#i still have 1 work day until i go home. which is to say i will do 2 days of computer work and 1 day of manual labor in the field before i

[ghostybaby000]

After Hours | Part 1

Pairing: Simon Ghost Riley x reader

Summary: Working has already made you feel exhausted, not to mention an awful manager making it far worse. You find yourself wanting to quit, that is until a tall masked figure gives you a reason to stay.

Word Count: 1.6k Warnings: 18+, violent theme, guns, yelling, future smut

(Not fully edited, apologies for any inconsistencies!)

It was that time again, 7am. You grab your keys and purse, a coffee and a muffin to go making your way out of your home you head to work. You take the same route as always being sure to say hello to the other workers when you pull into the lot. You gather your items and head inside to the same front desk and chair waiting for you, that had been there the past 2 years without fail. You get yourself situated setting up your notepad for any callers and sip on your coffee relaxing into the chair. 

You sit up to look more professional watching as two larger men walk in the door holding guns.

‘What can I do for you this morning?’ You smile to them, as they had been frequent customers at this smaller gun range for quite some time. They come over to you, pleased as always to see a smiling face, they were still in their uniforms. The gun range was quite close to a military base, making military personal a regular.

‘Good morning Y/N, the regular please.’ You give them a small nod as you check them out and hand them a golfcart key to get around the facility. They gave thanks and make their way outside, being sure to wave goodbye as they rounded the corner. You had worked here for quite some time, as your father had known many people that came to the range- they reached out needing help and you seemed fit. You went into the interview knowing that you didn’t have much knowledge on weapons or guns hoping they would give you a side job. The manager decided that would be best, and let you work up front with your ‘pretty face’ to attract customers. A small part of you took offense but you let it go, because you were excited to be working somewhere close to home and where you knew a few people. 

Working up front you didn’t have to handle any weapons or fix any issues with them either, you simply had to check people out and give them ammunition which you didn’t mind. You began to recognize others and slowly made yourself a good fit in their community, people reaching out with Christmas cards or asking about your wellbeing. One person had never done such a thing, and that was one of the men from the military. He didn’t have a name on his chest and always remained ominously quiet and vigilante, something you noticed quickly. He always came in with 2 or 3 other members in the group but had never showed alone which only making you more curious of him. Today he hadn’t shown, nor had the typical group of other tall strong men. 

You continued to check people out until the day had reached its end, and you were plenty tired ready to get some sleep. You made your way back to your car, packed up your belongings and headed back to your home. You got in the door and settled down making dinner and watching a show before getting to bed. You wake again to the small alarm clock on your bedside table, reaching over to gently turn it off, another day had started. You typically woke at 7 everyday as it made getting up for work easier, you started to make some breakfast and put on coffee, taking in some time to relax. A little later into the afternoon you received a text from a coworker asking if you could cover their shift as she was feeling unwell. You groan out as you fall back against the couch cushions, this was your day off and you just wanted to stay at home and relax. You knew though that they were understaffed and needed help whenever they could get it and that you wouldn’t say no. You gathered your things and headed back to the range, and thought to yourself that at least you got to make a good breakfast. 

On the drive over it dawns on you that you could be doing more from your job, not just working the front desk. You hadn’t ever been offered a promotion by the snobby manager and was quickly shut down the last time you mentioned it to them. You tried to not hold any sort of grudge against people, yet the way the manager spoke to you and the other workers made you feel as if you would quit on the spot after your interactions, although you never had. You stayed because the other workers needed your help, and you needed the income not to mention getting to see people that were close enough to be considered friends. You shook the thoughts from your head as you pulled onto the gravel pathway and parked. Getting inside and settled in a few minutes, you gaze around the shop and found it to be quiet and calm as the mornings tended to be.  

You help customers as the day progresses, making small chit chat being sure to welcome everyone who comes in. The range wasn’t too busy today, only a few people every hour which you enjoyed as it gave you some time to clean the monitors you used and sweep the floor around you. 

