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ddejavvu · 11 months

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Touch starved pilots of your choice cuddling their s/o headcanons

characters written: pete 'maverick' mitchell, nick 'goose' bradshaw, tom 'iceman' kazansky, ron 'slider' kerner, leonard 'wolfman' wolfe, rick 'hollywood' neven, beau 'cyclone' simpson, bradley 'rooster' bradshaw, jake 'hangman' seresin, natasha 'phoenix' trace, robert 'bob' floyd, javy 'coyote' machado, mickey 'fanboy' garcia, reuben 'payback' fitch

sfw, but cut for length. enjoy!

Pete 'Maverick' Mitchell:

depends on what age you're thinking!

if it's young!mav, he's probably just a liiiitle reluctant to let himself relax sometimes

he's sort of got his tough guy persona, and he's not used to dropping it, so when you get him alone he tries messing around at first

whether that's a few too many kisses, or a pinch to your side, he guards himself a bit before letting himself go

but when he does, oh, he's like a little kitten !

he lets you run your hands through his gelled hair (gross)

and it gets all misshapen and spiky

he probably just melts when you pet his hair like that, and he'll be snoozing on your chest in no time

now older!mav is definitely less of a tough nut to crack

he probably initiates the cuddling in the first place, he nudges you over to the bed and lays himself on top of you to crush you

you can push at his chest and splutter all you want, but he's made his choice on where he's going to lay, and it's on you

he likes holding you, but he wants to be face-to-face, so you can brush noses and bump foreheads

he probably tries sooo hard to stay awake so that he can soak in the time you're spending together but peepaw definitely crashes like 10 minutes in

Nick 'Goose' Bradshaw:

he also likes to be face to face!

buuut not for the same sweet reason as mav

he just wants to itch you with his mustache

he likes nipping at you too, he bites your nose to make you laugh

you won't be getting any sleep when you cuddle with goose, he just wants to talk and laugh and hold you the entire time

it's not a period of time to wind down, it's a big laugh-fest

and god FORBID you try to get up to pee

“Nick, I have to go.” / “Sorry, honey. I can’t let go. I think my hand’s stuck.” / “NICK!!”

Tom ‘Iceman’ Kazansky

he’s another one who probably has just a bit of trouble letting his guard down

he’ll cuddle with you no doubt, but he’ll probably always keep you in his lap or have some sort of upper hand in the embrace

it takes a while before he’s ready to be held himself

when he does finally give in it's so soft and sweet :')

he's had a really hard day and he comes home with his eyes drooping

you've planned a movie night but he doesn't even look like he could sit through an episode of a tv show

so you lead him to bed instead, and tell him you're sleepy, cause he won't 'ruin' the night by admitting that he is

you ask to play with his hair and he lets you, but he's not sure why 'cause you just said you were tired??

you basically have to trick him into being held but once his head is on your chest and your hands are in his hair he's gone.

he ends up mumbling something all sleepy and groggy like 'mm, that's nice' and his eyes are half shut and he's so endearingly tired :')

he wants you to do it all the time now, I'd say it's about 50/50 whether you fall asleep holding him or he falls asleep holding you

Ron 'Slider' Kerner:

slider's a big boy!!!!!!!

he's big and tall and muscly, the perfect cuddle buddy

he's probably more inclined to hold than be held

but he likes it when you face him so you can wrap your arms around his back :')

he probably likes it when he's able to bury his face in your neck/shoulder/against the top of your head

like he always wants his face snuggled in somewhere warm and nice smelling

and it just so happens his chest is an excellent place to get lost yourself

so you most of the time just nuzzle right into each other and get to snoozin'

i think he'd talk real soft, too, he'd murmur against your ear while you're drifting off, probably boring you to sleep with technical details of his flights but just before you crash for the night he slips in a little 'i love you, honey' and <33333

Leonard 'Wolfman' Wolfe:

he's a loser for his partner it has to be said

almost as teasing as nick is but not quite

he'll let you fall asleep he just wants to talk to you AllTheTime because he LovesYouSoMuch

he's a chatterbox and you'll be lucky if you get to sleep at a decent hour

he really likes it when you lay your head on his chest

'cause he likes playing with your hair and your face :]

sometimes he'll just use you as a little stress toy and squeeze your cheeks and pinch your nose and poke at your forehead

always making silly little jokes and telling you all about his day

down to, like, every comment one of his friends made...

'and then slider said he was gonna kill him but hollywood ran, so then they were just chasing each other around and iceman said-' / 'babe.. can we sleep? please?' / 'oh! right, sorry baby.'

Rick 'Hollywood' Neven

listen there's a reason he and wolfman get along so well

they're BOTH teases!!!

cuddling with hollywood is not really relaxing, because he's always pinching your sides or putting his nasty cold feet all over you, or pretending to knock you out by fake-punching you a bunch

you're just laying there and he's 'punching' your stomach, making fake punch sounds with his mouth, and if you push him away he'll pretend you've absolutely knocked him out, tumbling down onto the mattress with this dramatic thump and closing his eyes and sticking his tongue out of his mouth like he's a dead cartoon character 😭

he's like a dog you have to get his energy out before trying to rest with him or he just Won't Rest

when you DO get him sleepy, though, he's kinda incoherent when he's tired, so you'll be cuddled up together, maybe you're scratching his back, maybe he's playing with your hair, and he's just sort of mumbling nonsense until he finally drifts off to sleep

Beau 'Cyclone' Simpson:

will not be held

sorry! not happening

he's just so big and beefy and authoritative that he doesn't much enjoy being coddled

he loves cuddling with you though, he gets very relaxed just laying with you

he's a casual toucher, i think, so you can rest your head on his shoulder at the airport, you can hold his hand at restaurants, whether that be over or under the table, he lets you hang all over him however you want

he's not super into in-your-face PDA, though, so you'll have to be polite and considerate about it

actually in bed though, under the blankets at night?

he's so much more cuddly than you'd expect

he wraps his big strong arms around you and tugs you close and lets you melt all over him <33

your favorite place to lay your head is probably his chest 'cause it's so broad and firm and nice <3

he's a good back rubber so cuddles are always soft and cozy and sleepy

Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw:

lord he's a cuddler

he's just a touchy guy, because he's probably gone without it for a significant amount of time so now that he's got you he's gonna enjoy it

big big big on pda, doesn't really care who sees

so that means cuddling in public, too

perfectly content to sit by the beach with you in his lap all cuddled back into his chest he doesn't care if anyone teases him

but back in bed he's a sucker for head scratches

if you have long-ish nails, enough to scratch at his scalp, he'll literally melt over you like an ice cream cone

his limbs go all gooey and he flops his head down on your chest, groaning and grunting while you scratch through his hair

he really enjoys sleeping on top of you, whether that be fully chest-to-chest 'you're suffocating me' cuddling or just an arm thrown over your stomach while he lays on his own

he likes being held, too, but probably prefers to hold unless he's having a hard day

Jake 'Hangman' Seresin:

big boy!! surprisingly fond of being held for everything we know about him

that cocky demeanor does not last under the sheets

he adores holding you, of course, he'll wrap his big arms around you and cradle your head to his chest

he probably plays with your hair, looooves it when you tangle your legs up with his own

he prefers if you talk to him rather than him talk to you if you're cuddling

cause he likes the sound of your voice and he loves hearing about your day

he tries to listen so attentively to what you're saying, but if you're taking a little too long telling him about that batty old customer that had visited the shop you work at today, his eyes are going to slowly start to droop and he's gonna let out a big ol yawn that means it's time for him to close his eyes

you always cut yourself off like 'sorry, jake. g'head, go to sleep'

and he insists you continue like 'nooo darlin' i wanna hear! keep going :]' except within two minutes he's dozing against the pillow while you talk about the old lady again

he's a simple man just talk soft and slow to him while snuggled up in his arms and he's gonna sleep no matter what you're telling him

Natasha 'Phoenix' Trace:

she really likes laying face-to-face with you!!

she's a fan of spooning, of course, she likes either burying her face in your back or letting you snuggle into hers

but she loves the intimacy that comes from being pretty much nose-to-nose with you

the type to lay there and chat with you mere inches away so that you're leaning in to kiss her all giggly and bashful every four seconds

she uses your cuddle time to tell you all about her teammates, what stupid shit jake said today, how bob almost tripped down the stairs, that fanboy's got a new girlfriend who wants to meet you, etc etc etc

but that means when you see them next you know all of the hot gossip about everyone and you giggle every time jake says something dumb and he's like WHAT.. WHAT IS IT.. WHAT DO YOU WANT WITH ME.. and you give nat this little ;) 'cause you'll definitely be talking shit about him later

she does this thing where she cradles the back of your head in her hand if you're face to face and she throws her leg over your waist and it gives you such intense butterflies that you need to close your eyes sometimes <3333

Robert 'Bob' Floyd:

cuddlebug <3

he loooves cuddling but if you do it face-to-face he's gonna need to be super close to you because he can't see without his glasses 😭

i'm taking like nose-to-nose so close that you have to cross your eyes to see him

otherwise he's pretty chill in what positions he likes

you love it when he reads to you

i think he might not be the most confident reader out loud but he does it anyways 'cause it puts you to sleep

he gets really sleepy really easily so sometimes it's best to refrain from cuddling in public

like you're out on the beach by a firepit and you're all snuggled up together but oops he can't enjoy his smores because he's sleeping on your shoulder

he loves it when you lay your head on his shoulder sm :'))

he wraps his arm around you and tugs you closer <3

Javy 'Coyote' Machado:

prefers holding to being held

probably a little less talkative than the rest, but that doesn't mean you never chat

he just has this insane ability to fall asleep anywhere, i'm talking slumped against the bus window, leaning against the wall, sitting on the ground, piloting his aircraft sorry

he likes staring at you, though, while he falls asleep :')

if you're talking to him he'll listen and nod and hum along and agree when he should, he's a very good listener

but slowly he'll start to fade a bit, and he'll sling his hand over your waist, smush his face into the pillow, and keep listening for as long as he can

slooooowly you start getting less responses from him, he's not reacting as much, but his eyes are always locked onto your face and he's got this lazy little smile on his face while he drifts off to sleep 'cause he gets to look at you the whole time :')

loverboy!!

Mickey 'Fanboy' Garcia:

the most talkative in the whole wide world

cuddling with him is barely even cuddling, it's watching him act out his entire day

'and then payback went like this and- BAM! shot it down.'

and he's up on his knees in the middle of the bed with his arms out demonstrating exactly how they'd worked through their training exercises that day

and he is loud and energetic and you're half-asleep like 'that sounds awesome, babe.'

he isn't one to stay in one place really, he likes tossing and turning a bit before he falls asleep which means that you are also going to be tossed and turned

he's a really shifty sleeper too so you'll wake up with your face in his armpit

if you're really sleepy though, he'll settle down, he'll pull you into his chest and let you fall asleep there

but he'll probably be on his phone for a bit, he strikes me as a crazy night owl

Reuben 'Payback' Fitch:

out in two seconds

there is no conscious cuddling with him

why?

because the second his head hits the pillow he's snoring

you can cuddle up to him but if he's cuddling up to you he's doing it in his sleep

you're actually so jealous of him bc you lay down for the night and he tucks his chin over your head or he snuggles his face into your neck and that's it.

he's out.

he's a clingy sleeper, though, so if you wanna read for a bit or use your phone it might be kind of hard

honestly it really helps your sleep schedule to sleep with him 'cause sometimes he's entirely wrapped around you and you can't move

so there's nothing to do but sleep yourself

he's like a living furnace i KNOW that man runs hot

you probably wake up sweating a bunch if you're all snuggly with him

blanket stealer. he somehow manages to tear them off of the end of the bed where they're tucked in and cocoon himself

and then you wake up freezing cold

when i said he snores i mean it he snores loud

it's sort of comforting eventually? like at first it drives u insane

but over time you come to rely on it as white noise and you can't sleep unless he's all over you snoring right in your ear and drooling on your shoulder

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thebaileybugle · 6 months

Text

Pushin

Pairing: L. Jethro Gibbs

Warning(s): None but some handsome peepaw fluff

Request: Can I please request a Gibbs x F!Reader where the reader has Pneumonia and she just can’t stop coughing and Gibbs takes care of her and is just super sweet and soft with her <3 - Anon

A/N: Everything is coming out at the same time, the break was entirely too long but here are the pieces ya'll have been waiting for

You were typing away an email to Agent Pride to wish him a very happy Mardi Gras before a coffee cup was plopped onto your desk, only the bitter smell of coffee is nowhere.

"Drink."

"Gibbs, what is-"

"Drink. The damn. Tea."

"Bossy."

"Next step is sending you home early."

"But-"

"And I'd go with ya' t'make sure you don't pass out."

"Sir-"

"Are you pushin'?"

"Oh she's pushin boss" Tony said from his office with a wide smirk.

"Shut it DiNozzo! Let's go L/N, get your jacket- leave your files and bring your tea."

You sigh, well you try to sigh but a cough interrupts it.

You're in his passenger seat, blanket from the back seat thrown over your shoulders as you sip the hot peppermint tea.

"You can drop me off and go back, don't have to stay and take care of me." Shifting a bit, you look over to your secret lover. "Tony might get some dumb idea that's accurate to the truth."

"Don't matter, I'm the one that got ya' sick anyway." Jethro shrugs, steering the wheel to turn right.

"I told you I'd be fine without the mask." You fire back with a huff.

"I shouldn't have listened, I never do anyway why would I start then." He glances over and lays a hand on your thigh, giving you a reassuring squeeze. "'sides, promised I'd take care of you, I'm gonna hold myself to that."

"Thank you, Jet. Rule 1 part two."

"So you did, read my rules."

"Shush and drive Jet."

Gibbs drove you to his home and cooked a nice sized pot of chicken noodle soup, followed up the meal with a bath. Now, you lay between his legs, head resting on his abdomen. His hands running through your hair as a Frank Sinatra track plays in the background.

"Are you supposed to be cuddling a person with pneumonia?"

"S'not contagious, sweetheart. Let me have this moment before McGee and DiNozzo start to call."

"In that case, gimme your lips."

"Yes ma'am."

--------

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#ncis gibbs #jethro gibbs x reader #jethro gibbs #leroy jethro gibbs x reader #leroy jethro gibbs #ncis #ncis x reader #ncis reader insert #tony dinozzo #tim mcgee

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atinylittlepain · 2 months

Text

Part Two

no outbreak!joel miller x f!oc

series playlist

joel miller masterlist

series masterlist

She's tired. He's tired. They're neurotic. They're in love. Something needs to change. They need to change.

word count | 5.1k

chapter content info | 18+ little angst, couples counseling, just two tired people trying to figure out the tangle of their relationship together

a/n | part two is here, and i'd just like to say thank you to everyone being so kind about the first part - i know this isnt the usual peepaw fare, so thanks for giving her a chance - and also big thank you to @wannab-urs for beta-ing this bad boy <3

............................................

This is not a failure. She is not failing. They are not failing. Every Thursday at four o’clock she shuts her laptop and locks her office and stops in the bathroom at work, silently repeats these things to herself in her mind while she rubs her fingers at smudged mascara in the bathroom mirror. Like a mantra, though she’s not sure she’s fully bought into it yet. Because the truth is, she has had plenty of conversations with plenty of girlfriends that, really, they shouldn’t have been having about other girlfriends, not in the room with us girlfriends who, did you hear, started going to therapy and, did you hear, started going to therapy with their, oh no, husbands. Yes, she has been the bitch who has made jokes about death knells and a marriage’s last gasp for breath, jokes about the husband having the emotional range of a goldfish, and the wife being so up the husband’s ass she should give him a colonoscopy while she’s at it. She’s not really making jokes like those anymore.

She’s not supposed to be doing what she’s doing this Thursday at four o’clock. When they first went to Vicky (LMFT, for the record) her fundamental decree had been a period of full separation. Sixteen years, she had asked, and they had nodded, and she had said whoa boy, yeah, y’all need to back off each other before we do anything else. If Paula Dean had a penchant for self-help instead of butter, she’d be something like Vicky. And so, with all the care of a drill sergeant delivering commands, or a mechanic running a diagnostic on a fucked-up car, Vicky had told them how this is going to go. An apartment, she said, don’t care which one of you lives in it. Minimal contact between sessions, right, keep it civil, right, this isn’t for forever, right. So Joel got an apartment, and Tommy helped him move all the furniture in the basement with admittedly minimal, but still present, wariness, and for the last four weeks they’ve been doing everything their beloved herr-therapist tells them. She supposes it’s working, although you can’t really do much fighting when you only see the other person for ninety minutes every Thursday so, the results might be confounded, actually.

“Hey there.” Hey there? What the fuck, what the actual fuck. He doesn’t think he’s ever said those words to her, ever, maybe not to anyone actually. He feels a little insane, a little itchy under the skin, mouth full of cotton, brain too, because they’re not supposed to be doing this, not really. The first time she’s seen the apartment, or, well, the doorway of the apartment, doesn’t really seem interested in stepping further inside, running her curled palm up and down the strap of her purse and right, not here for that. He shuts the door behind him and then they’re on their way to therapy because it’s four o’clock on Thursday and this is what they do now at four o’clock on Thursday.

“Thanks again. I didn’t think my car would still be in the shop today.”

