#you can’t keep me from crying at ‘Jesus to a child’

[bluefuckboy]

Me buying tickets for Freedom Uncut

#you can’t keep me from crying at ‘Jesus to a child’ #get out of mY WAY #george michael #freedom uncut

[zombholic]

MILF ABBY WITH READER WHO HATES KIDS HC — abby anderson

description — milf!abby, reader who isnt that great with kids, age gap, reader is around mid twenties and abby is late thirties going on forty, smut, mdi !!,

authors note — literally all my creds and inspo goes to @elliespassagerprincess i literally love their milf abby series pls go read it !!

— You and your friends know that you do not have a single motherly instinct in your bones, you and kids do not mix well together.

— This one time you were just strolling while shopping and a toddler came up to say hi to you and you just stared at it wondering what to do.

— If there’s a child screaming at the top of their little lungs you literally give it a death glare.

— You also call children “it” and make everyone laugh every time you talk about a kid.

— But if it wasn’t for Abby’s six-year-old daughter Melanie who came up to you one day at a your local grocery store crying like snot bubbling at her nose and she looked sticky trying to hold your hand you wouldn’t have met your future milf wife.

“Oh, uh hi— why are you crying?” You let the little child grab your pointer finger as you tried to hard to fight your inner demons from the stickiness of her little hand.

“I— I can’t find my mommy.” She used her other hand to wipe the snot off her face, you could feel every nerve in your body cringe. You felt bad for the thing but jesus why are kids so fucking sticky.

You and the kid sat on one of the benches inside the store, you bought her some candy to make it stop crying and it worked. You did inform an employee that there was a lost kid, they spoke on the intercom after telling you that if the parent isn’t here in a certain amount of time they would call law enforcement.

“So, what’s your name?” You pinched your eyebrows together looking at the small being next to you devouring the ring pop like her life depended on it.

“Melanie but all my friends call me Melly.” She gave you a toothy smile well … she was missing majority of her teeth so half toothy smile?

“That’s … nice? You have friends?” She shook her head, her two little braids looked like she got into a street fight.

“Yeah, a lot like a lot of friends, what’s your na—“ She was cut off by a woman’s voice calling out for her.

“Melanie!” Both of your eyes shot up at the… holy fucking fuck she was breath taking.

— You found out that her name is Abby and she has a little escape artist for a child, she hugged you tightly with those giant arms thanking you for keeping her baby safe.

— Abby was truly taken back by how beautiful you are, she was quick to tell you she’ll repay you and managed to get your number while doing so.

— You guys ended up bonding really fast, even though you two were almost complete opposites she was so fascinated by you.

— She invited you over to dinner at her house and fuck was she loaded, not like you were in it for the money but damn must be nice.

— She genuinely found it so amusing how you would interact with Melanie, treating her like a little adult. You weren’t the type to use baby words towards kids you just spoke to them.

— Melanie really resembled Abby to the T, she had her mom’s blue eyes, freckles, the cutest nose but she had blonder hair, you just assumed it was from the dad.

— After months of basically hanging out with them you guys felt so inseparable, you still would give concerning expressions whenever Melanie would do something weird.

— Abby was falling in love you, whenever all three of you would watch a movie that Melanie always picked out and yes you did argue with a six year old about picking movies she would just have the urge to grab your face and kiss you.

— For halloween you bought Melanie an inflatable dinosaur costume with a pink tutu, you literally were crying from how silly she looked holding Abby’s hand.

— Abby was so reluctant to make the first move, scared that she was too old for you but little did she know how much it turned you on that she was older.

— You decided to ask Abby out on a date, you called her up while you were at home, heart beating out of your chest when she said yes.

— The date was at the arcade, cheesy but Abby always won you prizes every time you guys went with Melly. She beat at you literally every single game and being competitive you just glared at her.

— Melanie was at a sleepover at her friend’s home so you and Abby had the place to yourselves, after the date you guys were chilling in her kitchen Abby finally had the courage to kiss you.

“Can I please kiss you?” She looked at you with those pleading eyes, a slight whine to her words.

NSFW mdi NSFW mdi NSFW

— She pinned your back against the counter, her hand cupping the side of your face, the kiss felt so warm but soon became greedy.

— She carried you to her room, your legs wrapped around her waist, arms around her neck as you drove her fucking crazy kissing on her neck like that.

— Abby has a Daddy kink, she had her strap settled deep in your drooling cunt, legs on her shoulder, thrusting so fucking deliciously making you claw at her arms.

“Mmmgh— oh fuck Abby..” Your eyes were rolled to the back of your head, knuckles white from the grip you had on her arms.

“Daddy, call me fucking Abby again and I wont let you cum.” She slapped your face, grabbing it with her hands squeezing your cheeks together.

God this wasn’t the sweet, motherly Abby you knew but some sex god who would fuck you so stupid it left you an incoherent mess.

— She had crazy stamina, had you in every position, face down with your ass up, riding her cock, your back pressed against her front as she spread your legs open drilling your bruised and aching pussy.

— She was so mean, she mocked your moans, bit your skin, slapped your tearful face every time you stopped looking at her. You couldn’t get enough of this side of her.

— She over stimulated you so much you were sobbing, trembling every time she would touch you, your legs shook violently.

Abby had her arms wrapped securely around your thighs, spreading them open so wide. Her tongue lapping you up, sucking on your puffing clit, sliding her tongue inside your sore cunt.

“Daddy please! Too much, s’too much, too much” You squealed, crying out trying to push her head off of you.

— After long hours of her using you, she was so quick to turn her motherly instincts back on. Kissing your face so sweetly, her eyes filled with worry that she pushed you over the edge.

— You reassured her that it was the best fucking sex you’ve ever had. She started a bath for you, sitting right behind you as she massaged your aching body, running her fingers over the love bites she left scattered on your body.

— She held you so tightly as you both had fallen asleep on her amazing bed.

#lesbian #lgbtq #wlw #abby anderson #the last of us #the last of us ii #tlou #tlou2 #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson fic #abby anderson imagine #abby anderson tlou2 #abby x reader smut #abby anderson headcanons #abby anderson x female reader #milf!abby #abby anderson smut

[pedge-page]

Joel dealing with Preggo Wife # 7: House Pet

Can be read with others in series or standalone

Warnings: unprotected sex, slight Daddy kink, suggestive of oral M receiving, annoying reader and annoyed Joel

18 + ONLY

- - - -

You watch one depressing commercial of shivering dogs left emaciated in the cold begging for love and care, and all the water in your entire body comes flooding out in tears.

“J-j-j"—snUFFF—“JOeeeOEeeeoelllLLLL!!!" You wail, wiping your snot on his shirt sleeve while curled up against him. “THEY NWEEEDDD MWEEEEE!!!!”

“You wanna donate?”

N-d—nooo--“sniffle—“wanna -wa-wanna aa-ad-ad-opt—“

He chuckles like its some obvious joke, but when he sees the absolute shine in your giant eyes staring pleadingly at him, he puts his foot down as gently as possible: “Honey, we can’t have a dog right now. With you—being like this, and a baby on the way, I’ve got enough on my plate as is. Wanna make sure you and babygirl are well taken care of first, okay?”

There’s a tense silence hanging in the air as you seize a breath in your throat. 

And then you’re LOSING IT, whining and crying like a child into his face.

“Jesus,” he mumbles softly, gently stroking your hair, hushing little shhhhh into your forehead and rocking you in his arms like a baby in a cradle— a giant baby stuffed with another baby currently rattling the emotions of the big baby.

 He's given you a cup of water for bed and tucking you in, picking up the litany of tissues tossed around you, while you refuse to quit your puffy eye’d and endless barrage of tears. 

By the next morning, swollen lids yet calm, he thought he’d heard the last of it last night. And you were doing much better mood wise—no cries, though a little cold shoulder to him. He gives you a few hours till you’re over it and asking for ice cream like nothing happened. 

Until now, five days later where every minute is just a retort to his face about getting a dog.

When you best friend comes over to give you extra baby clothes:

"Aww your girl named her puppy Winston? That's so adorable! Joel, ya hear that??” You peak loudly so he can hear from the kitchen. “Too bad I don’t have a puppy named Winston.”

"When you have our daughter, she can get a puppy named Winston"

"Oh! Already picking her over me for getting a dog?"

He rolls his eyes, tuning out to focus on making you biscuits that are too salty so you’ll have something else to whine about.

-

During movie night:

“…If only I had a dog to help keep my feet warm on the couch.”

He shovels a fist full of popcorn into his tilted back, wide mouth. “‘At’s what a blanket’s for.” he yanks your favorite soft one over your toes and keeps his eyes on the TV.

-

To the neighbor that just fucking moved in two weeks ago:

"Joel doesn't kiss me enough. If I had a dog, I wouldn't complain as much since the pup would love me unconditionally."

He grits his teeth, excusing himself to the bathroom.

-

At Tommy’s place for a Sunday BBQ:

“Bought the wood second hand—I re constructed our living room myself,” he says braggingly, drawing a beer from the cooler.

"Yeah, Tommy, it’s real nice.” You charm, and you can already see Joel's fist clench at his side. “Would look even better with a dog in the window."

-

“Wish I had a fluffy dog to cuddle instead of your big ass."

-

"My husband spoils me so much. He usually gets me anything I want without asking! Unless it's a dog ..."

-

Joel finishing adding furniture to the baby room.

"You know what else this room could use?” 

"A dog bed, a dog blanket, a dog.”

-

"If you say-one more-god damn thing-about the dog..." he huffs.

"What dog? We don't even have a dog."

"We don't-need one. Got a cat in the house already."

He thrusts in again with a grunt, your trail of thought disappearing for a second just as Joel’s fat cock penetrates you.

 The two of you are lying sideways on the bed, his chest pressed flush against your back. With your leg just barely propped up with his masculine arm hooked under your knee, a hand splayed protectively over your big belly, he has enough room to slot his length into your achy sopping cunt, slowly fucking you with harsh little jolts. You grip the back of his neck, fingers clutched in his sweaty locks, feeling his hot breath dampening your collar. 

He lets out a pained hiss. “This lil pussy right here is all the animal I can handle now. Now quit it.”

His hips begin to crash lightly over your ass, rutting his tip deeper into you with muffled slaps. He loves the sight of your now largely grown thighs jiggling with each impact. Loves the feeling of your swollen breasts suffocating his other hand. Loves the knowledge of his wife so stuffed full of him for everyone to see. 

You moan lightly, clenching around him at the leisure, unhurried yet pent up pleasure coursing through you. But your mind wonders again. “If you don't want a rescue we can get a certain breed: How about a malnoise? Or something smaller like a corgi? Or aussie. Oh Pitties are so cute!"

He rolls his eyes, nose buried in your hair. How are you even able to have a coherent conversation right now while he's rearranging your guts? Rather than hushing you with another quit it, he decides to entertain you. "Jesus woman. Ain't pitties all mean?"

"Nooooo —mmm baby, right there—“ you whine, panting in sync as you lowly try to hump him back. “Protective, intimidating looking.” You smile, mouth agape and eyes closed when he hits that sweet spot deep inside.  “Just—like you, big ol sweethearts…Who give their wives exactly what they fucking want—like a dog."

“Christ.” The hand from under your leg glides over your wet clit, his rough digits rubbing fast circles while his other free arm  unfolds from under your throat to grip it lightly. His knees bend so he can rock just his hips with ferocious power, railing with the intent to fuck you so dumb, you can’t help but shut up. “One more peep and I'm switching us up and gonna fuck you like one.”

You really didn’t want to —resorting to this lounging position because your back hurt too much to be fucked doggy, and the baby weighed too heavily to ride him. Thank God his cock was fucking huge—it could reach deep into you at any position. No fucking wonder you got pregnant so easily. 

“no- no Daddy, I'll be good," you hum. "Unfff—mmm-yeah—yeah! Fuuuck—fuck me baby that’s it!” You shout. Joel’s hand works endlessly on your little nub, now at the mercy of his ministrations to get you off since you can’t reach yourself anymore. You grip your belly and cry, walls convulsing around his meat with a much needed orgasm. Joel follows suit not too long after, biting your shoulder as his hips still against your ass, pumping you full of his pearly cum.

The two of you stay in the same position, breathing heavily as you come down from your respective highs. 

His eyes close, breath slowing and getting deeper in relaxation as his fingers lightly dance over your swole bump.

You feel the gentle cooling breeze of the fan spinning above you. Sighing contently now filled with your husband’s love and caressed with his tender hands. 

 “…So I was thinking, when we get a dog..."

"WE ARE NOT GETTIN’ A DOG AND THAT’S FINAL."

-

Tommy comes over and can tell something is up between you two.  When Joel leaves the room, he asks "so what is it this week with Joel?"

"He won't get me--what do you mean THIS week??"

"Nothing nothing, he won't get you a what?"

"A dog. I want a dog. He doesn’t want a dog. So I don’t understand why he can’t compromise and get a dog.”

He laughs. “Honey, cuz that’s not a compromise. You know why he won't get you one, right?"

"Cuz he doesn't want to take care of me, a baby, and the dog at the same time"

"Nah. He's worried you'll only want the dog’s affection, and the baby gets the rest of your attention. Then you won’t have anything left for him.”

“…Oh!"

-

Later that night, Joel is still steaming from your earlier conversation after sex, having no regard for listening to another thing you had to say the rest of the day. You waddle into the bedroom, looking apologetic as possible with your hands held behind your back. He only looks up from the bed to see you: in his large T shirt with nothing else, freshly lavender scented from your bath, and big pleading child-like eyes full of sorrow. He purses his lips before returning to his book, glasses perched on his nose.

You approach Joel with an apology gift that you hid behind your back: a stuffed wolf.

He smiles gently unable to even pretend to hold his temper against you. you kiss the tip of his nose as he caresses your smoothed bump. “You're my favorite dog anyway,” you say warmly. “Needy. Grumpy. Likes food. Gives me kisses."

“Thought I didn’t give ya enough kisses? Least that’s what you told neighbor.”

“That was—a lie.” You bat your eyes cutely. “I’m sorry, Daddy.”

“Mmmm,” is all he says, his eyes raking over your curves just barely covered now due to your size. “I don’t know, Daddy might need more apologies — ya did treat me real bad this week.”

You hum sadly, nuzzling yourself against his chest. your hand trails down his firm middle, all the way to the growing tent sticking up from his boxers.

“I can lick it better,” you whisper seductively in his ear, nipping at his pulse point.

“That’s what I like to hear.”

And after one of your famous deep throated blow job with Joel's balls happily emptied in your already full belly, he leans over to his side table and pulls the drawer open, holding something tight in his hand.

You just barely stop yourself from falling asleep with your head on his lap when he dangles a dog collar above your head. You sit up, inspecting it with grubbing hands: it has your home address etched on to the metal plate, but no name on it. 

“What you want me to be your dog? I’ll wear the collar but I’m not getting on my knees, nor crawling around and drinking from dog bowls  and shitting in the yard—“

“No angel,” he shushes you. Although the image of you wearing the collar, naked and heavily pregnant on your knees in front of him wasn’t a bad idea at all…he shakes his head from the delusion. ”Aint for you. Thought about it—but ONLY after have the baby and are settled, and ya know IF —and that’s a mighty big if—we find one that’s not too rough shape, got a good sense about ‘im, then MAYBE I’ll consider it.”

