she was a spoiled princess. 

"Maybe you could teach me to shoot?" You say before catching yourself. You don't know her well enough to ask that. You barely know her at all. 

"Sure," she says with a nod. She doesn't seem put off at all. In fact she's even smiling. "How about tomorrow?"

"Sure!" 

All of a sudden you see Jennifer's light eyes go to the door of the dining hall. Her lashes flutter and a flush starts at her collar. 

"He's here."

"Who?"

"Joel."

"He is?" You wince, immediately ducking. As if ducking your head slightly will hide you in the fairly sparse dining hall. 

What the fuck is Joel doing here? He's never at the dining hall. In all your time here you've seen him maybe half a dozen times eating with everyone else and it's usually because Tommy is talking his ear off. 

"Are you sure it's him?"

"Yeah." She watches the space over your left shoulder, her light eyes following his frame as he grabs something to eat. You feel your stomach flip uncomfortably. "Hey maybe you could bring up the whole patrol swap thing with him?" 

"I don't really wanna bug him while he's eating," you say taking a bite of your eggs. "Plus I don't know if Joel has any control over it anyway."  

If you had your choice you'd never have to interact with Joel again. You'd never go on another patrol, never have to be in his presence. 

There's a certain respect people have for Joel Miller in Jackson. Not just because he's Tommy's brother, but because his reputation precedes him. Joel is known as ruthless, a killer. Never specifics, just this air of danger in whispers. And he looks the part at times. All muscles and sharp jaw. How he keeps to himself, how he always seems ready to snap into action mode.

You suppose it's Ellie that humanizes him. When people catch sight of them walking through the main part of town and Ellie is laughing and the side of Joel's mouth curls just so, it makes people remember he's a man just like them. That they've all had to do terrible things to survive. 

It makes the women look longer, eyes drifting over his ruggedly handsome face, his strangely expressive eyes, his broad shoulders. It makes women like Jennifer think oh he's so strong but so loving. It fits the narrative they carry in their heads of this wounded bear who just needs the love of a good woman. 

You want to laugh at every single one of them. You want to jeer at just how mislead they are because you know the real Joel Miller. Ruthless was the right word from the start.

Ellie is an outlier, a strange bit of data that doesn't make sense. It doesn't fit with how you see Joel. You don't see what he gets out of it. Ellie gets a father figure, a protector. But what does Joel get? 

Nothing seems untoward between them, you feel like you would have picked up on it. So then why does he have this adopted daughter? Joel doesn't like things that make his life more difficult, you've seen that first hand. And Ellie can be difficult - loud and abrasive. You heard her frustrated with him that day in the greenhouse. And yet his eyes hold affection, even love. 

You never really noticed Joel before your patrols, your thoughts were always somewhere else. You were always "away with the fairies" as you gran used to say. Daydreaming or thinking about your day and what you needed to accomplish. 

Life is comfortable here in Jackson and because of that, you find it a bit terrifying. Because the years previous have not been relaxing. The years previous have been a minefield of terror. 

Terror you don't let yourself think about too much. A life where death had been preferable. Death you once almost willingly walked into.

But now? You have a warm bed and a home and you wake up not plagued by nightmares as much. You can breathe and you can live and now that you have something sacred for yourself the thought of death terrifies you. There's so much to lose. 

Jennifer smooths her hair, her eyes darting from her plate to Joel and back again. 

"He keeps looking over here," she says in an excited whisper with a pretty pink rising to her cheeks. "Something tells me he'll be okay with the change."

You could roll your eyes at that. Of course Joel was looking over here at Jennifer. You're not surprised that he would be so easily swayed by a pair of beautiful blue eyes. 

You think about denying her but then you remember how easily she agreed to help teach you to shoot. This is such a small ask on her part.  

"Okay. Sure. Just a sec." 

You take a studying breath before pushing yourself up from your chair. You follow her eye line behind your shoulder to see that Joel is sitting by himself on the far left of the tables. He’s wearing a dark flannel and his hair is tousled, likely from a fitful sleep like yours though you can’t imagine why he’d be upset. At least he got to come.

No one bothers him while he sits there; no one tries to chat with him as he shovels his meal into his downturned mouth. He gives off an energy that says leave me alone and all abide. Some give a passing “morning” that he nods in reply to.

On stiff legs you make your way over to him stopping just short of his elbow at the table. You shove your trembling hands into the pockets of your jeans and force a pleasant smile on your face.

"Hi Joel."

Joel lifts his eyes from his plate as if just registering your presence. You doubt that's the case though. You think that Joel pays attention to everything in his surroundings and probably saw you the second you started shuffling over.  

"Mornin'."

How can he look at you so casually? As if yesterday never happened? How can his cheeks not flush with embarrassment after the lewd things he whispered in your ear? 

"You got a sec?"

"Considering you've cornered me while I'm eating I think you know I do."

Asshole.

He's so fucking prickly. Even now as you try to smile politely and attempt to talk to him kindly. It makes your forced smile wobble. 

Enough chit chat, down to business. 

"Uh, you see that girl, Jennifer?" you subtly motion behind you. "The pretty one? She uh, she wants to be matched up with you on patrols. She told me. She's from B watch."

Joel doesn't glance where you've motioned over at Jennifer. Instead he stares icily up at you, as if the suggestion offends him. It makes you shrink back, feeling wrong -footed and desperate to fill the silence. 

"I just figured cuz, well, you and I don't exactly get along..." You trail off, voice cracking as your thumb digs into the ring finger of your left hand. "Thought you might want to... well, ya know ... Switch."

Joel chews thoughtfully, his eyes fixed on your face. You shift from foot to foot feeling as if all eyes are on you. You glance around to see that no one is giving you much mind. Most are interested in their own conversations.

The only one watching you is Jennifer who pretends to drink her tea. You look back to see that Joel is still staring at you. 

"She has hunting experience and she's good on a horse and... She's really pretty," you offer weakly.

He raises a brow minutely at this but still doesn't turn his gaze from your face. You feel your cheeks getting warm. You don't know why you supplied that information for him. Anyone with two eyes can see that Jennifer is pretty.  

He says nothing to you. Doesn't even acknowledge what you've said before he goes back to his meal, eyes dropping to his eggs. He chews quietly, one hand resting on the table, the other gripping his fork tightly. 

You stand for several seconds at his table like a chastised child, as if your penance for bothering him with this is public humiliation. Finally Joel drags his eyes slowly up your body to your face.

"Why are you still standin' there?"

Your cheeks prickle with shame as you turn away from him. You move rapidly and bypass Jennifer's table entirely, your legs carrying you out into the chill of the day and away from Joel's searing gaze. 

You won’t get shooting lessons from Jennifer now. You can’t face her, can’t tell her how he talked to you. It would be too humiliating. And she’s probably furious at you for rushing away without helping her on her quest to conquer Miller mountain.

Your heart is beating rapidly in both anger and shame. You maneuver your way through the growing crowd of people in town, the late risers. You feel a hand suddenly clutch at your wrist. 

"Hey!"

You glance to your left to see Ellie looking at you, eyes dancing. She loosens her grip on your wrist. 

"Hey," she says saying your name again but louder. "I was hoping I'd see ya."

"Oh yeah?"

You speak tightly, trying not to snap because right now all you want to do is go home. Joel makes you feel so annoying, he makes you feel small. But Ellie does none of those things. Ellie is sweet and open and earnest. 

"I wanted to know what those pop tarts were made of?"

You're touched that she remembered your conversation and you soften a bit, smiling a fraction. You wish that you did remember if only to make her happy. 

"No I'm sorry," you tell her looking chagrined. "Just ate 'em, never made 'em." 

"Damn."

"I'm assuming its flour and sugar and stuff you need more most pastries," you shrug. "And then icing. I'm sorry I'm not more helpful."

"S'okay,' Ellie shrugs.

She looks thoughtful and then bids you a quiet goodbye, shuffling towards the dining hall. 