“Oh of course, you said it’s a transmission leak?”

“Yeah, the bad, expensive kind that’s above my paygrade. Guy said they’re still waiting on a part for it.”

“Well I’m off work tomorrow if you need a ride anywhere.”

“Vicky’ll get pissed.”

“If she finds out. Are you gonna tell on me to Vicky?” It’s a joke, they can joke, right? She laughs a little on the end of her words to make it clear, hey, it’s a joke, awkward and out of touch and unsure of what the rules are. But he offers a breath of a laugh, at least, fine, it’s fine, they’re fine, and now they’re silent driving to Vicky’s office.

Should he ask her how her week has been? If the kitchen sink is still leaking? He’s not sure. Not sure about any of it, really. Every week, Vicky asks them how they think they’re doing and Cass doesn’t even hesitate. Good, she says. Not fine, not okay, but good, usually with a sure, terse nod. It takes him a little longer to find the right word to describe how he’s doing. Not sure about that either, but it’s definitely not good. Some things are better, sure, easier not to argue when under foot, easier not to remember all the ghosts they’ve built up around themselves. But at the most basic level, he misses her, even misses arguing with her, in a perpetual state of missing something, walking around and wondering if he left his wallet at home, or if he remembered to call a client about a new build, wondering if he’s missing something essential, a limb or an organ he didn’t know about. No, none of that. Missing something else.

“You’re not wearing your ring.” She flexes her left hand over the steering wheel in response, her very bare ring finger making him feel a quick pinch of something he’ll call anger, though it’s probably something else entirely.

“No, Vicky advised I try not wearing it during the separation.”

“Why the fuck would she tell you to do that?”

“Joel.”

“I’m just asking.”

“You’re swearing.”

“Well, why didn’t she say the same thing to me?”

“Maybe because I told her this is how you would react.”

“I think I’m having a pretty normal reaction to it, actually.”

“It’s not a big deal. It’s just for now.”

“Right.”

“It is.”

“Seems like a strange thing to advise someone to do when they’ve been married for nearly two decades.” She parks outside of the office complex that Vicky works in, lets out a long sigh through her nose and doesn’t spare him a glance as she reaches around to the backseat and pulls her purse up front, producing her ring from somewhere deep inside of it and sliding it back on her finger.

“There, are you happy now?”

“Why the hell were you keeping it in your purse?”

“Oh my god, really?”

“That’s a real easy way to lose it is all I’m saying.” The truth is, she’s been keeping it in her purse in order to have easy access to it. Like a pulsepoint, sometimes she just needs to know it’s there, reaching into her purse underneath her desk and yep, still there, still okay. Sometimes she doesn’t get through a whole day without putting it back on. Like reflex, like ghost limb aching. But she’s not about to tell him that.

“Do not bring this up with Vicky.”

“Why not?”

“Because then she’ll know we drove here together.”

“You’re that worried about what Vicky thinks?”

“She’s our therapist, I’m a healthy and appropriate amount worried about what Vicky thinks.”

“You know she’s not the arbiter of marriage just because she has a couple of degrees, right?”

“Really, the arbiter of marriage?”

“Are you doing that thing you do, is that what this is?”

“What thing?”

“Cass.”

“What thing?”

“Are you trying to win therapy?” Fuck him. No, really, fuck him. He’s doing that thing, his thing to her thing, half a smile in the passenger’s seat like he’s got her. Awful, of course he’s got her, smug and sure in his getting her. She doesn’t answer his question, knowing that her silence is an answer in and of itself and not really caring because they have therapy, damn it, and it’s going to be his fault if they’re late to therapy, damn it.

“You know, I’m starting to see why Vicky told us no carpooling to sessions.” Slammed shut, he sighs when she gets out of the car, thinking idly to himself that yes, he doesn’t necessarily disagree with that commandment of their therapist either. At the very least, Cass’ ring is still on her finger. He tried a few times in the past to get her something new, something nicer than the gold band he had given her when they were still young and still not able to afford much of anything, but sure enough in each other to want to keep doing it, all of it, together. No, she would tell him, doesn’t want anything other than the gold band. What she doesn’t know is that he pawned his grandfather’s watch and an electric saw for the ring the shop owner kept in a padlocked display case. Twenty-six years old, and looking back, he thinks he would have sold a whole lot more just to get it for her.

He used to call her pearl. Something about grit that would make her roll her eyes and ask him what late night National Geographic TV special he got that line from, all the while inwardly swooning because sure, she had been baby before, babe, an errant sweetheart even, but pearl was new, and tooth-decayingly sweet. And when he proposed, Sarah bouncing around them like a manic cupid, Cassandra made an ugly sound somewhere between a laugh and a cry, little black velvet box and a ring that was more signet than wedding, simple and gold and a single pearl set in the center of it. Her hands clasped, she runs the pad of her finger over her ring, wordless and worrying it on the elevator ride up to Vicky’s office.

Vicky has a thing for lamps and art prints of naked women. Her waiting room is a little dim, no windows, green velveteen loveseat and two high-backed wooden chairs that they always take when they get here, his eyes scanning over the coffee table laden with back-ordered Psychology Today magazines, headlines about overcoming anxiety and exercising your way out of depression. There had been one about postpartum depression somewhere in the pile the last time they came, but he had made a point of hanging back after Cass left, some excuse about checking an insurance thing with Vicky, though what he really did was pluck out that magazine and throw it away in the men’s restroom down the hall. One less thing to worry about, at the least.

“Hi, you two, come on back.” The sessions always start the same. Vicky asks them how they think the week went, and they both offer up some iteration of fine. Vicky asks them if they’ve been upholding their phase of separation, and she answers before Joel can, pointedly not looking at him, yes, no contact between sessions. But apparently, this week is going to be different.

“We are nearing the end of the total separation phase. After this initial period of cooling off for both of you, the real work can begin.” Right, phases, because Vicky works in phases like this is some sort of military siege. He tries not to roll his eyes at the real work beginning.

“Can either of you remember the last date you went on together?”

“It would’ve been in August, right before the separation.” Cass scoffs at his answer, tilt of her head like, really?

“Tommy and Maria’s baby shower hardly counts as a date. But we did go to dinner at the end of July.”

“I don’t think your work banquet counts either.” Vicky hits them with that look, that yeah, that’s what I thought look, all raised brow and scrunched nose and nodding. Not that she is, but if she, hypothetically, were trying to win therapy, Cassandra thinks she wouldn’t be doing a great job of it right now.

“Right, well, you’ve made my point for me. It’s not unusual for people who have been together for as long as you two have to let things like this fall to the wayside. However, it can be very helpful to reestablish some of these routines. Think of it as marriage maintenance.”

“So you want us to start going on dates again?”

“Yes, but not with each other.” Did she? Did he? Hear that right? Cass is nodding like it’s the most reasonable thing in the world, like, yes, of course, this is just the solution they’ve been looking for. This time, he doesn’t hold back a laugh.

“I’m sorry, what?” Both of them look at him like, yes, keep up, please, let us explain this to you very slowly so you can keep up, please. Something about seeing what life is like outside of their marriage, testing the waters, seeing if they still like the same things without their extra marital limb, something about making a decision about their marriage, though he tunes most of that part out because, no, thanks, no new decision has been needed since he got down on one knee during that trip to Galveston, sunscreen and sticky sweet and he’s not sure if he or Sarah was more excited, but he was definitely more nervous. And Cass said yes, and then he wasn’t nervous anymore, not scared anymore, and that’s all there was to it, is to it, right? Right.

“This is the closing exercise of the total separation phase. It’s really important that you both have this opportunity to see what it’s like to be back in the dating pool. Think of it as a trial run of if you decide to make this separation–”

“No, no thanks. That’s not– we’re not those people, so, you know, we can just move onto the next phase.”

“Joel.” The mom voice of all things, and he knows for certain now that Cass is trying to win therapy, nudging her shoe into the side of his, and, come on, really? She’s really bought that hard into what Vicky’s selling? Now that, that isn’t like her, at all.

“What feelings are coming up for you right now, Joel?” She fucking hates that question, and she imagines that he does too, fingers drumming on his knee, long sigh, and she knows that look, that’s his getting ready to bolt look. Big man, big, skittish man who has accidentally nailed his fingers to house frames and hardly shed a tear. But feelings? Yeah, forget it.

“Uh, I guess I’m confused as to why that is so important for us to do. We came here to help our– to help us, not to create more problems.”

“And you think that if you and Cassandra went on dates, one date, with other people, that it would create more problems in your marriage?” Well, it’s hardly rocket science, Vicky, though judging by the way she’s speaking to him, he’s pretty sure he failed some kind of test of hers. He doesn’t particularly care.

“I imagine it’d do that to anyone’s marriage.”

“It’s just one date, it’s a part of the process.” She’s starting to get pissed, and trying very hard not to show it in front of Vicky should she get the what feelings are coming up for you treatment. When they agreed to start going to therapy, like a pair of dogs gagging down a pill, they had both agreed to put their full effort into it, and if Vicky wasn’t in the room with them currently, Cassandra would sharply remind him of that agreement.

“Maybe I should clarify the expectations around this exercise. It’s one date, preferably with people outside of your shared social circle, and it would be best if the focus is just on the date, no sexual relations.”

“Oh really, you think that’d be best?”

“Joel.” He gives her a slack and slanted look, speaking two different languages, apparently. And really, she doesn’t see what the big deal is. One date versus sixteen years is pretty obvious math for her to square up, though it doesn’t seem to be for him. But, watching him engage in psychological tennis with Vicky, some new jab dripping in sarcasm for every reassurance she tries to offer him, the realization comes to Cassandra slowly, simply. Joel is scared.

By the time they leave Vicky’s office, he feels deflated, defeated, because yes, they are, apparently, going to do this fucking exercise that fucking Vicky has fucking assigned to them, scheduled in three weeks instead of one to give them time to do this fucking exercise that fucking Vicky has fucking assigned to them.

“Can’t we just, you know, say we did it but not actually do it?”

“Are you serious right now?” Judging by the look she gives him, a quick, sharp flicker of her eyes before she focuses back on the road, he thinks he probably shouldn’t say anything else. He shouldn’t, but, well.

“Is this about pleasing Vicky, or are you just that interested in dating someone else?”

“Don’t be a child about this, Joel. It’s a therapeutic–”

“It’s bullshit is what it is. I don’t– I already know what I want, and I don’t need to go testing the waters to be sure of it. What I’m not so sure about is if you can say the same.” She can’t put her finger on anything specific, probably just a slow-building amalgamation of things. Stressful week at work, and the leaking sink getting worse, and her doctor increasing a medication dosage that’s made her body feel like something other than her body, and this fucking therapy and this fucking trying and she’s trying so hard and she feels like she’s failing and when she glances at him he looks hurt, really hurt, a close crumple in his face, deep frown, and it frustrates her because all she’s trying to do is do it right, and all she gets is this constant rhythm of resistance, this push and pull and yes, it’s all of that, all of that creeping up her throat tight and hot and curling behind her eyes sending salt pinpricks and sharp pangs. When the first sob breaks, it does so as a gasp, like a small and stunned thing in her chest. And, well, it’s never uphill from there, is it?

“Do you– do we need to pull over?”

“No, I don’t need to fucking pull over. I’m not an invalid, I can cry and drive at the same time.” Except it doesn’t come out quite like that, not smooth like that. The words get stop-started with each new shudder, new stutter, hiccuping on fucking and invalid. The world has gone to slanted stained-glass through all her tears.

Unsure what to do, but that’s nothing new. He doesn’t say anything else, watches her through the wary side of his eye, sobs turning into something more subdued, little wounded sounds high in her throat, a choice fuck you with a little more bite behind it when someone cuts her off merging onto the highway. He feels useless, feels like, maybe, this is what Vicky should be talking with them about instead of her siege on marriage plan. All he knows is that he seems to get it wrong every time, so this time, he doesn’t interject or intervene, doesn’t say any more than he already has. He lets her cry, and he lets her drive.

He doesn’t know when it happened. When he decided he was going to fix things for her, or just fix her, really. His lady in pieces and he was going to put her back together, and it seemed like every time he tried to, she just shattered a little more. That April is the obvious answer, the most shattered he had ever seen her. But the fighting had started before then, and so had the fixing that wasn’t really fixing. Like a relief, like a release, the slow realization that no, it never worked, and no, it was never going to work. The sobs turn into shivers turn into something even smaller. By the time they pull up in front of his apartment complex, it has passed.

“I just– I want to do this right, this therapy thing, and I want it to work, and I want it to work so we can be okay again. That’s what I want.” The words hang between them. He makes no move to get out of the car, and she counts her inhales in the silence, waiting for him to say something, anything. It feels like a child’s logic, or maybe a hail Mary, and she knows it, feels a little insane saying it, the words fitting strangely in her mouth. The brief wondering comes to her, what would she have said about where they are now to her girlfriends, what snark, what sharp jokes at their expense? Him in an apartment and a fifteen minute drive separating them and a woman named Vicky unraveling (and in theory, putting back together) their marriage in phases, fucking phases, and fucking Vicky. She doesn’t want to go on a date with someone else, and she doesn’t know why she’s taking Vicky’s instructions as gospel. But she does know, doesn’t she? It’s not about Vicky, not about Vicky and her fucking phases. Fixing, being fixed, that’s what she wants.

“So, you’re saying you want us to date other people in order to fix our marriage.” Grateful that she takes it for the joke he meant it as, it’s just enough to slough off some of the tension, roll of her eyes, please. They both let out a sigh, too tired for much else. But maybe, he thinks, this counts as progress, sitting here with her in the car and the sun washing everything down burnt and orange. He watches her eyes drop shut for a moment, fine lines like porcelain fissures and he loves those lines, liked catching her in the bathroom with her face pressed up close to the mirror and her fingers pulling those lines taut around her eyes, her mouth. He’d pull her hands away from her face, ask her if she was planning her halloween costume for next year, earning a scoff and a roll of her eyes and her trying to pull away from him, and he wouldn’t let her. Making it better with kisses to those lines, and eventually, her pressing her fingers as light as prayers over his, an implicit wondering, where did the time go?

“Look, if it really makes you that uncomfortable, let’s just lie to Vicky. We could still get like, an A-minus in therapy if we leave just one thing out.”

“I didn’t realize therapy came with a grade.” He smiles, all soft, and she can’t help the sheepish bloom in her chest, rolling her lips back into her mouth to hide her own grin, eventually, reluctantly, admitting in a quiet, skewed to the side voice, okay, so maybe, maybe I was doing that thing, that winning thing. He doesn’t say anything, and that’s a mercy. Just nods, of course, and of course, he knew, maybe even before she did, and is that knowing not a mercy too? She thinks it is.

“I want to do this right too, Cass. And, I mean, we’re paying Vicky enough money that we should do what she tells us to.”

“Are you saying you want to do it then?”

“Want is a strong word.”

“Okay, are you saying you’re willing to do it?”

“It’s just the one?”

“Just the one.”

“Alright, fuck it, let’s do it. We better get a goddamn A-plus at the end of this.”

“Mmm, gold stars too.” Another sigh, another settling. How nice, another sigh, another settling. It’s a strange equation, but she thinks it still adds up. Neither of them want to do this, not really, but they’re willing to, and they’re willing to because of each other. Willing to try and get it right for each other. Just, well, ignore the finer details of what getting it right entails.

“You hear from Sarah lately?”

“On Monday, yeah. Called to wish me a happy birthday.”

“Well, only off by four days, not too bad.”

“Oh no, she called on Monday because she was, and I quote, too busy the rest of the week to call.”

“Wow.”

“Right?”

“Is it bad that sometimes I kinda hate it?”

“Hate what?”

“That she’s like, a fully-formed person now. I miss the days when she was a little blob who liked holding onto me by one of my belt loops.” He has to smile, nod, because he knows exactly what she means. And the truth of it is that Sarah was so good, maybe the best, if he’s allowed to give his completely biased opinion. And the other truth, Cass is, was, one of those people simply meant to be a parent, a mother. He remembers when they first started dating, and all the exhausting maneuvering he did, getting his parents or Tommy to watch Sarah, a string of canceled dinner plans when his kid couldn’t seem to stop catching things at daycare. He was sure that Cass would lose interest every time another piece of his reality was revealed to her. After all, he was not unfamiliar with being left behind. But that never happened, she stayed every time.

It was Cass who first suggested it. Didn't want to impose, but what if, maybe we could, would it be okay if, why don’t we. They went to the zoo that weekend, if he remembers correctly, Sarah in tow, shy at first around the woman she barely knew, though she bloomed over the course of the day. Yes, he thinks, it was the zoo, because he remembers how by the end of the day, Cass had her on her hip, as easy as anything, so she could get a better view of the rhinos. He knows now that, even in those earliest days, she loved his kid just as much as she loved him. He knows now what a gift that was, and continues to be.

“She’s gonna be alright, Cass. We did good with her.” She sighs, yeah, we did. She had been worried about telling her about the whole lieutenant-LMFT thing, the whole quasi-separation thing, but that was a direct command from Vicky, letting the family know what was going on. Sarah had taken it surprisingly well when she called, could be good, mom, like a reset. Of course, they kept the worst of it away from her, and of course, she still knew something had changed, something not right between them. No one was left unscathed after that April.