You were sweeping up the last pile when you heard your manager begin yelling at someone from the office, with a slam of the door just down the hall. You groaned as you quickly picked up the small dirt pile you had accumulated and put it in the bin, moving to your work station swiftly. The manager now almost screaming at points of his argument, your palms begin to get sweaty and everything in you hopes that a customer doesn’t come in. You stand there nervously as people pass by the front door, you look away in hopes they won’t feel the need to come and say hello.

SLAM the phone had been hung up, making you wince as it did. You tried to act normally and as if you didn’t hear anything when you heard his office door open. You didn’t dare to ask him what it was about knowing that it would only blow up in your face, so you decide to start typing away at the computer. His boots came thudding down the small hallway as you tried to take deep breaths, telling yourself to not look his way. He stops right next to you, still huffing from yelling on the phone.

‘Where’s Catherine?’ He glares at you when you stop typing and start to look over at him, he was sweating from yelling and quite red too. 

‘Well.. she texted me saying-‘

‘I didn’t ask what she texted you- where is she?’ His tone grew more firm as he leaned in closer to you.

‘She said she wasn’t feeling well so I came in to cover for her shift…’ You now had your hands placed on your lap looking between him and down to the floor, afraid of the man that stood in front of you and how he would react.

‘well that’s just GREAT.’ He slams his hands on the counter and begins to pace the small area in front of the desk, then moving them to cover his face. 

‘She should have contacted me. Not you, ME then I could have told her that someone would cover for her- and it wouldn’t of been you.’ He looks at you when he stops pacing. You furrow your brows and look back to the floor.

‘See, you’re going into overtime now- you’re meant to only be part time which means I have to pay more!’ His voice was now booming through the small building while you sat quietly looking down to your hands in your lap or the desk, anything that wasn’t able to yell back at you. 

‘You know what, don’t come in next week. I-I cant afford it now thanks to Catherine.’ You look up now, you couldn’t miss work for a week, you had mortgage due soon and electric bills to pay and you had to buy groceries-

‘I cant miss work that long I have mortgage due this next week…could I come in for just a few hours?’ You regretted saying the words as they left your lips, watching as a smile grew over his face as he walked towards you. Your own eyes began to feel hot and watery but you wouldn’t let yourself cry. 

‘You can’t pay bills? No, I can’t pay bills! Not with people like you going overtime behind my back-you…you can afford to miss work your job isn’t essential around here! I can manage to ring people out for a while and eat a muffin at the same time- You can’t even use a gun properly and you think your fit to work here!?-‘ His tangent quickly cut off making the room feel a whole lot more quiet. The tears welting in your eyes that he couldn’t see had dropped to your pants. The door had opened and the same group of 3 had walked into the building wearing their uniforms, they must have checked in earlier this morning before you’d arrived. He immediately backs away from the counter to simply tapping his thumbs on the desk attempting to act casually. He was even more red now not that the customers could see, as he stared you down.

‘Alright. You lock up, I’m going home.’ He turns to face the customers now. ‘And you gentlemen, we are closing soon but please just ask Y/N for anything you need, have a good night.’ He walks back the office where the door now gently closed as you heard him gathering his things preparing to leave. 

You were sure they had heard the manager through the door, there’s no way they hadn’t. Yet if they had heard, they were acting as if it was the same as any other day- except the one with the mask. He was looking at you for quite some time across the room before the group came up to the desk. 

#books #call of duty fanart #cod fanfic #cod ghost #ghost cod #ghost mw2 #ghost x reader #ghost x y/n #simon ghost riley #ghost x you #Ghost x reader #ghost call of duty #simon ghost riley x you #cod #simon riley x y/n #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you

[marie-swriting]

Waste Of Time - Jake "Hangman" Seresin [1/2]

Masterlist

Emails I Can't Send Masterlist

Part two (will be published 01/06/2024 at 9pm)

Part one - two (French version) (will be published 19/05/2024 at 9pm)

Summary : You can't stop reminiscing your relationship with Jake despite your break up.

Warnings : angst, sad ending, Jake being a dick, maybe some grammatical mistakes as English is not my first language, tell me if you see some or if I missed any warnings.