"Oh my god! Thank you! Thankyouthankyou--"

"I said IF sweetheart. Got along road ahead till then."

"I'll give you as many blow jobs as you want."

"You already do that for yourself."

"Yeah but... how about I sit on your face? Fully?"

His ears perk up. "Yeah?"

"After the baby is born," you quip, smirking with more confidence then your swollen body can muster trying to wiggle away from his grasp like a devious chubby oompa lumpa. He just laughs to himself as you slip down the bed, and the sudden urge to pee has you B-lining to the bathroom.

- - - -

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[janeyseymour]

Fire In My Heart- pt 4

A request from @sleep-deprived-athlete: maybe the reader gets hurt and Mel has to deal with the reader recovering and is all worried and both the Abbott crew and the fire station are worried when both of them are MIA, mainly because the Abbott crew didn’t know the reader got hurt?

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3.

WC: ~3.1k

You really don’t know what possessed you to do this, thinking you’ll come out of the situation unscathed. One minute, you’re barking out orders to your subordinates to not enter that burning building- that it’s going to collapse quickly. The next, you hear a sharp cry from a coming from said building, and you’re running in.

You quickly drop to your knees and start crawling through the building where you find a small child cowering in the corner on the second floor.

“C’mere, honey,” you yell, still trying to keep your voice gentle. The child is like a deer in the headlights, absolutely terrified with the flames around her. You know that you have very limited time, so you make a decision to run for the child and grab her. Her cries break your heart as you hold her closely to your chest and try to decide if you have time to make it down the steps again or if you just need to jump.

Before you can make a decision, you hear the other side of the house starting to crumble. You look at the window, and it’s closed. Making one last executive decision, you cradle the girl to your uniform, covering her face with your coat, before running for the window and colliding with it. You break the window and go crashing down to the ground- but you’re out. You had fallen at least twenty feet with the little girl, and you hear it almost instantly that your bones can’t handle it. But right now you’re in shock, so you can’t feel it. All that matters is that you get this little, unharmed, girl back to her parents. You can deal with your injuries later.

You get the little girl to her family, and they thank you profusely. You just saved her life. You know. You allow them to fuss over the little girl before you are finally able to walk away. Only then do you hiss in pain at the fire you’re feeling in your ribs and the throbbing in your ankle.

“Chief, you okay?” one of your firemen comes running over to you as you stumble away from the group.

“Fine, I’m fine,” you tell him as evenly as you can. “Let’s get back to the station.”

You let one of the others drive the truck, because you really don’t think you could handle it. You subtly steady yourself in the back, trying not to let every small bump in the road make you scream in pain.

Thankfully, you only have about forty-five minutes before your shift ends, and then you know you’re going to have to get yourself to the hospital.

It’s late. It’s nearly midnight, but you know if you don’t show up at home tonight, Melissa will freak out.

“Mel?” you gasp out as you try to navigate your way to the hospital.

“Y/N?” you hear her sleep filled voice answer the phone. “What’s up?”

“I need you to meet me at the hospital,” you say quickly. “I-”

“What?!” the redhead shouts into the phone, making you wince. “What do you mean you need me to meet you at the hospital?! What hospital?!”

“Jefferson,” you sigh out as you pull into the parking garage to park your car. “Please don’t freak out.”

“When my girlfriend calls me at midnight telling me to meet her at the hospital, I’m going to freak out!” You hear her jump out of bed and start changing into her normal clothes.

“Please, take a breath before you get here,” you tell her. “I’m okay, I’m conscious, I’m talking to you, I don’t need you in a hospital bed next to me because you get into a car accident trying to get to me.”

“Jesus Christ,” you hear the redhead huff. “I’ll be there soon, okay? Just hang tight.”

Your girlfriend runs every stop sign, and she runs most of the red lights too. She parks next to your car in the dimly lit parking garage before sprinting into the hospital, yelling your name at the receptionist as she halts.

“And your relation to the patient?” the woman looks unimpressed with the teacher’s dramatics.

“She’s my fucking wife!” Melissa yells. A lie.

“Room 111.” Your girlfriend takes off in the direction of your room before the secretary can say anything else.

When she gets to your room, you’re laying in the bed, already changed into a gown.

“Hey,” you wheeze out.

“Oh my god, hun,” she mutters as she races to your bedside and kisses you gently. “What the hell happened?”

“Broke ribs, broke my ankle,” you sigh.

“Okay, but how? Why is no one from your squad here?”

“Jumped out a burning building, and they don’t know I’m here,” you do your best to shrug, only to wince in pain.

“What do you mean you jumped out a burning building?”

You sigh before you go to explain your situation, but the doctor comes in to give you medication and begin the process of putting the cast on your right foot.

“You drove here with a broken ankle?!” Melissa’s eyes go wide as she realizes what you’ve done.

You shrug. “I’ve had second degree burns. Nothing hurts more than that shit.”

“Your wife is a trooper,” the doctor tells Melissa. “She’s a tough cookie. Broke four ribs and her ankle in two places and still managed to get herself here.”

“Wife?” you whisper to yourself. The redhead gently smacks your shoulder and gives you a look. You nod quickly before turning back to the doctor.

“We want to keep her for observation, but then she should be fine to go home tomorrow morning so long as there are no left turns overnight,” the doctor tells the teacher. “She’ll need some help for the next couple of weeks.”

“Of course,” Melissa nods immediately. “I’ll make sure she’s alright.”

The two of them discuss how to take care of you to the best of Melissa’s ability, and then he turns to you.

“Morphine’s coming your way, and you’ll be in way less pain,” the doctor smiles at you.

“Thanks doc,” you wince as you shift in your bed.

It’s a bit later that the drugs start to kick in, and your body feels like it’s floating. You grin over at Melissa, you squeeze her hand gently. She glances over at you, taking her eyes away from the doctor as he finishes up the final piece of plaster for your cast. She sees that your eyes are glazed over.

“You feelin’ good, amore?”

“You’re really pretty,” you slur out. “I can’t believe we’re dating.”

“We’re more than dating,” the redhead rolls her eyes playfully as she commits to her lie. “We’re married, remember?”

“Oh my god,” your eyes light up. “My wife! Mrs. Schemmenti!” You bring her hand to your lips and kiss it softly.

The doctor can’t help but chuckle at your inebriated state. “Your wife just kept going on about how you were coming,” he tells Melissa.

“Oh?”

“Yeah,” you sigh dreamily. “I just can’t believe you’re my wife! My beautiful, redheaded goddess of a wife!”

“Good lord,” the teacher chuckles. “How long is she going to be out of it like this?”

“Another few hours at least,” the man tells Melissa as he stands from his place. He looks over your cast with a satisfied look. “But she’ll probably end up falling asleep before it all wears off.”

As if on cue, you get Melissa’s attention again. “‘m tired,” you mumble.

“Get some sleep, hun,” she kisses your temple.

“Don’ go,” you whisper.

“I ain’t goin’ nowhere,” she promises you. And that’s the last thing that you remember before you drift off.

When you wake up, your body feels like it’s on fire. It hurts so bad. But Melissa is still by your side, sipping a cup of coffee while she holds your hand and scrolls through her phone.

“Oh my god,” you groan out.

“How’re you feelin’?”

“Like I jumped out a second story window,” you quip dryly.

“Is that what happened last night?” the redhead looks at you. Shit. You forgot you didn’t tell her what happened.

“Yeah,” you admit sheepishly.

“Baby, what the hell?”

“There was a little girl in the fire we responded to last night, and I had no other choice. She’s fine, and I’ll survive,” you grumble. “But holy shit, ow.”

“They already called in your medication for when we get home, and I have the discharge papers. I was just waiting for you to wake up.”

“Let’s go,” you moan as you move to get out of bed. You raise a brow. “Shouldn’t you be at work?”

“I called out. Gotta take care of my wife,” she tells you as the doctor enters the room again.

“Such a doting wife,” you play along, but it feels so good to call her that. Your mind wanders to the ring at the station. “Ava didn’t ask questions, and even if she did, I wasn’t about to say shit. Our lives are personal, and I have enough sick and vacation days to take care of you for as long as I have to.”

“I’m sure I’ll be fine in a few days,” you try to assure her.

You indeed are not ‘fine’ in a few days. Your ribs are on fire, the morphine pills hardly help, and you’ve been camped out on the couch for what feels like forever. You’re miserable. You can barely move without wanting to burst into tears, and when Melissa wraps your ribs, you do cry.

“I know, hun,” she says regretfully as she approaches you with the gauze. “I’m sorry.”

“Just get it over with,” you whine.

She helps you sit up, situates herself behind you, and undoes the gauze around you now. She inspects your ribs for a few seconds with a sigh. “They’re starting to change color,” she tells you softly. “Which means you’re one step closer.”

“This is going to take forever,” you groan. “I just want to get back to work.”

“I know you do,” your girlfriend tells you as she starts to wrap you again. “But for now, try to revel in the time we get to spend together.”

“I am very much enjoying watching you dance around the house,” you crack a smile. “But I wish I was dancing with you. And sooner or later, the boys are going to start freaking out if I don’t show up to the station.”

“Well,” your girlfriend sighs as she finishes wrapping you up before pressing a few ice packs to your ribcage. She helps you lean back against her. “The doctor said to limit travel and physical activity.”

“What did you tell the school?”

“That I was taking time off,” she says flatly. “I told you: they don’t need to know unless it’s absolutely necessary.”

“And nobody has reached out to ask you about your leave of absence?”

“I don’t know,” she shrugs. “I don’t care. I’m busy taking care of my woman.”

It takes approximately a week for Randy to text you about your whereabouts.

Chief, I know you said you were sick, but this is becoming worrisome. I’ve seen you in here through so many sicknesses. What knocked you this time?

“Randy texted,” you sigh. “And I don’t want to admit I’m… like this.”

“Barb’s been texting me too,” your girlfriend sighs from behind you.

“Do you think we should just come clean?” you ask.

“That one’s up to you, hun,” Melissa tells you as she presses a kiss to your temple.

“I guess I should tell my crew,” you wince slightly as your girlfriend readjusts the ice on your ribs. “If the Abbott guys find out, I guess it’s whatever.”

Broken ribs and broken ankle, you text your short-term replacement. I’ll be back in a week, but I’m on desk duty for the next couple months.

How’d you manage that one?

Jumped out a second story window to save a little girl.

You at least getting workers’ comp? Randy asks. He’s always so logistical.

You bet your ass I am.

Feel better soon, Chief.

Thanks, Randy.

Melissa Ann Schemmenti, a text from Barbara reads. You better answer me and explain where the hell you’ve been.

Melissa, we’re getting worried.

Melissa.

The redhead sighs as she calls her best friend from work.

“Melissa Ann, you better tell me what is happening right now that has you going MIA from work,” the kindergarten teacher picks up immediately.

“I’m fine,” she rolls her eyes at her friend’s dramatics.

“Then where have you been for the past week and a half without telling us where you went?!”

“Listen, Y/N got hurt on the job, and I had enough days to take to stay home and make sure she’s as comfortable as she can be right now,” the redhead sighs into the phone. 

“Y/N got hurt?” Barbara’s voice goes softer instantly. “Is there anything any of us can do to help the two of you?”

“Nah, we got it handled,” Melissa says into the phone. “I’ll be back next week, but I’ll still most likely be taking half days so I’m here when she needs me to drive her home-“ she turns to look at you. “-because there ain’t no way she’s taking the Septa to work or driving herself.”

The next day, Randy comes knocking on your door.

“Mel? Can you grab that?” you call to her from your place on the couch.

“Yeah, hun,” she calls back as she wanders into the front room. She grabs a baseball bat from behind the television before going to the door.

“Randy?” she raises a brow as she puts down her bat. “Zach? Luke?”

“Hey,” the older man says quietly. “Thought we should check up on the chief and bring some stuff.”

Your girlfriend steps aside and lets them into the house.

“Hey, boss,” they all say at the same time. Randy has a bouquet of flowers, Zach has some chocolates for you, and Luke is standing there with two cards in hand.

“Why are you here?” you ask from your place on the couch. You groan as you try to sit up slightly.

“Take it easy, Chief,” Randy immediately says. Melissa nods at his words. “We just dropped by to make sure our favorite badass is doing okay.”

“I’m not gonna lie,” you sigh as you fall back into the cushions. “I’ve been better.”

The boys come and take a seat around your living room. Randy places the flowers on the coffee table, Zach hands you the chocolates, and Luke gives you the card.

When you open the first envelope, it’s a card from the family that you responded to. There’s quite a long letter expressing their gratitude for saving the little girl. The second envelope is from the squad, and there’s quite a few gift cards and well wishes within it.

“Youse guys didn’t have to do this,” you roll your eyes. “But thank you.”

“When our chief is down, we have to look out for her,” Luke tells you earnestly. “Gotta take care of you the way you take care of us.”

They stay for a bit, and by the time they leave, Melissa is starting to make dinner.

The day after that, Barbara stops by.

“Barb,” Melissa answers the door.

“Where is she?” the older teacher asks.

“Wow. Hello to you too. I thought you were my friend,” the redhead deadpans.

“Your girlfriend is hurt,” the kindergarten teacher enters the living room and takes in the sight. “Oh you poor thing.”

“Hey Barb, I’m alright,” you chuckle, but then you wince. It still hurts to laugh. She hugs you gingerly before settling next to you.

“Is Melissa taking care of you well?”

“Of course she is,” you say honestly. “Mel likes to play tough, but you know she’s just a marshmallow underneath all that eyeliner and leather.”

“Oh don’t I know it,” Barbara quips.

“You really didn’t have to come by,” you tell her. “But thank you for stopping in.”

“You’re lucky it’s just me. The whole group wanted to stop by for our favorite firefighter, but I knew you two wouldn’t much like that.”

“No, we would not,” Melissa says flatly. She then softens. “You staying for dinner?”

“Oh, Melissa,” Barbara tuts. “Take a seat. You have to be exhausted taking care of your crippled girlfriend. I’ll cook the two of you dinner.”

Only then do you notice that the woman had come in with a bag full of groceries.

“No, no,” your girlfriend waves her off. “I’m fine. Besides, it’s about time for her to start icing her ribs any-”

Barbara stands immediately and heads for the kitchen. After rifling around in your freezer, she returns with two ice packs. “Sit, Schemmenti. I got this. You both deserve to be taken care of.”

“I got-”

“Melissa Ann,” the kindergarten teacher says sternly. “Sit. Relax. I got this.”

Begrudgingly, Melissa makes her way over to you and situates herself behind you. She holds the ice packs to your ribs gently, despite the fact that you try to squirm away from the cold sensation.

“I have stuff to make my casserole,” Barbara informs the two of you. “And until it’s ready, you two will stay right where you are and relax.”

“Yes, ma’am,” you mock salute her as you relax against Melissa.

By the time the casserole is in the oven to cook, your girlfriend has dozed off.