From the start, loving him included loving Sarah. It was never difficult for her to do both. Sweet girl, bright like the sun girl, rounded cheeks and bouncing curls, and Cassandra found that her love for her had a particular effect on her heart. Whenever small hand reached for one of hers, whenever small face tucked into her neck, whether tear-damp or milk-tired, and eventually, whenever she was given the name mom, like a stop and restart of her heart, like something turning back on inside her and finally working right. An everything kind of love, to not only be chosen by him, but to be chosen by her too.

“Well, anyways, Vicky didn’t make any stipulations about birthdays, so I have something for you.” Just a small thing, she says, leaning over the console and into the back seat, and he knows better than to say no, shouldn’t have, because there’s already a perfect package being placed in his hands, navy blue wrapping paper and a white bow, and her hand cups underneath his for just a moment, there and gone.

The truth is she had already picked out this gift two months ago, what feels like a lifetime before this separation. Now, watching him open it, she’s a little worried it had been presumptuous of her, if not completely narcissistic. But if he thinks that, he makes no show of it, lets out a quiet laugh as he takes the watch out of the box and holds it up in the fading light to look at it.

“It’s a little sappy, maybe. But, well, we have something that kinda matches now.” Something is unfurling in his chest, heat loosening something he didn’t even realize he had been tightening up around. It’s a beautiful watch, rich leather strap and polished silver. And the face of it catches and shimmers a little in the light. He knows right away that it’s mother of pearl.

Here, she says, let me, and he does, feeling a little indulgent watching her fasten the watch around his wrist, and definitely breaking one of fucking Vicky’s fucking rules when he ducks his head down and steals a kiss, another one, letting the third deepen just a little, both of them humming because missed this, missed this, didn’t realize how much, but missed this.

“Thank you, pearly.” It feels good to be so close to him, noses brushing and smiles curling around each other. Feels like a relief.

“Happy birthday, one day ahead. We could, you know, do something tomorrow? Get dinner maybe?” Before he can answer, say yes, she’s already caught herself, sheepish smile and pulling a little further away and oh, right. She says sorry, wasn’t thinking, and they do an awkward dance around the whole thing, right, yeah, probably shouldn’t, right, yeah. He is not a hateful man, and it would be too strong to say he’d wish Vicky harm. But if something were to happen, in theory, that’d make Vicky go the fuck away, in theory, he wouldn’t be too torn up about it.

“See you next Thursday then?”

“Well, next next Thursday, because we have to do the– yeah.”

“Right, yeah.” Right, yeah, this is the part where he gets out of the car. The part where he goes up to his apartment and she drives home and they don’t eat dinner together and they don’t brush their teeth together and they don’t go to sleep together. Right, yeah. They say goodnight. He’d like to say love, but he doesn’t. She’d like to say love, but she doesn’t. And they part ways.

She hates being in this house alone. Leaves all the lights on all hours of the day and checks all the locks three times before going upstairs to bed. Passes by the closed door that remains closed with her breath held. She knows it makes no sense, but she’s been sleeping in the guestroom, makes the whole thing a little easier. Always had a tendency toward insomnia, tossing and turning brain and body.

When they were just starting to get more serious, and she was just starting to stay over at his more often, she got worried that eventually it'd drive him mad enough for the whole thing to not be worth it, neither of them getting much sleep as they learned how to share a bed together. And she doesn't remember how it started exactly, maybe out of a moment of pure exasperation, him draping just enough of his weight over her to press slower breath into her lungs and still her body. It became a routine, she'd ask could you? And he'd already know what she was asking for without her having to say any more than that. What she also doesn't remember, when that stopped working, when she stopped asking, and he stopped answering. She supposes it all happened slowly, just like the rest of it.

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller angst #joel miller fluff #joel miller series #joel miller story #joel miller fic #joel miller au

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intimacyequalsdeath · 7 months

Text

William Afton x Reader

This Fic is simply and entirely just for an experiment and if you babes enjoy it I will totally write more for this character in the future!

Notes: Minors DNI, Smut, Large age gap implied (Peepaw Afton) Reader is legal and of age but can be any age you'd like that's younger then William. No specific descriptions of reader or pronouns used (If pronouns are used it will be they/them). Daddy kink. Oral sex (Male receiving) William Afton in himself is a trigger warning so head that as you will.

"William I've been telling you about this for weeks!" You screamed at him from the top of the stairs of the home you shared with him. Some friends from college had invited you to go out to a bar with them just to hang out, apparently William forgot.

When you had asked William tonight if you could go he had shut it down with a quick "No" before telling you to go change your outfit and come take a seat on his lap. You instantly got angry as you had asked him four other times and he had said it would be alright.

"Baby watch that tone with me" William reprimanded you calmy as he stood at the bottom of the stairs looking up at you.

You stomped your foot on the ground like a child throwing a fit before escaping into your shared bedroom. You had promised your friends you'd go out and you weren't going to let William stop you.

You threw on a jacket you had taken out of the closest before heading over to the window, You hadn't snuck out like this since you were a teenager but it was worth it to make it to your friends. You opened it and lowered yourself out of it and down to the ground, using the gutter to help keep yourself from eating shit and falling.

Once on the ground you made your way carefully to the front of the house, keeping in mind the living room windows that William would be able to see you out of.

You called a cab to take you to the bar where you were meeting your friends at and soon forgot all about William at home. Your friends and you were having a great time, laughing and joking. You hadn't seen them in what felt like forever and it was great finally getting to hang out with them, until your phone, sitting on the bar next to you lit up.

Your friend glanced down at it before looking up and leaning over to you.

"Hey I think it's your boyfriend?..." She said confused, They knew you were in a relationship but they had never met William.

You picked up your phone to check the messages, You opened the messages and saw a few notifications for Williams number. You tapped on it to open them with your finger. You were met with two separate messages from William that read:

"You must think your so funny baby, Sneaking out like that and going against what I told you to do. I want you home and I want you home now, Don't make me come and get you"

"Ignoring me is not what you want to do right now. Get your ass in a cab and bring it the fuck home. If your not home in ten goddamn minutes your not gonna like the outcome"

You felt a tingle run up your spine reading how mad William was that you had snuck out. You smiled a little before rolling your eyes and typing out a quick

"Looks like your going to have to come and get me then"

Before shutting your phone off and returning back to your friends. The friend you had alerted you to William messaging you shot you a look before leaning back over to you.

"Are you sure this is alright? He seemed really mad your out with us" You laughed a little before quelling her worries.

"No he's fine! He just gets a little worked up sometimes don't worry about it" You assured her, She didn't seem to fully believe you but nodded anyway deciding to drop it.

You were thankful as you really didn't feel like being prodded with questions about your relationship with William. None of them would understand anyway, it was a reason you still hadn't went into detail with them about William.

You ordered another drink, non alcoholic as you didn't want to push William's buttons THAT much. As you soon returned into the conversation with your friends. Laughing and joking once more until another interruption came from the friend who had read the messages.

She shook you on the shoulder a bit then motioned to the door. You turned to see your William, standing in the middle of the bar in all his glory. Eyes scanning the semi crowded room, no doubt looking for you.

Holy shit you thought to yourself, He was actually serious about coming to get me. You ignored the feeling in your lower regions that this ignited when you realized just how possessive William could get. Sure he had always been that way but he had never done anything like this before.

Before William's eyes could find you, you decided to not have a scene in front of your friends. Giving them a quick goodbye and telling them you'd text them later you put money to cover your drinks on the bar and made your way towards William.

His eyes finally met you as you made your way towards him, pushing past some people with a quiet excuse me. He gave you a smile that didn't reach his eyes as you closed the distance between you.

You smiled back at him sheepishly, starting to feel guilty for making him worry and then causing him to be angry at you.

"Will-" You started.

"Don't" He snapped, cutting you off. "Just go get in the car, We'll talk on the drive home" You followed the order without any pushback.

Once settled in the drivers side William started the call, pulling away from the curb and starting the drive home. At first it was silent before William started speaking.

"I want you to explain to me why you thought sneaking out was a good idea" He asked calmy, almost too calmly.

You took a breath before answering him.

"I was mad, I was mad at you for saying no even though every other time I've asked up until tonight it was a yes. I didn't mean to make you mad or worry I just was mad at you and didn't care what you said" William sighed before speaking again.

"So you put yourself in danger cause you were mad at me? are you serious baby?. Do you have any idea what could've happened had you went out and gotten drunk tonight?" William asked, his voice rising in anger slightly as he spoke.

'Will nothing would of happened! I was with my friends!" You exclaimed back to him.

You could see him grip the steering wheel so hard his knuckles were white.

"Will" You said softly, you hand moving to rub his shoulder. "I'm sorry daddy" You felt his shoulder slowly untense under your fingers.

"Baby doll, Your gonna have to do a whole lot better then that" He said. Eyes never once leaving the road.

Your hands snapped to the belt and the zipper of his pants. He angled his hips to assist you in pulling them down just far enough to fish his cock out of his underwear.

You gave it a few strokes, Watching the precum appear on the head. Before bending over to take him into your mouth. You heard William sigh from above as your mouth made contact with his dick.

You gave the head a few licks, before one of William's hands came to the back of your head to encourage you to take him deeper into your mouth. You lowered your head, your lips wrapping around his girth as your began to bob up and down on his cock.

William's hand tightened its grip on your hair as he tried to keep himself from thrusting up into your mouth.

"That's a good fuckin baby huh?" You heard him murmur.

You took him the rest of the way into your mouth, slightly gagging at the feeling of him hitting the back of your throat. You felt William start to move around, Knowing he was close you used your hand to stroke him as you continued to work him in and out of your mouth.

William's hand shoved your head down onto his cock as he came, not allowing you to lift your head up and his warm, sticky ropes splashed against the back of your throat.

You swallowed it as he gave it to you. At once his hand released your head and you were able to lift it up. You picked yourself up and leaned back into your seat but not before fixing Will's pants. He placed a warm hand on your thigh rubbing the soft skin with his thumb.

"That's a good start honey, but bad little bunnies need to get punished for breaking the rules" He said chuckling darkly at the end. You scoffed getting instantly annoyed.

"Really will?" You asked throwing your hands up. "What I did wasn't even that bad, you came and got me anyway" You grumbled. William scoffed back at you.

"You just don't get it do you, you disobeyed me. You have to learn what happens when you disobey me. When we get home I want you to go into the bedroom and wait for me, take that outfit off while your at it" He said patting your thigh before turning his entire attention back to the road to continue the drive home.

When the car, after what felt like an eternity, finally pulled into the driveway you hopped out before William could say anything. You slammed the passenger door shut and stomped your way into the house.

You slammed the front door shut not caring where William ways and made your way upstairs. You sat down on the bed, you weren't going to take your clothes off for Will, if he wanted you out of them he had to do that himself.

You heard his footsteps coming up the stairs and soon enough he was leaning against the bedroom door frame staring at you. Your eyes met his in defiance and you could see the emotions brewing behind them. He sucked his teeth and tsked at you.

"You're really pushing it tonight huh?" He asked sounding almost indifferent, but you knew him better then that. Will was furious.

You leaned back against the headboard, crossing your arms and shrugging your shoulders.

"Yeah, and what the fuck are you going to do about it" With that William pushed himself off the door frame and made his way over to you. His hands at the collar of his shirt making quick work of his tie and undoing the first few buttons.

He grabbed you by your ankle, brining you to the side of the bed so your legs were hanging off and he was standing between them peering down at you. You leaned back onto your hands as he brought one of his up to your neck.

He took the tie the rest of the way out of his shirt and pondered it for a second before giving you the first order of many.

"Give me your hands" He told you. It wasn't a suggestion but an order.

You gulped nervously but nevertheless presented your hands to him. He worked the silky fabric around your wrists before knotting it, not to tight but not to loose. He pushed your connected wrists back forcing them over your head subsequently making you lay the rest of the way down on the bed.

His now free hands wrapped slightly around your neck, giving it a firm squeeze before moving down to your chest. His hands stopped, giving him a second to feel your before they moved up higher, gripping the top of your outfit before tearing it in two.

"Will! This was my favorite top!" You yelled. His hands snapped back to your neck.

"Did I say you could speak?" He asked. It now hit you that tonight, William was serious.

You shook your head as his hands once again ever so slightly increased pressure on your neck. His thumb rubbing over your pulse point almost mockingly.

He took his hands off your neck to go down to remove your bottoms, the ones he had never liked, always "too short" he tutted when you tried to wear them on date nights. He pulled them down your legs before taking his own shirt the rest of the way off. Throwing both articles of clothing elsewhere in the room before turning his attention back to you.

You didn't have anything on under either so now you were entirely exposed to him. Entirely at the mercy of the man standing over you peering down at your naked body.

You watch as Will paused for a second, drinking you in for a second before his hands moved down to his belt. Within no time his belt and pants had been removed along with his underwear.

His cock smacked against his stomach as his took his underwear off before standing at attention. You shivered watching it, the excitement palpable.

He moved to put his knees on either side of your hips, straddling you. He leaned over bringing his mouth to the side of your neck. Running his teeth over your pulse point before licking a stripe where his teeth had been.

"Will please" You begged softly, a hand smacked against one of your thighs.

"Shut up" He reprimanded. He moved so he could pick up your legs, bringing them over his shoulders as he pushed his length into you.

You gasped at the sudden feeling of being full as he bottomed out. His hips meeting yours as he sheathed himself entirely inside of you giving you no time to adjust to his girth and length.

"This is what bad bunnies get" He told you.

He began to thrust, in and out in and out at a steady pace. The only sound that filled the room was skin slapping against skin as he punished you. Your eyes began to roll back into your head as he fucked you stupid, He brought a hand up to lightly smack your cheek.

"Eyes one me, No where else but me" He commanded. Your eyes opened back up and met his.

You could feel the heat quickly gathering in your belly, your orgasm approaching you. You moaned loudly as the bliss washed over you. Your eyes not helping but to roll back in your head as the orgasm ripped through your body.

William didn't stop though, he continued to thrust just as hard as he had been. Shortly there after you could feel the start of your second orgasm quickly approaching you.

You tried to lift your connected wrists up to push at William but he took a hand to slam them back down against the bed.

"That's a good fucking bunny!" He yelled, as sticky hot ropes of his cum began to paint your insides white. A hand wrapped around your throat, pushing you into the mattress as he came and continued thrusting into you.

Your second orgasm of the night washed over you as William finally slowed down but didn't remove his cock. His hands reached up to untie your hands. Now untied you brought your hands around his neck as his face went back to yours.

He used this to put his hands under your thighs and lift you up to move you to lay down in bed fully. Never once removing his cock from you. He covered the two of you with the blanket.

"Will aren't you gonna...Ya know" You asked him wondering what he was doing.

"Nah bunny, Your gonna sleep with me inside you, keeping all my cum nice and warm in you" He said holding you against him and running a hand through your hair.

You were simply too tired to protest against him. Your eyes closing as you snuggled into him.

After a bit you succumbed to sleep. Whether or not you had learned your lesson still had yet to be seen.

#slasher x reader #slasher fandom #william afton x reader #william afton #fnaf movie #steve raglan #steve raglan x reader

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flamingpudding · 8 months

Text

Fictober23 Prompt: 11 - "You lost it, Well, we lost it."

Fandom: DPxDC

Rating: G

Warnings: -

A/N: Ties to this Post, but can be read independently, or at least I hope. I am bad at judging these kind of things.

"Daniel." Damian hissed looking over his shoulder at the floating presence next to him. 'Daniel' had his back turned to him, arms crossed and was clearly pouting. The preteen's right eye twitched.

"Daniel, look at me." Really was this the others reaction to getting told to shut up after he had rambled a good while about his oldest brother and causing them to lose the artifact they had just acquired?

"My name is not Daniel."

"For such an old being, you are being childish." Damian huffed back, having had this kind of argument before with Daniel, well Danny as the ghost - spirit - his past life's soul or whatever he should call him, insisted.

"And you are not childish enough. You are what? 11? 12? Be a kid and live more!" Danny turned around, throwing his arms out while doing a twirl in the air. Damian watched how the other's hands lit up green and he let sparks fly, imitating a firework.

"We do not have time for this." Damian huffed instead, turning his focus back to their surroundings.

"If not now, when then?" Danny retorted, floating next to his shoulder again, looking at the map Damian had laid out on the ground, several areas were already crossed out and the boy was tapping with a pencil against the paper.

"We wouldn't be in this situation if you hadn't distracted me before, with facts that I did not need to know."

"Excuse me? I find the fact that I figured out who Dash got reborn as very important! Like do you know how badly I want to go to Clockwork and beg him to sent be back in time just so I could see his face if I told him? That's something you should be looking forward to with how interested you had been about some of the others. Ancients! Dan would laugh even more if I told him!"

Standing up and dusting his pants Damian crossed his arms staring unimpressed at the now rambling ghost. Now going on and on about the fact that since they were tied together, he would get dragged along and prove that Danny wasn't lying to his former bully about having become a super protective and wacky older brother.

Pinching the bridge of his nose Damian, felt like he could relate to his fathers a bit more now. "Daniel."

"Just image the face he would make and…"

"Daniel."

"....of course it would be hard to prove but since we can't get more than 20 ft distance you would…"

"....Daniel James Fenton."

"...once we are there I could also show you how Dad and Mom used to be and…"

"... Daniel Phanom."