Word count : 1.9k

Song inspiration : Things I Wish You Said by Sabrina Carpenter

Sitting on your bed, you’re holding your phone in front of you with Jake’s contact picture on the screen. You’re so excited to talk to him again that you have a big smile on your face. You’re currently on deployment so you haven’t been able to communicate properly with your boyfriend for the past few days. 

After a few seconds, Jake’s face appears and you see he’s sitting on his couch.

“Hey, I’m sorry for not calling earlier, it’s crazy out here.” you apologise.

“Don’t worry, I totally get how complicated it can be to call.”

“Anyway, what’s up?”

“Not much, it’s pretty calm.” Jake says before avoiding your gaze. “Actually, I wanted to talk to you about something.”

“Sure, what is it?”

“I… Look,” he nervously starts and you stand up, fearing what’s about to come next, “I don’t know how to tell you this so I’m just gonna rip the bandage off; we should break up.”

“What? What are you talking about?”

“It’s not you, I swear, it’s me.”

“What kind of bullshit is this?” you say, angry and confused. “Everything is fine between us. I don’t understand why you want to break up. Did I do something?”

“No, like I said, it’s not you. I just want to focus on my career and-”

“And what? I’m some kind of distraction? You can’t be in a relationship and work like a big boy?” you retort, annoyed.

“You’re mad and I understand it but it’s for the better.” Jake calmly replies which makes you even angrier.

“Clearly.”

“Y/N, you’re a good person, I don’t want you to doubt it for one second.”

Jake’s sentence should bring you some kind of comfort and yet, it just makes you turn on him even more. You don’t even look at your phone anymore, a million emotions going through your head. You don’t know if you’re more devastated or mad. Understanding it’s of no use to insist, Jake sighs before talking one last time:

“I’m gonna leave you alone now.”

You glance at your phone again, waiting for Jake to say something else and yet, nothing comes. Jake doesn’t even add a “I’m sorry” before hanging up, leaving you in your bedroom alone and in a heavy silence. You keep your eyes on your phone, still in shock by what just happened. You can’t grasp it. 

You met Jake four months ago and everything happened so quickly, but you both didn’t mind it. Some people tried to warn you by telling you about his reputation with women, nevertheless you ignored them. You and Jake clicked instantly and that’s what mattered. And also, you’re not going to lie, he knew how to get you hooked in one conversation. You felt like it was the same for him, that Jake was as attached to you as you were to him, now, you have some doubts. What bothers you the most is that your relationship was becoming more serious - until now. You were seeing each other whenever you could, you even talked about owning a house together. You had begun to imagine a future together and with just one phone call, Jake threw it all away.

That night, you don’t shed a tear. You tell yourself you made this phone call up. Though, the next morning, once you wake up without Jake’s usual morning text wishing you a good day, you realise it was, indeed, real and you break down the second you come home from work. Never had your heart known such heartbreak, it didn't see it coming.

Five months passed since this sinister call. Every night, your last conversation is stuck in your head, you think back to your relationship with Jake, searching for what you could have done wrong and the more you think about it, the more you realise you always put more energy in this relationship than Jake did. Now, you consider yourself stupid for hoping for something beautiful when you had been warned that Jake couldn’t commit to someone. You thought you were different. You are not. You find yourself even more pathetic because Jake is always in your head. Even when he’s not with you anymore, he still manages to make you waste your time. 

Tonight is another proof of it. You ran into Jake at a Navy event. Unfortunately for you, you saw Jake there and now, here you are, laying on your bed, thinking back to him and this event and more specifically the moment you saw him in the parking lot when you left the party, a moment that won’t leave your mind for the next several days.

You went to this event without much conviction. You were accompanied by your new friend Scott whom you had met during your last mission.