Dinner is delicious, and you couldn’t be more grateful that Barbara got Melissa to sit still and actually relax. She needed it. She’s been hovering over you since the incident, an anxiety riddled mess. 

“Thank you,” you sigh softly to the teacher as she heads out. “We really appreciate it.”

“Anything for family,” the woman says softly before she sees herself out.

You return to work the following week, and as you hobble into your office, your squad applauds you.

“It’s good to have you back, Chief,” Randy says loudly. He follows you into your office before confiding in you quietly, “This place was about to go to shit if you didn’t come back.” He grabs his coffee mug off of your desk before making himself scarce.

As you reacquaint yourself with your office, you pull open the drawer that has Melissa’s ring in it.

If this whole ordeal taught you anything, it’s that you need to propose to your girlfriend- sooner rather than later- so that you can officially call that redheaded woman of yours your wife. That and… maybe don’t jump out of a second story window and think you’ll be okay.

Next

#melissa schemmenti fanfic #melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti #abbott elementary fanfic #abbott elementary fanfiction #abbott elementary

[thetriumphantpanda]

he doesn't look a thing like Jesus, but he talks like a gentleman

In The Woods Somewhere | Chapter Two

Chapter Summary | Taking safety in a cabin, you struggle to come to terms with the loss of Edward. You think back to how you got here in the first place, and finally start to open up to Joel.

Chapter Warnings | Allusions to the death of a child, canon-typical violence, mentions of religious activity and a cult, mentions of blood, consumption of food, allusions to suicide, allusions to smut but nothing explicit, soft!Joel, PTSD.

Pairing | Joel Miller x F!Reader

Word Count | 3.7K

Authors Note | Truly having a whale of a time writing this one - there are definitely some darker elements to this which have actually been really exciting to try and put together. Bit of a cliffhanger at the end so I'd love to know what you guys think! If you enjoyed then please consider leaving comments, reblogging or popping into my ask box with your thoughts! And if you enjoyed, please consider supporting me with a tip through my Ko-Fi.

A reminder that I no longer use taglists - please follow @thetriumphantpandanotifs and turn on post notifications to know when I post new writing.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Ko-Fi

Joel doesn’t sleep, despite his assurances to you. He spends the night on his back, willing his body and his brain to be quiet enough to let him rest, but it doesn’t come. All he can do is replay the way your cries sounded, the way the boy sounded as he died, and how similar it was to how Sarah had sounded, when she’d died in his arms all those years ago. He’d been as useless then as he had been now. There was nothing he could do this time apart from crowd his body around the other children so they could see as little of what was happening as possible. He can’t help but think that if his hearing had been better, his reflexes quicker, this could have been avoided. 

His chest starts to tighten again, in that way it always does when he thinks about Sarah, about how he failed her, how it was his fault she died. He takes a palm and tries to smooth it over his chest, taking deep breathes to try and calm himself. The last thing he needs right now is one of his episodes. You and the children might be sleeping soundly, but he thinks that you've not really travelled far enough to be out of danger yet. Anyone could stumble upon those bodies he left behind and come searching for revenge. He needs to stay focused. He needs to keep you safe.

He gives up on getting anymore rest when the sky starts to lighten outside. He quietly moves through the cabin, opening the cupboard he’d investigated when he was here before, pulling out two tins of peach pie filling that had been gathering dust since the end of the world. It wouldn’t be the most nutritious meal anyone would eat, but it would be enough to stave off the hunger pains until he could get out and find some meat from somewhere. He’s emptying the cans into a saucepan, ready to heat them up over a fire he’s yet to build when he’s drawn from his job by the creaking sound of the door. 

You’re standing, a sheepish look on your face, clearly still tired from the way you rub at your eyes. The dress you wore yesterday is clutched in your grip, stained with dry blood. You’ve changed into another dress, this one is dark brown, a little shorter than the one before, falling at the middle of your calves, the sleeves just above your elbows. He wonders for a moment why you choose to dress the way you do, when mostly everyone else he’s ever encountered in the years that followed the outbreak went for outfits that were more practical, but the more he thinks about it, the more he likes it. Like he can almost convince himself that you’re from before, that this horrible world hasn’t touched you, that you didn’t just clutch a child to your chest as he died. 

“I n-need to g-get these stains o-out.” Joel can tell now that he’s looking at your face that you’ve been crying, can tell by your voice that you're still crying. Understandable he thinks, he’d been the same in those days and weeks after Sarah. 

Joel gives you a small, sympathetic smile as he abandons the tins of food for his backpack. He roots around in one of the side pockets, bringing out a packet of pills, which he offers out to you. You step forward tentatively, taking the packet, with an eyebrow raised. 

“It’s aspirin,” Joel speaks, “If you crush a few of those and mix in some water, it makes a paste that can get those stains out.” 

You nod and Joel watches as you head outside, stopping only to pick up a glass and a spoon. He’d noticed a bucket of water, which he assumes you’ve also noticed. He watches you from the window as you kneel on the porch, spreading the dress on the floor as you make the paste just as he instructed. He’s enthralled with the way you work, rubbing the paste onto the stains, rubbing until he thinks you’ll make your hands sore, before you dip it into the bucket to clean it. 

When you’re done, you hang it over the railing. The blood isn’t completely gone, it’s just a little faded, but he thinks that it’ll do until he can get you back to Jackson and trade for something new. He catches himself in his thoughts, because he’s still not convinced you’ll actually follow him. He also doesn’t know why he’s so desperate for you to do so. Maybe it’s your beautiful face, the way all he’s wanted to do since you stepped out this morning was to cup your cheek and tell you everything would be okay. Maybe it’s the way you’re clearly a capable girl, you’ve kept your children alive for this long, he’s certain if it hadn’t been for him, you’d still have all four of them, you’d be an asset to the community if you were to follow him. He tries not to be selfish in his thoughts, it's for the community he thinks, and nothing to do with the way he's intrigued by you. Wants to peel back your layers, find out who hurt you, who caused the burn mark around your throat. Then, when he knows, he wants to trail his lips across it and tell you he won't let anyone hurt you again. He softly shakes his head as you return inside, shaking away the ideas of what might be if you follow him. 

“I’ll go and wake them,” You speak softly, sniffing as you do, trying to cover your tears, “They’ve never had peaches,” You muse, nodding your head to the pan he’s currently heating, “So this might be interesting.” 

Joel has so many questions he wants to ask. He wants to know where the hell you’ve been that the children haven’t eaten peaches from a can. Where they just follow blindly. He’s certain that wherever you’ve been, it’s got something to do with the scars that pepper the parts of your body he can see. Someone had hurt you, clearly, and though he knows little about you apart from your name, he doesn’t understand why anyone would lay a hand on you, the sweet girl you’re proving yourself to be. 

You rouse the children, letting them come out into the lounge area in their sleep clothes, something forbidden where you’d come from. It was these small things, the things you’d had in the few years growing up in a normal world, like eating breakfast in your pyjamas, that you wanted to give them. 

Joel sets a small bowl of warmed peaches in front of each of them, and a larger bowl for you and him. You sit opposite him at the end of the table, the three children sitting together. They clasp their hands together and say their prayer. Joel looks at you with a raised eyebrow as if to ask, ‘what the hell are they doing?’ but you shake you head. You can’t explain it to him, to someone you don’t know. 

You bring one of the warmed peach slices to your mouth, chewing it slowly. It’s so sweet and juicy but just like last night’s meal, it sits in your stomach like lead. You can’t help but focus on the chair that’s not filled. Edward is gone. He would have loved peaches, is all you can think, as your eyes fill with tears again and threaten to spill over. You set your spoon down in your bowl and fit the heels of your palms into your eyes to try and stop them, pass the tears off as some kind of allergy or ailment. 

You spend a good ten minutes pushing the rest of the measly portion of peaches around the bowl. Everyone else is long finished, and you’re about to offer the rest of yours to Joel when he speaks. 

“Don’t even think about it,” He warns, but it doesn’t feel dangerous, especially when you meet his eyes and they’re full of concern, “You didn’t eat last night,” He points out, “So you’re not leaving the table until you’ve finished.” 

It should annoy you, the way he’s infantilizing you, but it strangely doesn’t. Perhaps all those years of having it done to you before, under the guise of it being because someone cared about you, makes it feel normal. You know he’s only doing it because he cares. Why, you can’t figure out. Maybe it’s because he doesn’t feel like caring for your children if you were drop down dead of starvation. That must be it. So, you force yourself to eat the few slices in the bowl, no matter how much you want to throw up. 

When you finally force yourself to swallow the last mouthful, Joel stands, chair scraping as he leans over to take your bowl. The children sit still as he takes theirs too, putting them into the sink to deal with later. The children are looking to you as to what to do. That’s their job, cleaning up once you’ve eaten. It always has been. They’ve never, until this moment, seen a man do anything to lift a finger to help, only to hurt. You hold up a hand to tell them not to worry, in time for Joel to turn around. 

“You gonna be alright here?” He asks, “Gonna head out and see if I can find somethin’ for dinner.” 

“We’ll be fine,” You assure him, “We’ve been okay before.” 

He nods, “Any trouble, you use your gun, okay?” He instructs, pointing to your shotgun near the door, “I won’t go far, so I’ll hear if you shoot.” 

You nod wordlessly and within a few moments, he’s gone, rifle slung over his shoulder, on the hunt. You spend the rest of the morning getting the children ready, sitting with them, attempting to try and carry on the lessons they’d always had with you, trying to keep things normal. You start with math, as you always do, and when they become restless you sit them down to read for them. Isabel has a nap in the early afternoon, Clara and Thomas opt to sit on the couch and read from one of the books you’ve already finished with them. 

It's quiet, the air outside is still, so you leave them all where they are and go outside. The mound of earth where Edward’s body is buried calling to you. You sit down, knees pulled to your chest, just to the side. You put your hand on the earth, where you think his shoulder might be under all the dirt, let the earth fit between your fingers. 

“I’m sorry.” You say again, just like you had yesterday, hoping that if there is a fucking God out there anywhere, that this will act as some kind of atonement, although you know there’s truly no way to atone for everything you’ve done to get here. 

You stay there, rooted to the ground for what feels like hours, until you feel raindrops. You shake yourself from your daze long enough to register that you need to move, heading inside where Clara and Thomas have fallen asleep, her head rested on his shoulder. You check the bedroom; Isabel is also still fast asleep. If you were thinking about it, you probably should have woken them, knowing bedtime would be more of a challenge if they’d slept too long, but you just leave them as they are, at least if they’re asleep, they can’t look at you with sad eyes, begging to know why Edward isn’t here, why you didn’t do more, and why you’ve put your trust in a man you don’t know. 

You were ten when the world imploded. You don’t remember much about it if you’re honest. You remember your father dying as he tried to get you and your mother to safety. Barreling you into his car as a rabid woman pinned him to the closed door and ripped his throat out. If you concentrate carefully, you can still hear the gurgle as he choked on his own blood, can still watch his body twitch as the life drains from him, only to be replaced with the new life of whatever those things were. 

To her credit, your mother, through her tears and confusion, had stepped up, driven the car as far as she could until you ran out of gas. She was a completely different woman in those first few weeks. You didn’t really think about it until after, but she’d always been the meek kind of woman to just follow. Do as she was told. Look nice at dinner parties. That kind of woman. She’d stepped up though, gotten you both safely to the QZ in Salt Lake City, gotten you through the gates and into a home, worked as much as she could to get you as many ration cards as she could. 

The glimpse of that strong woman was fleeting though. By the time you were fifteen, old enough to earn your keep alongside her, it was like a switch flicked inside her. She went back to the meek, mild-mannered woman you actually knew. When a particularly handsy FEDRA guard offered you extra ration cards to show him your tits, right in front of her, at fifteen years old, she’d shrugged it off, didn’t want to breach the peace. When the same FEDRA guard had punched you in the face a week later for refusing him again, she’d pressed a wet cloth into your hand, told you to hold it where it hurt, and said that you should give men what they wanted because it was easier, it would hurt less. Besides, it wasn’t like he wanted to fuck you, is what she’d said. 

Five years later, when you were twenty, the QZ collapsed. The Fireflies took over, although seemed to only be interested in the area surrounding the hospital. The rest fell into disrepair, infected broke through unmaintained fences, and you’d had no choice but to flee. Everything you owned shoved into a single backpack. This time, it had been all you. With your mother trailing behind you, the map in your hand, you’d made it across the border into Wyoming just as winter started to take hold. You were the one who found the abandoned cabin, who had picked weapons and ammunition up on the way. You were the one who’d learnt to hunt on her own, kept you both fed. Learnt how to chop wood, set a fire, to keep you both warm. 

She was the one that ruined it though. When the snows melted, and that man had come through. She’d greeted him on the porch like he was an old friend. You’d glared at him, pistol gripped in your hand in case he tried anything. He was old, or he seemed it, with his grey hair and his long grey beard. You’d thought that if he’d worn red he’d look like Father Christmas, but he was dressed in a long black coat, a white button up underneath it. He didn’t look like someone fit for survival who was just passing through, he looked like a religious man who was coming to knock on your door and tell you that The Lord would save you. 

“Are you out here all alone, ladies?” He’d asked, stood at the bottom of the porch steps, entirely too close for your comfort. 

You stand and speak first, because you don’t trust your mother, “We’re not alone.” She looks at you, asking through her eyes why you’re lying. 

“Sure looks like you’re alone,” He comments with a smile, you know your mother will find it endearing, you just find it threatening, “Done awfully well to keep yourselves alive if you are.” Like he thinks his praise will help you trust him. 

“What’s it to you?” You ask, a hand squeezing around your mother’s wrist to keep her quiet. 

“Just out walking,” He shrugs, “We’ve got a little settlement, maybe two miles from here, it’s safe, like a family, we take care of each other, pool together to survive, would be a much better place for the two of you than being out here on your own.” 

“We’re not on our own.” You say again. 

He snorts, but smiles, you decide you already hate him, “I don’t expect you to trust me,” He speaks simply, “But at least think about it, I’ll come by in a week, give you chance to mull it over.” 

Then, he’s leaving with a wave of his hand and a disgusting wink sent your mother’s way. She hadn’t spoken to him apart from to greet him, but he already knows she’s the weak one. Can sense she spent her entire life pleasing another man, doing what he said, trying not to rock the boat. 

Later that night, when you’ve eaten and you’re warming yourselves in front of the fire, she finally opens her mouth to speak. 

“I think we should go with him.” 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” You scoff, “We’re not going with him.” 

“He said it was safe.” 

“And if he asked you to follow him into a burning building, would you do it?” You snap, “We know nothing about him, we’re not going.” 

But of course, you do, in the end. The first time he comes back, you once again tell him to get lost. The second time he’s there when you come back from hunting, talking to your mother on the porch. You suspect he’s been watching you, waiting for you to leave so he can strike at the weaker person. He mutters something to you about not needing to do that anymore if you follow him, they set traps, but it doesn’t make it any more enticing to you. The third time, your mother stands with you after and says she’s leaving when he comes back, whether you go with her or not. 