"... you could help me figure out who Vlad was reborn as once you saw past him. I am still…"

Damian sighed, glaring at the still rambling Ancient of Balance, Ghost King or whatever other title the ghost had acquired. "Danny."

In an instant Danny's head snapped to Damian with stars in his eye. "DAMI! You called me Danny!"

His eye twitched and he suppressed whatever he wanted to return right now and opted to only click his tongue. "Oh right, we got a job to do! We gotta find that artifact, we had researched."

The younger turned his unimpressed stare into a glare. "You mean the artifact we had, previously before you distracted me with your ramblings again."

"That's right! You lost it!" Danny knocked with a fisted hand against the flat of his palm in realization, smiling brightly. "That ninja guy took it, the one you said who was working for your Peepaw right?"

"Please do not call grandfather that. Besides, you distracted me. Being the only one able to see you is clearly a hindrance not an advantage as you insisted." Damian huffed back, turning his face to the side.

"Still doesn't change the fact that it got taken from you. Ergo you lost it!" Danny grinned widened, ready to tease Damian more about having lost the artifact they had painfully researched and tried to find behind their families back. Though the ghost blinked as Damian suddenly smirked up at him. "Well, we lost it. You told me once that we were supposed to be the same person until you were removed from the reincarnation cycle. But this soul magic recognizes you and me as the same. Despite you seeing me for who I am, we are bound."

"Uh…"

Damian continued to smirk. "You are essentially teasing yourself."

The two stared at each other, one smirking triumphantly the other staring in disbelief and with a gabbing mouth. Finally Danny huffed, crossing his arms and pouting as he floated cross legged next to his sort-of-but-not-reincarnation. "Don't tell Dan you outworded me again."

"I have yet to meet this 'Dan', Daniel." Damian answered easily as he uncrossed his arms and picked up the map, having decided where to go next now that Danny was no longer spouting nonsense and would be of help. He had noticed small traces of his grandfather's man that had taken the artifact from them.

"Nooooooo!" Damian only so much as inclined his head slightly into the other direction. Bracing himself for next nonsense the other would come up with only to see from the corner of his eyes how Danny dramatically fell into a horizontal floating position, acting like he was laying flat on the floor. "You are back to being all formal names! I thought we made progress!"

Damian only smirked hopping off the roof they had been on, back on track to get the artifact back. It had only been two weeks but he had become quite fond of his dramatic past self, despite the existential worries he had caused at first. Still as much as he had gotten fond of Danny, he did not want for the other to be stuck with him forever. After all, the Ghost King surely had his own duties to attend to, yet Damian wouldn't mind if the Ancient became a permanent fixture in his life.

Maybe he could even introduce him to the rest of the family, once the soul magic was resolved and he was no longer the only one able to see him.

#fictober23 #danny fenton #danny phantom #dp x dc #dpxdc #crossover #dcxdp #damian wayne #Danny is the ghost king #he doesn't get reincarnated #Damian was supposed to be his reincarnation #They are bound together by some magic #Danny gets distracted whenever he finds another reincarnation #Damian is the only one able to see him #for now #after the angst they started to get along #kinda like siblings

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dokoni-mo · 1 year

Text

Crave: Part Four || William Afton x GN! Reader

summary: you're his now, but what next?

Mild NSFW

word count: 4544

warnings: age-gap relationship (reader is 20 william is pushing 40), allusions to mental illness, willy is obsessive, possessive too, and a little creepy, and a hypocrite, and narcissistic lol, and a little bit of a yandere, or at least becoming one, mentions of divorce, dysfunctional parent-child relationships, secret relationships, swearing, gaslighting, manipulation tactics, dom/sub undertones if you squint, willy is VERY egotistical, allusions to corruption kink, praise, kissing, Michael is in this

minors dni // pls read warnings!!

a/n: look ik i said i'd finish KNY first and i AM working on it i promise but i am down atrocious for willy rn and i cant help it,, this story and writing willy is also really interesting to me sooo yeah :)) taglist is still open, enjoy! (also disclaimer: i do not condode this type of relationship irl, this is just my take on being with peepaw)

part one // part two // part three

~~~

Sundays were always William's favorite days of the week. Something about them just always felt slow to him and comforting.

They were always placed perfectly in the midst of his busy schedule. On Sundays, nothing was required of the brit. He was able to take his shoes off and relax, knowing that the work week was still away from him. The calm before the storm, if you will. Back when he was still married to Clara, he would make a treat of them. Make his family a traditional American breakfast of eggs, bacon, pancakes, everything.

Not because he loved them, no. Of course not. It was for himself. He liked making himself a banquet. Living in America for so long, he found that he rather enjoyed it's food. The slight chubbiness in his stomach and thighs showed for it. If it were up to him, William would have the whole feast to himself. His family only tagged along because they lived in his house. And he allowed it to keep his façade. Kept them happy and content for a while, too. Shut them up.

But, this time was different. This time, making breakfast on a Sunday morning was special. Because he was making it for you.

And you were the only thing William ever truly loved.

William woke that morning as the sunlight of that beautiful Utah morning crept in through his window, hitting his pale eyes to wake him up. The brit often woke up early before the sun had even made her first appearance, but allowed himself to sleep in just a hair that day. How could he not? When he had the most adorable little bunny in the world curled up in his arms? And potentially disturb them? He wouldn't ever dream of it.

He kept his promise to you in that he didn't leave you throughout the night whilst you slept. He wouldn't even dream of that either. William had one night stands in the past, yes, but you were far above that.

He loved you. He would never leave you.

Just like how you'd never leave him.

Blinking the grogginess of his sleep away from his eyes, William took a deep, long breath of the cold morning air through his nose. Looking down, he could see that you were still asleep. You must've turned around while you were sleeping, because you were facing towards the older man now. William's arms were still snug around your waist, and your little hands were gently laid on the expanse of his scarred chest. Last night must've really wiped you out, since you were still snoring softly before him, your hair partially covering your precious eyes.

William smiled at the sight of you, reaching up to brush the hair out of your face and gently press a kiss to your forehead.

It's alright, little one. Rest all you like. You're safe with William.

The safest place you could be is in his arms.

Don't you agree?

William pressed a few more soft kisses to your forehead and cheeks as he watched you sleep next to him, careful to be quiet and light so he didn't wake you. You were so adorable. So perfect. Just having you next to him made the man feel warm inside, made him smile genuinely.

You were the only one that had ever had that affect on him. Even his ex-wife couldn't accomplish that. She had only been easy for William. He knew that in order to be normal, he would have to take a spouse eventually. Clara was just the only person available at the time. And, to add on, there was also the accident that was Michael. It was only natural for William to marry her. It's what a normal man would do. And his past flings were only just that. Flings. Something to keep him entertained for a night or two.

Clara was never his bunny. Never. She was never even close. Nor any of the other people he had been with.

You were his bunny. And no one else.

And that's why he loved you. For real. Loved you.

Just like you loved him.

As much as William would've loved to shower you with kisses until you woke up, he knew that you would be hungry when you did. It was rather rude of him to promise you dinner last night, then never give it to you. Poor thing, you must be famished. He was sorry, bunny, he was. William always wanted to take care of you. He was just so, so excited to finally have you. Get you all alone with him. Make you his, once and for all. You enjoyed yourself, though, didn't you? Oh, heaven knows William sure did. You were the best he had ever had. Perhaps it wasn't all that bad now, was it? But, still. William couldn't have his bunny go hungry. That was just mean. William could never be mean to you, bunny. Never.

So, allow him to make it up to you.

Leaning forward one last time, William pressed a long, drawn-out kiss to your soft cheek, his eyes lingering on your sweet face a moment longer as he pulled away.

"I'll be right back, bunny. Don't go anywhere." He whispered to you, careful as to not wake you up.

Pulling away from you and out of the covers, it was much colder for William in the cool air of his room without you next to him. You must've felt colder as well, considering how you groaned in your sleep and rolled onto your other side. You had pulled a bundle of the covers along with you, holding it close to your chest as you settled again.

William couldn't help but feel a little sad. He wanted to be those covers.

But, he had to have patience. Michael wouldn't be back from his mother's until tomorrow morning. William still had at least 24 more hours with you. After he made sure you had some good food and water in you, you and him could cuddle all he wanted.

Perhaps even more. Perhaps he could show you a few more fun games you and him could play.

If you were up for it, of course.

Before leaving his room, William crept over to his old wooden dresser and opened up its drawers without a sound. Carefully, William pulled out his favorite pajama pants and sleep shirt and pulled them on, relieving him of just being in his underwear. While he was nearly certain you didn't have any plans of waking up anytime soon, William still left one of his shirts on the end of his bed for you just in case. Shit. What if you did wake up? While he was cooking? You creeping down the stairs all tired in his shirt. It would look so good on you too. It would surely be too large to fit you properly, but not long enough to cover your lower half in any meaningful way. So cute... Come here, won't you, bunny? That's it, good. Lean up against the counter for William. Don't you and him just fit together so perfectly? William's big hands feel so good on you, don't they? Doesn't his fingers fit so well over your cute little butt? Precious bunny, don't mind him if he just had to-

Goddamn it William. Focus. (Y/N) is hungry. This could wait until later.

Giving your sleeping form one last look, William disappeared out of his room and into his kitchen.

~~~

Mr. Afton came to realize that he wasn't too sure of what you liked and didn't. Even after pestering Michael for so long about your interests, and snooping on your friends and classmates over the security cams in the Diner, William was never able to pick up on your food preferences. This was fine. He would learn what you liked and didn't over time, now that you and him were an item. This was the first time he had cooked for you, sure. But it wouldn't be the last.

You and him had a whole lifetime to explore together now. Surely he would learn your diet over time. He wouldn't be a good partner to you if he didn't.

William ultimately decided on something safe, yet also something that would let him guess what you did and didn't like. Toast (one with butter and another with jam), eggs (scrambled), a few pieces of bacon, and water. Surely you would eat at least one of the toast slices. If you didn't, perhaps you had a gluten intolerance. That would tell William a lot right off the bat. The eggs were a gamble, even more so the bacon. He knew that a lot of people didn't like eggs, and felt weird eating them. Elizabeth was like that. The bacon was a meat product too. You wouldn't touch it if you were a vegetarian, nor if your religion didn't allow it. And, if you were a vegan, you would only have the toast with jam. At the very least, however, you were going to eat one of these items. His sweet bunny was kind. You would be polite, and happily eat whatever William gave you that also aligned with your diet. And, if there was nothing you liked, he'd happily get you something you did.

It was a perfect test. William was rather proud of himself.

The brit wouldn't make you climb all the way downstairs for your meal. He wanted to spoil you. It was your first morning with him, this should be celebrated. This was the start of your relationship, and William would be damned if he didn't make you feel loved and cherished today.

Gathering up the plate of food and water cup on a tray, William carried up your breakfast to his room, pushing the door open with his foot. You were still asleep, and it didn't even look like you had moved an inch since he had left.

Silly bunny. You were so cute when you slept. He could watch you for hours. Maybe he would tonight. Just to drink in how cute you were. Hell, if he still had that old polaroid camera, maybe he could take a picture for when you weren't able to stay the night. William you are a genius. A picture would be perfect.

He'll look for it later. When you're in the shower or something.

Setting the tray down on his nightstand, William paused for a moment to admire your sleeping form for a second longer, hovering his face a few feet away from your own. You were so gorgeous. So peaceful and ethereal. You looked like you were a dream. Feeling his lips part, William lifted up his hand and cradled your cheek in his palm, his calloused thumb gently rubbing into your soft skin.

You were breathtaking.

But, it was time to get up, little bunny. William missed talking to you. And oh did he want to talk to you about some things.

Leaning forward, William pressed more kisses onto your face, this time harder and with more purpose.

"Good morning, my love." He rumbled out to you in between kisses. Gently stroking your hair, William could feel you stir underneath his touch, you being gently roused out of your sleep. You tried to protest at first with a few mumbles, and William couldn't help but chuckle. His breath fanning against your face, the brit continued to press more kisses to your forehead and cheeks until you finally cracked your sweet eyes open. You looked up at the older man, the sleep still laced in your tired eyes and voice as you spoke.

"Mmn... William?" you rasped out, making the man smile as he smoothed your hair.

"Yes, love," he responded, pressing another kiss to your cheek, "It's me. Good morning, my precious bunny."

You gave him a soft smile as you took one of your arms out from under the covers, rubbing circles into your eyes to wash away the sleep.

"God, I really thought I was dreaming." You mumbled to yourself, making William chuckle again.

"No, love, no. Not a dream at all." William leaned in and gave you a quick peck on your lips, "Though for me, it is a dream come true."

You let out a sleepy giggle as you sat up, pulling the covers up to cover your still-bare chest, "That's really cheesy, yknow."

"It's the truth, my love. Here."

William moved from your side of the bed over to his, picking up and holding out the shirt he got out for you earlier. With a small thanks, you took the shirt and pulled it on over your head, the loose clothing draping across your shoulders as you pushed the covers back down. Mr. Afton sat next to you and watched.

Damn. Mr. Afton was right. You were adorable in his clothes. You looked better in his shirt than even he did. And that was saying something. He had picked every single article of clothing long ago, and tailored it so he'd be as attractive as possible in them. Of course, he was a little biased. But still. You were just too cute.

"I made you a little something, too." William said as he reached behind up. He picked up the tray of your breakfast and set it gently in front of you, watching as how your face lit up with a smile.

"Oh, wow, this looks so good, thank you!" You exclaimed, picking up your jelly toast and taking a bite, "No one's ever made me breakfast in bed before."

William felt himself smile as his heart swelled in his chest, "It's not trouble at all, love. It's the least I can do after such a wonderful night, yeah?"

You took another bite of your toast and nodded, chewing and swallowing and wiping your mouth before you talked again, "I'm assuming you wanna talk about some things?"

Wow. You were rather blunt, weren't you, little one? William often forgot how smart you were. It's alright though. He loved that about you. How you challenged him. You were perfect.

"Yes, I do, bunny." He said, reaching up to smooth out your hair away from your face, "If that's alright with you, of course."

"Yeah, it's alright. I just have one question before, though."

"Hm?"

"You lied to get me here, didn't you? About Michael needing help?"

William felt a chill run through his veins at your words, his pale grey eyes widening ever so slightly. How did you know? Did you really put the pieces together that quickly? You seemed to believe him last night, you had asked about his son a plethora of times. Or were you just putting on an act? Just being kind to the older man, because surely he wouldn't call you over that late at night for nothing, right? Damn. He had never had someone see through his lies so quickly before. William was a good liar. If we were being technical here, he had been lying for almost 40 years now. Of course he was good at it. And, he was good at covering his tracks too. Finding some way to make his lie believable when he had to lie again to keep it going.

But there was no point now, wasn't there? At least, not with this one. You were a clever bunny. No point of keeping it up.

"I..." William begun. He sighed to himself and nodded, "Yes, love, I did."

You took another bite of your toast, "Why?"

Based on how you looked at Mr. Afton, you didn't seem mad. Not at all. This was good for him. He couldn't imagine what it'd be like if you were upset with him. It'd break his heart. You seemed to like the truth. So, it's the truth he would give you.

"I just couldn't think of another way to get us alone, my love." William said, "I hated being without you. I wanted you for so long, I just... I'm sorry, bunny. I should've thought of another way."

Swallowing your toast, you looked at the brit with a smile forming on your face. Wiping away any crumbs, you leaned over your tray and pressed a gentle, soft kiss to his pale cheek, making his lips part in slight shock.

"It's okay." You said, "I lied too. So we're even now."

You lied to him? Oh, bunny. Naughty bunny. William didn't like bad bunnies that lied to him. Not at all. It was against the rules. You should never lie to William. His job is to keep you safe, and he can't do that if you're bad.

But, then again...

You weren't very aware of the rules yet. Not yet. That's something he wanted to talk about with you today over your breakfast. And you did forgive him readily. The two of you were even, as you put it.

William will let you off the hook this once. He had been doing that a lot these last 24 hours, but it's alright. You would learn in time. William could be a bit more laid-back for now.

For now.

"And what did you lie about, hm?" He asked, genuinely curious. He couldn't even think of when you possibly could've lied.

"When you called me," you explained, "and I said I had class in the morning. I lied about that. I don't have any classes today. I just didn't want to go out that late. You totally fell for it though. I mean, who has classes on Sundays?"

You were right. William maybe should've picked up on that. He was just too excited.

Oh well.

"That's...all?"

You breathed out a giggle, "Yeah, sorry. I just felt kinda guilty. But, I'd say we're even now. And I definitely don't regret coming over."

William let himself smile again at this, leaning in and giving a kiss to your temple, "It's alright, bunny. I forgive you."

When William settled back down in his spot, he made it a point to scoot a little closer to you, placing one of his hands on your bare knee and rubbing soft circles into your skin. He didn't like having to be so serious with you. He wanted you to have fun with him. But, William needed to be serious, so that you could have fun. So that you and him could stay together forever.

You needed to know your rules.

And, more importantly, he needed to gauge when it would be best to see you, and maximize the amount of times he could. You were a college student, so he knew you'd be busy. He was a busy man too. But he wanted as much time with you as possible. Having you near him made him feel loved. And safe. And warm. And comfortable. And...

Normal.