///

You observe that Maria hasn't been at meals since the baby was born. Not totally a shock considering it's only been two weeks. But Tommy's words cluster in your mind, compelling you to his house. 

You think of your Aunt Sunny. Your favorite person from before. The aunt that sang Disney songs at the top of her lungs in the car with you. The aunt that took you for ice cream on hot days. The aunt that felt more like a sister. 

The same aunt that years later tried to kill herself after her daughter was born. The aunt who was on so much medication she just stared out the hospital window when you went to visit her. 

It was almost a year before she came back to herself. A year before aunt Sunny was smiling and happy again. So you knew the signs. 

You arrive on Tommy's doorstep early the next morning, a handful of paper flowers ready when he opens the door. He looks surprised to see you and it's no wonder because you barely know he and Maria.

But your mind has been fixed on what's going on with Maria and you'd felt compelled to come over, your feet leading you here even though your mind tossed around whether or not it was a good idea. 

"Hi there," Tommy says with a quirked smile as he opens the door to you. 

"I came to see how you were all uh, holding up," you say suddenly self conscious about your presence here. "I brought these. Too cold to bring real flowers so I had to improvise." 

You thrust the bouquet of various shades of pink and white into Tommy's grip. He takes them curiously, his eyes drifting to the colorful collection.

"Holy shit," he says with amusement as he takes a closer look at the bundle. "These made ‘a paper?"

"Yeah, I used to make them all the time when I was a kid," you say grinning. "Thought Maria would like them."

Tommy grins back before hollering over his shoulder. “Baby, we got a visitor."

Tommy looks back at you, inviting you inside with genuine warmth and you accept. He heads off into the bedroom and you hear a mumbled conversation behind the door. 

“It’s okay if you don’t feel up for a visit,” you call out before wincing. You don’t want to force Maria to come out if she’s not feeling up to it.

“No I’m comin’!” Marie calls back through the door and you relax a fraction.

You wander into the main area of the home, marveling at how cheery and welcoming it is. Paintings of horses and landscapes are on the walls, the fireplace is roaring and you take a chair nearby, grateful for the warmth. 

Moments later Maria comes padding into the room looking cheerful despite the hollow under her eyes. She's wearing a large dressing gown and her hair is freshly washed. She moves slowly, shuffling in her thick wool socks. 

"Hi."

Tommy comes following with his son in his arms. Maria kisses Tommy's cheek before she comes to sit in the chair opposite you. 

"Thanks for visiting," she says in a tired voice. "And for those beautiful flowers. They must have taken you forever."

"It's great to see you," you tell Maria, trying not to sound patronizing. "And the flowers are fun to make."

You'd spent hours at your kitchen table with colorful paper spread across the wood surface, making intricate little origami flowers of all varietals. You’d learned one year at summer camp, found more often in the arts and crafts tent while everyone else went off swimming and to archery.

"So this is the bundle of joy," you say as Tommy approaches, gently rocking his son in his broad arms.

"Bundle of somethin'" he laughs, looking at Maria with warmth. "Doesn't like to sleep much, does he honey?"

"Not much," Maria agrees with a soft sigh. "S'my fault. I'm not patient enough with him."

"You're plenty patient," Tommy soothes. In this light he reminds you a bit of Joel and you think it must be the curls in the hair. You try not to hold the resemblance against him.   

You notice Maria doesn't look at the baby and you feel your heart hurt for her. 

"I didn't wanna bug you or anything," you say, feeling strangely tongue tied. "It's just... I thought maybe you'd want someone to chat with."

Maria eyes you warily from under half lidded eyes. "Why's that?"

Panic seizes you as Tommy quirks a nervous brow. He’d told you everything in confidence an his anxiety is so palpable you feel like he’s communicating with you through his eyes; he doesn’t want to stress Maria out. He doesn’t want his already fragile wife thinking that he’s airing all their dirty laundry with a stranger.

"I just mean when Tommy's busy," you offer awkwardly, trying not to let Maria cotton onto the fact that Tommy shared anything. "I figured you might want some company then. But maybe that's just wishful thinking because I don't really know many people here yet. So really it's just me inviting myself over so I'm not lonely and I'm using the baby as an excuse."

Maria stares at you for a lingering moment before letting out a snorting laugh. Tommy smiles at this, his eyes on his wife who is chuckling at you. She leans back in her chair, her hands lacing over her still slightly swollen belly.

"You're an odd one, aren't you?"

"I guess, yeah," you say back to her with a toothy grin. You’re relieved the tension has seemed to pass. The baby makes a grunting noise in Tommy's arms, squirming to get comfortable. Maria notices you looking at the baby and a warmth passes over her features. 

"You wanna hold him? I just fed him."

You haven't held a baby in decades. Not since you were a kid yourself looking at your new baby brother. 

"Oh I... That's okay, I don't wanna drop him," you say anxiously. 

"You won't drop him," Tommy assures with a gentle chuckle. You scoot back in your chair, nervously taking the baby into your stiff arms as Maria watches on. The weight of him is barely anything, so slight that you’re concerned he might just fly away out of your grip. Tommy goes to sit near Maria, smiling at the image of you and his son.

He's so small, milk-drunk and sleeping soundly wrapped up in a soft green blanket. He makes little grunts in his sleep and the sound makes you smile. He smells like baby powder and you can help but bring him to your face and inhale. 

Life does find a way.

Through the ugly planet inhabited by all forms of depravity and monsters there is this new life, pure and hopeful. A new beginning. You can't help but feel teary-eyed as you look into his sleeping face, your finger brushing the delicate caramel skin, the full lips pouting in slumber. 

"He's beautiful." You marvel at how perfect his tiny hands are, holding a miniscule finger pinched gently between your digits. You glance to Tommy across from you. "What was his name again?"

"Douglas Joel Miller," Tommy says proudly. "Douglas for Maria's dad and Joel for, well, you know." 

Yeah. You know. 

Your lack of a response must draw his attention because Tommy tilts his head slightly as he regards you. 

"You and Joel getting along any better?"

Uh, well I made him come and he talked about fucking my mouth does that count? 

You shrug, eyes still fixed on the sleeping baby. Anything that comes out of your mouth now will be a lie and you have no desire to lie to this family.

"He can be tough," Tommy says with a shake of his head. "Didn't always used to be like that."

You don't ask any follow up questions because you don't care to know more about Joel. You'd rather he not occupy your thoughts when you're not with him. And yet Ellie's face swims into your head. The sweet girl with rough edges. The outlier in your Joel Miller data. 

"So is Ellie his daughter or what?"

"Kinda adopted," Tommy nods. "They've been through a lot together. Seen a lot." 

That doesn't answer much but it answers enough. You nod, prepared to drop the subject. 

"His daughter was killed by a soldier," Maria says out of nowhere. "I think he-"

"Maria," Tommy says harshly. "That's not your information to share." 

Maria's face immediately crumples and fat tears begin to roll down her face. You've never seen Maria cry, the strong stoic woman and it takes you momentarily by surprise. Her dark eyes drift to the floor and her hands go from lacing over her tummy to fisting her eyes as she sobs.

"I'm sorry Tommy."

"No, I'm sorry," Tommy says immediately hating himself and kneeling next to her chair, taking her hand in his. "I shouldn't have snapped."

Maria is crying softly and you feel like you have to assuage their fears. 

"I won't say anything," you assure them both. "That information stays here. I promise. I'll never mention it; I'll pretend you never told me."

Tommy’s pinched face shoots you a nod while Maria gives you a tight, watery smile. 

"Thank you."

You and Tommy watch as she pushes herself up from the couch. She gives Tommy a kiss before turning to you, still wiping away the bits of remaining tears that have tracked down her dark cheeks. 

"It was really nice seeing you. I'm a bit tired though so I'm gonna head back to bed."

"Sounds good," you nod. "Have a good rest. Maybe I'll stop by again if that’s okay?" 

"Yeah I think I'd like that," Maria says over her shoulder. 