So you do. You do go with her. Follow steps behind her and the man who finally introduces himself as John when you decide to go back with him. To this day, you wish you’d told her to go on her own. Wish you’d saved yourself the years of suffering just to follow behind a woman you thought loved you. Because she didn’t, there’s no way she loved you with what she let happen. 

You’ve been sat on the couch, staring into the fire, for what feels like hours now. Children long to bed, everything cleaned up from dinner, sat in silence, almost listening to the way those flames call to you. You want to fling yourself into them, atone for what you’ve done, what you failed to do, it’s the only way to make the ache in your chest feel better. All day you’ve avoided looking at the raised earth of Edward’s grave, but all day you’ve been reminded of his loss. 

When you read to the children, there were no questions about what would happen next, no-one to gently chastise for being impatient and tell that they just need to sit and listen to find out. The lack of his rambunctious laughter when you let them play outside, chasing each other around. They’d been subdued as well, missing their friend, their brother. 

Joel sits at the other end of the couch, thumbing aimlessly through the book you’d been reading from earlier. You don’t think he’s interested at all, but it’s something to do for him you suppose. 

“They’re good kids,” He sighs, trying to make conversation with you, “Never really known kids so well behaved.” 

“They were raised that way.” You reply simply, quietly. 

“They related?” He asks, you only nod in response, he sighs again, “It get’s easier, losing them.” 

You can feel the tears welling in your eyes, you shake your head to try and get rid of them, but it only helps in working them from your eyes and down your cheeks. How can this get easier? Feeling like someone had cleaved your heart in two, how does that get easier? 

“Maybe easier isn’t the right word,” Joel corrects himself, “But life gets easier, it takes time, and they’ll always be with you, but one day it won’t hurt at much.” 

“You know a lot about it?” You almost spit at him, not really sure why you’re directing your anger to him when all he’s done is help, but he’s the only person here so he has to take the brunt of it. 

“I lost my daughter,” He speaks quietly, staring into the flames just like you are, “On outbreak day, some FEDRA guard had orders to shoot on sight, we were just trying to get to safety, and he fired, shot right into her stomach and she bled out in my arms.” 

The similarities between her death and Edward’s are not lost on you, can’t imagine the memories it must have dredged up for him as you screamed at Edward to stay with you, rocked his dead body in your arms whilst it covered you in blood. It makes you soften, just a little. 

“I’m sorry.” You squeak, wiping at your cheeks. 

“I’m sorry too,” He tries to reach out for your hand, resting on the empty couch cushion between you, but you pull your hand away into your lap before he can touch you, you can’t accept his comfort, not yet, because you know what that means, “I know it don’t make it any better, but there’s nothin’ we could have done.”

Suddenly, a sob racks through your body, shoulders shaking as you really cry this time, because he’s right. Even if you could have lifted Edward, got him back to the house, you’re not a nurse, whatever happened to him what going to happen anyway. You doubt whoever did the shooting was aiming at him anyway, an unfortunate accident, and maybe, in some sick way, you’re glad. You think of the alternative – they were aiming at you and didn’t miss and you died instead – the children, left with a man they don’t know – what would he have done? Or they were aiming at Joel – if he’d died then you’d surely have been taken, right? You and your children killed too, or forced into some kind of life of servitude, not unlike the one you’d had before. It’s sick, but maybe what happened was for the best, or at least that’s what you try and tell yourself as you try and calm the rampant sobbing from your body. 

This time, when Joel tries to comfort you, dropping to his knees in front of you, you don’t stop him. He puts wide palms on your knees and squeezes to let you know he’s there whilst you try and control your breathing. You don’t want to wake the children up. It’s no use though, no matter what you do, you can’t calm yourself down – not even Joel’s warm touch, stranger though he is, can help. 

“H-He…” You try and choke out, maybe the truth will help ease the pain, maybe this man in front of you can fix you if he knows the truth, “He w-was…” Another sob, another squeeze of Joel’s hands on your knees, “He was m-mine,” You cry out, “Edward w-was my b-baby.” 

#Joel Miller #Joel Miller smut #Joel Miller Angst #Joel Miller fluff #Joel Miller fic #Joel Miller fanfic #Joel Miller fanfiction #The Last Of us #The Last Of Us hbo #tlou #tlou hbo #Joel Miller x you #Joel Miller x reader #Joel Miller x female reader #Joel Miller x f!reader #joel the last of us #joel tlou #Joel Miller the last of us #tlou fanfic #tlou fanfiction #pedro pascal #Joel Miller Pedro Pascal #tlou smut #tlou fic #Joel Miller tlou #ITWS

[laughableillusions]

Random Jareth HCs

I talk so much abt him and I have some silly ideas :3c

If he stays in owl form too long he has some trouble changing back. He gets kind of stuck a bit between. He chitters like a barn owl in “human” form, can screech like one if mad. There’s feathers in his hair, and sometimes he still has bird-feet. The worst case was when his arms were still big useless wings. It goes away after a while but he’s impatient as hell and will sulk about it and punish anyone who dares laugh at him for his chicken feet.

Jareth actually runs cold. He can change his body temperature if needed, but it’s very surface level. Usually he’s around room temperature (like a corpse). Cuddling or any close physical contact will warm his body up.

His hands are strangely rough under his gloves, they’re rough and hard like stone. He almost never removes his gloves because his touch alone can cause serious magic shit to happen if he isn’t careful. The glamour he uses to keep his more human form doesn’t really extend to his hands for whatever reason (his truest form is made of stone), so he wears gloves to sort of hide it.

Music lover, I mean duh. He sings and dances ofc, but he actually knows very little about modern music. His knowledge of humanity is still stuck in the 18th century. While he would like the idea of things like CD players and MP3 players etc etc, he will always prefer live performances, be it himself or watching someone else. He would probably go to a lot of concerts just to see what the music vibe is these days.

Doesn’t do well in human crowds. A masquerade ball in his castle is one thing, it’s his realm, it’s other fae. But you put him in a shopping mall or grocery store??? He is not having a good time. Mostly because he sees most humans as beneath him (except for the few he decides are special little princesses/princes lol). Modern humans apparently have a stench to him, and he finds it disgusting when “in concentration.”

He can make any small child stop crying however. If Toby proved anything it showed how good with kids Jareth is. He can entertain any small child with ease. Though it starts to freak the parents out when he starts talking about how much he wants to steal them away from their mothers. The man loves kids, and hopes one day he can actually keep a human baby to raise as his own.

Unbearably physically clingy. Like…unbearably. He’d be attached to his lover like a parasite whenever they try to go anywhere without him. If he can’t touch you, he’s standing behind you with his hands behind his back to keep himself from touching you. Like Jesus Christ man back up you’re not gonna go anywhere‼️‼️

Has a jealousy problem as well. With his stuff and his lovers. You do not touch his stuff without asking him, or until he lends it to you. With romantic jealousy, it’s about the same. Nobody touches what he deems his. He has enough dignity not to cause a public scene, but will glare at anyone who dares flirt with his lover- or if he thinks your not paying attention to him enough, he will give you the cold shoulder until you shove him aside and ask him what the fuck is going on.

Enjoys playing mind games. Though he’s too much of a romantic to do things that would really hurt you, at least intentionally. But his fae nature gives him a bastard side that sometimes can’t help it. But really, he would hate to actually fight with you. The last thing he wants is for you to be genuinely upset, and so will bend over backwards to keep you happy.

Speaking of that, Jareth is 100% a doormat to the ones he loves. He’s been alone for centuries (if not more). And any hope of validation he will chase like a kicked puppy. But everything he does, he expects something in return. (ex: I am exhausted by your expectations of me, isn’t that generous?) Fae are deal makers after all, and so he will create a beautiful ideallic place for you to live…but in return he expects your devotion and loyalty. It seems like a small price, until it isn’t. Sometimes, in exchange for a favor he does for you, he will ask for something in return (be it a task, or an a object).

As hedonistic and mischievous as he is, Jareth is quite emotionally intelligent. His age gives him wisdom, and sometimes it’s like he knows exactly just what to say. Humans have such predictable emotions after all, and he can use his knowledge of them as a form of manipulation if he wants/needs to. But to someone he loves, he would bring perfect comfort to. He will try and make you laugh, then ask if you want him to stay with you or leave you be, anything you ask if it would make you less upset and more comfortable he will do (doormat). If you want him to read you a bedtime story? Do a handstand? He’d fucking do it.

#Jareth #jareth the goblin king #labyrinth 1986 #labyrinth #headcanon post #jareth x reader #my headcanons

[erin-bo-berin]

may I request some angst, then some smut.

It’s Steve and singlemom!reader’s first fight and she cries because Steve hurt her feelings, he feels so bad, he goes to the couch and tries to sleep in the night, but reader misses him and wants him back to bed with her. When he gets back, the makeup sex is amazing!!

-🦋

Omg I know different times calls for different measures but I can imagine that make up sex with Steve would be so gentle and loving and especially in this scenario because he’d feel so bad for making her cry 🥺 okay okay I’m on it! Thank you for requesting, 🦋 anon. Love ya! 🥰

Steve x SingleTeenMom!Reader (part of this universe, you can find the rest of the series if you’re interested in it, on my MASTERLIST)

Warning: Smut (in case it isn’t your thing)

They say the first fight between a couple is never a big deal.

Obviously, at some point two people are going to disagree on something. There might be a heated discussion, maybe shouts and screams, sometimes even words thrown at one another that aren’t meant to come out; these are the kind of words that thrive in an argument, only coming out in the heat of the moment, their only job to wound the other party.

What causes a fight can be a multitude of things. But, some of the worst fights can come from stress.

A child—especially one that’s not your significant other’s—can be stressful on any relationship. No matter how much they might possibly love them.

It wasn’t Abbie’s fault that you and Steve argued, not really, no. She obviously didn’t put the words in both of your mouths, that was on you two.

You both were overtired, Steve overworked at Family Video lately, you exhausted from a day at home with Abbie. Little snips turned into a bigger argument. In hindsight, it was a stupid argument, one that blew way out of proportion.

Steve had had a bad day, Keith being hard on him during his shift. It was the stupidest thing to fight over, forgetting milk at the grocery store when you’d went shopping earlier.

Steve had a tendency to sleep late before his shifts, shovel a bowl of cereal in his mouth and then head to work. Without milk, he wouldn’t be able to eat breakfast at home tomorrow and a few snippy comments turned into a full blown argument.

Abbie was already fast asleep in her crib, in the nursery, so your heated argument was exchanged in fierce whispers.

“I’m sorry I forgot the milk, okay? You don’t have to bite my head off!”

“Whatever, it’s fine. I’m tired, I just want to sleep,” he mumbled.

“You think you’re tired? I have been chasing an 18 month all day, trying to keep her from putting anything and everything in her mouth, running the errands—which by the way, she tries to grab anything and let it fall into the grocery cart, so I had to be hypervigilant about that—so I’m sorry if I forgot one thing. I have been a walking zombie today.”

“Jesus, you don’t have to lecture me, Y/N. She’s kept us both up lately refusing to go to sleep, you know,” he grumbled, folding his arms.

“Which is why I always tell you to go back to sleep!” you hissed.

“Well excuse me if I actually want to try and be a fucking good boyfriend! But apparently you don’t need my help.”

“You don’t have to sound like me and Abbie are a burden,” you said, sounding hurt.

“I didn’t, but you said it, not me.”

“What? You wish you’d never met us?”

When he didn’t say anything, you felt your heart crack a bit.

“I can’t deal with this right now,” you said, turning your back to him.

“Fine,” he grabbed his pillow, “I’m sleeping on the couch.”

When the bedroom door slammed behind him, you winced, waiting for the tell-tale cries of your wakened daughter. But they didn’t come.

Instead, your tears did.

You sat against the headboard, face buried in your hands as you cried.

•

You don’t sleep at all that night.

It’s amazing how cold the bed feels without Steve. All you want is for him to come back.

You decided against going to wake him to apologize, he’d just be cranky from being woken.

Not only do you feel like a zombie, you feel like a zombie that’s been zapped dry of moisture. You’d cried so hard, you can’t seem to produce any more tears.

2:00 a.m. turned to 3.

You watched the digital clock, miserably, when 3:59 a.m clicked over to 4:00 a.m.

By 5 a.m. you’d had more than enough. You’d spent all night staring at the ceiling, the wall, the empty space next to you and the clock. You were going to apologize, no matter what.

When you opened the bedroom door, Steve was there, fist raised as if getting ready to knock. He looked as bedraggled as you did.

“I’m sorry,” you blurted, the same exact moment he said, “I want to apologize.”

You chuckled, the tension between you two lightening immensely.

“I wanted to apologize hours ago, I just didn’t want to wake you,” you said, sheepishly.

“I was already awake. I tossed and turned all night,” he admitted, hand running through his hair, “I’m so sorry for walking away angry, for letting you think all those bad things.”

“I’m sorry for assuming them,” you sighed, “Also I’m sorry I forgot the milk. I’ll go out and get some when the sun rises.”

“Baby, it’s okay. It’s not a big deal,” he whispered, bringing you close, “I promise.”

He kissed you and you let him, his foot pushing the door closed behind you.

“I missed you,” you admitted, feeling a bit silly even admitting it, even if it was the truth, “The bed’s not the same without you.”

He laid you back on the bed when you’d both reached it.

“Well, I’m an idiot for leaving you alone like that. For making you cry.”

His face was as soft and tender as his touch, his thumb brushing softly over your brow bone, down the bridge of your nose and finally, brushing over your lips.

“You and Abbie have never been a burden, I hope you know that.”

“I do,” you nodded solemnly, “And I always need your help.”

“I know,” he smiled.

Your kissing resumed, clothes shed until you were both bare, Steve nestled deep in you.

It was sweet, gentle and amazing. He murmured his apologies to you as he moved against your body, telling you that you were perfect. You told him how much you loved him and he reciprocated, quiet moans in your ear.

If you knew you’d get make up sex this tender, yet this amazing, you might’ve fought with him long ago. Your hands clawed at his back, legs wrapped around him as you pushed him deeper, chasing the high that was building.

His hips staggered just the slightest the action sending you careening, your moans muffled into his neck as you came, the pleasant feeling warming your body from inside out. His groans matched your own as he finished in you with a muttered curse.

“Fuck, I love you,” he whispered, kissing your forehead, then the tip of your nose then your mouth.

“I love you, too,” you whispered against his lips.

It was only after 5:30 when he untangled from you, moving the covers over you.

“Go to sleep, sweetheart. I’ll take care of Abbie when she wakes up.”

“But you have to work,” you protested.

He shook his head with a smile.

“I’m calling in sick. I may have to stay in bed all day because I’ve got a lot more apologizing to do.”