You loved him just as he was. When no one else did.

His sweet bunny.

His.

"Now, love," He begun, sounding sweet yet firm at the same time as he stared deep into your eyes, "I want you to know beforehand that I'm only doing all these things because it's my job to keep you safe. And happy, yeah? That I'm only trying to keep us safe."

You nodded in agreement.

William flashed you a smile, "Good bunny. Now, just for now, I think that it's best that we keep our... relationship just between you and me, yeah?"

You raised your eyebrows a little as you set your toast down, wiping your hands, "Our... relationship?"

William was a little confused.

"Yes, love." He said, "Is that not what people call it these days?"

You shook your head, "No, no! It's just... I was preparing for you to say just, like... That last night was great but we can't see each other anymore."

What? You expected him to just give you a one night stand? William felt his heart break a little at your words, his brow bending downwards as he cupped your face in his palm.

Did he not do a good job of showing you how much he loved you? Did you not feel loved? Bunny, you need to tell him these things. William wants you to feel good with him. Both emotionally and physically. He wants to show you just how much he loves you, and damn him if he can't get the message across. William loves you so, so much.

"No, love, no." He reassured you, "I meant what I said earlier. That I want you to be mine, forever. You remember, yeah?"

You nodded in agreement, a tiny smile reappearing on your sweet face.

"I mean it, bunny. You're the only one for me." His thumb traveled down to your lips, pressing against the soft skin, "My precious darling..."

Your smile grew as you pressed a kiss to William's hand, nuzzling your cheek further into his touch.

"But, we have to be a secret?" you asked, your doe eyes looking into his.

"Unfortunately, love, we do." His thumb went back to rubbing gently against your cheek, "Just for a little while. Believe me, I want to show you off to everyone. It's just, for now, it's... complicated."

"Wait... you're not married, ri-"

William chuckled, "No, no! Definitely not. I've long since been divorced, love."

"Then why do we have to be a secret?"

William smiled at your question. You were just so adorable. You wanted him to show you off, didn't you? Precious bunny. Of course William wanted to let everyone know you were his. Because you were. His. He didn't want anyone in this fucking idiotic town taking you away from him, no.

It's like he said. It's complicated.

"Because, love," he explained, "It just might be a little... jarring to some people. Especially to a certain someone we know."

Fucking Michael. William knew that if Michael found out about you and him, hell would be raised in the house. William didn't want to deal with the headache of it all. The little brat might run off and spread some nasty rumors too. Or, even worse, feed you all sorts of lies. About how William was no good for you. About how he was just a mean man that wanted to have you just for some good arm-candy. That William didn't love you.

That's the one. That's the one that made William's blood boil, at even just the mere thought of it. William did love you. He loved you more than anything or anyone in the entire world. And you loved him back. Who was Michael to take you away from him?

No one. Absolutely no one.

William knew you wouldn't want to be a secret forever, though. As easy as it would be. It was fine though. William didn't really want to keep you a secret either. He was genuine when he said he wanted to show you off. He wanted to kiss you and hold your hand in public and not apologize for it. Hug you. Let you walk around with his marks on your neck. Smell like his fancy cologne. And even, perhaps...

Oh. Oh, that was a good one.

Perhaps even he'd put a ring on your finger.

Oh, god. His little bunny. With the ring he got them on their finger. In a little wedding outfit. Having it written on paper. The honeymoon...

Yes. That was a good one.

He'd have to keep that in mind for later.

"But," you said, "Michael is still my friend. I can't just not see him around classes and stuff. He's still gonna wanna have me over and all that. Wouldn't it be... awkward?"

"It doesn't have to be," William reassured you, taking one of your hands into his and kissing your knuckles, "We'll just have to pretend for those bits, won't we? Perhaps if we get a moment alone, too..."

You giggled at his insinuation, a faint tint on your cheeks.

"Do you think you can keep our little secret safe, bunny?" He asked.

"Yeah," you nodded, "I can. I can keep a secret."

"Good. I promise to keep up my end of the bargain, too."

"So... when will we get to see each other then? I still have classes during the week, so, like, the weekends?"

William kissed the back of your hand again, giving it a squeeze, "That'll be the best time for both of us, yes. I know you're busy with your studies, and I'm busy as well. However..."

William let go of your hand briefly to reach behind him into the drawer of his nightstand. He felt around for a few moments before he found what he was searching for, pulling it out and shutting the drawer.

"I'm usually in my office while I'm working. Here." He explained, pressing the object into your hand, "This is the spare key. If you go in through the front, just take a right and keep going until you reach the end of that hallway. Mine is the last door on your left. You're free to come in whenever you want, bunny. Just make sure no one sees you, yeah? And if I'm not there just wait a little, and I will be."

Mr. Afton watched as you turned the key over in your hands, the silver reflecting onto your adorable face.

"You work at that diner that all the kids like, right?" You asked, "The one on Main with all the robots?"

William chuckled, "Yes, love. That's the one."

"Cool. I've never been there before."

Trust him, bunny. He knew.

"Well now you have a reason, yeah?"

"Definitely."

William smiled at you again, leaning in and giving you a kiss on your cheek as he took your hand into his again.

"There's just a few more things, love." He said.

"What is it?"

William wasn't too sure how you would react to this last part. Your real rules. But, he also knew that you hadn't had a relationship before. Perhaps you would just think that they're a normal part of a relationship. It's not like what he was going to ask of you was hard or anything. It was just a few things to make sure you were safe. Something to keep your mind occupied with him. He didn't want you wandering off already, no. Not that you would. You loved him. When it came to you, however, William was more paranoid than normal. He didn't even want a chance for you to slip away from him.

It'd be okay. Surely. You loved him. You wouldn't mind a few rules, wouldn't you bunny? They're just so William can keep you safe. Isn't that what you want?

Of course you would. He just had to word this properly so it didn't' scare you.

"I would... appreciate it," He begun, rubbing soothing circles onto your knuckles, "If you would phone me at least once during the week. And tell me if anyone has been pestering you. And be honest with me. Always. No matter what, yeah?"

William reached out and smoothed your hair behind your ear, dipping his hand down to cradle your cheek again in his palm.

"Can you do that, love?" He asked, "Be a good bunny for me?"

He could feel your cheeks heat up again as you nodded.

"Yes, I can..."

Mr. Afton smiled, "Thank you, dear."

What a good little thing you are. So eager to please him already.

"But," you peeped out, "What if Michael answers instead?"

You made a fair point. William's son was rude. And often made William's life all the more harder. Hell, it was because of him that the brit couldn't show you off around time. Hide you away. That goddamned brat. Michael was lucky that he was the reason William knew about you. Otherwise, William would've never seen anything good about that boy.

Embicile.

William let out a hum, "Don't worry about that, love. I'll take care of it. Just talk to him like you normally would, I'll be there eventually. I promise."

"If you say so."

William felt his smile grow at your words. You were just too perfect. William wondered why he didn't enact his little plan sooner. The way he felt now versus before was starkly different. This must be what real, genuine love and happiness felt like. The older man would sometimes feel jealous of those who got to experience it, thinking he never would. But, here he was, and here you were.

You made him so happy, bunny. His sweet, precious angel.

"Is there anything else you want to add, bunny?" He asked, wanting to make sure you were comfortable too.

You shook your head, "No. Just, thank you for breakfast. It was yummy."

William took that as a sign that you were done and took away your tray, setting it on the nightstand, "It's no trouble at all, love. Now, come here. Let me hold you a bit."

The brit saw how you smiled as you scooted over in the bed closer to him, so pretty just for him. William leaned back against his headboard as you drew closer, wrapping his hands around your waist to pull you into his lap so that you were facing him. He took your sudden proximity as an opportunity to capture your soft, precious lips into another kiss, feeling how your hands rested on his strong shoulders. William's hands couldn't help but start to wander when he felt your heat close to him. Down your hips and waist. Down to your cute little butt, and those delicious, soft thighs.

You were still a little sloppy and timid with your kisses, but William didn't care. He was honored to be your first kiss. First time. First boyfriend. Everything. It's not like you'd ever want a different man, anyway. You were his. And only he could treat you the way you were meant to be treated. Can't you see it, little one? He already knows nearly everything about you. He did plenty of homework beforehand. Studied you. Researched you. Watched you. Planned everything just so you'd fall into his arms. He loved you. He loved you more than anything. He couldn't even put into words just how much he cherished you. And just how many times he's imagined this very moment before.

So, its okay that you're not the best kisser. Totally fine. You'll learn in time. There's plenty more kisses where this came from.

He made sure of that.

~~~

To Michael, the weekends always flew by with such speed that he barely even realized that they were there.

The brief reprieve he got from them was never nearly enough. Not even on the odd occasion that he had three-day weekends. Nothing would ever be good enough, so long as he knew as he had to go back to his damn dad's house.

Fucking hell. Michael hated his dad. He hated his dad more than anything he ever hated or will ever hate. He knew his father hated him too. He knew that when his sperm-donator looked at him, there was no love there. Michael wasn't sure if the old bastard was capable of love. There had been nothing there for all the years Michael had been alive. Nothing for him, nothing for Elizabeth, nothing for Evan, and certainly nothing for his mom. His mom was lucky, though. She was able to get out. Get a divorce and move two towns over.

But, Michael wasn't so lucky. The court had decided that his father should've gotten custody of him for whatever reason. Bull-fucking-shit. The only reason William wanted him was to keep his torture going. Michaels father knew the young man was miserable there, but didn't care.

Sick fucking bastard. No wonder mom left.

Michael had considered moving out when he was 18, but the idea was shot down nearly as quickly as he had thought it. He needed to go to college. And, his dad's place was the only thing close enough to a college. Michael couldn't afford an apartment either, not with the pitiful salary his dad gave him at the diner. So, Michael's hands were tied. He had to live with his old man.

Sick fucking bastard.

It was harder and harder each time to say goodbye to his mom and brother and sister. But Michael knew he had to, but always promised to come back next weekend. A promise he kept ever since he got his license. This time, however, seemed even harder.

The fights Michael and his father had that last week were horrible. Nearly full-on yelling matches with one another. His dad had refused to admit that he stole Michael's car keys. Mike fucking knew he did too, as much as the old geezer tried to deny it. Bastard went as far as to unplug the fucking phone from the wall too. Michael was basically on house-arrest for no goddamned reason. Michael was forced to clean the entire house too, until everything was nearly spotless.

"You're not going anywhere until this house is fit for the bloody queen, young man." His father had said.

Was this just some sick game his dad was trying to play? A new method of how he can make his son's life all the more shitty? Maybe. Knowing how he was.

But, still. Mike tried to remain optimistic. Both he and his old man had a few days to try and cool down. Have some stress-relief. Maybe Michael could just come home and they could pretend like the last week never happened. Which, he had learned, was the closest thing to an apology he would ever get from William.

Hopefully he could come home and it'd be alright.

Hopefully.

Michael had gotten out of his mom's house a little later than he wanted. By the time he had gotten home, the sun had already begun to creep down the horizon, and the cool night air had begun its trek across the whole neighborhood. Pulling up to the familiar driveway of the house, Michael was quick to notice two things at once. The first being the most obvious was the pit of dread growing in the bottom of his stomach. It was okay though, he always felt that way when he returned home from a weekend at his mom's. The other thing, however, was the fact that the lights were on outside.

How long had it been now? That Michael asked his father to leave the light on for him? It must've been years. It was a simple thing to ask for, probably the only think Michael ever asked for from his father. But, of course, William had never delivered. Ever. It was one more way William made sure Michael's life was a living hell. Show him that he will never get what he asks for, or any sort of nice things.

But yet, they were on.

Strange.

Taking a brief moment to collect his thoughts in the sanctuary of his car, Michael took a deep breath in and out of his nose, running his fingers through his combed, feathered hair. Once he was ready, he pushed open his car door and stepped out, locking it behind him. The young man then shifted his keys around in his hand as he approached the front door, eventually finding the lock and opening it.

"I'm home!" Michael called out into the empty foyer as he shut the door behind him. He looked around for a moment for any sign of his father, but saw none. Pausing for a moment, he listened for any sign of him tinkering in the basement workshop.

Nothing.

What the fuck? Where the hell was he?

Whatever. Old man was probably just at Mr. Henry's house or something. Maybe the diner. What did Michael even care, anyway? He could use this opportunity to slip into his room without a fight.

In the quietness of the house, Michael could hear how his footsteps echoed off of the wooden floors and onto the walls. It was eerie, in a way. But why? Whenever he came home from a weekend away, the house was always like this. Hell, it was like this nearly constantly, unless he or his father was using the phone, Mr. Henry was over, or there was a fight. But, that night it was just... different.

Mike didn't know what it was. Did he even want to know? He wasn't sure.

But it had to do with William. He knew that much.

Michael was smart.

Rounding the corner into the kitchen, Michael groaned at the sight before him on instinct. Of course he couldn't just go to his room without there being some sort of trouble. He had thought he smelled smoke in the doorway. There, at the head of the table, was the man of the hour. His dad. That stuck-up narcissistic piece of shit. The old man was surrounded by all sorts of papers, an ashtray pluming smoke with...

Was that a cigar? A fucking cigar? Michael's father only smoked those around the holidays.

What was the occasion?

Michael watched as his dad realized that his son was home, and how the slight smirk on his dumb face grew as he looked at the young man.

Hell no. Hell fucking no. Something was up.

"You shouldn't sneak up on me like that, Michael." His father said, setting his pen down and tamping out some ash from the cigar, "You'll give your old man a heart attack."

Michael rolled his eyes, "I said I was home. Or are you going deaf now, too?"

William chuckled as he took a puff of his cigar, which made Michael's skin crawl. The fuck was his deal?

"I'm not that old, son."

"You look like it." Michael mumbled under his breath, rolling his eyes.

William placed the cigar down as he took a bundle of papers into his hand, leaning back in his chair as he read them, "How was your trip?"

Okay. No. Something was definitely up now. William never ever cared about that kind of shit before. And where was all the sarcasm? And the griping? And the whining and throwing a fit? The old man was in too good of a mood tonight. He was never in a good mood when Michael came home. He hated Mike, and Mike knew that. Mike hated him too, and wasn't shy about showing it. And neither was his old man, in the past at least.

Something had to have happened. This didn't just come out of nowhere.

That bastard did something. Michael knew it.

But what?

"Since when do you care?" Mike asked, crossing his arms.

"Is it a crime to worry for your children now, hm?" William asked, a hint of sarcasm in his accented voice.

Michael rolled his eyes again, "Cut the shit, old man, I-"

"How are Elizabeth and Evan?"

"I... They're fine. Evan still carries that bear you gave him. And Liz asks about you all the time. She misses you. They both do. They wanna visit."

William's face looked indifferent about the matter, "They're always welcome. Just bring them next time you come back for the weekend."

"Yeah, bullshit they're always welcome."

William looked up from his papers and raised an eyebrow, "Someone's hostile tonight, hm? Traffic bad on the way home?"

That condescending prick. Michael was already getting heated, the redness of his freckled cheeks hard to ignore. He re-crossed his arms as he leaned against the wall.

"I know you did something." Michael admitted matter-of-factly. From across the room, he could see his father's smirk growing ever-so slightly as he set his papers down, dipping forward to rest his arms against the dining table. The old man laced his fingers together as he looked at his eldest son.

"Do you now?" William asked, making Michael clench his jaw.

"Yes."

"And what exactly might that be? That I'm supposedly guilty of?"

Michael swallowed the lump in his throat as he ran a hand through his hair, pushing it away from his eyes. Shit. He didn't think that it'd get this far without it just turning into a screaming match. Michael didn't have any proof William did anything. Not anything that solid, at least. But it'd have to do. It was enough to convince him that his father did something, and having known that damn bastard all his life, that was enough. William probably knew that too. Knew that it was just enough to rub in Michael's face, but not enough to accuse him of anything without sounding like an asshole.

Sick fucking bastard.

"I... I don't know." Mike admitted, "But I know you did something. You never act like this when I get home."

William tsked, "Getting mad at me over nothing? Come now, Mike. You're better than that, surely. You know, you sound more and more like your mother every time you go over there. Old bat's still rubbing off on you, I see. Pity."

Michael felt his jaw clench again as he pushed himself off the wall, taking a few steps closer to the table and pointing his finger at the old man.

"Do not bring mum into this!" Michael exclaimed through clenched teeth. "You did something and I just know it! Cut the shit already!"

"I'm still waiting to hear what something is, Michael." William said, not moving an inch, "Whatever it is you can tell me. You know I'll apologize for it."

That fucking liar. Michael's dad never apologized for shit in his entire life. And he fucking knew that too. Michael's vision was starting to go red.

"You never ask how Liz or Evan are! And you left the fucking light on after I asked you for years to leave it on and you never did!" Michael was raising his voice a bit more than he wanted, "You're just... different! And I know that damn look! You did some shit, I know it!"

William sighed and leaned back again in his chair, rubbing the bridge of his nose, "Michael, I'm not in the mood to do this with you right now."

"Bullshit! You want this to happen!"

"And what makes you think that?"

"Because that's what you fucking do!"

"Do what?"

"You fucking start shit because-"

"I didn't start anything, Michael. You're the one that's angry here."

Michael had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep himself from yelling, running his hands through his hair as he let out a laugh of disbelief.

"I can't fucking believe this..." He said.

"I can't either, Michael." William responded as he stood up from his chair, gathering his papers and tamping out his cigar, "And to think I deserve all this, after just trying to be nice to you..."

"But you're not! You're just-"

William held up a hand as he looked down at his son with a disappointed expression, cutting him off, "Save it, Mike. It's late, you should just go to bed, yeah? You're just tired from the drive. I'll be in the basement."

Michael watched in disbelief as his father made his way across the kitchen without another word, opening the door to the cellar and closing it behind him. How fucking dare that old piece of shit walk out on him like that. Goddamn it, he knew what he was fucking doing. He knew. He always fucking knew. He was just trying to fuck with Michael again. Play another one of his stupid fucking games and make Mike's life a living nightmare.

But Michael wouldn't give up so easily. No, he wouldn't he couldn't.

He had to know what his father did. He had to.

He needed proof.

And the proof was here. Somewhere.

After listening for a moment longer, when Mike was sure that his father was down situated in his workshop, the young man got to work.

If he was going to find some sort of proof, it had to be somewhere where William didn't think that Michael would look. Or, it was somewhere where William knew Michael would think would be too obvious of a place to look. But it could be both at once. Michael knew that was probably the case. William was smart, he had to admit, and knew how to hide things well. But Michael was smarter. And had the advantage of putting up with the old brit's bullshit for his entire life. He knew how William operated. Or, at least, could make a good guess of it. In the past, he had to find other things using the same logic.

The best place to start would be narrowing down possibilities.

His father's room would be too obvious. It definitely wouldn't be there. Bedrooms are the first place people stashed important items to them. So that they were near, and felt safe knowing that whatever they were trying to hide was in a safe space. William's bedroom was always neat and tidy too. Everything had a very specific place, and William almost never added or removed from his inventory of things. It would be too easy of a place.

Definitely not there.

The workshop was too obvious as well. It was like William's second room in a way. The old bastard often slept in there when he was working on a new project. It was just as tidy, too, save for the workbench. Proof wouldn't be down there either. Besides, Mike didn't like going there too much. It was creepy.

Not there either.

Could it be Michael's room? No, certainly not. That was too much of a risk that Mike would just find it on accident. Maybe in Liz's room or Evan's? No, for the same reasons. In the kitchen? Maybe. There were a lot of drawers and cupboards to stash things in, especially in the ones that were only used once or twice a year during the holidays. The living room was a possibility too. There were lots of nooks and crannies to store things in. Hell, knowing his father, if he really wanted to hide something, he could even go so crazy as to rip apart floorboards or tiles and hide things underneath them. William always took pride in his house and the fact that he owned it, and could do whatever he wanted to the things that he owned. Controlling piece of shit.

But, even still, all these possibilities didn't seem right. They didn't feel right to Michael. He had to think. What was the most on-brand thing that William could do to hide something. Think, Mike, think.

The bathroom? No. The diner? No, too far out of the way. Mr. Henry's place? No, too far still. Outside? No...

Suddenly, it hit him. Michael felt his lips part at the revelation.

What is the most visited room in the house that you don't think twice about going in to? Or what's in there? A place where you can easiest hide things in plain sight, because no one ever pays attention.

Bingo.

The laundry room.

Michael quickly made his way over to the room, flicking on the light switch as he entered. At first glance, nothing seemed to be out of place from when he last went in there. As expected, however. This was only a ruse to throw him off, Michael knew.

The first thing he did was tear open the cabinets above the washer and dryer, digging through all the contents to find something, anything. Nothing. He even went as far as to push on the backside of the wood, feeling for any pieces that broke off into secret tunnels. Nothing.

Bullshit. It had to be here.

Michael next checked the two hampers that stood next to the machines, digging all the way down and shifting through all the clothes inside of them.

Nothing.

Bullshit.

Michael knew that he was close. He could feel it, taste it on the tip of his tongue. It was here. He knew it was. Whatever his father was trying to hide from him, it was here.

Think, Michael, think.

Hidden in plain sight... in plain sight...

In sight.

Inside.

Bingo.

Michael spun around and knelt down in front of the washer and dryer, opening the washer first. Inside, a wet, dark pile of his father's clothes greeted him, and Michael sneered. Although the clothes inside were damp, it didn't stop him from pulling each and every last article of clothing, inspecting each and every one of them, and even pulling out all the pockets of the trousers and coat. Eventually, the young man reached the last article of clothing and threw it to the floor.

Nothing. It had to be the dryer.

Shifting his weight to his other knee, Michael opened up the dryer door. Inside, another dark pile of his father's clothes greeted him, although this batch wasn't wet like the other one. Still, Michael took his time pulling out every single article of clothing and checked it thoroughly, discarding it to the ground if it was of no use.

Quickly, Mike was able to reach halfway into the pile of clothes. Reaching in to grab another pair of dress-pants, Michael noticed a contrast of fabric within the pile. His grey eyes gravitated towards it immediately.

His father didn't wear things like that. He was an old-fashioned, dress-to-impress person.

That wasn't his father's.

Reaching in, Michael grabbed the article of clothing. It was soft and plush, but still felt like it had a lot of history to it. It felt used, and loved and cared for. It felt like it missed whoever owned it.

Michael pulled out the garment and turned it over in his hands. It took him a moment to process what it was exactly he was looking at, but when he realized, he felt his blood run cold.

It was a jacket.

He knew this jacket.

He went to classes with this jacket. He skipped classes with this jacket. He went to lunch with this jacket. He drove in the neighborhood with this jacket. He joked around with this jacket. He did homework with it. He called it on the phone. He gossiped with it. Hugged it. Squeezed it. Cared for it.

This was a jacket he knew.

Your jacket.