You and Tommy watch her shuffle back to the bedroom and you feel that your visit should end but Tommy seems eager for the company. He offers you a tea, settling back into his chair as you continue to hold the baby only after you politely decline.

"Joel says you're good on a horse," Tommy says with a smile as Douglas gives a stretch in your arms. You watch the baby, distracted until Tommy’s words finally register with you. Joel said something about you to Tommy?

"He did?"

"Yeah, said you were a natural on Chestnut."

It's hard to imagine Joel talking about you willingly, much less praising something you've done. 

"Oh, yeah." You look down at the baby, tracing his cheek with a forefinger. "I had lessons as a kid. Did a bit more riding to get here."  

Tommy nods, eyeing you thoughtfully. "You still want me to see if I can find someone else to switch with you?"

Yes. Yes. Please yes.

You want to shout it from the rooftops. You don't want another minute of patrols with Joel. You can't imagine how your next patrol won't be awkward. 

But then you see the lines at the corner of Tommy's eyes. You think of Maria curled in her bed with tears running down her cheeks. You think of the stress and pain they're already going through and you can't add to their burdens. 

"Nah its okay," you offer quietly. 

"You sure?"

"Yeah. S'fine."

Your eyes scan Douglas's placid face. Before you can help yourself you've pressed a kiss to the infant's forehead.

"I should head out," you say smiling wanly. 

"Thanks for stoppin' by," Tommy says taking Douglas from your arms. And you can see in his face that he's being sincere. You can only imagine how alone he feels right now trying to navigate this. 

"Any time," you tell him honestly. "I mean it."

///

You'd never really noticed Joel that often before your patrols but now it's like you see him everywhere this week. 

You see him walking into town nearby so you ducked into the nearest shop under the pretense of needing tampons. At breakfast (which you've never seen him at before this week) but now have caught sight of him at least 3 times. Trying to be social and going in to get a drink at the Tipsy Bison only to see Joel's familiar head of salt and pepper curls and immediately fleeing back outside. 

He haunts your dreams too. Sharp teeth and fingers like claws. You don't know what the dreams are but you wake up with sweat-drenched sheets and a pounding heart. 

The morning of your patrol you wake up to an especially upsetting dream. This one doesn't involve Joel but it does involve the time before Jackson. 

It has you lurching out of bed and pulling on clothes under the light of the breaking sunrise streaming in your windows.  

Your breath puffs in front of you as you head out into the chill of the morning, eyes puffy from lack of sleep, hair tangled from tossing all night. 

But the thought of something brings you an idea of peace. Since your last patrol your thoughts have been stuck on Chestnut. You'd never considered hanging around the stables before because it always seemed to be for those with a connection to the animals. Those who brush their coats and feed them and muck out the stalls. 

You yourself had taken horse riding lessons as a kid until your parents separated and suddenly there wasn't money for lessons or dance class. Your mom seeing your disappointed face each afternoon tried to cheer you up by teaching you to bake. 

But Chestnut and his sweet disposition draw your feet into your boots, tugging your jacket on, twisting your red scarf around your neck as you leave early one morning. 

His head is sticking out of the pen as you arrive, as if he's been waiting for you all morning. His auburn mane dances lightly in the breeze from outside. The colors catch the light, gold and burgundy twisting and shimmering in the light. Your mouth breaks into a wide grin as you approach, hand extended.

"Hello handsome," you say softly as you draw nearer. You press your forehead to his soft nose, smiling. It's all you can reach from where you stand outside the pen. 

Chestnut gives a small whinny, his breath puffing in the chill of the morning.

"It's getting cold, huh?" You say, rubbing at his cheek. "Hope you're not too chilly in here." 

Chestnuts baleful eyes stare out at you like glossy dark brown marbles. You see your face there, warped slightly. You look tired and worried. 

He gives a small whinny, stretching his face down towards you. The pen hits him at his chest, making it possible only to touch his soft nose and head. You smile at the velvet of his muzzle, the warmth of the air huffing over your knuckles. 

"I hope it snows soon," you confess, hand sliding down the white stripe between his eyes. "Makes everything feel clean."

Chestnut dips his head towards you, mouth attaching to your hand, searching for something to eat. You giggle softly at the tickling sensation of his lips grazing over your flattened palm. 

"You ready for today? Hmmm? Maybe I'll sneak you a carrot if you're go-" 

All of a sudden a head pops up beside the horse from inside the pen attached to a familiar broad-shouldered figure.

You're not expecting that anyone would be in here. Definitely not Joel fucking Miller. He stands next to Chestnut looking at you like you've broken into his home with an axe. 

"Jesus!" You cry out, startled by his sudden appearance. "You're like a pop up book from hell!"

Joel's mouth twitches into almost a smile before pressing back into that familiar scowl. 

"What are you doing in there?" You ask accusingly as if he meant to terrify you. 

"Re-shoeing him for this afternoon."

"Oh."

You stand there awkwardly, feeling wrong footed for no reason, because it's Joel that should feel out of place. He was the one that took his sweet time letting you know he was there. 

You glance from Chestnut back over to see Joel giving you an unreadable look, as if he's trying to figure you out. It makes you uncomfortable and you pull the jacket tighter around you. 

You haven't made mention of the last patrol. Haven't felt that it was necessary. Or maybe it's that mentioning it feels humiliating. Joel must feel the same way because he's made no mention of it either. He busies himself with brushing at chestnuts withers, his eyes fixed on the large horse in front of him.

"Can't seem to shake you.” 

"Didn't know you were in here," you mutter in reply, irritated that your good mood is spoiled.

You go to leave because you sure as hell don't want to spend more time with him than necessary. You already have to spend your afternoon and early evening with him. You don't want more Joel Miller in your life if it can be avoided. 

"Ellie's been talkin' about you a lot," Joel says out of nowhere. 

This surprises you into stopping and waiting. "Really?"

"She won't stop going on about fucking pop tarts." Joel's face is hard as he says the words. He lowers the brush in his hand and fixes you with a dark look. "You can't go talking about that stuff with her."

"About pastries?"

"The world before," Joel snaps at your flippant reply. "Ellie is impressionable. She's curious. But givin' her all that information serves no purpose."

"It makes her educated," you reason. "It's history."

"It makes her want what doesn't exist anymore," Joel fires back. "And then I have to disappoint her when I tell her that she can't experience those things."

And it hurts him. 

He doesn't finish the thought but he doesn't need to. It's there in the tic of his jaw, the curling sneer of his lips. He doesn't want you telling Ellie about a life he can't provide for her. He doesn't want his adopted daughter to be heartbroken with no way for him to repair the broken pieces. 

It's so human of Joel, so kind and thoughtful that your heart squeezes in your chest as you realize it. Maria's voice echoes around your mind like a whispered story. He lost a daughter.

This isn't your place to reason with Joel or try to change his mind. He's by all accounts her father and as her parents what he says goes. 

"Okay."

Joel looks relieved and nods at you. You think about asking him what exactly it is that you can talk to Ellie about but you decide not to push it. You have to be on patrols with him later today and you don't want it to start on a bad note. You watch him brush Chestnut a moment longer.

"Have you ridden horses long?"

You surprise yourself with that question. It pops out of your mouth before you realize that you don't enjoy Joel's company. 

You notice the way he's glancing at you in such an insouciant fashion as he fiddles with Chestnut's reins. It reminds you of Teton village and how he looked at you as you stroked him before he covered your eyes. That same casual indifference. 

"Long enough."

That's better than fuck off, you decide. But you don't want to push your luck. You just nod and turn away from him, heading back into the cold morning. 

"You still want that mouth fucked dumb?"

He says it in a husky murmur so quietly that it takes a moment for you to register that he was talking to you and not muttering something to the horse. When you do realize what he said it stokes something in your lower belly, fiercely hot and honeyed. 

Your entire body has gone rigid at his suggestion, your shoulders drawn up to your ears. The visuals of such a request that assault you are enough to have you taking a physical step forward as you imagine it. Your eyes are blown so wide in your skull but you can't turn around and face Joel even as you answer him.