At first, you didn’t want to be here, then you saw Jake and the second you recognised his laugh from the other end of the room, you wanted to run far away from the get-together. Scott, always a good friend, stayed by your side and distracted you. He even managed to make you laugh, although internally, your heart was breaking all over again. You didn’t talk to Jake all night. In fact, you didn’t even get close to him, you avoided him like the plague. You did until it was socially acceptable to leave the party. The second the evening began to wind down, you wanted to bolt far away from this place. While you were walking to your car, you found yourself face to face with Jake. At first, you both stood there, looking into each other’s eyes without talking and then, as you weren’t ready to confront him, you started to walk away to your vehicle when Jake held you back.

“Can we talk, please?”

“I don’t have anything to say to you, Jake.” you had told, on your guard. 

“Yeah, I imagine talking to me is the last thing you want to do but I need to tell you something.”

“You said more than enough last time.” you had declared, turning on your heel to go in the opposite direction to him.

“Actually, I didn’t say enough. You deserve an apology.”

At his sentence, you turned to him, surprised. Getting an apology from Jake was the last thing you expected. You stood in front of him, your arms crossed over your chest as a way to show him you wouldn’t let him get under your skin so easily - when in reality, this felt like doing something impossible.

“I’m sorry I left you in the dark when I broke things off. I’m sorry I pulled the ‘it’s not you, it’s me’. It wasn’t fair to you. And I’m…” Jake had sighed, “you deserve a real apology, better than this one, though I had to, at least, tell you this. Maybe I’m going too far but I’d be happy to make it up to you correctly by meeting each other someday soon.”

“Jake, I don’t think it’s a good idea.” you had refused, looking down for a second. “But thanks for what you just told me, it’s always nice to hear it.”

Following your sentence, you thought the conversation was over so you took out your car keys from your purse when Jake’s voice resonated in the parking lot once more:

“Is it because of the guy you were with tonight that you turned me down? Have you guys been together for a long time?”

“Scott? He’s just a friend.”

“The way he made you laugh…,” Jake had scoffed, “it didn’t feel like you were just being friends.”

“And yet, there is nothing between us.” you had replied, defensive. “And anyway, why does it bother you so much? We’re not together anymore, do I have to remind you this was your decision?”

“And it was a dumb decision. I miss you so damn much!” He had exclaimed with a guilty look on his face. “God, you have no idea. Everything reminds me of you. The second one of your favourite artists is on the radio, I can still picture you singing the lyrics with a huge smile on your face. What I wouldn’t do to see that smile again!” he had added more softly. “Even now, I always reach for your leg over there on your side of the car then I realise you’re not here anymore because I fucked up. I’m watching everything that you do, every achievement you make, I make sure to know them. I’ve always known you were a damn good pilot but you keep impressing me. I should’ve realised the chance I had when I was with you before ruining it. I can’t move on, I can’t even stomach loving somebody else beside you.” Jake had confessed, taking a step towards you.

As soon as you saw him getting closer, you couldn’t help but look at his lips, oh, how you’ve missed those lips so much! Looking at him more carefully, you also noticed he wanted to touch you, too. Several times, his hands had almost reached over for yours, nonetheless he held himself back, not wanting to ruin anything with you by acting impulsively. Listening to Jake’s confession almost made you fall for him again and forget about the pain he caused you. Though, you stayed silent, knowing that if you opened your mouth, you wouldn’t know how to resist him. With a desperate voice, Jake tried to go all in by stating one last time:

“I swear if you gave me one last chance, I would do better for you. I will be the man you deserve, I won’t break your heart. I learned from my mistakes, I promise.”

“Jake, you hurt me.” you had said with a weak voice.

“I get it but if you ever were to change your mind, I’d always be free. Again, I’m sorry.”

With this last apology, Jake left you alone and you got in your car with teary eyes. You hold them back until you left the parking lot.

Unfortunately, this is not what happened. 

You did run into Jake in the parking lot but he stayed silent. At one point, you thought he was about to say something nevertheless he just walked away, a guilty look on his face.