~~~

tags: @guinea-pig16 , @the-official-memester , @randomwriteralan , @mrsrogerwaters , @laylaaftonshit , @cherry-slushee , @insert-memical-username , @mrssafton , @horrorking2000 , @artist-anon08 , @tuttifuckinfruttifriday

apologies to any blogs tumblr wont let me tag!!

if i missed you pls lmk!!

#william afton x you #william afton x reader #william afton smut #william afton #dave miller x reader #fnaf x y/n #fnaf x you #fnaf x reader #fnaf smut

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bearsbeetsbeskar · 10 months

Text

Somebody to Heal, Somebody to Hold (Joel Miller x dispensary! reader) 🍃 🔥 💨

Chapter 1 : Moonberry

Chapter 2 here || Chapter 3 here || Main masterlist

Pairing: Joel Miller x dispensary! reader, AU no outbreak Rating: none, will be changed to explicit in future chapters (slow burn, eventual smut, age gap) Summary: Joel can't rely on pills anymore for his back pain, so his doctor prescribes him medicinal marijuana. But he's not happy about it. Word count: 6.6K A/N: This is a shameless indulgence because I wanna see PEEPAW get HIGH. He needs it, his BACK needs it. He's not gonna like it at first though 🌚. A thank you to my literal heart and soul @iamasaddie who listened for hours on end to my rambles and creative word vomit about this idea, I love you forever. I will add the tag list later tonight. Enjoy!

Chapter 1

“God fucking damn it.”

Joel’s resounding growl reverberates throughout the empty house as he slams another kitchen drawer closed with a loud thud. He impatiently rifles through the drawers one by one in a failed attempt to find any pain killers, any fucking pills he can get his hands on, really. His hands flit through stale takeout menus, spare remote batteries, streamers, matches and other miscellaneous odds and ends with no avail.

He even went so far as to look in Sarah’s bathroom cabinet above the sink and her dresser drawers too. The pieces of furniture in her room somberly coated with a thin layer of dust, marking her absence ever since she left for college a couple months ago. He didn’t have any success. No Advil, no Tylenol, not even any RUB A535 or joint pain creams to be found in any corners of the seemingly empty Miller house.

Damn.

She must have taken anything she had with her off to college when she moved into her dorm, Joel surmised. The dresser’s groan as he shuts it close rivals Joel’s, that rips from the back of his throat as he feels another sharp, needling pinch in his lower back. It eventually subsides into a dull ache but he knows he doesn’t need to move in any abrupt or particular way to trigger the same said infuriating pain, sending shockwaves down his back, through his spine. He grits his teeth and rests both of his palms on the textured surface of the wood, trying to ground himself as his back rounds and he hunches over. Looking up into the mirror attached to the dresser, he grimaces. Recoiling from the image of an old man with hollowed circles under his eyes, grey hairs littering his head and his permanent scowl.

Joel is old. He knows that much. The years on him are telling. Aside from his physical looks, his knees are shot and there isn’t a day where he has to physically brace himself to bend down, swing his legs out of bed, or hoist anything above his head when he’s out on jobs. Even his ability to pick up jobs and swiftly finish them as if he was a sprightly 35 year old with a slightly athletic build has slowed down tremendously. It takes him twice as long to seemingly do anything nowadays, regardless of whether it’s physically laborious.

Hell, he even struggled when it came to moving Sarah into her college dorm room. Even though she remained in state and her campus wasn’t more than a 2 hour drive away, and multiple trips could be made, Joel steeled himself to ensure he would be there to do the heavy lifting, and only have to do it once. Enlisting Tommy’s help would have made it easier as well but of course his younger brother was too gregarious for his own good. Aside from showing up 40 minutes late, with a 6 pack of Lone Star in his hand and forgetting the tools he was supposed to bring, Tommy was more easily preoccupied setting up the mini fridge he bought for Sarah, Which of course Joel scolded him for, and joking around with other freshmen in the dorm.

The harsh reality is that the harder he tries to forget about it and ignore his persisting aches and pains, the more his body and mind humble him without fail that he is old. Broken. Might as well be, seeing as he’s about losing his damn mind without having any painkillers to pop and wash down with a glass of whiskey.

He recalls the fruitless conversation he had with the doctor two weeks earlier which had placed Joel in his current predicament.

“Getting older is a facet of life Joel, I’m not gonna lie to you about that. And you’re an otherwise healthy guy, aside from your cholesterol creeping up a bit high and the occasional spike in your blood sugar.” His doctor told him frankly as he flipped through Joel’s medical history.

“Unfortunately your body is just responding to the stresses of doing physically intensive work, as it does with any other person when they age.”

Joel opens his mouth, already ready to refute the doctor's next words, when the doctor holds his hands up in surrender. “I know, I know, you’ve been doing the same job for years. Nothing about being a contractor has changed. The fact of the matter is the job remains the same but you have changed Joel. Your body just can’t keep up as quickly, nor can it recover as quickly anymore. All that heavy lifting, straining the same muscles over and over in fixed positions, it’s just catching up with you now.”

Joel crosses his arms over his chest and grinds his jaw. “I’ve been managing just fine,” he grunts, not trying to hide his annoyance through the lie.

He had been trying to take it slower in the past couple months. The key word being trying.

Sending Sarah off to college was no easy feat financially, especially as a single parent, but Joel wanted to give his daughter the best chance at a college education, knowing how bright and determined she was. He worked hard to save for her tuition, the first two years that is, but he wouldn’t admit he was running himself into the ground trying to pick up more jobs than he could handle on his own, in order to save up for the rest. Forget the tuition, there was also the cost of residence for living on campus, her textbooks, a laptop, student association fees and a whole bunch of other crap he couldn’t wrap his head around.

“Back in my day you just went to your lectures in the same building, wrote in the same notebook, and used the computers on campus,” he grumbled as he squinted at the tuition balance outlined in the letter sent by her college. There were more zeros than necessary behind said balance that already had Joel’s mind spiraling into a panic.

“I thought you only did like, less than a year of college before you dropped out to start working in the trades Dad,” Sarah quirked her brow at him smugly.

“It was nine months,” he corrected her, “long enough for me to realize that it wasn’t for me.”

“Not long enough for you to learn how to properly use a computer though,” she smirks as she watches Joel start scribbling numbers down onto a piece of paper, reverting to mental math instead of using a calculator.

“It was a long time ago smart ass,” he chides her despite the warmth in his eyes. “Besides, you were still so young. I was spending more time outside of the home, working and trying to juggle school, away from you and your mother. It wasn’t ideal. The trades allowed me to be flexible with my hours, while being able to spend more time with you”

His doctor gave him a sympathetic look and sighed. “If that were the case, I don’t think you would be here and we would be having this conversation right now would we?”

He sits down in his chair and wheels over to the computer sitting on the desk, clicking this and clicking that as he filters through the previous medications that had been prescribed to Joel, before he turns to face him.

“Now in any other instance, I would prescribe you slightly stronger painkillers than what you’ve received in the past,” Joel subconsciously starts nodding along, ready for the spiel about his prescription dosages and what not. “But, because your cholesterol is a little high right now, I can’t do that.”

The crease in between Joel’s eyebrows deepen as he tries to anticipate what the doctor tells him next.

“The side effects from an over the counter painkiller could spike your cholesterol even higher, which is what we do not want,” the doctor continues, unaware of Joel’s steadily boiling frustration. “Which is why I wanted to suggest an alternate method for pain management, something more natural.”

For fucks sake.

He thought this would be a simple appointment. Show up, get a new prescription for whatever magic pills can help this pain in his back to dissipate, and go home. Not look into ‘alternative methods’ that undoubtedly wouldn’t work.

Joel’s gaze narrows and he huffs, leaning back in his seat. “Natural? Like what, seeing one of those hokey practitioners that read your energies and use natural herb remedies and all that crap?”

“Not quite that per say but it is natural medicine. Medical marijuana to be exact.”

Joel’s mouth goes dry as his jaw hangs open. Weed? Nope. Not the solution he was looking for.

Maybe what he should be on the market for is a new doctor at this point.

“Uh listen, I appreciate the suggestion doc, but I don’t think that’s gonna help me at this point. I don’t do that kinda stuff,” he waves his hand dismissively. “If it gets to that point I’ll crack open a beer.” Joel leans forward in his seat and he starts to get up.

“Just a second, hold on. At least let me write you a prescription for it today and you can choose whether or not you want to get it filled at a dispensary.”

“I don’t think-” Joel continues to protest but the doctor cuts him off.

“It’s medicinal marijuana Joel,” the doctor says plainly, as if that’s supposed to calm his nerves. “It has opiate-like properties, which means it’s similar to a pain killer, just without all the usual side effects that come with over the counter medicine. Lots of individuals, older and younger,” the doctor pointedly emphasizes, “use it to help with aches, pain, anxiety, even mental health issues. Not just the physical.”

Joel continues to eye the doctor warily, his spine now stiff as he sits up in the chair. Even now, he can feel his body protesting his upright position, the inkling of that pinched phantom pain coming back slightly.

“Does it get you high?” he asks the older man.

Aside from the stories he’s heard, he’s had his fair share of buddies who used to toke up back in the day. Hell, they didn’t even know what was in it back then, they just smoked as a distraction, something fun to do, to take the edge off after a long day's work. Joel tried it once and didn’t like it at all. The hazy, fuzzy feeling not mixing well with his frayed nerves, glassy eyed and out of touch with his body. No, he would much rather crack open a beer or pour himself a whiskey neat to kick back and relax when he was stressed.

“Not necessarily, some strains, or some kinds of weed have a higher content of THC, tetrahydrocannabinol, the psychoactive component that makes you feel high or ‘out of it,”’ the doctor explains with finger quotes. “Some medicinal marijuana are low in THC but high in CBD, the relaxing component of marijuana. CBD acts as a relaxer, and it can ease physical pain. So depending on what you’re comfortable with, you can opt for the kinds that have a high CBD but low THC content, which will help with any pain issues, without causing you to experience the high.”

Joel’s mind whirls around the acronyms. THC, CBD, ABC. Christ. Does it have to be this fucking complicated?

He knows his doctor is only trying to help at this point, basically just doing his job, but this is way beyond Joel’s comfort zone. He inhales deeply and leans back against the chair as he resigns himself to this conclusion. Seeing as there are no other options.

Picking up on Joel’s internal freak out, the doctor explains. “It’s a lot of information to process, I know. But like I said, take the prescription and think about it. There’s a new dispensary in town here where you can go and take the prescription, have them fill it, chat more about the options and see how you feel. If you’re still adamant about the painkillers then come see me in a couple weeks and we can discuss it more. I want you to try a few things to lower your cholesterol in the meantime.”

His doctor writes the prescription on the office letterhead, and hands it to Joel along with a card for the dispensary in town.

Fast forward to the present, Joel turns around from the dresser and leans back against it. He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out the prescription slip, the paper now visibly creased due to the number of times he had folded and unfolded it in contemplation. Of course it was near impossible to make out the doctor's chicken scratch handwriting.

Must be a requirement of all medical school grads. Step 1, learn to write illegibly, step 2, graduate

He is able to make out the other writing further towards the bottom of the slip, where the doctor haphazardly scribbled out ‘cholesterol’ and underneath it read ‘less red meat and beer, more omega-3’s (fish and eggs), and more fruits.’

“Might as well buy a fucking casket at this point,” he grumbled to himself. If there was a world where he couldn’t enjoy a juicy ribeye steak along with a cold beer anymore, well, he had pretty much resigned himself to the conclusion that that was not a world he wanted to be in.

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

“Alright so we have the Pink Kush Indica loose leaf at 3.5 mg, at 19.7% THC, and the Strawberry Rain hybrid pre-roll pack at 22.4% THC, a very good choice by the way. Is there anything else I can help you with?”