#steve harrington #steve harrington fic #steve harrington smut #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x reader #stranger things #stranger things blurb #stranger things fic #stranger things smut

[kyber-crystal]

my little love || jake “hangman” seresin

summary: headcanons of what it would be like with hangman taking care of your kid :) and slowly falling for each other in the process. requested by @newlibrary​ !

words: ~no clue

warnings: brief mentions of angst, relationships, but for the most part this is fluff

a/n: i sobbed reading this request i love this sm and i’m so sorry it took me so long to answer

when you first met hangman he was drunk off his ass

you’re busy talking to penny when your son (let’s call him max) says “mommy look at that man” and there he is, slumped over by the bar

you immediately hit it off

so you’re talking and hangman asks you “who’s the kid”, you say he’s yours and like. he just goes !!!. because he can see so much of you in that little boy and it makes him melt

you’d split from your husband of four years last year, but tbh the relationship was doomed from the start — you tried to be forgiving but after a certain point you couldn’t turn back, so you split, taking max with you

you end up talking all night and giving hangman advil for his killer headache. oops. someone needed to keep him in check yk

from then on you become close friends and he comes to visit you pretty much every chance he gets

usually, that’s in the evenings after he’s done with daily training

you know he’s here when max starts smiling and babbling about “mr. hangman”

as soon as max sees him he reaches his arms out and hangman scoops him up into his arms. it’s the cutest. fucking. thing. ever. & he spins max around and around as he continues letting out laughs of pure delight and jesus christ it makes your heart burst.

one night penny has let you off early (”you deserve a break. i’ll watch max for you, so go relax for a bit” — she did have to force you to rest lol.) and you’re sitting next to hangman in a booth, sharing a milkshake

the subject of your ex comes up and he notices the pained look in your eyes when you talk about him

“max will sometimes ask me ‘where’s daddy?’ and i never know how to answer. i’m afraid i’ll never find one...and by the time he’s old enough to understand, what if he hates me for it? i’m doing everything i can, but...”

“i know you are. and you’re an incredible person for doing what you do. max knows it, and so do i. trust me. that kid loves you so much; don’t ever doubt yourself”

"thank you”

the night grows longer and you keep talking and talking and it’s the most therapeutic thing ever

at one point max comes waddling over. but instead of coming to you he climbs up into hangman’s lap, rests his head against his chest and falls asleep. right on the spot

“i think max believes you’re his dad,” you said as you watched him sleep. there’s a smile on hangman’s face at this

“i wouldn’t mind that”

then you and him lock eyes and you’re silent for what feels like forever. it got so quiet that you thought he could hear your heart beating super fast...

ahaha i’m screwed, you think: you tell yourself you can’t fall for him. you’re busy. hangman’s busy. and you’re still trying to heal — you have a child, and you need to put him first above all else

but what if hangman was the key to said healing? he was always there for you when you needed him and gave max something to look forward to every day. the kid was smiling more often than he used to, and that said a lot

one day the top gun class was playing beach football. max points at the window and says “mr hangman!”

he doesn’t talk a lot. but this was one of the phrases he said the most

you’re busy getting supplies from the storage room, so you don’t notice him when he toddles out the back door and onto the beach — he also wanted to join in on the fun

hangman immediately drops what he’s doing and kneels down to the kid’s eye level

everyone else is confused bc they’ve never seen this toddler before so who’s kid is this tf???

“jake, don’t make him cry or i’ll kill you” — phoenix doesn’t know who this kid is nor where he came from but she right away goes into protective aunt mode

“don’t worry. i got this”

and so he puts the kid on his shoulders and starts introducing him to everyone

“there’s your uncle bob!” bob offers the kid a tiny fist bump

“and there’s uncle payback, coyote, and fanboy”

“and here’s your aunt phoenix” and like

phoenix hates kids. can’t stand them. but as soon as she sees this kid she changes her mind. she’s in love

i mean everyone is. they can’t help it. nobody can

“and over there is uncle chicken!”

“uncle chicken!” he repeats

“and there’s grandpa mav”

“why am i the only grandpa???” maverick questions but he can’t hold back his laugh

you’re worried sick at this point and have been looking for him all over the hard deck

but then you come outside and see your son being carried around on the shoulders by hangman, who’s making airplane noises and pretending he’s flying him around in an f-18. the man is DEDICATED

seeing everyone flock around your kid and shower him with love makes you feel whole again

like it’s this feeling you’ve been trying to find for ages and you’ve finally felt it and it’s so gratifying 

“there’s my second favorite person!” hangman smiled at you 

you’re like wtf 

and he’s like “max is my first favorite, of course. you’re a close second”

“oh! this little one’s yours?” phoenix asked and you’re like yup he sure is

“okay i’m stealing him he’s too cute. he’s mine now”

i 10000% believe everyone in top gun gets severe baby fever after meeting max and it’s so funny because nobody ever thought they’d act like this. but yk. 

and then hangman hands your son over to phoenix, who looks completely starstruck : ‘)

“if you’re off work now, i’d like to ask you on a date”

you wait a few seconds to watch him panic for a bit loll

and then you say yes obviously

he’s internally freaking out, but on the outside he just laughs and smiles 

“alright, 7:00 tonight”

you got together officially by the end of that dinner date

and then maybe less than a year later you get engaged by the beach (the same spot where you all played football). hangman got max to help him propose and it was adorable

dude and everyone is fucking sobbing at the wedding

(i’m pretty sure phoenix cries harder than everyone else)

oh and don’t get me started on when you name her the godmother weeks after you and hangman get married

she’s a mess but she couldn’t be prouder

now she’s known as the world’s coolest aunt. duh

and you couldn’t be happier

tags, including people who may be interested: @totomoshi​ @sarcastic-sourwolf​ @sebastianstangirl01​ @altheadarling​ @ellabellabus07​ @hay-9105​ @purelyfiction​ @93joons​ @criminalyetminimal​ @yeehawnana​ @lunamoonbby​ @hazelgirl355​ @multifandom-fangirl4​ @paintballkid711​ @lyn-lc​ @whatlovegattado​ @azari-anna​ @thelifeofthelifeofme​ @lets-be-gay-for-the-angel​ @quivvyintheclouds @phoenixhalliwell @winteryoungie @mychoso @lt-b-rooster-bradshaw​ @jenny-riversmith​ @krisitzeneva​ @daethsticks​ @sithwidow​ @rosie-posie1313​ @sadpetalsstuff​ @glossydi0r​ @i-simp-much​ @hay-9105​ @meeeeees-stuff​ @sweetdayme4427​ @unicornlover92​ @intrxde​ @rhiannon-russo​ @dolce-clout​ @theghost1345​ @baby-girl-e​ @greatbigshiningstar​ @joyfulbookreviewmarvelspy

#top gun #top gun: maverick #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin #hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin x reader #hangman x reader #glen powell #top gun imagine #top gun fic #hangman fic #jake seresin x you #hangman x you

[noellawrites]

Caught (2) - Yandere!Carl Gallagher x reader

this is a part 2 to Tracked, which doesn't need to be read in order to understand this one!

summary: once Carl has you, he makes it his mission in life to keep you safe with him.

warnings: implied sexual coercion, domestic violence, manipulation, reference to abduction, pregnancy

Two years. It had been two years since Carl had tracked you down and taken you back to the Gallagher house to live with him.

Surprisingly, he somehow always managed to take care of you. And one year later, when you found out you were pregnant, you didn’t worry too much. Your fate was sealed as Carl’s wife, you had known it since the day he returned from military school.

You had left the Gallagher house around eight that evening, leaving your son, Phillip, in the capable hands of Debbie. Carl was working overtime, and you simply wanted to catch up with some of your friends that you hadn’t seen since you were pregnant.

—

“Damn girl, nineteen with a child and a husband with a pension? I’d kill to trade places with you,” one of your friends joked.

You forced a smile, wondering if they’d really want to trade places if they knew how your relationship had started.

“She’s right, I can’t even find a decent fucking man in the whole city of Chicago! I think you got the last one, (y/n)!” your other friend added, shaking her head and taking another sip of her seltzer.

You weren’t drinking, as you were still breastfeeding baby Phillip, so you took a deep breath and gulped down your water.

The three of you chatted about your friends’ past failed relationships and Chicago men for another hour or so until you heard someone throw open the door to the bar right behind you. Fuck. It was Carl.

He approached your booth in the back of the bar. Baby Phillip was squirming in his arms, your son barely three months old.

Immediately, out of pure instinct, you scoop Phillip up from Carl’s arms and rock him, calming him down.

“Hello, ladies. Good to see you again,” Carl nods curtly as his eyes wander back to you, almost burning a hole in your head.

“He’s getting so big! I can’t believe the last time I saw him was when he was a week old!” one of your friends gasped.

You were barely paying attention to which one of your friends had said it. Everything seemed to melt away when you held the weight of your son in your arms. Children were supposed to represent the love between a couple. And sure (to a degree) you loved Carl now, but you couldn’t help but think of all the yelling, the abuse, the assault when you looked at your son. He deserved more than what you could possibly give.

“Babe? Babe? You left sweet little Phillip at home, he needs to be fed. I came home from a long day of work to find you missing and him alone,” Carl added.

You stared into baby Phillip’s blue eyes, the same as his father’s. You barely registered the last part of what Carl had said when you stood up, purse slung over your shoulder as you held your infant son close to your chest.

“Have a great evening ladies. Sorry to interrupt,” Carl said politely in his cop-tone. Of course, your friends nodded and blushed in the presence of your kind and dashing husband.

“Sorry gals, maybe we can do something else again soon?” you said, telling them goodbye. As you followed Carl to his car, your hands shook.

“Why did you have to wear your police uniform? You practically terrified all the customers,” you sighed as you buckled Phillip’s car seat.

“If I really wanted to terrify someone, I would’ve told the bar that you and your friends are underaged drinking. Did you know you can go to jail for that in Illinois?”

“I literally wasn’t even drinking. Jesus, Carl, you’re so controlling!” you huffed, climbing into the passenger seat.

“I’m controlling? More like I’m the one whose kept you alive for two fucking years! You’d be out on the streets or dead without me!” Carl screamed, grabbing your wrist and yanking it towards him. You could hear Phillip beginning to cry in the backseat.

“I work hard every day so I can provide for your ungrateful ass! I fix up the master bedroom for our family to live in, I buy food and I pay for the medical bills. What would you call that? Do you call that abuse, (y/n)? Huh?!?”

By now, Carl’s grasp is bruising your arm as he screams. You feel your eardrums pop from the volume and all you can do is hope your son isn’t too frightened. This wasn’t the first time he’d left marks on your skin, it had been going on for a long time. bruises in the shape of a handprint on your neck if you talked back to him, bruises under your clothes if you refused sex, it never ended.

“Carl, I’m sorry. I just missed my friends and I left him with Debbie, who seemed fine enough to watch him for two hours. It was my mistake, I’m really sorry,” you apologized honestly, hoping your punishment would be less severe.

“If you actually listened to me I wouldn’t have to hurt you, you know? If you just stayed at home with Debbie and took care of Phillip, everything would’ve been fine!” He yelled again, getting more and more pissed off.

“I’m tired of spending every day with Debbie and whichever of your siblings and their partners come through. I’m tired of keeping the house together after Fiona left! It isn’t fair to kidnap me and then force me into this situation for the rest of my life!” you screamed back.

Now, Phillip was wailing in the backseat, the screams of your husband and baby bombarding your ears from every angle.

“We’ll talk about this when we get home,” Carl seethed. You pulled your left arm away from his grasp and touched it. The skin was raw and tender, already turning almost a bluish color. You knew from experience that it would only get worse.

—

Carl told you that your yard privileges are revoked for one month and your outside world privileges would be revoked for three. You were grounded with only Phillip to keep you company, and Carl when he wasn’t working.

Usually, time spent together in the house did the three of you well. You functioned well as a family, with Carl earning just enough money for utilities and groceries and you taking care of Phillip, making food, making sure Liam was okay, and making sure the house was somewhat clean.

You had retreated into almost complete submission. You never ran in the first place because Carl had threatened the lives of your family and friends (and you believed him, with the entire Chicago PD on his side) so you stayed complicit.

Besides, with Carl tracking and catching you, you never stood a chance at freedom anyway.

#carl gallagher x reader #yandere carl gallagher #yandere carl gallagher x reader #carl gallagher #yandere shameless us #yandere shameless x reader

[cheekiepascal]

Chapter 2: The Package

Pairing: Joel Miller X fem!reader 

Rating: 18+, no minors 🔞

Word Count: 3.5k ;)

Chapter Triggers: Tiny amount of tension, sassy Joel Miller, neighbor Joel Miller

Series Warning: Age Gap (22/45), alcohol, Eventual toe curling smut (will specify with each chapter), fluff, secret relationship, A/N: Long awaited second chapter hehe :) Let me know whatcha guys think and if you want to be added to the tag list!

Previous | Next

The work week flew by and you didn’t see much of Joel for most of it. Mostly just the occasional nod of the head in passing, and things seemed pretty much back to normal. The weekend finally came around which meant that you finally got to rest and take your weekly shopping adventure in town. On today’s agenda, you had plans to hit up Target and a new local bookstore that just opened up. That is until you opened your front door and slammed your sandaled foot into the most enormous box known to mankind...

“Fucking Christ” You cry out. 

While trying to ignore the throbbing pain in your big toe, you search the box for a label to see who this monstrosity is for. You hardly ever get packages that aren’t just books from Amazon, so getting a box this big delivered to your house is just mind-boggling.  

After finally locating the label, you see that it’s addressed to Joel Miller. Rolling your eyes, you once again, huff your way down the driveway and up to Joel's house. All you wanted to do is to do your errands in peace and here you are again, chasing Joel down because he can’t seem to keep his shit out of your way.

Almost reaching the front door, you notice that the garage door is open and a vast amount of grunting sounds and tools clanging is spilling out of the garage. You decide to wander your way into the garage you see Joel bent over and under the hood of a navy blue 1984 Bronco looking sexy as hell. He’s wearing a red flannel with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows so that it accentuates his veiny forearms and a pair of worn jeans. 

The sight of him makes something in your lower stomach flutter. Yes Joel was older, and you knew that you shouldn’t have any other feelings toward him other than your typical friendly feelings, but there was just something about him that made you want more. 

The sound of a bolt hitting the floor and rolling toward you jolts you from your deep thoughts. 

“Nice car,” You say, bending over to pick up the bolt then walking towards Joel. 

“Whatcha want now lil lady?” Joel says, continuing his tinkering under the hood.

“One, stop calling me ‘little lady’. I’m an adult, not a child. And two, there is a huge ass package on my porch with your name on it and it’s gotta go” You say pointing your thumb in the direction of your front door.

“Why didn’t you just pick it up and bring it over?” He says standing straight, with the wrench in his hand.

You roll your eyes, handing him his missing bolt  “Because it’s the size of a small child and it’s heavy?”

“So you’re saying that it’s too big for you to carry right?” He asks as you watch him bend under the hood again to screw the bolt tight with a socket wrench, staring at his forearms flexing 

“Well, Yeah” You replied impatiently, trying your hardest not to think about how you so eagerly wanted to be the socket wrench… or the bolt. Or even the car.

“Well, then that makes the name valid. You are a little lady.” He smirks standing up again and wiping his hands on a rag, wiping the grime off.

You roll your eyes and try to summon the strength to not strangle this man where he stands. Joel was hot, but Jesus you did not have enough patience for this man’s inconvenient sass.