And here you are now, in your bed, fantasising about things you wish he said to you. Despite the break up five months ago, you’re still desperate for his love. Despite the pain he caused you, you yearn for his apologies, but especially you wish he’d still want you and even if in the scenario you made up, you refused to see Jake again, you know that once you would have gone home, you would have called him and said yes. You still love him and you wish you didn’t. He’s still playing with your feelings when he’s not even talking to you anymore. Your heart conspires against you by torturing you and making you long for a Jake who would know how to fix his mistakes and be the man you deserve. Yet, it’s of no use. Jake will never change and if he came back, it’d be just to play with your feelings before leaving you hanging again. You waste your time on idiotic things. It’s a waste of time to hope for him to change, it’s a waste of time to think of things he never said and things he’ll never say to you. Jake is a waste of time and you’re mad at yourself for dedicating so much time of your life for a man who stopped thinking about you a long time ago. You just hope one day you’ll be able to feel lighter, away from Jake and your feelings for him.

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#marie swriting in english #top gun imagine #top gun fanfiction #top gun movie #top gun #top gun fandom #top gun maverick #top gun angst #top gun hangman #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin fic #jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin #jake seresin x y/n #jake seresin x you #jake seresin angst #jake seresin oneshot #jake seresin imagine #jake hangman x y/n #jake hangman seresin x you #jake hangman x you #jake hangman x reader #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman fic #jake hangman imagine #Spotify #marie swriting with music #marie swriting with eics #marie swriting with sabrina carpenter

[madigoround]

💜

#I’m going to complain about something that is probably a non issue and I’m making a bigger deal out of it than it is probably but I’m having #anxiety about it and this is my journal basically so #I have been telling everyone and their mother that im counting down the days until I get the keys to my home on April 7th and a few days ago #these girls from work who like we’ve known each other like a year and a half by now probably and at first they kind of hated me because for #my work task I have to come to them to get something signed right and they make a huge deal of it sometimes but I think im growing on them #they ask me things now and joke around with me so it’s an improvement and a few days ago when I was talking with them about it they were #like do you want help cleaning your home since I said I was gonna take that first weekend to deep clean it and I jokingly accepted thinking #they didn’t mean it because people just say things like that you know? but then one of them texted me tonight to ask if #I would still like them to come over next weekend and I said sure but you don’t have to clean you can just hang out and they are bringing #games and like on the one hand I would like more friends but on the other hand 1 this is my home I’m inviting people I don’t know outside of #work into my home and 2 what if they turn out to be mean to me and then is it like I’ve soured my home a bit?? #3 what if it’s super awkward or something and then I have to see them at work #like it’s probably fine and I do want more friends but if they said something bad about my home which I love so much already I would have to #ask them to leave #i’m just talking to myself #processing out loud I guess

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

#hhhh my body is tired. i couldnt sleep and then my day was upside down and i spent 4hrs transfering algae #i still have 1 work day until i go home. which is to say i will do 2 days of computer work and 1 day of manual labor in the field before i #go home. bc i have to get these fucking manuscripts done #but i guess it was an ok day. it wasnt yesterday where i left the lab by 12 for fear of bursting into tears. sometimes i just cant stand to #work sitting down. its really annoying #but i did have to say goodbye to our visiting phd student today bc she goes back to spain in the new year #which is sad bc shes really cool but she liked to do snail mail so im excited to be pen pals with her #bc ive never done the snail mail thing. shes like 5 to 10 years older than me? like old enough to have fully formed memories of the 90s #hhhh i still have to order Christmas presents. i just. i wish i could stop the present exchange. no body buy me anything so i dont have to #buy u anything. im so tired. #and i still have to make Christmas presents for my parents and sisters. with what time? #ill have to burn away my vacation time for that. hhhh i shoulf just sleep now #but i wont. ill pack bc i might as well while im being unproductive and i wont make time for it later so ya kno #i just wanna be home not doing anything but also i have many things to do and lots of things to prepare before i can do school visits #assuming i get more than one. and oh fuck thats right i still have that last application. tomorrow morning thsts what ill do. god dammit #the 4 hrs of algae transfering was my break and me being unfocused now #just 3 more days and 2 full day of traveling then i can whine at my parents abt how sad i am lol nah ill do that thing where u go #haha yea im in a lot of pain lmao so no one fully takes u seriously even tho ur saying something fucked up #that my mo bc i cant take my pain seriously. part of my brain detaches itself and thinks its all v funny #bleh. brain is goo #unrelated