"Yes."

Before he can say anything more you rush off away from him with your cheeks flaming and heart pounding. You walk at a brisk pace feeling his eyes burning a hole in your back the entire way. 

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #joel miller #dad joel miller #pedro pascal #fanfiction #fanfic #smut #dark!Joel #dark!joel x reader #dark!joel miller #the last of us #ellie the last of us #ellie williams #ellie tlou #tlou2

[ghouljams]

If the thought strikes you, id love to see more 1870’s johnny and moon. I love rereading their snippets at the moon’s bar💕💕💕💕💕 please and thank you

Oh of course, I love their 1870's counterparts more than I probably should. There's just something about the way Johnny talks to Moon in them that makes me squirm.

So here's Moon being needy but also so stubborn, and Johnny pining. (cw for very minor reader descriptions)

You set a plate of bacon and eggs in front of Johnny, and cut a slice of bread off a fresh loaf. The edge of the knife just touches your thumb and you twist your fingers to finish breaking the piece off, only to drop it onto Johnny's waiting plate. You don't get many people coming in for breakfast, but that doesn't mean you aren't prepared. You hardly pay attention to the smile he gives you, the tired thanks, just nod shortly and go to check on the folks renting rooms upstairs. You pass the door of a nice couple from up north and stall at the breathless moans and high pitched whines coming from inside. Your fingers twist in your skirt, your cheeks warm as you listen to the man softly coaxing his wife towards her peek. You manage to shake yourself of the embarrassment before you hear anything else, and go back down to the bar proper.

Johnny's dredging his bread through the broken yolks. He raises his brow at you when you take your place behind the bar again, but doesn't pry. It's a rare occasion but you suppose he must know how to keep quiet. Or maybe his mouth is full. Johnny drags his tongue over his calloused palm, catching the yellow yolk that drips off his fingers. It makes your stomach squeeze. You skin feels prickly, uncomfortably warm in the lingering summer heat. The sun's hardly up but you can feel its warmth in the air, still beaten into the dust from yesterday.

Sweat slips down your neck, and you sigh, rubbing at your shoulder. Johnny's eyes follow the movement, then drop to follow the path of your sweat. His eyes settle comfortably on your chest, your shirt unbuttoned low to allow you some space to breathe. It hasn't escaped your notice that gentlemen forget they're overpaying when they can oogle you, but no one tries anything with Johnny hanging around. His tongue darts out to lick his lips, pink muscle dragging far too slow to just be catching crumbs. One of his hands slips off the bar, disappearing for a brief moment before resuming it's aid in tucking into his breakfast.

You lean against the back bar, watching the saloon doors. You won't see anyone but the desperate few until lunch, and even that will be sparse until dinner. Time enough to let your mind wander, to think about the couple you'd overheard and squeeze your thighs together. Thinking about... thinking about that with Johnny anyone makes you feel like you're doing something wrong. Thoughts of Johnny's mouth fill your mind, his hands, his tongue. The soft open fabric of your shirt brushes your skin and you wonder if Johnny- no you know he stares, he's open about it. Never shies away when you've caught him. You wonder what he thinks about when he looks at you.

You wonder what he'd do if you let him touch you. If he'd cup your chest with his big calloused hands. If you'd be able to feel the rough swirls of his fingerprints, be able to pick out the start and end of every work worn inch. Would he squeeze hard, feeling the weight of your breasts in his hands? Would he be eager to get his mouth on them? You've heard from your friends that men often enjoy that. You think the drag of his tongue over the sensitive skin might feel nice, that he'd squeeze and suck at your chest with the same enthusiasm he always speaks to you with.

Yes, you think he would. You think he'd squish your breasts together, tug at your nipples until you begged him not to, and then you think he'd put his mouth on them. Licking and sucking at your skin with an appreciative groan. You heard him make a noise like that once while eating his dinner. It had made your cheeks burn something fierce. You can't imagine how you must look now, chewing on your thumb nail as you think about a man you hardly know doing such things to you. His marriage proposals must be getting to you, you're growing foolish, complacent. Your breath is too short, your nipples brushing your cotton chemise in a way you're all too aware of. Your skin feels hot from something that isn't the summer heat.

"You must be thinkin' real hard for how pretty you look," Johnny murmurs from the other side of the bar. Your eyes dart to him, the way he tips his head back to drop a thick slice of bacon down his throat, and sucks the grease off his fingers doesn't help the heat besieging you.

"What's that supposed to mean?" You try to keep the snap in your voice, even when Johnny's fingers leave his mouth with a pop.

"Your nose is scrunchin', and ya got your lips all pouty," He sniffs, tearing at the remaining bits of his bread, "only do that when yer thinkin'." He tosses a piece of bread into his mouth, works the crust between his teeth. You stare at him. You don't have a good retort for that. "It's cute," Johnny finishes, "look real bonnie when ya dae it."

"Haven't I told you before it's too early for me to deal flirts?" You sigh, pushing off the back bar to take his empty plate.

"Aye, but this isnae flirtin', ahm statin' facts." He grins when you glare at him, purses his lips in a kissing motion when you narrow your eyes further. You turn to take his plate back to your kitchen sink. You don't know why you even entertained the idea that you'd let that man get his hands on you.

Soap watches you hustle back to the back, his eyes trailing over the sway of your hips, the tightness of your spine. He wonders if you know the threats he's been slinging at the men in town. Putting those pretty tits on display like they aren't worth their weight in gold. God, what he wouldn't give to bury his face between them. You're such a smart girl, he shouldn't have to tell you that every eye in the room trains on your chest when you lean across the bar. Soap's had the barrel of his gun under too many men's chins.

You make your way back, settle his bill on the bar and lean to tally it. The press of your tits, the soft squish of them against the wood, Christ. He drops his hand to adjust his hard cock a second time. You can't fault a man his attraction to a beautiful woman, especially one that wants nothing to do with him.

"When're you gonna let me make an honest woman of you?" Soap hums.

"I am an honest woman," You snap with enough venom to make him sit back. Your eyes look back at the slip of paper you'd been scribbling on. "Whatever goes on in your head is nothing to do with my honor," You mumble. Soap doesn't stop himself from reaching across the bar, his fingers dragging over the apple of your cheek so you'll look at him properly.

"Ahm sorry love," He tells you, cupping your cheek, thumb stroking over the skin. He wonders if your stiffness is from the rough drag of his callouses, it must not be pleasant against such soft skin. "Shouldnae tease ya. Ah won't do it any more, ya jus' give me the word." He promises. Your teeth dig into your bottom lip, your eyes darting away from his. Silent.

He leaves you the space to object, to tell him to stop. The silence lapses, and the longer you chew on your lip the tighter his heart squeezes. Oh his sweet girl...

He tugs at you, tips your head as he leans across the bar to drag his tongue over your lips. Giving you a taste since you'd been staring so much earlier. For such a testy little thing, all the hissing and spitting you do, your lips sure part easily for him.

#cod x reader #x reader #x oc #cod x oc #john soap mactavish #soap mactavish #johnny mactavish #john mactavish x reader #soap mactavish x reader #soap mw2 #soap cod #soap x reader #oc: moon #cowboy au #1870s cowboy au #cowboy!Soap #f!reader

[taurussbabe]

You are in love

pairing: mason mount x fem! about... Taylor inspired fic. a/n: i'm actually proud of this one! i tried to show anxiety the way i feel it, so sorry if it offends anyone 🫶 TW: anxiety, panic attacks word count: 1.8k

Small talk, he drives

Coffee at midnight.

You turn around once again, cursing at yourself for not being able to fall asleep, looking at the clock, realising it was only midnight. You try not to move too much, considering mason is right by your side fast asleep by now. You stare at the ceiling one more time before getting out of bed slowly. You lean against the kitchen island, silently drinking your glass of water before walking to the couch, wrapping yourself in a blanket and turning on the tv. You took the sound off almost completely before putting on your favourite episode of friends.