You smile warmly at the customer you’re cashing out at the front till. He’s a young guy, no older than 19, maybe 20? Legal age, but with the way this kid’s eyes are nervously darting around the store, looking at everything but your eye line, you correctly assume it’s his first time buying marijuana products.

“No, nothing else, thanks,” he mumbles as he fidgets with his coat pockets, before paying and quickly snatching up his purchases and shoving them in his pocket, briefly turning to exit the store.

You chuckle to yourself internally and shake your head, remembering what your first time was like when you legally bought from a dispensary after the government legalized marijuana.

Despite its legality, you were a fucking deer in headlights as the dispensary worker tried to explain to you the differences in strains, types of weed, paraphernalia that you could use to consume it. Wholly consumed by the guilt of acknowledging you were purchasing illicit (yet completely legal) drugs, you scurried out of the store as quickly as you could after getting what you needed. What would your parents say if they found out? Not that they ever would, but the ever present shame that needled and cracked through the facade of their wholesome daughter, their good girl, consuming such a horrendous drug, the devil’s lettuce, now that shame loomed over your head constantly for a long time.

You sigh and turn to go into the back storage room. Only 1 hour left until close luckily, yet somehow the last hour of your shift always seems to go by the slowest. Go figure.

“Let me guess, 19 ?” Your colleague Josh guesses with a presumptuous smirk on his face, as he continues to count the inventory of vapes in your storage room.

“Try 21! I believe you owe me dude,” you hear a chirpy voice chime in, as you look to see your other coworker Stef strolling in right behind you.

She holds her hand out expectantly as she approaches Josh, as he slaps a $5 bill into her up-facing palm, a smug grin plastered across her face. Stef usually worked the front door so naturally she would remember the ages of most customers that walked in, after scrutinizing over their ID and making dismissive comments about their appearances and age. Sometimes she was too blunt and outspoken for her own good, but you would call her out on it, all good natured. She was your best friend from elementary school. So naturally when she began working at One Plant and a part time position opened up, she hounded you about it constantly until you came into the store with a copy of your resume, briefly chatting with the manager at the time.

You gasp with feigned sarcasm as you cross your arms over your chest, leaning against a supply shelf.

“You guys said you would stop betting on the customers last week! C’mon now.” You reprimanded them lightly, a half hearted attempt to be the voice of reason, despite the smile on your face. Stef and Josh both outranked you in terms of seniority as they had been working at the shop longer, but it didn’t stop them from concocting new shenanigans every fucking week to make the time go by faster and make your shifts more entertaining.

“What? The kid looked like he damn near was having a fucking seizure when I was checking his I.D.. Yeah he’s technically ‘legal,’” she emphasizes with air quotes, “but he looked like he got lost on a fucking field trip, poor baby.”

You roll your eyes and shake your head once again. Stef may be blunt and take the mick out of customers with a thinly veiled sense of self restraint, but you loved her. She made the days go by faster, as did Josh, lord knows he put up with so many of your antics. It’s a miracle he kept you both in the store at all, despite his threats to take you both off schedule because you couldn’t contain the bullshit amongst yourselves. He joined in on the fun once in a while, giving you a break and empathizing.

“They’re getting younger and younger everyday, I swear.” Josh chimes in as he does a double count of the inventory before logging it into your system.

“I suppose back in your day, you just bought whatever you could from the local dealer who lived in his mother’s basement, right grandpa?” Stef poked at him, as she sat down and propped her feet up on the table used to package orders, scrolling on her phone.

You snorted as you began to tidy up and organize the stock for the following day, preparing any orders that were due for an early pick up. Grabbing a pack of indica pre-rolls here, a couple vape cartridges there, putting away the bongs and pipes that were out on display.

It’s true, that despite the government legalizing marijuana over a year ago, there was still a large influx of customers who were new to consuming the herb, in the face of its notoriety as an illicit street drug. The dispensary saw all manners of people who came in seeking relaxation, calmness, appetite inducing, sensory heightening products. You almost couldn’t believe it when you started working here.

Customers ranged anywhere from barely legal college kids, who couldn’t tell the difference between sativa or indica and couldn’t roll a joint to save their lives, to young parents needing a break between the monotony of daycare and diapers, as well as trade workers coming off a long day at the job, or even seniors looking for a mild pain relaxer.

“Everyone’s got a vice, everyone is looking for a piece of that relaxation. Not all stoners look like typical stoners,” Josh quietly reminded you as he trained you during your first week on the job.

You took his comment in stride and tried your best not to judge the customers when they came in looking for their vice. Everyone had their reasons, undoubtedly, and those reasons were absolutely none of your business, Stef had so compassionately reminded you, despite your bristling at her blunt words.

Today would turn out to be no different, you realized, as you went back out to the front of the store, and began locking up the display cabinets, putting the weed samples back in their glass cases. You hear the bell toll of the front door opening and you call out to Stef in the back, but it doesn’t reach her ears over the sound of her chattering with Josh.

You glance at the clock. 4:32 pm, less than half an hour to go. Steeling yourself, you walk over to the entrance, where the double doors are that let customers into the store. An added measure for security, despite the so-called front ‘checkpoint desk’ where customers had to show their I.D. before walking into the main store that contained actual products.

“Thanks for coming into One Plant, can I see some I.D.?” You parrot the painstakingly rehearsed greeting as you round the corner to the desk at the front. You look up to see an older guy standing there awkwardly, between the exit door, and the front desk, almost like he’s not sure he wants to really be in the store.

He looks around suspiciously at his surroundings, his brow furrowed as he takes you in.

“Uhm, can I see your I.D. sir?” You ask him again, mirroring his confused expression as you appraise his demeanor. You tap your knuckles on the laminated sign on the desk that states I.D. MUST BE SHOWN, ONLY 18+ PERMITTED ENTRY to emphasize your point.

The man blinks once or twice, then shakes himself out of whatever daze he was in, as he fumbles into his back pocket for his wallet, fishing out his license for you.

“Yeah sorry, here you go.”

You don’t pay much attention to the picture on the license, you never usually do, as bad as it is to say. As far as you were concerned, if the mental math added up in your head, and they were 18, you let them in. This time you take a bit more time to analyze this man’s ID card. You poorly attempt to hide the raise in your eyebrows as your gaze scans his year of birth. There’s no way this guy is over 40. He can’t be. You look from the stiff plastic card in your hand, back up to the man towering over you at the desk, taking in his slightly greying hair and his sparse beard. The crows feet etched on his face, and his seemingly permanent scowl gave away his years without fault.

You look down at the card again. Joel Miller. Huh. Just as you look back up at him, he raises his eyebrows at you expectantly. Realizing you have been holding onto his card for far too long than is appropriate you hand it back to him quickly.

“Sorry, can’t be too careful,” you say playfully, but that doesn’t seem to dissuade his nerves as he puts the card back into his wallet, back into his pocket. Hands shoved into his coat pockets as he stood frozen to the spot.

“Come on in,” you gesture for him to come in as you press the button to open the interconnected door that leads to the shop.

He follows you in, continuing to look around the store anxiously, stiff as a board.

You make a beeline for the register counter, secretly praying that this guy knows what he wants to order so that you can all clock out in time. Usually, you didn’t usually mind staying behind late most days but you had been feeling burnt out between school and the hours at the dispensary lately, and you were all too looking forward to going home, smoking a fat joint and unwinding with some drag race. It didn’t look like that would be happening any time soon though, much to your dismay, as you notice the deer in headlights expression on this poor guy. His gaze darted from the display cases to the glassware, despite his broad stature he was clearly overwhelmed by everything in front of him.

You clear your throat in an attempt to pull him out of his current state of fight or flight.

“First time here?”

His gaze snaps back to you, and for a second you genuinely can’t remember if you asked him the question, or if he asked you something, with the way his huge brown eyes widen and soften slightly before he furrows his brows.

“Is it that obvious?” The deep warmth of his baritone voice betrays the gruffness in his response and you chuckle. The corner of his lips curl into a lopsided, sheepish smile.

Bless this first timer and his apprehension. You take pity on his naivete.

“Not to worry at all. Is there anything in particular you’re looking for?” You match his small smile in return.

“Uhm,” he furrows his brows again and starts to peer around the store anxiously again, as if he was being watched. “Something for pain management?” He quirks one eyebrow at you, in question, almost as if he’s unsure if that’s the right answer. He fidgets a bit, shifting his weight and then sighing while pulling a piece of paper out of his pocket.

He squints at the paper briefly. “At least, that’s what my doctor has written here. I think. Can’t be sure with this damn chicken scratch.” He scowls slightly, clearly irritated he is in this predicament.

Again. Bless this first timer, old man. Well, not really THAT old, but still.

“I can help you with that, as for the legibility of doctor handwriting, I’m afraid that’s a lost cause,” you quip. Much to your surprise, he huffs out a laugh in response.

“Yeah no shit. It’s a good thing I clocked what the doctor said before relying on the written prescription.”

“Well, you’re in luck because we have lots of options to choose from in terms of pain management. We have anything from herb, to edibles, to pre rolls, to drinks. Anything really, you name it.”

You chirp off the options, in your customer service voice. Although it doesn’t really feel like you’re trying to sell him something at this point, moreso that you’re educating him on what’s available.

It’s a good thing too, with the way his soulful brown eyes continue to get wider, and the crease between his brows deepen with each option you mention to him.

“Uhm,” he clears his throat, “how about something to smoke?”

“For sure! If you’re looking for something for pain management, that’ll likely be higher on the CBD end, with less THC, more relaxation based.”

“That sounds good,” he gives you another small smile. You start to search for CBD dominant strains in the register database as he shifts a bit closer to the counter, resting his hand with the prescription slip in it, on the countertop.

He has nice hands. Big hands. With nice long, thick fingers. Like really fucking thick. And his thumbs are perfectly curved. You also notice a faint tattoo that's fading, hovering just above the webbing between his index finger and thumb, of… a bullseye? Interesting.

“Alright so we have a selection of pre rolled joints as well as loose herb for CBD, depending on what your preference is. Some people like to roll themselves, plus it’s a bit cheaper to buy it loose and roll it yourself, compared to buying pre-rolled, but it’s up to you.”

Still, he looks at you with a lost expression, but ultimately says says “Let’s go with the pre rolled ones.”

“Sounds good. Any flavour preferences? Or dislikes?”

He furrows his brows again and frowns slightly. God help this man. That should not be as endearing and cute as it is.

“Flavours?” He looks downright bewildered, as if you asked him when he’s going to jetspace off to Mars, that or to sacrifice his first born child. It could very well be both at this point. This poor old man. It must be his first time buying weed in general, not just coming into the dispensary.

Understanding his predicament, you backpedal a bit. At this point you might as well be getting commission on top of the ludacris minimum wage you receive, seeing as how eager you are to assist this man. Normally you couldn’t be bothered to be so thorough and patient with customers when it was nearing closing time but this guy is so lost, you take pity on him. It had nothing to do with how attractive he is.

“Yeah! Weed products come in all different kinds of flavours, depending on the strain. It’s more noticeable with edibles and drinks, any products you consume orally, but loose leaf herb, or the actual weed buds, have different flavours too. If you like fruity stuff there is Mango haze, or strawberry sativa, or if you like a more sour savoury palette, there is sour diesel or lemon haze. Or there are kinds that don’t have a distinct flavour profile or smell, they smell and taste pretty generic when you consume or smoke them.”

“Uh, I think those might be my best bet,” he chuckles hollowly.

“Alright, sounds good.” Going off his limited knowledge and inexperience, you pick a pack for him that is a hybrid strain, light on the THC and heavy on the CBD. Usually it’s pretty good for beginners who aren’t looking to get stupid high and not too expensive.

You turn to the back wall window behind the countertop, and knock on the glass, catching the attention of Stef and Josh.

“Hey, can one of you guys grab me the 5 pack of Moonberry pre-rolls for this walk in order?”

Stef conveniently taps her index finger on her nose and looks presumptuously at Josh, making no effort to get up from her seat, who rolls his eyes and goes over to the inventory shelf. No sooner does he walk back over to hand you the pack, does Stef tear her glance away from her phone, and peek up at the register counter, clocking the man. Her jaw drops and she instantly wiggles her eyebrows at you. Before she can put her open mouth to use and make a smart ass comment, you grab the pack of joints from Josh and pivot back towards the register. As you turn back around, you just barely catch the man’s gaze snapping back up to yours, as if he was looking somewhere further south down your body.

No. You’re just imagining that. Your brain running on fumes as the last remnant of your shift dwindles down.

“Okay, this is a 5 pack of pre rolls. It’s called Moon Berry, it’s a hybrid, but it’s very light on the THC and heavy on the CBD. Good for relaxation and it helps with pain. Try ‘em out and see how you like them.” You put the pack in a small bag and ring up the cost for him.

After he hands you the cash and takes the small bag into his massive hand, he hovers a bit. Shuffling awkwardly as he waits for something else.

“Uh, is there anything else you needed today?” you ask him after a beat. His hand clutching the bag twitches by his side, and his lips part slightly.

Okay this man is cute. More than cute. He’s ridiculously attractive in an aloof sort of way. His disheveled curls, prominent nose and chocolate brown eyes have you short circuiting, as if you were the one purchasing something from him. Still, you reassure yourself it’s the delusion of it being the final minutes of your workday, not the handsome stranger. Not at all.

Say something. Say anything. Jesus.

At this point you’re not really sure if you’re telling that to yourself or silently pleading to him.

“Need a lighter?” you blurt out in an attempt to break the silence.

“Uhm. I-.” He puts his hands in his pockets as if he was going to retrieve a lighter. Your malfunctioning brain persists though.

“Here, take it,” you grab one of the lighters with the generic dispensary logo on it, off the

display on the counter and hand it to him. “It’s on the house,” you state as you see him start to shake his head, “we don’t make money on these anyway, so they always end up as overstock.”

His large palm nearly engulfs your hand as you drop the lighter into his hand. He looks up at you and gives you a boyish smile again.

“Thanks. I appreciate it.”

“No problem, enjoy the pre rolls. If you need anything else, feel free to give us a visit again,” your customer service voice chimes in again as you flash him a warm smile.

Trepidation sweeps across his face for a brief second before he nods and ducks his head, and as he walks out of the store. You check your phone, 4:56, thank God.

You head back into the storage room to grab your things and clock out, only to be met by your co-workers staring at you. Both with shit eating smirks on their faces.

“It’s on the house?” Josh repeats your earlier sentiment to you with a raised eyebrow.

Rolling your eyes instantly, you sigh. “Josh, you and I both know those stupid lighters rarely ever sell out. Or sell, period. It’s not like the occasional few put a dent in the weekly revenue. Plus, there’s lots of other crap in here we sell with the store branding on it.”

He continues to look at you expectantly, his smirk growing bigger.

“You gonna make me watch one of those ridiculous loss prevention videos from HR? Or can we let this go? C’mon it was the last customer of the day and we’re closed now.” You plead with him hoping he will drop it.

“If he wanted to cause you actual pain and suffering he would make you watch those HR videos again,” Stef quips cheekily. “We both wanna know why you wouldn’t just ask for that guy's number, it would have been a lot easier than committing theft as an employee.”

Your mouth gapes open as you look at her indignantly, then to Josh. Screw your best friend for knowing you all too fucking well. You couldn’t hide your poker face from her even if it was surgically constructed.

“Why would I-” you begin your protest but Stef steam rolls over your words in her true form.

“Oh, come ON, babe. I may only have eyes for women but I have to admit, he was fucking HOT and you know it. Those broad shoulders and puppy dog eyes? Probably one of the few attractive middle aged men I’ve seen come through here.”

Josh wrinkles his face in disgust. “Seriously? The dude is probably pushing fifty. He looks like he’s never gotten high in his life seeing as how he was gawking at everything in the store. You included.”

Stef hums in agreement. “Fifty or not, he’s the hottest virgin stoner I’ve ever seen in my life. And I didn’t see a ring on his finger sooo…”

“Okay, that’s it,” you cut her off before she can blurt out any more incriminating things “Let’s implement a new rule, no BETTING on the customers, and no gossiping about how attractive they are.” You huff and grab your things, before dragging your friend towards the store exit. Josh follows in tow, locking up the entrance behind you all.

“All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy,” Josh mutters as he fixes you with a knowing look.

“I’m just saying,” Stef keeps going as you all walk towards the parking lot, “where else and when else are you going to meet someone with all the shit you have going on right now? Don’t you wanna get out there eventually?”

She gives you a playful shove with a bit too much force behind it. “Don’t you at least wanna get laid again? Poor gal probably has cobwebs down there,” She throws out the crass remark nonchalantly as you sputter with your jaw dropped open. Luckily, she just narrowly avoids the slap you aim at her arm.

“Alright, and on THAT note, goodnight to you both. Get home safe.” Josh shakes his head as he gets into his car.

You turn and face Stef, letting out the deepest breath you’ve probably taken all day.

She’s not wrong. It’s been well near a year since you split up with your ex. Ever since you started school and got the part time job at One Plant, you really haven’t had time for anything else. Despite being best friends and living close by, you rarely saw Stef outside of your scheduled shifts together. Relegating yourself to the hermit life, you kept busy with studying, writing papers, going to class and showing up for your shifts at the dispensary.

Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do after becoming single? Better yourself? Have new adventures? Or some shit like that.

Sure, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t miss being with someone. Miss the companionship. But dating in this day and age was fucking exhausting. Even though things between you and your ex ended amicably, you were still very much in your ‘men are trash era’ and the thought of going on dates and getting to know someone again nauseated you.

Annoyingly, Stef wasn’t wrong about the getting laid part. Nearly a year post breakup for a relationship that consumed 6 years of your life didn’t seem that long in the grand scheme of things. But being touch starved for nearly a year? That fucking sucked. And you wouldn’t deny missing the intimacy of cuddles, forehead kisses, and feeling close to someone. That and getting railed as if your life depended on it. Toys were nice and all but fuck you missed the feeling of having someone manhandle you, the feeling of someone giving you pleasure, winding you up. You just haven’t put your focus on that very stale and dry aspect of your life.

Stef gently grabs you by the shoulders, squeezing them. “Look, you know I love you hun, I just want you to be happy. That’s all. You gotta give it a chance again.”

Her words pull you out of your dissociation and you blink hazily a few times. You shake your head briefly and pull her in for a hug. Stef may be too outspoken for her own good but she knew you inside and out. Ater becoming best friends in grade 7, you wouldn’t expect anything less from her. But you couldn’t lie that a part of you hated when she was right.

“I know you do, and I love you for it. Even though you’re a pain in my ass. Now get home safe.”

She squeezes you at that and tells you to do the same, before you both go your separate ways.

Finally home, you trudged into your empty apartment, the weight of day’s work finally easing off your shoulders, as you kicked off your shoes and dumped your keys on the coffee table in the living room. As was your routine, you plopped down on the couch, reaching for your grinder and papers on the table, as you started to roll your joint, contemplating on what to have for dinner.

Still, the image of deep brown eyes, and that warm southern drawl ricocheted through your mind as you densely packed the grinded herb into the joint, folding the paper in on itself and twisting off the end. He was just a customer. You saw hundreds of them a day, he was nothing new. As you lit up and inhaled deeply, you felt the warm, molasses-like haze seep through your bones, clouding over your thoughts, as you melted into the couch. He was just a customer. A handsome stranger.

Despite the excuses you gave yourself, you couldn’t help but feel that wouldn’t be the last time you saw that man, or the virgin stoner, as Stef had so bluntly called him. At least you hoped it wouldn’t be the last.

TAGLIST:

@xkyxkyxxlylcylulucuflfluclu, @morallyinept, @atinylittlepain, @amanitacowboy, @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog, @pr0ximamidnight, @wannab-urs, @beskarandblasters, @jksprincess10

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #tlou fanfiction #joel miller #petition to GET THAT OLD MAN HIGH

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g0thl3zz · 2 years

Text

Slashers asking their S/O to sing for them

Various! Slashers x GN Reader (fluff hcs + Drabbles)

2.7k words, 14.7k characters

A//N: Not really proofread but I wrote this over the span of like 3 months bc I'm lazy. Okay? Okay. Enjoy c:

INCLUDES: Peepaw Michael, RZ! Michael, Bubba Sawyer, Thomas Hewitt, All three Sinclair brothers, Poly! Ghostface, Billy Lenz, & Brahms Heelshire!

Peepaw Myers

Doesn't really care

Kinda just silently waits for you to notice him and stop

He'll listen, but won't pester you to sing for him like Bubba or Brahms would

Michael was out- so you had decided to get some chores around the house knocked out when he was doing, well… whatever it was he did when he went out. You had already done the kitchen, so you had moved onto the laundry, starting with Michael's, first. You tried not to get overwhelmed by the smell of dried up blood on his clothes and had set your mind on singing a simple tune while you loaded up the washer, one you had heard from t.v a while ago that had lingered in your head since. You slammed the washer shut after putting in detergent and as much bleach as was safe before turning to the door, jumping a bit when you see Michael there, covered with blood splatters. "Oh gosh, go! Go change out of that, quickly. So I can throw it in the washer too." You state. He stares at you, just standing there looking at you. You would have thought him a statue if not for his chest moving with his every breath. You sigh. "C'mon Michael, I'll change you this time." You say, grabbing his arm and dragging him to the bathroom. From then on, you would catch him peeking into the laundry room whenever you would put a load in to wash, secretly hoping to catch you singing, even humming. Though, he would never outright ask you to sing for him, he appreciates it when you do.

RZ Michael Myers

Absolutely LOVES it when you sing

He loves your voice, if he walks in on you singing, he'll walk over and hug you gently from behind, rocking with you and happily humming along.

He expects you to sing for him when you guys lay down to sleep

He WILL fall asleep like a baby if you sing to him

You were taking a shower while Michael was out of the house. You had left the door open since you were the only one home, and you allowed yourself to sing as loud as you wished. As you dried your hair off, you nearly jumped into the ceiling when you felt a pair of big arms wrap around you- still in your birthday suit. "Jesus, Mike. Back already? What happened?" You said with a sigh, pulling away to get dressed. Or, attempting to pull away. "Baby, let me get dressed then we can talk about it, okay?" You say, tugging at his arms. He shakes his head, briefly giving a quiet hum while staring at you. A grin takes over your face as you turn around in his arms. "You want me to sing?" He nods. "Alright, then." You told him before starting off with a soft love song, and Michael began swaying side to side, you still in his arms. You let yourself relax into his hold as you sang to him, hoping he would do this to you more often.

Bubba Sawyer

Also loves when you sing.

In the shower together? Better sing to him. Going to sleep? Better sing for him. In the kitchen? Better bust out a tune.

Will drag you to the farm to sing for the chickens.

Loves when you sing sitting on the couch. He'll lay his head in your lap and let you play with his hair. This drives him absolutely crazy.

You had woken up earlier than usual, and had managed to escape Bubba's iron grip in bed to go to the kitchen and cook something for breakfast. You sung to yourself, since it was just you and the sleeping man in the house at the moment. As you stirred eggs, you sung "Wise men say," You sway from side to side with a gentle smile "only fools rush in." You feel arms wrapping around you, swaying with you. As you stirred the eggs, you reached a hand up behind you to cup his cheek, your smile growing ever-wider. "But I can't help, falling in love," You slow the song down considerably, putting down your spatula to turn around and wrap your arm around Bubba's neck. "With" You sung as the two of you swayed in a romantic dance. "You~" you finish, snuggling your face into his big 'ol chest. You hear him make the cutest little happy noises and look up. "I'll sing for you more often, my love. Now, I'm sure the eggs are done. Go get some plates." From then on, you kept your promise. When you washed his hair in the bath, singing a song for him. Whilst cooking or helping with chores, he urged you to sing. In front of his family? He wanted to show you off like his prized possession- which you indeed were.

Thomas Hewitt

Would happily sit in the room sewing masks while you sing.

His ideal evening? Sitting in a rocking chair on the porch, you on his lap while you sing to him.

He would have you sit at the table singing while him and Luda Mae cool instead of turning on the radio

You walked back into the house, sweating from simply walking down the road to pick some wildflowers for the house. Typical Texas heat- that you still had yet to become so used to. At least it was cooler in the house, air conditioner or not. As you wiped the sweat from your face with your shirt, you noticed the sweet sounds of food being cooked- along with the accompaniment of a lady crooning an old tune from the staticky radio Luda Mae kept. A smile had begun to dawn on your face as you began humming along, slowly turning into you singing along to the music the closer you got to the kitchen. You stood in the doorway, singing and watching as Thomas looked up from the cutting board, a smile being evident from behind his mask through his eyes. You walked over, giving him a side hug as you kept singing. You were glad for the little moments like this.

Bo Sinclair

Would pretend like he doesn't care

But would urge you to keep singing

"No, no, don't mind me." As he walks past you to get something as slowly as possible

Would begin stealing cds from the cars of victims to give you a wider variety of music

"These? Oh , nahh. Just wanted to… start a collection. Always good to have a broad taste, eh?"

Bo was down at the garage- so you had decided to use this opportunity to clean the house. It was… messy, to say the least. You couldn't begin to guess when the place was last cleaned. You managed to dig up a cd player and a stack of cds early on into cleaning, so you set that up so you could jam out as you began sorting stuff from trash and placing clothes into hampers. You were happy some of the cds you found belonged to familiar artists,so you sang along as you cleaned, not hearing the door open or the thud of his boots walking up the living room, which you were currently cleaning. Behind you, he turned off the stereo and asked. "What are you doing?" "OH! Oh gosh you scared me, what are you doing back so early?" You asked, turning around to him after your small shock. "Came back to get something. You sing?" He asked, nudging one of the piles you had made with his boot. "Aht! Don't do that! I spent so long just to get this this point. Gosh, just decided to clean up. Clean house equals a clean mind, right?" He nodded with a "hmm. Well, don't mind me. I'll be in and out." He said with a nod, pressing play on the stereo before thumping upstairs to the room. You watch him leave before turning back around and placing more trash in the bag. After a few minutes, you turn to skip the song and see Bo standing there, watching you from the base of the stairs. You pause it, once again and call out. "Changed your mind about going back?" "Nah, why ain't ya singing?" "Oh- uhm, I was just gonna skip this song. Why, you like my singing~?" He pinkens a bit and turns to the door, opening it up and telling you "Psssh, nah. I just hoped I didn't ruin your mood. Well, I'm off now." And with that, he leaves. You shake your head as a smile finds its way onto your face. He was clearly lying, but you were glad he was happy.

Vincent Sinclair

Would watch you sing

Wouldn't bother you, just sitting there nicely

Would ask you to come down to the museum to sing for him while he works on sculptures.

Would start making you little sculptures based off the songs you sing

Would dig around in the attic for sheet music for you to sing- even though it's meant for the piano.

You nearly jumped out of your skin when you felt the taps on your shoulder. You turned off the potter's wheel and turned back to see Vincent standing there, holding a stack of paper to his chest with one hand and signing with the other. 'I found these' Since your hands were caked with clay, you opted to speak. "Okay… what is it?" 'Music' "Oh gosh," You started. "Again? Vincent, I can't sing piano music-there aren't even any lyrics!" You exclaimed. The masked man deflated a big, still staring at you. The silence stretched on for a minute before you sighed. "Fine, fine! Let me wash off first then I'll take a look at it." You stood to your feet. Vincent followed close behind you, anticipating hearing your voice once again. You went to the sink in the basement and washed your hands off and wiped them on your pants. "Let's go upstairs- too hot in here." You say and take the sheets from his hands. You read the music as you two walk up the stairs, nodding and quietly humming the notes to yourself. Once you're back on the ground level, your plop yourself on the couch and look over at him. "Since there aren't any lyrics, I can only hum it." You tell him. 'That's fine, I just wanna hear you…' He signs, and you could feel your heart melt. 'I love you' You sign, then begin the song. It was low and quiet at first, then began swelling with a crescendo all the way to forte and stayed mostly on the lower side of the octave. You finished quickly, a short but sweet piece. By the end, Vincent had laid his head down in your lap, and by the way his chest rose and his eye was closed, you could tell he had fallen asleep. "I've been played," You whisper.

Lester Sinclair

"Oh gee, sweetpea. You have the voice of an angel!"

Would get a goofy grin when you would sing for him, looking at you so happily

Would take you and Jonesy with him to go clean up the roadkill, insisting you sing instead of playing the radio.

"No, no! I insist, y'all come. Just sing summn real purtty like ya' do n we'll have a ball!" He spoke. "...Really Lester?" You questioned the man. "Yes! I'm as serious as a dead man!" He exclaims. You couldn't help but break into a smile, rolling your eyes playfully and standing from where you had been sitting. "... Fiiiine, I guess! Just because you asked so nicely… andforjonesy” You finally complied with him, adding the last part in a quick whisper. “What’d ya say?” “NOTHIIING!! I’ll be in the car for when you’re ready to go!” You say, skipping out as the black and white pitbull trots next to you. You get to his truck and toss the passenger door open, letting Jonesy hop inside before getting in and closing the door behind yourself. Lester soon follows, turning the car, though it takes a few tries for it to rumble to life. When it finally does, he opens the glove compartment and begins the drive. "All 'O ma CDs in there, put on whatever ya' like." He hums, glancing over at you before petting Jonesy and continuing the drive. You do as he says- rifling through his CD collection before pulling out a Frank Sinatra CD. "Sinatra, really?" You ask him. "Well- yea. Found it in a broke down car." "Mhhhm, sure." You laugh and insert it into the player. You begin quietly. "L, is for the way you look," You poke his jaw playfully. "At me~" You can see him glancing over at you before looking back at the dirt road, a smile blossoming onto his face. "O is for the only one, I see. V is very very" You pet Jonesy. "Extraordinary. E is even more than anyone that you adore can!" You finish and can't help but admire Lester's grin. "Oh gosh, baby. You're the best." He says quietly, thinking about how lucky and happy he is. You wished you could etch this moment in stone, and keep it alive forever.

Poly! Ghostface (Billy+Stu)

Billy would tell you to shut tf up (doesn’t really mean it)

Stu would ignore him and encourage you to sing more for them

(stu) Would record you singing in the shower & show you later

Stu would set up karaoke night

Billy would hate it

“I’m not fucking doing karaoke. It’s stupid.” (ends up doing it anyways)

Billy would sing the tequila song

“No- no- look! Karaoke is a great idea. Bill. (y/n) already said yes. Don’t be such a party pooper.” “Yeah, Bill~. Don’t be such a party pooper!” You chime in. You could practically hear his eyes roll to the back of his head. “….Fine.'' After a long pause. You and Stu rejoiced, the blonde man pulling you both into a bear hug. "We're gonna have so much fun man!". Skip three hours later. Stu had ran to the store, got a karaoke machine and every snack you could think of- soda, chips, popcorn, lofthouse cookies (WHICH ARE GREAT AND I WILL FIGHT YOU ON THAT), and candy. You and Billy had surfed through all of your combined CD and cassette collection for songs you wanted to sing- or simply vibe too. Once Stu had come back, the two insisted you sing first. "No, god why me! Why can't you go, Stu?" "heyyy, man. Majority rules, and Me 'n Bills wanna hear your sweet sweeeet voice." You groaned, h=face growing warmer at the statement, but nonetheless you went first, you had a song picked out and began singing, closing your eyes as you began to sway and feel the beat. By the time the song had ended, Stu was all over you, hands underneath your shirt and swaying with you. Billy was sitting back and watching from the couch with a smirk. "Looks like the show's just getting started~" He crooned.

Billy Lenz

Would call and ask you to sing for him

Would be happy and start crying when you end up going to the attic to sing to him in person.

"Pretty piggie singing for Billy! Oh piggie is so pretty!"

Yea that's all I got

Ily tho Billy my beloved

Brriiiing. The phone rung, filling your house with the annoying pitch. "I'm coming!" Calling out to the house, knowing you were alone besides for him. You pick up the receiver and hold it up to your ear answering with a "Hello?" "Piggie! Pretty piggie!" You hear a feral-sounding voice from the other end. "Lala! La la la la la~" You hear the voice say. "Billy, I'm going up there-" "Pig-!" You put the receiver back up and make your way to the basement, climbing up the ladder and entering, seeing brown eyes peeking at you from behind a box. "Billy, if you want me to sing for you, just ask. You don't have to stay in the attic y'know?" You pull yourself up and walk over to the man, sitting beside him on the dusty floor. His big eyes well up with tears. "Oh- piggy. Billy loves the pretty piggy." "I love you too Billy." You say, pulling him into a hug before taking him downstairs with you. You put a CD into the stereo and jamming out to "Mariah Carey' Christmas hits" While finishing up the dishes, Billy sitting on the counter next to you and kicking his feet happily.

Brahms Heelshire

Would try and make you sing opera

"It's in Italian"

"But it's my favorite!"

Begging you on his KNEES

"Look- Brahmsy. You know I can't speak French. How do you expect me to sing this?" "B-but! It has everything you just have to read and sing!" You look at him with warning in your eye. "Brahms." You say firmly. He huffs and crosses his arms over his chest. "Well- I'm not going to bed until you do!" He says, throwing the blankets off of him and sits on the bed with his back facing you. "Ugh, Brahms. I can sing you anything else." You say and reach out to put a hand on his shoulder. He shrugs your hand off with a "Hmph!" "Really? You're gonna do this to me?" You say, no response. Silent treatment. "Okay- okay. Fine, just give me a few minutes." You tell him. You pick up the sheet music, skimming through the notes and rests before your eyes fall below the staffs to the lyrics. It didn't look too bad, you wouldn't be able to sing it perfectly but at least ya'd be able to sing it somewhat decently. "Do you have it on record, so I can sing to the music, at least?" You ask. Silently, your companion rises from his seat and takes a vinyl out from the cover, placing it on the record player and setting the needle on the record. A wonderful duet of viola and cello croon from the speaker and fill the air. You keep up with the sheet music and begin at your cue, singing softly instead of the opera style it's meant to be performed in. "L'amour est un oiseau rebelle, Que nul ne peut apprivoiser." After only five measures, you feel Brahms come up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and buries his bare face in the crook of your neck, swaying to the beat. You stop, looking behind you and seeing his porcelain mask on the bed. A smile invades your face as you bring your hands up to hold his. "I love… you," He whispers softly. You stay like that until the record ends.

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