“You just love testing my patience don’t you?” You grumble

“Maybe if you weren’t so sassy, I wouldn’t have to.” He says chuckling and turning around and tossing the dirty rag onto his workbench.

“This yours?” You ask nodding towards the Bronco, changing the subject to save your sanity.

“Yup, I bought her off one of my guys so I could have somethin’ to fool around with in my free time”

You’re definitely not into cars much, you’ve always had a slight interest due to Greg, one of your mom's boyfriends. He was the closest thing to a dad you have ever had, a full-time lonely mechanic who had always wanted kids to teach cars things too. So when he linked up with your mom, it was a perfect situation. Greg got to teach you about cars and your mom got free car maintenance. You spent every second of your free time out in the garage with him while he tinkered on Mom’s piece of shit station wagon that broke down every 100 miles or so. He taught you how to change oil, plug a tire, change fluids, replace brake pads, and even to replace a transmission one time. So it’s safe to say you knew a few things about vehicle maintenance, but when it came to classic cars and their history? You knew nothing but the basics. Unfortunately for you, your mom dumped Greg right after replacing said transmission, so you didn’t get to dive into the history of automobiles with him before he was abruptly removed from your life.

“Nice, does it have four-wheel drive?” 

“Mmhmm. Why? You gonna steal it from me or somethin’?” He asks 

“No, I was going to be nice and tell you that there were a few off-road trails near here that you could take it down when it’s done” You said crossing your arms sassily.

 “Oh” He says smirking, his mature face wrinkling at the corners of his deep brown eyes.

“Anyways,” You say, rolling your eyes and turning towards your house, “You coming or what cause I have things to do.” 

Joel shakes his head and watches you march your way down his driveway briskly. 

“What a piece of work” He mumbles, following after you.

Arriving at your door, you point at the large box that is taking your walkway hostage.

“That’s the one, it has your name on it” 

“Alright.” He says picking up the massive box with ease and starting to walk down the driveway with it.

“Come on. I need ya to open some doors for me” He shouts over his shoulder at you 

“A please would be nice” You mutter as you speed walk, catching up to him.

After walking beside him for a few moments you decide that maybe you should try to be nice and create some small talk. He is your neighbor after all, and you have been a bit sassy with him here recently. You don’t want him walking around thinking that he has a massive bitch for a neighbor. 

“So where are you from exactly?” You ask, looking up at him.

“I was born and raised in Austin.” He says as he shifts the box, getting a better view of you.

“So why did you move to Arlington?” 

“I wanted to move my daughter into a better high school. She wants to go to UT for Computer Science and this new school has some fancy early college program that her old school didn’t have” 

You snap your head towards him looking surprised. 

“What?” He laughs.

“N-nothing.” You stutter, quickly shaking your head, bewildered. “How old is she?” 

“15. She’ll be a freshman this year comin’” Joel smirks

“Oh wow… Cool”

Your mind begins to reel. A daughter? Joel a dad? You knew he was older, but he didn’t seem old enough to have a 15-year-old daughter for crying out loud.

After walking the rest of the way up to Joel’s in silence, your mind spinning with the little bit of information Joel revealed, You finally reach the garage and he puts the box down and stretches, before flipping the box on its side and picking it up again.

“Can you get the door?” he asks, his head nodding towards the door.

“Oh, sure.” You say reaching for the doorknob. 

Following Joel inside and into the kitchen he sets the box onto the counter and starts unboxing it. 

The kitchen is stunning. It’s industrial-inspired but modern and spacious, very well-organized with high ceilings and large windows that allow natural light to flood in.

“Your kitchen is beautiful,” You say breathlessly, inspecting the brand-new appliances.

“Thanks” He gruffs 

You walk over to the stunning black stainless steel fridge and look at all the different polaroids stuck to the side of it. You notice one photo of Joel sitting next to a young girl as she blows the candles off of a cake that reads “Happy 15th Birthday Sarah!”. 

You weren’t expecting Sarah to be so beautiful. Not that you were expecting her to be ugly, but she was prettier than you thought you looked at her age. Beautiful chocolate brown ringlet curls frame her face, stunning olive skin tone, and the prettiest hazel eyes. You also notice that she has Joel’s cute nose and it makes you smile. She’s absolutely gorgeous. 

“Where is she?” You ask, staring at the rest of the Polaroids.

“Huh?” Joel asks as he plugs in some sort of appliance and sets it on the counter turning it on. 

“Where’s Sarah? Is she here?”

“Oh, no. She’s with her mom” He turns on the machine, it beeping and coming to life.

You walked to the middle of the kitchen and bent over the huge island, leaning over it and letting your chest settle onto your crossed arms that sat on the granite island, showing off your perky breasts. You silently thanked yourself for choosing to throw on a scoop neck tank top rather than an old ratty t-shirt that you typically wore on your days off.

“That was in the huge ass box?” You say when you finally get a good look at the contraption Joel pulled out of the box. It’s a state-of-the-art smart coffee machine, complete with a 6-inch touch-screen and a hot and cold frother attachment. It looks nice but you think it’s odd that Joel would buy this. He seems like a normal “cup of black coffee in the morning” type of guy, not a “mocha frappe with cold foam” type of guy. 

“I promised Sarah that if she stopped asking me to stop at damn a Starbucks every day before school, I would buy a fancy barista machine.” He said, shaking his head in amusement. “She drinks those decaf fancy things with some kinda cream on top. But not whipped cream, some other typa’ cream. I got her one with whipped cream once and she got sassy with me” 

“It’s called cold foam,” You said laughing at his way of describing coffee like it’s a foreign object. 

“Yeah that stuff,” He said, his eyes quickly wandering down to your breasts and back up to your eyes. He swiftly turns back towards the machine and begins to set the time. 

You smirk at his apparent flustering and decide to wander into the living room. The decor screams Joel Miller. The dark brown hardwood floors, dark green rug and brown leather couch facing a big flat screen mounted on the wall, all ooze his burly mountain man aesthetic.

You see some more photos hanging on the wall and walk up to them peering at all his memories that are hung meticulously on the wall. 

You zone in on a particular photo of Sarah with someone whom you guess, is her mother. She has long curly black hair, deep blue eyes, and a hardening expression plastered on her face. She looks young in the photo and normal, but something feels a bit off in her body language. Defensive almost. 

“So do you like workin’ at the BayLeaf?” Joel shouts towards you from the kitchen.

Still studying and analyzing the photo of the mystery woman you reply, “Not really, but the pay is good. If I budget my money right it floats me through the school year so I don’t have to work while taking classes.”

You hear Joel walk out of the kitchen towards you. 

“Classes? So you’re like 20?” He asks with a strange look on his face. 

“No, I’m 22 Joel.” You say. “Why, is 20 your preferred age?”

He stares at you with a shocked look. “NO… er, I-I thought you were older than that” 

“Well I’m not, sorry to disappoint.” You retort 

“What are your going to school for?”

“Engineering. I want to design skyscrapers one day. I graduate in December thank God” you reply 

“Oh, so you’re almost done.” He says, looking oddly relieved.

“Yeah… Did you go to college here?” You ask turning back to photos, searching for any images of Joel when he was younger.

He shifts uncomfortably. “No. I started my own construction company right outta high school. Then when my brother finished school we became partners.” 

“Oh cool. Very Entrepreneurial of you” You reply turning back to Joel staring into his addicting brown eyes.

“Yeah.” He mutters, his eyes boring into yours.

You don’t say anything for what seems like an eternity, just accepting the silence between you two. You start to feel those annoying flutters deep in your stomach again as your gaze is locked onto his. Joel’s eyes wander down to your mouth and your breathing hitches, wanting so badly for him to just kiss you, right then and there in the middle of his living room. Your heart beats faster and faster, just waiting for him to make some sort of move, grab you, kiss you, something. Anything. 

“Joel I…” You’re cutt off by the sound of a car door slamming in front of the house, making you both jump in unison. Joel rushes over to the front door and peers out the small window next to it. 

“Shit.” He says rubbing his hand roughly up and down the back of his neck. “Listen, I hate to do this but can you wait in the kitchen for me? My ex-wife is a lil’ bit on the crazy side, and she’ll flip her lid if she saw a woman standin’ in my doorway.” 

You nodd your head rapidly “Oh sure, yeah that’s fine. I guess” 

You scramble into the kitchen and up to the sink, leaning over it, trying to control your thoughts as they scramble. “What the fuck am I doing?” You think aloud. 

“Um, hello?” 

You spin around so fast that you almost fall over. Sarah is standing in the kitchen doorway looking confused and eerily suspicious of you. “Who are you?” 

“Oh, Hi!” You said gasping trying to catch your breath after almost busting your ass on the tile. You tell her your name and start to explain that you are the neighbor from across the street.

“Oh, okay… So like why are you in my kitchen though?” Sarah askes looking confused. 

“I was helping your dad bring in your new coffee machine. It was delivered to my house by accident.” You say pointing at the coffee machine Joel set up on the kitchen counter. 

Sarah zones in on the coffee machine and rushes over to analyze it. “Oh my God he actually bought it! I didn’t think he was serious.” She turns back to you with an embarrassed look on her face, “I’m really into coffee” 

“Yeah he might have mentioned that” You reply

You don’t hate kids, but teenagers were scary. It wasn’t long ago that you were a teenager yourself, but this newer generation was so different from how you grew up. You had no idea how to level with them. 

While Sarah becomes deeply engaged with the coffee machine, you stick your head out of the kitchen to see if Joel is coming back anytime soon.

“You are not taking my child to New Mexico so you can join another one of your damn hippy dippy cults. I won’t have that shit, Amber.”

You freeze. You knew Joel had some sass to him but hearing him flat out angry was strange to you. You stick your head out a little bit further and catch a glimpse of the woman you assume is Sarah’s mother. She looks the same as the picture you were just looking at, but much older. Her black curls are gray and frizzy with age and her face is tight with annoyance. She’s wearing a pair of flowy overalls and a cropped bandeau top that hugs her petite frame.

“It’s not a cult Joel, it's a yoga retreat.” She says exasperatedly. “Listen, I am allowed to take her on trips Joel, you can’t deny me that right.” 

“Yes the fuck I can, and I will” Joel angrily whispers back. 

 “You are allowed to take her on vacations, not to enroll in some fuckin’ cult in the middle of the goddamn desert” 

“Yoga retreat.” Amber replies, crossing her arms in annoyance. 

“Whatever. It’s not happenin’.” Joel says in a normal tone of voice

“You are the last person who can tell me what I can and cannot do Joel.” She says, her voice getting louder. “She’s coming with me and If you have a fucking problem with it, you can take me back to fucking court.” 

“Maybe I will” He shot back 

“You won’t. Cause you know I’ll make sure they reevaluate child support while we’re there and I’ll make sure to get every spare penny you make. Don’t tempt me.” She says poking her finger into Joel’s chest. 

“Fuck you Amber.” Joel growls

“Remember who you’re dealing with Joel. I don’t play when it comes to money. We both know that” She says with a smirk. 

She turns around and storms away from the front door, leaving Joel standing there alone. He balls his hands into a fist and takes a few deep and uneasy breaths. He closes the door slowly and turns around catching you half-hidden behind the kitchen doorway.

“I suppose you heard all that.” He says rubbing the back of his neck, embarrassed.

“Just the tail end. Sorry.” You said feeling awkward as hell.

“It’s fine. She’s just… a lot” Joel says, sighing. 

“Is she always like that?” You ask unsure of what else to say.

He stares at you, with an uncomfortable look. “Sometimes” 

You both stand there in the foyer in silence for a few minutes. Both unsure of what to say next. The situation seemed sticky to you, a crazy ex-wife, a teenager? You needed to nip these feelings you had for Joel in the bud. It was clear that he didn’t have any time for anything extracurricular in his life. Not that you wanted to be one of his extracurricular activities... 

“I guess I should be going now.” You finally say

“Yeah”

“I’ll see ya around?” You say walking towards him and the front door.

“I guess so.” Joel says, stepping out of the way of the door, letting you pass. 

As you attempt to walk past him and out of the door he grabs your wrist making you stop dead in your tracks. He stares at you again with your wrist in hand, his brown eyes piercing into yours. 

Being this close to him, you could finally take a good look at his face. You weren’t sure exactly how old Joel was, but you guessed he had to be over the age of forty, and oddly enough, you realized that you didn’t care as much as you thought you should. Soft wrinkles splayed around his eyes and forehead giving him a mature yet youthful look, that made you internally swoon.

He begins to slowly lean into you, his hand sliding up your arm, making your breath hitch. Your wanders to his perfect plush lips, the sound of your heart pounding in your ears and making you lightheaded. You look back up to his eyes, Joel’s hand now resting on your shoulder and rubbing his thumb softly on your skin making your arm flourish with goosebumps.

You open your mouth daring to say something, and the sound of Sarah coming through the kitchen door makes you both jump apart. 

“Dad, I can’t figure out where the coffee grounds go in this thing. Do you have the instruction manual still?” She says tapping her foot and waiting for an answer 

“Yeah, it must be in the box. I’ll see if I can’t dig it out for ya” He says clearly shaken.

“I gotta go anyways, I still have to run my errands.” You say backing your way to the door and opening it. Your face blushing with embarrassment.

“Okay,” Joel replies. “Well, we’ll see ya around then?” 

“Yeah, See ya around,” You reply quietly, stepping out of the door and closing it behind you.

You break out in a jog and quickly make your way home before your dirty thoughts persuaded you into busting your way back into Joel’s house and fucking him right in his foyer…

Previous | Next

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tag list:

@ilovepedro

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/ n #joel miller neighbor #joel miller neighbor x you #joel miller neighbor x y/n #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x f!reader #pedro pascal character fanfiction #joel miller fluff #joel miller angst #joel miller series #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal fanfiction #The last of us fic #joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x fem!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x y/n #smut #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #fluff #joel miller imagine

[lostsoulsandmutineers]

Fuck I can’t keep getting emotional about the Bible it’s making me sad every theology class. something something these characters are HUMAN and ALIVE and most of them were real and they went through hell and for what??? Someone, someTHING that could take all their pain away in an instant but doesn’t because of a plan he created at the beginning of time. Like,

Do you think Adam forgave Eve? Did he hold her in the cold cave they fled to? Did he hold back his complaints of the hot sun and labor and dirt because he knew it wasn’t her fault? Did Eve stifle her screams during childbirth, afraid to annoy her husband, her perfect match that gave up everything for her? Did Adam hold her hand anyway?

Do you think Cain grieved Abel? Did he look at his hand, still holding the rock, sticky with red, and regret? Did he know someone could die? Did he know he killed his brother? Did he realize, for the first time since his parents doomed them all, that he was unforgivable? Did he cry when he buried his brother? Did he leave a gravestone? When he wandered, exiled, did he mourn the light laughter of a sibling that would never smile again?

What about Isaac? Did he ever look at his father again? Did he cry? Plead for his father to stop, please, I’m scared, dad, put down the knife I don’t wanna die I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry? Did Abraham apologize? Would it have mattered if he did?