On the other side of the house, mason had woken up and searched for you in bed, when he couldn’t find you, he made his way to the living room, spotting you all curled up on one end of the couch, giggling at some silly remark one of the characters had made.

“Can’t sleep, love?” you looked in his direction, turning off the tv as he made his way to you.

“I’m sorry, did I wake you up?”

“Nope, I just couldn’t sleep without you. Are you ok?” he sat down next to you, enveloping you in his embrace, kissing the top of your head.

“Yeah, just the usual” mason is aware of how your anxiety sometimes took the best of you, but he always found a way to deal with it.

“You have a beautiful mind, you know? I love how your mind works” you looked up at him sceptical by his words “I do! I love it because it’s part of you, and I love every part of you. You’re perfect y/n, I mean it, I could spend 24/7 talking to you, because you always make me smile and always make me feel safe, so I want you to tell me when it gets too much in your head, that way you can share it with me, and I’ll help you feeling safe”.

“Mason, that’s really sweet, but if I can’t do that. If I do that, instead of being just me with problems, it’ll be the two of us with problems and I can’t bear to think that it was me who made you feel that way”.

“What if, instead of both of us feeling bad, you tell me what happened and I’ll help you seeing things clearer, I mean, you always say that when you share things with other people it helps you see from different perspective, that way, we’re both feeling good. Ok? Can we try that?” your only reaction was nodding softly and pushing yourself impossibly closer to him. “C’mon let’s go”.

He got up and grabbed the car keys “Where?”

“Starbuck’s. I know how to make you feel better” you smiled at him as he offered his hand for you to take.

Morning, his place

Burnt toast, Sunday

You keep his shirt.

He keeps his word.

Mason woke up first, the sun creeping through the curtains. He ran his hand through his hair before opening his eyes, only to see you still fast asleep, hair sprawled and cheek pressed against the pillow. He moved closer to you and brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. The only sound in the room being your slow and deep breathing. He took this moment to take you in, how you had a tiny little mole just above your eyebrow and how your lips were slightly parted, memories of the night before came back to him which made him appreciate this moment even more. Now, you were peaceful, zero concerns on your mind. He kissed your cheek gently and got up quietly.

You opened your eyes, only to realise mason wasn’t there. After your talk, last night, you managed to get some sleep, mason holding you the whole time.

You got out of bed to find mason dancing to a song while cooking breakfast. You leaned on the doorway, just enjoying the sight in front of you, but then he finally looked up, causing you to step out of your little trance. “Cooking?” you asked him, and he nodded, pointing at the eggs he was making.

“You look good in that shirt” you looked down to see one of mason’s old shirts, the one you usually slept with.

“It’s yours”

“I know” he pulled you for a kiss, and what started as a soft and loving kiss, quickly turned into something more heated, more passionate, causing him to groan during the kiss.

“Don’t you smell something? Mase, I think something’s burning”.

“Oh my god, the toasts” you laughed as he pulled them out of the oven, more burnet than the usual, but still eatable. “You distracted me”.

“I distracted you? You were the one who kissed me” you pointed your finger at him, supporting your argument.

“Well, I’m sorry if you look extremely hot in my shirt”.

You kiss on sidewalks

You fight, and you talk.

You were walking side by side when he suddenly pulled at your hand, stopping you in your track. “What’s up?”

“You are looking very kissable right now” you almost laughed at his comment if it wasn’t for his serious face.

“Then do something about it, mase” and he did, he kissed you softly, one hand on your waist, the other on your cheek.

You continue your walk until you got home and saw some pictures of the pair of you kissing earlier, you know you shouldn’t, yet you couldn’t help but to go through the comments. Most of them said nice things, but there was also some who called you nasty things, saying you were only with him for money or fame or some more awful things about yourself that you knew weren’t true, yet your anxiety took the best of you again, causing you to doubt everything.

Mason walked in the room in the middle of your breakdown, he immediately noticed there was something wrong with you. “Love, are you okay”.

You couldn’t help but to shed a few tears. Mason knelt down so he was at your level, both of his hands on your knees, begging you to look at him and focus on his voice, but your mind was already over reacting, thinking of a thousand different possibilities. “Please, tell me what happened, y/n.”

“I want to break up” it wasn’t true, you really didn’t, but at the time it felt like the easiest solution to your problem. You couldn’t think straight, you mind had a million thoughts on it, your heart beating way too fast, you couldn’t control your breathing anymore, it was becoming too much.

“What? Why?” his eyes now teary eyes were looking into yours “Y/n, talk to me, please.”

“I can’t, I can’t, we have to break up”.

After that, the only sound in the room were both of your sobs, you watched as mason breathed in and out a few times before speaking.

“Listen, we both need some time, ok? Let’s do something, I’m gonna go for a walk and you’ll be here, then we’ll talk, and I promise if you still want to break up, we’ll break up, but promise me you’ll be here when I come back.” You only had it in yourself to nod but this time he needed more reassurance “Promise y/n” he said, he’s voice breaking.

“I promise”

With that he got up, pressing a kiss to your temple and leaving. You didn’t know what to do, you didn’t want to break up and there were only a few negative comments, you knew not everyone is going to like you, it’s impossible to please everyone.

Hours passed by and mason was still not home, it was dark and night by now, you were getting concerned and about to text him when you heard the door and saw mason walk in

“Can we talk?” he asked, his eyes were puffy and his nose red, you could he had been crying and I it killed you to know you were the one to cause him that pain. “I’m sorry y/n, I don’t know what I did but I must have done something to upset you, so I’m sorry” how could he think he did something wrong, and could you stand there, listening to him blame himself for everything and not say anything, that was your breaking point.

“Mason, stop” you don’t know where you found the strength to be able to control yourself but seeing him that miserable made your heart drop and you couldn’t take it anymore “it’s not your fault, it’s mine. Someone took pictures of us kissing earlier and I saw some comments and you know my head, I started to overthink, and I couldn’t stop. Last night, you told me to share things with you, I’m trying, I really am, I promise. I was wrong, I don’t want to break up, that’s the last thing I want, but I understand if you want to because of what I did to you today, but I need you to know, it’s not your fault, you’re perfect, the best thing I could ever ask for and yet, I still go ahead and ruin it. I’m sorry”

He stood there for a couple seconds, just staring at you before moving closer to you and enveloping you in his arms. You broke down at the gesture while he whispered soft things to you, brushing your hair in the meantime.

“I love you, okay? I’m not gonna leave just because you had a panic attack, I love all of you” He pulled you closer and kissed you softly “We’re good, and we’re always gonna be good”.

“I’m sorry, I really am mas-”

“Hey, stop apologizing, we’re okay, I love you”.

“I love you too” you don’t know how long you stayed like that before he pulled you to bed.

He took your shirt off carefully and kissed all the way from your lips to your neck, making you moan in response. That night, he showed you just how much he loved you and cared for you.

One night he wakes

Strange look on his face

Pauses, then says

You're my best friend

And you knew what it was

He is in love.

You woke up once again, in the middle of the night, but this time it wasn’t your anxiety, no, this time it was mason, he was tracing weird shapes on the skin of your arm.

“Shit, did I wake you up?”

“I don’t mind being woken up by you” he smiled at you before his features changed, you couldn’t quite place what was this new expression, but he opened his mouth before you could ask.

“You’re my best friend, you know that?”

“I though your best friends was dec” you laughed, and it made him chuckle as well.

“Yeah, well, you’re like a more special best friend. I love you”.

“I love you too, mase” he pulled you closer, so your head was on the crook of his neck, allowing you to kiss that skin.

#mason mount x oc #mason mount x you #mason mount fluff #mason mount x reader #mason mount #mason mount imagine #mason mount x y/n #mason mount concept #chelsea football club #taurussbabe

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Assistant 12

Warnings: this fic includes noncon/rape, cheating, creep behaviour, violence, anger. These warnings are not exhaustive.

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

Summary: As an assistant at the Daily Planet, you’re rarely noticed. Until you are.

Characters: Clark Kent

Note: Another one.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. Thanks to everyone who reads this one and thank you for all your energy.<3

Love you all like Lord Farquaad loves unnecessary vowels. Take care. 💖

🖊🖊🖊

The crickets keep you awake. The flutter of bats and the sway of trees swirl together and set an eerie lull. The scent of pine wafts in and eludes to the freedom withheld from you. A serene atmosphere tainted by the coil of heat twisted around you.

Clark snores into your hair. Unbothered by his strange surroundings or the circumstance. It almost maddens you to think he can act so normal on the surface yet be corrupt to core. It's all so sickening but frightening.

You think of Lois and the crack of bones, Richard and the smell of burnt flesh, the fury in Clark’s eyes. You know you can’t resist him. Not without getting hurt. You’re too weak, you’re too afraid. You don’t want to die, not like this. You don’t want to leave this world behind without getting to tell all the stories in your head.

You lay awake, waiting for his eventual rise. He grumbles, patting your hip before he sits up. He bends over his lap and rubs his eyes before climbing to his feet. You watch the strain of flannel across his shoulders as he cross to the door and pulls open the door.

He returns with a copper kettle. Water drips from the edges of the lid as he hangs it in the fireplace, rebuilding the burnt out fire beneath. You shiver as you sit up and tuck yourself into the corner.

He moves around, searching through the bin he put in the opposite corner. He takes something out and brings it to you. He hands you the small notebook and searches his front pocket for the short pencil hidden there. You see the redness in the rims of his eyes and note the unkemptness of hair and clothing unlike. He is not the straight laced journalist you thought you knew. 

"Make a list. What we need."

You nod, mouth too dry to speak, brain too fuzzy to think. You blink at him as you cradle the notebook. You’re not sure what he means.

“Food, soap, whatever,” he sighs as he turns on his heel, dragging his feet to the fireplace as he sets his hand on the mantel, “gotta hook up the water… grabbed enough coffee and some granola…” he’s mostly talking to himself, “a bed, I’ll get a bed for sure.”

You write bed at the top of the first page. Then you stare at the next line. You can’t put freedom there. You have to keep lying. You write down eggs. Eggs are good, you can make breakfast tomorrow, that might keep him happy.

“I’ll make the coffee,” you offer, “where is it?”

He inhales and goes back to the bin. He fishes out a small glass jar of instant grinds. You try not to show your disappointment. It’s something. You know better than to not play along. He’s shown you the consequences for not.

“Cups?” You ask, gently, putting pen back to paper as you remember a few other things.

He returns to the bin again. A sleeve of paper cups. Alright, that will do. You stand and keep the notebook in hand as you near the fireplace. You write down cups.

“You’ll have to find some proper ones,” you say as you put down the book and grab the jar. You read the label and set it down as you kneel in front of the fire. You hold up your hands, it’s cool despite the summer sun outside. “And some pretty dishes.”

He’s silent. You try not to give yourself away. He can’t see through your act. You rub your hands together and shiver. He moves and you fight not to wince. He grabs the blanket and brings it over to drape over your shoulders.

“I’ll some nice ones,” he promises as he lowers himself to his knees beside you, “I didn’t get to show you the tub…” he puts his large hand on your back as you watch the fire, waiting for the kettle to boil, “I got it just for you, baby.”

“That’s nice. I’m excited,” you almost believe yourself as you keep a chipper chime in your voice, “I really have to pee.”

His hand slips down and he lowers his chin.

“Like I said, water’s not… gotta run a line down to the lake…” he sniffs, “I’ll take you out, you can go by the trees.”

“Alright,” you nod as you pull the cups over and open the plastic sleeve.

You pull out two then uncap the lid of the jar. You tear back the seal and carefully measure out grinds into each cup. You smile and twist the cap back on. You set down the jar as Clark looms close.

“You don’t have to be afraid of me,” he says so quietly you barely hear him. You flinch but hide it as you reach past the blanket and touch his side. “I wouldn’t… wouldn’t do what I did… to you. I did it for you.”

“I know,” you wilt out, snaking your arm around him, “look at all you’ve done for me…” you look up at the rafters, then the walls, and the fire crackling before you. He doesn’t see your other hand, how it grips the chain around your ankle, “you’ve made a whole life for me… for us.”

-

Clark is gone for a few hours, or so you guess. The sunlight shifts a little through the windows, at its peak as you estimate about noon. A rush of air signals his return and you stand at the window watching as he drops a whole industrial container in the dirt, at least twenty times his size.

You watch him. It’s unsettling how inhuman his strength is, but what’s more, is how inhuman his mind is. Something’s disjointed in him. That he can justify all he’s done; not just to you but to his own wife, to another human being.

He twists back the bar on the door and cranks it open on its hinges. He goes inside and emerges with another bin matching the blue rubber one in the corner of the front room. He approaches the cabin and lets himself in. He puts down the heaping container.

“Food,” he announces, “I grabbed a few other things but I’ll sort it out. For now…” he stops to brace the back of your head and kisses you, “you can deal with the kitchen.”

He passes you and unhooks the chain from the floor. He leads you as if you’re on a leash into the next room. It’s a large kitchen with wooden counters and a tall faucet over a sink; there’s a fridge and stove, and everything else you could ever need. You can’t believe he’s turned a pile of dirt into all this. It would be impressive if it wasn’t so disorienting.

He hesitates but keeps the links in hand as he guides you onward. He turns back at another door, smiling.

“I did say I’d show you the tub,” he preens, “while you put everything away, I’ll get it working. But you should see…”

He waves you closer as he twists the handle and pushes in the door. You near warily and look around the door frame. There’s a tub against the wooden slats of the wall, a curtain hung around it. It’s big, bigger than yours. The tub you’ll never see again.

You try to smile and your lips quiver. You cover your mouth to hide your despair. You flutter your lashes, desperately holding back your horror. You can’t let him see.

“Honey,” he touches your shoulder as you pull back.

“I’m okay,” you squeak, “I just can’t believe you did all this for me.” To me…

“Of course, I… I’d do anything for you. Don’t you see?”

You nod, gulping down the wave of terror. You fan yourself and face him, hoping he can’t see right through you. Your heart is thumping wildly. Didn’t he say he could hear it?

“I’m just so overwhelmed. No one ever…” you trail off, “Clark, I’m not afraid of you, I’m afraid that… I’m not enough for you.”

His forehead stitches and he tilts his head. A scoff scratches in his throat. Shit, he doesn’t believe you. He drops the chain, the metal clanking loudly on the floor.

“Sweetie, of course you’re enough,” he grabs your hands, making you jolt. “You’re everything I ever dreamed of… I’ve written pages for you. I can’t stop. I just dream of our life together and… you did this. You made me want to make our story more than words. I’m building it around us. All of this.”

He looks up dreamily, “we can live happily ever after. Just us. No one will get in our way.”

“They won’t,” you rasp and you squeeze his hands, legs wobbly as your head spins. “They can’t…”

They won’t find you. They can’t save you. That’s what you really mean. 

He searches your face. You measure your breathing, urging your heart to calm. You cling to him, afraid you might collapse. The crushing weight of surrender lays over your shoulders. You don’t have a choice but that doesn’t make it any easier.

“Sweetie,” he lets go of your hands and brings his grip around your waist, “I knew you just had to see what I see. What’s inside my head. That you would get once I made it more than fiction.”

“I do,” you croak, running your hands up his arms and across his chest, “I see it. It’s amazing.”

He leans in, growling over you as he draws you closer. He bends to nuzzle your hair and lets out a hot breath over your scalp. He inhales your scent and sways you. You are nothing, you are thin as air, you dissolve in his arms. 

“I forgive you,” his lips tickle your forehead as he pulls back just a little, “honey, I love you and I forgive you.” His hand slips down your side and his fingers curl beneath the denim of your waistline, “I missed you so much.”