Did Moses close his eyes when the spirit passed over? Did he clasp his hands over his ears when the first mother discovered her first born son? Did the wailing of every mother, father and sister reach him? When the first scream ran out, then another, and another, as house after house discovered the body of a child dead because of their pharoah, did he cry? Did he look at his hands and look at the lamb’s blood stained there and wonder who was a worse sacrifice?

And, a thousand years later, did a fourteen year old kid look at the screaming child in her arms and scream too? Has Mary ever seen so much blood? Theres a tearing, ripping pain between her legs, and her husband wipes her face with a cloth, and she knows. She looks at the child -her child- and knows he’s gonna die. By agreeing to a deal she couldn’t understand she cursed this child to die. Her womb was a grave all along, wasn’t it? Did Mary scream the same way, thirty years later, looking at her son (Jesus my son that’s my son that’s my baby what are you doing to him that’s my son Jesus sweetheart I’m sorry I love you I love you I love you) on the cross?

Did he youngest of the disciples, only a teenager himself, know what Jesus was? Did Judas see the almighty or his best friend? When they slept in the desert or a garden, or an inn, did he look at his sleeping friend and know? When Jesus looked at him and gave him permission, did he beg? Beg to choose someone else, beg to be let go, beg to not kill him? Did he go to the Sanhedrin, sobbing? Did he hold the pieces of silver in his hands and think they were as heavy as a body? Do you think when he kissed Jesus, Jesus kissed back? Did he hear the screaming that night, coming from the courthouse? Did he wish to take the whip strokes himself? Did Judas feel the rope in his hands and laugh, knowing that as soon as he kicked the stool he’d be free? Did Judas hang himself knowing he’d see Jesus again and finally, finally apologize?

And did Jesus, the son of a carpenter, the son of a perfect woman, the son of God, understand? When he was twelve and lost, did he tell the priests of the temple what was gonna happen to him? Did he know that he was to be tortured? Did he look at Judas and forgive him because it had to happen? In Gethsemane, did he curse God? Did he ever try to stray from the plan? Did he ever look at the devil in the desert and wonder, just for a second, if he should say yes? What did he answer when someone asked him who he was the son of? Joseph, the man who raised him, the man who wiped his tears, the man who taught him all he could about the world? Or did he answer God, the one who abandoned him and let him die? Who did Jesus call “Father”? Do you think he hugged the disciples good-bye at the last supper? Did he try to memorize the feel of their clothes, the smell of their hair? Did he ever get his last words to them? Did the think of his mom and dad and friends on the cross, or just the God who put him there? Yes, Jesus wept, but who for?

#Bible #the bible #bible fandom #christianity #catholicism #jesus #virgin mary #joseph bible #The disciples #disiples #Judas #jesus X judas #cain and able #adam and eve #bible angst

[silentcrowsilentravens]

Can’t leave these two out. Alternate versions of Ethan and Zoe's sections of this post.

(Gender ambiguous).

Warnings: violence, blood, mild gore.

Masterlists here!

Zoe Baker 

You and Zoe are so, so close to finishing the cures, to getting out of the hellhole that the Baker farm has become. You, Zoe, and Mia. Once you find out wherever the hell Jack moved her to, that is. All that’s needed is one more ingredient: Dahlia’s arm, which Zoe has told you that her mother might be keeping in the old house. Honestly, if there’s one place on the property that you were really not looking forward to visiting, it's the old house.

But here you are, sneaking across creaky floorboards, biting back a scream whenever one of Marguerite’s big ass bugs flies straight at your face, and smelling rot. Rot and something similar to what a stink bug releases when you crush it. It’s giving you a headache. 

Zoe places a hand on your shoulder and nods to the right. “This’ll be the way we want to go,” she whispers. You both seem to be alone aside from the insects, but it’s still best to keep quiet.

This isn’t the first time that your girlfriend’s accompanied you outside of the trailer, but it’s the first time in a while. Most often, it’s simply better to sneak around than fight, and it’s much easier to do that without company. 

There’s no telling how long it will be before Marguerite realizes that you took her lantern.

Zoe pulls the crow key out of the back pocket of her jeans. 

Both of you share a look.

You ready yourself to use your knife. If need be, that is. Although you’d much prefer your flamethrower or gun, you’re a bit short on burner fuel and ammo at the moment.

Zoe slips the key into the lock.

She slowly begins to push the door open...

...then stops when something on the other side prevents her from continuing. 

A bright eye appears between the door and its frame. “You thievin’ lil' shits!”

Marguerite snatches her lantern back and shoves Zoe. She staggers but manages to catch herself before she can tumble down the steps, aided by you reaching out your hand to help her.

You slam your blade into the gap, puncturing Marguerite's eyeball. She falls back, the door swinging open once she's out of the way. She starts writhing like an overturned beetle. You take the opportunity to grab the lantern and knife once more, turning back to Zoe with an expression that says one thing: Run.

Together, you both start moving as fast as your feet can carry you. You can't afford to mess this up. You can't.

There's an immediate right, then you're practically leaping up a short set of stairs.

Another right, a left, and you're at the scale that requires Marguerite's lantern. Another lantern already dangles from one end, moths flittering around it. You practically slam the stolen one onto the free hook.

The scale balances out. The locking mechanism on the door opens with a loud clunk!

"You have done nothin' but corrupt my daughter further..." She's back up. Her voice seems off. Distorted. A sharp chill trickles down your spine like ice water.

She's muffled but still seems far too close for comfort. Where the hell is she?

You and Zoe push into a musty child's play area. It's even darker than the rest of the house.

Without warning, the room's singular window shatters. Broken glass sprays across the room.

"Jesus!" Zoe yells in surprise.

An unnaturally long, spindly arm shoots through the frame, grabbing for you. "I'm gonna tear your fucking face off and eat your scrawny head!"

There's Marguerite.

Cold, dry fingers wrap around your ankle and, with a single sharp tug, topple you onto your back and start dragging. Your blade falls with a muted thud.

"Fuck!" you cry out. "Zoe, help me!"

The shock of it all is like a hard punch to the gut, knocking the wind straight out of Zoe and replacing it with fear.

She acts quickly, seizing you and getting her arms hooked under yours. Unfortunately, the carpeted floors don't offer much traction. She immediately begins to move with you. "Mama, no! Don't do this!"

Your free leg makes contact with the wall below the window. You do your best to press your foot against the wall, to grip the dusty carpet with all you have, to keep away from this monster that used to be your girlfriend's mother.

"This is for your own good, girl, y'hear me?!" Marguerite grabs a fistful of your shirt, yanking your upper half toward her face. A centipede protrudes from her mouth like a grotesque tongue, other insects spilling out from around it. You let out a panicked yelp as they begin to land on you.

Your hands shoot up, desperate to keep as much distance as possible.

Zoe continues to tug with all her might. "Let go!"

Since the start of this nightmare, she's seen a whole lot of death. She's worked with many of her family's victims to create this cure, only for them to meet a gruesome death.

She's seen her mother, father, and brother die, but because of Eveline's "gift", they always seem to get back up.

You, however, will not. And Zoe doesn't want to lose you. You mean too much to her. You're all she has in this hell. The two of you have spent nearly a year together in that trailer on the property, cuddled close on the small bed, sharing smokes across from each other at the booth, murmuring "I love you"s while those mold monsters wander outside. She refuses to lose you!

The centipede is close enough to brush your lips, which are twisted into a close-mouthed grimace.

Zoe's dark eyes dart all over, desperate for something to help get you out of her mother's grasp.

She spots your knife lying there. Releasing an arm, she reaches back and tries to get it. Her fingers graze the end of the handle, still not quite close enough to reach.

"I... I said..." She releases you completely. The gap between you and Marguerite closes by half, and your already wide eyes grow even wider in terror. You want nothing more than to scream, but you're afraid to open your mouth. The bugs have gone from landing on your shirt to your face, then start going down your shirt.

Zoe's fingers close around your weapon.

"Let go, goddamnit!" Her hand lands on your shoulder again.

Your knife slams into the top of Marguerite's skull. She lets out an awful shriek as her grip loosens on you.

Zoe yanks you free, shoving you back in the direction you both came in. You stumble a little before regaining your footing, continuing to move because her hands are on your back, forcing you to.

"Shit, shit, shit..." Your voice shakes as you brush the bugs off and shake them out of your clothes. Your skin refuses to stop crawling. "Wh-what about the cure?"

"We'll have to wait for a better opportunity, baby! You're my top priority right now!"

Zoe allows herself a shaky sigh only once you're back through the old house's gates, and traps you in a brief—yet tight—embrace back inside the trailer.

"That... That could've... gone better," you remark quietly.

"Yeah. It could've." But it also could've gone worse. Zoe is simply glad that you didn't meet the same fate so many others have. The relief she feels is immense. She gazes at you for a moment, fondness beginning to creep in before she looks away "...We'll have to gather more supplies. Better supplies. We'll get outta here together. I swear it."

Ethan Winters

“Ethan?” you call out. “E-than, I’m about to start making dinner. What are you in the mood for?”

No response.

"Ethan?"

You crack open the bedroom door.

Your boyfriend is sitting on the bed with his laptop, arms folded over his chest and his eyes closed.

Best not to disturb him. He already has enough trouble getting shut-eye as is. You close his laptop, set it aside, drape a blanket over him, and quietly close the door behind you as you leave.

Maybe you’ll try to make something new tonight. Ethan’s not a picky eater, and there are still a few things you haven’t made since you left the village... Hopefully, you can still remember those recipes. 

You step into the kitchen and after a bit more pondering, begin to pull out ingredients and supplies.

There's knocking at the front door. 

You pause.

Since you’ve started staying with Ethan, you’ve only heard knocking once. And it was after he accidentally locked himself out. 

The house is in a vaguely secluded location. There are no neighbors. No nothing. And he hasn't told you that someone would be stopping by.

“Who’s there?” you hesitantly approach the door.

...What if it’s someone like you? Someone without a destination to head to? Someone desperate to escape a bad situation? 

“My name is Maria.” The person sounds young and on the verge of tears. “I’m lost.” 

Biting the inside of your cheek, you place your fingers on the deadbolt.

Before you turn it, you think better of it. A bad feeling settles in your gut. 

“I’ll be back in a moment.”

“No!" Maria's voice raises sharply. You flinch. "You must let me inside! Please!”

“...Um... I will,” you say, heading for the stairs. “Just-just give me a moment.

The knocking turns into thunderous pounding. You freeze halfway up the steps, The intensity matches that of a Lycan attempting to force its way in. You fear the door might break.

No, wait.

The door is breaking.

It's audibly starting to splinter.

It's broken.

A figure you had hoped and prayed you would never see again is standing there, cloaked in black feathers with icy eyes staring you down from behind a gold mask.

This can't be happening. You thought you were safe!

As she crosses the threshold of the home, you finally snap out of it and practically launch yourself up the remaining steps.

What are you going to do?

What if she tries to hurt Ethan?

You throw open the bedroom door and promptly slam into him.

“Ethan,” you choke out, practically sobbing and breathing raggedly, “don’t go downstairs!”

He grasps your shoulders. “Whoa, hold on, why? What’s going on? What was all that noise?”

“I was a fool. This is all my fault. I’m so sorry! I should have known she would find me!”

“Who?” 

Almost as if on cue, Mother Miranda rounds the corner at the end of the hall and comes into view.

You visibly become more panicked. "She's going to kill me!"

Ethan still doesn't know what's going on or who the hell that is, but he does know that he isn't going to let anyone hurt you. He pulls out the pistol he got from under the bed and aims it at the intruder. "Stay back," he orders. "Stay back, or I'll shoot!"

Miranda doesn't stop, doesn't even pay his words any mind.

"Fine. Have it your way." Ethan pulls the trigger. A bullet hits Miranda in the shoulder. She jerks a bit but has no reaction otherwise.

Shit, Ethan thinks. This is like Louisiana all over again. He recalls the first time he shot Jack Baker, recalls how the man hardly even flinched. "That tickles, boy."

If Ethan could take that mold-ridden nutjob down not once but thrice, then he can handle this black-feathered figure. He tells you to get behind him and starts pumping her full of lead.

"Step aside." Miranda's voice is pure ice. It sends a sharp chill down your spine.

Ethan holds his ground, pulls back the hammer, and shoots her squarely in the face. She staggers this time. Properly staggers.

"Go. Get out of here. I'll hold her off."

"You can't—"

"Go!"

Gold talons seize Ethan by his throat, lifting him into the air with ease and slamming him into the wall beside the door. As he struggles, sputters, and gasps, he begins to turn red. "Go!" he just barely manages to get out.

"Leave him alone! Please! I'm the one you're here for, not him!"

There's an audible cracking sound. Miranda finally releases him. He falls to the floor, limp.

"No!" you all but wail. He's dead. He's dead, and it's all your fault!

She turns her attention toward you once more. Your brain screams at you to move, but you're completely frozen in place. She grabs you the same way she had grabbed Ethan, squeezing your neck.

No matter how hard you try, you can no longer draw in any air. Her hold is vice-like. Your panicked flailing and attempts to pry her off aren't accomplishing anything.

The edges of vision quickly begin to grow dark. You feel as though your head is going to explode.

You're going to die.

You're going to die!

BANG!

BANG!

BANG!

BANG!

A load of blood and brain matter sprays out the side of Miranda's head. Her grip goes slack. Finally, you manage to get some fresh oxygen into your lungs. She collapses and you're dropped, landing in a pile on the floor.

"Are you okay?"

A pair of arms are wrapped around you, pulling you into a comfortable, safe hold. You return the hug, clinging as though the person will disappear if you let go.

"Ethan." You sob in relief. "I-I thought she killed you..."

"No. No, I'm fine." And you're safe now. Ethan is so, so glad. He can't imagine what he would do if he lost another partner, can't imagine what he would do if he lost you. You're the most important person in his life. "And she's dead now."

"No, you can't kill Mother Miranda," you insist. "The Black God has gifted her to be Its messenger, and she will always return to deliver Its word and... and divine punishment."

That...

Sounds concerning. And... and wild. But Ethan knows all too well that the dead don't always stay that way, so he can believe it.

If this Miranda gets back up, then he'll just have to take her down again. He'll do it as many times as he needs to.

He'll do whatever it takes if it means keeping you safe. That's a promise.

#resident evil x reader #ethan winters x reader #zoe baker x reader #zoe baker #marguerite baker #mother miranda #re 7 #re 8 village #resident evil village #resident evil 7 biohazard #re 8 #x reader #re 7 biohazard #re village #ethan winters #ethan winters x you #zoe baker x you

[sis-tafics]

Our Little Family - The Doggo

Summary: You didn’t expect a new friend

Our Little Family Masterlist

Our Little Secret Masterlist

Characters: Dean, Sam, Reader, Eileen

Pairings: Dean x Reader,

Word Count: 1700

Warnings: language, fluff, little angst

A/N:  Thank you so much for reading. It’s been a hot minute and just trying to get my feet wet. I used my old taglist, hopefully that is ok. @bamby0304​ requested this about 3 years ago

@deans-baby-momma thank you for the beta!

“Pup-py?” Kasey’s voice rings clear as a bell from her carseat.