You swallow, eyes welling as you dip your chin, hiding your dread. You caress him through the flannel of his shirt. You know what he wants. All his sweet words only ever lead to pain.

“I missed you too,” you brush your hand up to his neck, feeling how he trembles at your touch. That is your power; you cannot win, but you can survive.

You drop your other hand onto his and pull it away from your waist. You turn, sure to keep your face down, tugging him with you as you approach the counter. You let him go and unbutton your jeans. You bite down on your disgust.

You bare your ass, planting an arm on the counter as you bend against it. You touch your ass and dig your nails into the flesh with a hum. You wiggle your hips at him.

“Please, Clark, you said you miss me, right.”

“I’m sorry, sweetie,” he comes up behind you, placing his hand over yours, groping you around your own, “I’m sorry about last night. I’ll never… I’ll never hurt you like that again.”

He shifts his hand, tickling along your ass, down along the crease, and between your folds. He pushes his fingers against your cunt and you step apart, as far as you can against the restraint of your jeans. You look down as he pokes into you, groaning as he feels you around his knuckles, spreading them so you stretch around him.

You grip the counter and look down at your ankle, the chain hanging there, loose. That’s it. You just have to wait for your chance; maybe not today, but eventually, when his guard is down, when he trusts you. When his delusion is too much to suspect the truth.

#clark kent #clark kent x reader #dark clark kent #dark!clark kent #superman #dc #dcu #fic #dark!fic #dark fic #series #the assistant

[bloodynereid]

PLEASE do something with rooster and gn neutral reader where it’s set after the big mission and everyone has stayed together at top gun and rooster and reader got together and now they’re like the most insufferable duo ever?? like not only do they hardcore flirt EVERYWHERE but also they play pranks on everyone they can possibly find?? like they will find a way to do the MOST elaborate pranks on everyone INCLUDING their superiors?? i just think it would be HILARIOUS!! - 🧚🏻

House of Cards

pairing: bradley 'rooster' bradshaw x gn! reader

tw: kissing, swearing, anxiety, jokes, mentions of buzzing the tower, drinking alcohol, mentions of marriage

description: you and bradley were a match made in heaven but a nightmare to everyone else.

a/n: hiii🧚🏻anon <3 i hope this is what you envisioned! it was super fun to write and im definitely in my bradley era. there's also a few little easter eggs thrown in there. i hope you enjoy and excuse some of the shitty writing in a few parts, i only read through this twice.

ahfhsufgeg he's so fine

The aftermath of the suicide mission was spent in multiple bars (mainly the Hard Deck) and getting drunk beyond belief. That led to a variety of messy pool games, slurred singing and some potentially regretful decisions.

One of those decisions was you kissing Rooster right after you beat his ass at pool. The rush of adrenaline and tequila gave you the confidence you had been lacking since you met him during his first round at Top Gun.

Surprisingly that decision was not one you regretted the morning after. Or the week after… or the month after. Rooster had kissed you back with a fire that had you stumbling around near drunk on his lips alone for the days afterward.

The Navy had decided to make a special detachment after the success of the mission so you were all stationed at Top Gun for the foreseeable future. They also managed to promote Maverick (not without a whole lot of persuading) so he was now overseeing the detachment.

“This is nice.” You muttered as your eyes blearily opened. The sun was shining through the curtains and a heavy arm was settled over your arm.

“Hmm too early.” Rooster mumbled from his spot next to you.

“Rooster, we have the barbeque today… you said we were telling Mav today.”

“Oh shit, right.” He groaned out before cuddling back into you. You hated having to leave this little cocoon of warmth but you really had to get going.

“Baby…”

“Yes, yup, getting up now.”

It took another twenty minutes before you finally got out of bed and started to make coffee and toast. The sound of running water greeted your ears as you got ready for the day and drank your coffee while scrolling through your phone.

“Thanks for breakfast.” Bradley said as he wrapped his arms around your shoulders and gave you a quick peck.

“No problem, love. Ready to go?”

“Yup.”

The blue bronco sped through the streets of San Diego. The sun warmed up your skin and a smile was painted on your face as you chatted with Rooster. Today was going to be good.

“We’re here.” Bradley announced as he parked in front of Penny’s house. A few familiar cars were also parked outside, it seemed like you were the last to arrive.

“I told you we were going to be late.” You chidded as you lightly slapped his shoulder.

“Yeah yeah.” Bradley said with a smile on his face before pulling you into him and kissing you in an effort to distract you.

“Oh god, why did you two ever get together?” The familiar voice of Hangman cut the moment short, making the both of you roll your eyes.

“Hello there Bagman, I was hoping you fell off a cliff on the way here.”

“Well hello there Royal aren’t you as cheery as ever.”

“Fuck off, Bagman.” Rooster said from next to you.

“Gladly, I do not need to watch your excessive PDA.”

“I’m surprised you even know what the word excessive means.” You called as he walked towards the house, Jake only sent you the bird without looking back.

“Where was I?” Bradley muttered as he cradled your face and was about to kiss you again when you laughed.

“Bradley, darling, even if I would love to keep doing this, we really have to go in.”

“Alright, but we’re finishing this later.”

You carried the six pack of beer that Bradley insisted on bringing and made your way over to where the smoke from the barbeque was emanating from. Bradley finished locking up the car and threw his arm over your shoulders.

“You ready?” You nodded in answer to his question and suddenly the smell of hamburgers permeated your senses.

“Royal, Rooster! I’m so glad you could make it. Make yourselves at home.” Penny said with a bright smile as she welcomed the two of you.

“Thanks for inviting us, Penny. We brought beer!” You said as you passed her the six pack.

“With the rate they’re drinking it, it would be a miracle if I have any alcohol left in this house.” You laughed and Penny gave you both a smile before disappearing into the house to drop off the beer.

“You want to go find Mav?”

“Yeah, do you want to come?”

“No, you go. I’ll go talk to Bob, I started that show he recommended.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, go talk to Mav, Bradley. Call me over when you’re ready.” Bradley smiled and gave you a grateful look before walking over to the grill. You let out a deep breath and felt a surge of nervousness course through your body. Meeting the parents was never something you particularly enjoyed, even if you had already met Mav a billion times, you never met him in the capacity of being a partner.

“Hey Bob.”

“Royal. How are you?” Bob asked as he passed you a beer from one of the tables.

“Good, nervous.”

“Finally telling Mav?”

“Yeah, is it that noticeable?”

“Not really.”

“You really are a stealth pilot, Bob.” Bob rolled his eyes as he took a swig of beer and knocked his shoulder against yours. That was when you noticed Bradley waving at you from next to Mav. You nodded and said bye to Bob before weaving your way through your squad to greet him.

“Hey Mav, Rooster.” You said, greeting them.

“So what are your intentions with Bradley, Royal?” Mav said with raised eyebrows and an intense look in his eyes that had your brain screeching to a halt.

“Uhh.” A few seconds later, Mav’s face contorted and he started laughing hysterically.

“God your face! Don’t worry about it, kid. I’m pretty sure I should be interrogating Bradley here about his intentions with you.”

“Hey!” Bradley yelled, making you and Mav chuckle.

You were sitting in the sweltering briefing room next to Bradley. Cyclone was standing at the front of the room talking about the new assignment and giving the training parameters but your mind was elsewhere.

Bradley kept rubbing circles on your exposed forearm and it was driving you insane. You kept nudging his knee with yours but that only seemed to urge him to keep going.

“Royal, is there a problem?” Your eyes flew up to meet Cyclone’s and a feeling of dread seemed to seep out of your pores.

“No, sir.”

“Well then if you wouldn’t mind keeping your flirting to a minimum, it would be greatly appreciated.”

Snickers filled the room and you turned to look at Bradley with a menacing look in your eyes. You lightly punched his arm and settled back into your chair.

“Sorry.” Bradley whispered, not sounding sorry at all.

“Oh shut up.”

It was a routine practice flight, Mav had randomly pulled names and paired people up so they could make their way through the planned course.

You and Rooster had made it through in record time and were now loudly celebrating over the coms.

“Fuck yeah!”

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Rooster asked as you circled back around.

“Oh definitely.” You shared a laugh before you flew over to the control tower. You caught a glimpse of Mav and Cyclone in the window before flying behind Rooster as the two of you buzzed the tower.

“Royal! Rooster!” The admonishing voice of Cyclone bled through the coms.

“God I really was a little shit when I was younger.” Maverick said through the coms as he let out an exasperated sigh.

You and Rooster just laughed and circled around a few times before landing, ready to be thoroughly lectured by Cyclone.

The squad had planned a trip after the newest mission… to Vegas. The entire trip there was incredibly chaotic because (*cough* Hangman *cough*) was scared of flying, even if he was literally a pilot. 

When you all finally landed in Vegas it took another hour before everyone had found their bags and got into respective ubers. The hotel that Phoenix had booked was perfect, it had a huge bar as well as an extensive casino.

Sometime after drinking at least five martinis and a few shots you and Rooster disappeared from the group. Something no one noticed until the next morning. You spent the night cuddled up in your hotel room watching tv and coming up with the perfect plan.

The next morning the squad disgruntledly made their way to the breakfast bar, very hungover and missing several of its members.

“Uh guys, where are Royal and Rooster?” Bob murmured once everyone (minus the couple) had sat at one of the tables.

“I haven’t seen them since last night.”

“You don’t think…” Phoenix looked up from her plate that was stacked with pancakes and looked at Bob with a panicked look on her face.

“Someone call them.”

Before anyone could do that a simultaneous ping came from everyone’s phones. 2 new messages were displayed on the group chat.

Royal: When in Vegas…

*image attached*

The couple had ventured out into town around dawn and got a picture of one of the many Elvis churches that littered the streets. You weren’t actually getting married but the reactions of each of the Daggers and Mav was fucking priceless.

And who knows getting married was definitely in the cards for both of you.

<333

#bradley bradshaw #maria's random stuff #bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster top gun #rooster x reader #rooster bradshaw #rooster x you #top gun maverick #bradley rooster bradshaw #tgm #top gun #top gun fanfic #top gun fanfiction #top gun imagine #top gun x reader #bradley x reader #top gun maverick fanfiction #top gun maverick x reader

[x0x0josephinex0x0]

Been on a seungkwan kick lately… enjoy

[0917]

By the time Seungkwan’s eyes flutter open, the sun is making its steady way across the sky, streaming in through the filmy curtains of your shared bedroom window. It’s rare for him to wake up before you, but it was a long night for you at work, and so he wakes up beside you instead of to the noises of you making him breakfast in bed.

He likes it much better than he thought. Silently, he props his head up on one arm and lets himself drink you in -- the way your messy hair splays all over the pillow, your long eyelashes curling daintily, the sunlight hitting your shoulders and giving him a new way to interpret the word “sun-kissed”. Because who wouldn’t want to kiss you? You look so tiny in sleep, so precious. He grins as it dawns on him that if he plays his cards right, he’ll be waking up next to you his whole life.

Slowly, he sits up, not wanting to disturb your sleep. He watches you carefully as he makes his way to the door. You must really be tired, because you don’t stir at all -- not even when the door creaks loudly on his way into the kitchen.

He inspects the two-day-old flowers he gave you -- peonies, your favorites. They’re holding up, but he re-trims them for you just to be safe. Then he starts boiling some eggs, only to turn and jump about a mile in the air out of fright, yelping. Because there you are, watching him from the doorway, a blanket wrapped around your shoulders. You laugh as he clutches at his heart. “You were so quiet! You scared me!” he scolds, laughing too.

“I’m sorry,” you say, shuffling forward and opening up your arms. “What are you making?”

“I was going to make eggs and put them in a bowl with some rice,” he says as you wrap him up in your arms and the blanket. “Are you hungry? I didn’t want to wake you. I know you must be tired.”

“Let me help,” you say. “We can make some other things too.”

He tsks. “Eggs and rice aren’t enough for you? Wow, after everything I’ve done,” he teases.

You bury your face in his neck and nuzzle in close. “I’m just really hungry. I don’t mind dressing it up a bit.”

“Leave it to me, honey,” he says gently. “I’m good at the dressing part.”

“You are,” you agree, pushing onto your tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “What should I do while you dress up the eggs?”

“Keep an eye on me,” he says, looking down at you and marveling at the light in your eyes, at the freckles on your nose — at you. But he just smiles, and you know what he means.

So, although it constricts his movement, you wrap your arms around his waist while he works in the kitchen, resting your cheek against the space between his shoulder blades. This is what home feels like.

#seungkwan #seventeen #svt #svt fluff #svt imagines #svt x reader #svt fic #svt fanfic #boo Seungkwan #boo seungkwan x reader

[archangeldyke-all]

sevika and reader who've grown together and now are "slow living" (it's not as easy as it sounds) or whatever people are calling it. reader is always outside working on the ever-growing garden of veggies, fruits, herbs, and flowers. sevika is the home depot lesbian of the house, always fixing pipes or upgrading things in the house. maybe they got a honeybee hive recently? just domestic bliss in that!!

this is the dream. like actually.

men and minors dni

when you first buy the property, it's a dilapidated little house in the middle of a few acres of overgrown weeds and bushes. it's an ugly sight, but you and sevika have a dream.

sevika works on the house, and you work on the garden.

anything you want in the house, sevika will build. built in bookcases and shelves? done. a big kitchen island and a walk in pantry? you got it, babe. heated bathroom tiles, a wrap around porch, even a built in laundry chute. she just wants to make you happy.

she lets you pick out all the paint colors and appliances and features. she has no opinions on interior design, she just wants to build you your dream home.

you spend the fall clearing the land, the winter designing the garden. and then when spring comes, you finally get to get your hands in the dirt and start planting.

sevika helps you with some bigger projects. the pond on your property is perfect for ducks, so sevika constructs a little coop they can live in when they're not swimming. it also means you get fresh eggs, whenever! (there's nothing sevika loves more than a freshly made omelet for breakfast, except for maybe you.)

your first year on the land, you focus on your vegetable garden.

but as the years go on, you begin to expand. you and sevika plant an orchard in the backyard, all your favorite fruit and nut trees. you transform your front yard into a native wildflower garden, attracting butterflies and hummingbirds and bees in the spring.

when she finishes with the house, sevika moves onto building you guys a swimming pool.

you get a few goats for milk and weed maintenance. sevika builds them a lavish little barn by the duck's coop.

you feed the animals, and sevika collects the eggs and milk. sevika refuses to go anywhere near the beehive-- she swears they hate her. you think she's just scared of bugs. it's fine, though, you don't mind the bees being your own responsibility.

after long enough, you guys build enough solar panels for your property to be completely self-sustaining.

your lives become much slower and smaller.

in the mornings, you both share tea on the porch as the sun and birds begin to rise and wake.

you go off to do your morning chores, and then you make the two of you breakfast. if the weather's nice enough, you guys like to eat out on a little picnic table in the middle of your wildflower field.

your days are spent working. sometimes in the garden, sometimes in the kitchen, sometimes helping sevika maintain the house. there's always a record playing inside. sevika's always within yelling distance. between chores, when you have a loaf of bread in the oven or when sevika's waiting for paint to dry, you guys are always chatting with one another, or swaying along to the music, or making out on the nearest flat surface.

while she lets you handle most of the garden and food stuff in the house, she loves to cook you dinner. so you get to spend your evenings sipping on wine and watching sevika whip up a meal for you.

it's a lot to maintain, but it's a fulfilling life to lead. and with sevika by your side, it's the easiest thing in the world.

taglist!

@lesbeaniegreenie @fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @ellabslut @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity @love-sugarr @chuucanchuucan

#sevika #sevika imagine #sevika arcane #sevika x reader #sevika x you #soft sevika