You turn around, looking to where she is pointing out the window of the Impala. Sure enough there is that mutt you’ve seen strolling up and down the gravel road since you moved in, covered in mud and digging through a bag of takeout someone had tossed in the ditch.

Kyle is fast asleep in his carseat, but Evie’s head pops up, looking to where her little sister is pointing.

“Yeah, that’s a puppy” Dean affirms, smiling slightly, slowing down for the turn to the house. The dog’s head snaps up, watching the Impala idle by. It definitely knew your car, but you and the kids hadn’t been able to get near it, though you’ve tried a few times.

“Dean, hold on,” you dig through the McDonalds bag, finding the chicken nuggets that Evie didn’t finish.

“You feed that mutt, it will just keep sticking around,” Dean mutters as you roll down the window, clucking at the dirty dog, who is so filthy you can’t even tell what it is.

“Here buddy,” you toss what’s left out near the driveway.

“It’s not like he belongs to anyone anyway,” you shrug.

Dean hits the gas, shaking his head, “You’re getting soft in your old age.”

“Whatever,” you roll your eyes, “it’s not hurting anything.”

He gives you a side eye and you smile, sitting back against the seat as he takes the long driveway slowly. The twins had had a checkup today, Evie had had first grade meet and greet and you were exhausted. You never thought kids would be more tiring than hunting, but maybe you were just getting soft.

“Mommy, can we play outside?” Evie asks as soon as Dean has the car in park and you are getting the twins out of the carseats. Kasey struggles against you, wanting to get on the ground and walk. It’s her new favorite thing to do, along with running away from you and tripping flat on her face. She definitely inherited your coordination. 

“Yeah you can sweetie, you just have to stay in the fence in the back please,” you know Dean has plans with Sam to head into town and work on setting up the shop, their new hideaway for looking like upstanding citizens. 

Evie takes off right away, crashing through the front door, heading straight through the back.

“Jesus child, one second,” you set Kasey on the ground who tries to take off after her sister, but stumbles after about ten feet, wiping out. She doesn’t cry, just pushes herself back up and keeps on trucking.

Dean chuckles beside you, Kyle in one arm, passed out against his Dad’s shoulder with his thumb in his mouth, “Who knew the girls would be the wild ones?”

You roll your eyes, “I tried to warn you.”

He wraps his free arm around your waist, pulling you in and kissing the top of your head, “That you did…Do you want me to pick up dinner on my way home?”

“Only if you don’t want frozen pizza,” you sling the diaper bag over your shoulder and head up the steps.

“Frozen pizza?” he laughs, smacking your ass playfully, “Expanding your cooking horizons?”

“Shut-up,” you dump the bag on the table, reaching around and taking Kyle, his arms wrapping around your neck in his sleep, holding close.

Dean smiles, “Pizza actually doesn’t sound too bad and I don’t know how long Sammy wants to work tonight. I’ll just give you a call when I’m on my way home?”

You nod, “Love you.”

Dean cups your chin, pressing his chapped lips against yours, kissing you deeply before whispering, “I love you too baby.”

____

“How much shit do we actually have?” you mutter to yourself, pulling another box in from the garage. You guys have been here almost six months and you are still unpacking. The little stuff just hadn’t been a priority, but you don’t like stacks and stacks of boxes sitting there either. It was a good pastime when the kids were playing in the sandbox and playground Dean had built shortly after you had moved in. 

You sit cross legged on the ground, sipping some wine as you open it. Old photo books. Shaking your head, you open the top one, a picture of Dean and Sam, with you in the middle in front of the Impala staring back, 2009 scrawled in the corner in Dean’s writing. 

You shake your head and chuckle to yourself, fuck you’ve all gotten old. Sam’s lost the babyface. Dean, either ten years ago or today, is still finer than hell, but he has more crinkles around his eyes now, hair getting mixed with more gray. And you, well you’ve lost the look of a weathered hunter living on gas station food and gained some wrinkles in the process. 

Picking up another book, a picture of Dean holding you close, his arm slung around your shoulder, pulling you against him as he kisses your forehead. Your belly starting to show, Evie in there probably kicking away as you laugh in your husband’s arms.

You touch the picture gingerly. You wouldn’t trade the life that Dean had made for you and your family for anything.

“MOMMY!” A piercing scream pulls you from your daydream, the book tossed to the side and your wine spilled to the floor in your haste. 

“MOMMY!” Barks and snarls follow. You run through the house, grabbing your 9mm from above the fridge, crashing through the backdoor with it drawn. 

“Mommy!” Evie sobs, holding her brother and sister in the far corner of the yard against the fence. That mangy dog in the fence with them, hackles up, barking and growling and your heart sinks in your chest.

“Hey,” you shout, flipping off the safety, one hundred percent ready to shoot if it moves towards your kids.

It turns to you, growling again, before looking back towards the sandbox, snapping and barking.Evie goes to run towards you and the dog immediately turns to her, too close for you to get a shot off, nipping at her feet and driving her back  to the corner. 

“Mommy!”

“It’s ok baby,” you try to stay calm as the dog dives into the sand, snarling and digging. Taking advantage, you sprint to your kids, shoving the gun down the back of your pants and grabbing the two younger ones, Evie wrapping her arms around your legs. 

Before you can start pulling them back to the house, the dog snarls again, shaking his head vigorously, between his teeth the biggest rattlesnake you have ever seen. 

“Jesus fuck,” you hiss, setting the little ones back down, giving everyone a once over  and turning to Evie, “take your brother and sister inside as fast as you can. Go now!”

She cries and nods, running as fast as she can, dragging the toddlers with her. Snarling and hissing fill the air as the dog shakes his head viciously, refusing to let go of the snake until the head falls out of his mouth while the tail still hangs from it.

He shakes it one more time, dropping it before looking at the door the kids had disappeared through and then back to you, wagging his tail and sitting. 

You walk past him, opening the gate so he can leave, walking up the porch stairs when you hear the nails hitting the wood behind you. As you turn, his butt hits the porch with a thud. 

You put your hands on your hips as his tongue lolls out, panting, watching you intently.

“Well you’ve never been friendly before,” you chide, and his butt wiggles faster. You shake your head, Dean is going to be so pissed.

 “Well, c’mon,” you open the door and motion for him to get in the house. He tilts his head, intelligent eyes assessing,”you just saved my kids, I can’t exactly leave you outside now, can I?”

He barks once, trotting past you into the house like he has been there all his life, “You are getting a damn bath though.”

____

“Baby?” Dean’s voice shouts from downstairs as the door shuts behind him.

“Upstairs in the bathroom,” you call back, shutting the water off.

“Okay Evie, you need to scrub him again, he still stinks.”

Kyle pinches his nose from where he is sitting in the shower, giggling as the dog shakes water all over all three of them. 

“Pu-ppy, nooo,” Kasey whines as it gets all over her with the soap suds that she is already wearing.

Once you had gotten the first few layers of mud off, there was a beautiful blue coat of some type of cattle dog underneath. 

Evie dumps more shampoo on him and they all start scrubbing as you hear Dean open the door behind you, “What the hell is all this?”

The dog barks and takes off, wet and soapy past Dean, skidding down the hallway, barking excitedly.

“Bond, no!” Evie yells, taking off after him.

“You better get him back here,” you laugh, looking up at your husband’s shocked face.

“Since when do we have a dog?”

You smile, standing and wrapping your arms around his waist, kissing his neck, “Since about the time he killed a rattlesnake in the backyard, saving your three children.”

“What?”

You nod, “Jumped the fence, had them in the corner while he ripped it in half in the sandbox. Won’t let them out of his sight now.”

He raises an eyebrow, “Bond?”

You chuckle, “Evie wanted a name that Daddy would like so we can keep him.”

He wraps his arm around you, shaking his head, laughing, “Doesn't sound like I get much of a choice in it now anyway.”

 tags:

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#dean #dean x reader #dean x you #dean x y/n #olf #our little family #our little secret #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x y/n #reader insert

[truths33k3r4]

Lord God, I pray over Melissa. I pray that You lay Your hands on her and just bless her with peace, joy, happiness, and contentedness. I pray her eyes are opened all the more to Your Wonderful Glory so that she may continue to grow closer and closer to You in the coming years. I know You love her so much and you have such wonderful things planned for her, Lord God. I pray that no matter what crosses her path that she just keeps that in mind. I pray that she be so filled with Your Spirit that she can't help but cry out in reverence to You, Dear Lord. I pray safety over her as well. I pray that You surround her with Your angels so that no weapon formed against her shall prosper. She is a mighty Child of God, so any spirits coming against her have ZERO place within her mind and heart. I rebuke in Jesus' Mighty Name! You have not given her a spirit of fear, but a Spirit of Power, of Love, and of Sound Mind! Lastly, God, I thank you for bringing her into my life. Though we may not have known each other long and don't talk often if at all, her presence is still a welcome company to me. So I thank you for the wonderful blessing that is Melissa. In Jesus' Mighty Name, Amen.

Just felt compelled to send a prayer to all my mutuals. :3

Oh my word… Thank you so much for this. 💙💙 I can’t even put into words how much joy and peace this text brought me. Thank you for praying for me. 💙 A heart of contentment and eyes filled with clarity are exactly what I need, as well as protection from pride and Satans attacks. I thank you so much for praying for me with that in mind. I’ve been trying to figure out who you are for a few days now.. 😅 But I suppose I’ll leave it and just say THANK YOU. 💙😊 Thank you for telling me that God has used me in your life. And I hope and pray that He will continue to use me in your life, whoever you may be. ;)

~ Melissa

#prayers #thank you for praying for me 💙 #This truly brightened my day #it’s taken me days to even FIGURE OUT how to respond #THANK YOU 💙

[slyther-bi]

Happy Snape family qoutes + Lily

Child Severus: What’s it like being tall?

Child Lily: Is it nice?

Severus: Can you reach comfortably for the cupboards?

Tobias: We live in constant fear of the short ones who, in my experience, will climb 4 chairs, 2 boxes, a small coffee table and 6 oddly placed stools to get what they want.

Eileen: It was one time!

🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹

Severus: What time is it?

Eileen: I don’t know, pass me that saxaphone and we’ll find out

Eileen: *BLASTS the saxaphone*

Tobias: WHO THE FUCK IS PLAYING THE SAXAPHONE AT TWO IN THE FUCKING MORNING

Eileen: It’s 2 am

{They're both night owls}

🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹

Eileen: You're father annoyed me today so I told him that I can’t wait to see what they have planned for our special day tomorrow.

Severus: There is nothing special about tomorrow tho...

Eileen: I know but there is something special about watching the color leave his face as panic takes over.

🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹

Child Lily: How do you do that?

Child Severus: I'm fearless.

Tobias: I saw you run from bees yesterday. You flailed around and tripped over a chair. It was both hysterical and sad.

Severus: I'm mostly fearless.

🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹

*Severus rushes by with an armful of water bottles*

Eileen: What's going on?

Teen Lily: Sev wouldn't drink water.

Tobias: ...And?

Lily: And I asked him how fast they could chug an entire bottle.

Teen Severus, loudly: 16 OUNCES IN TEN SECONDS, BITCHES!

{Lily knows how to get Severus to self care}

🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹

Eileen: Onion rings are vegetable donuts.

Tobias, used to Eileen being dumb: Sure...

Teen Severus, joining in: Your stomach thinks all potatoes are mashed.

Tobias: Okay?

Eileen: Lasagna is spaghetti flavored cake.

Tobias:

Severus: Lobsters are mermaid scorpio-

Tobias: Jesus, that one is a little-

Teen Lily, who appeared out of nowhere, interested: No, no, Sev, keep going.

{Tobias never gets a break}

🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹

Tobias: I just had a long talk with Severus and Lily about hitting and now they are yelling “it’s my turn to perpetuate the cycle of violence” before hitting each other...

Tobias: Help

🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹

Severus: Die.

Lily: Please don't die!

Severus: DIE!

Lily: PLEASE DON'T DIE!

Tobias, confused: Why are they yelling at a plant?

Eileen, watching while eating popcorn: They bought it together and Lily wants Severus to accept it as their kid.

{Sev and Lily buy the plant for their first apartment they get after graduation. Sev isn't ready to have kids of any kind.}

🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹

Teen Lily: Why is your dad crying on the floor?

Teen Severus: He's drunk.

Lily: And?

Severus: He saw a picture of Mom's husband.

Lily: But he's your mom's husband.

Severus, smiling: I know.

🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹

Lily: What if people had food names and food had people names?

Eileen: Hey, spaghetti, we’re having Lily for dinner.

Tobias: What is wrong with you people?

Severus: Shut up, chocolate.

#happy snape's #happy snape family au #tobias snape #eileen snape #eileen prince #severus snape prince #severus snape #lily evans #tobias x eileen #eileen x tobias #muggle #pureblood #half blood #muggleborn #slytherpride #gryffinpride #random #shit post #random shit #my shit #hp #hp text post #hp shit #hp shitpost #inccorect quotes #incorrect hp quotes #incorrect harry potter quotes #incorrect quotes

[superbattrash]

Oh I feel brother drama incoming 👁️

Hero killer? Well that’s…. a name

Oh husbands wait no they’re children. Boyfriends then. Boyfriends against each other \o/

Jesus bakugo, hoLD BACK A LITTLE???? 😨

Oh no, not my babies against each other >:/ Iida, use your brain, you can keep away from him!! Todoroki, keep calm!!! dear god. That was over awfully fast 😬

A for effort tho, Iida 🫡

OH. OH NO. NO NO NO. NO PLEASE. NO. NO!!!!!

WHY WOULD THEY DO THIS 😭😭😭 I’M SO SORRY, I DIDNT MEAN THE BROTHER THING I APOLOGIZE PLEASE BE OKAY 😭

OH CHRIST, HE IS DISGUSTING TO LOOK AT

…bakugo. Sweetie. You have. all the anger issues - and I relate, I truly do, and you’re not wrong but like. Bro. Bro.

I do kinda love how it’s these two in the finale and not Deku in the mix :3

…oh. That was. Kinda um. Hot 🥵😳

Woah, Bakugo 😳 honey. Babe. Okay.. okay, I get it

Aaaaand it’s deku’s voice making him do his all. Of fucking course it is…. Oh? It didn’t take? Poor traumatized baby :/

Is it a draw??? Oh no he almost dead. That sucks lol. Good for you Bakugo although I get the angry 🤷🏻 you did what you said you’d do tho so. Yay..? I’m a little underwhelme— DOH MT GOD THEY PUT THE BOY IN A FUCKING BONDAGE MASK??? Damn

Oh Iida you poor thing, you are gonna have so many “now eldest child” issues 😭

BAHAHAHHHAHAHAHAHAHA OH ALL MIGHT MY LOVE <3333

No. No no no. Please no 🥺 please. I need him to survive, please please please please 😭😭😭 oh.. oh no.. please don’t make me actually cry???

More backstory??? Oooooh. Please don’t let her be awful to him 🥺 I can’t do that… please let her be good…

I should go to bed………

..one more episode? No. No I shouldn’t. I won’t

#mish watches mha #I would promise not to keep these going but it wouldn’t be fair to put all this on my mutuals lol