[delisocks]

i hope i die for real just like hit with a bus regina george style

#so much work to do. so little time until i have to go back to school... hgh #it's like weekends and ends of day don't even register anymore #i go to school from 8:00 to 3:30 every day and then i come home and do more school #if i'm lucky maybe i can get thru an episode of tv or a little bit of plague inc in a half-delirious haze before i fall asleep #and then BANG! radar alarm ringtone. do it all over again bitch #i'm convinced time isn't real why does the public school system hate teenagers so much #i have settled into the routine of an unmarried middle-aged accountant at 16 and i am not okay with that #on fridays i let myself buy a pint of ben & jerry's but it is naught. for the grind continues. 5 hours of the grind for #like #20 minutes of cherry garcia + danny gonzalez #my mom says depression is recognizing the futility of life but what is it when your life really Is that futile. it's all this for 2 1/2 mor #years until college and then it's maybe not this bad anymore but still like another. solid 4 years #maybe more like 8 if i go for the doctorate #which it feels like you really have to if you want to get anywhere anymore #plus fucking student loans. i don't want to be in debt before i'm 20 #but of course i will be. everyone is. #boomers are always clowning on teenagers for being “addicted to screens” and “not having hobbies” #but hey! it's not like we have any public spaces!! it's not like we have fucking any #free time!!! the phone is the most easily accessible thing #i'm so done. fuck my stupid baka life etc etc

[hedgehog-moss]

Here are 7 little facts about my donkey and how his summer is going :)

1. I received an anon the other day asking if Pirou was still a working donkey who carries my firewood for me, and the answer is yes. I've been cutting some branches from the big cherry tree that fell down the other day, and Pirlouit has been valiantly carrying them to the woodshed—fun fact, for this activity he likes to wear his ears like this:

Probably because this T position is reminiscent of Jesus' sacrifice on the cross, which is how Pirlouit perceives himself as he carries heavy logs for me. He's willing, but his martyrdom should be acknowledged.

Here's Poldine acknowledging it with a nose kiss, because Poldine.

I stopped so they could have their little chat.

2. Pirou has been chatting with a lot of new friends lately—we met these horses on a walk and he was so happy to stop and touch noses with them while making equid noises. Llamas are good with the nose-touching but their llama noises are just less interesting to Pirlouit. He had such interested ears here! "Finally a serious grown-up conversation"

We also met this goose during the same walk and Pirlouit was a lot less eager to go say hi to her. The goose was yelling threats at us and we prudently stayed away, and Pirou was clearly thinking "this bird is doing a better job at protecting her home from intruders than Pandolf ever could" (it's true, Pan assumes intruders are friends until proven otherwise)

3. You'll notice that there are houses in this pic! Our walks got longer and longer until one day we went all the way to the village (it took 1 hour 20min at Pirlouit's leisurely pace). I was so proud of him. I've been trying to convince my friends to go to the village on donkeyback (this requires two people, because you can ride Pirlouit but you can't tell him where to go unless there's someone holding his rope and leading the way)—my friends were reluctant because they still sort of perceive Pirou as the feral animal terrified of everything that he was when I got him. They know he's made a lot of progress but going to town on donkeyback still seemed foolhardy.

So we've been riding Pirlouit in the woods, in familiar environments, and we also went to town with him but without riding him. He was amazingly calm and brave! There's a river that cuts the village in two and the first time we went, we stopped before the bridge, since it's pretty narrow and cars would have to drive very close to Pirlouit, we didn't want to risk it. We just went to say hi to the librarian who lives on the right side of the river, but since Pirlouit was very serene, we did cross the bridge the second time.

He did not care at all about cars driving very close to him (he had one familiar human on either side of him and the drivers were very considerate and went slowly), which emboldened us to stop for a drink on the terrace of the coffeeshop on main street (< also a narrow street with cars driving by quite close to Pirlouit). There was just no problem at all, Pirou let total strangers rub his forehead and was more interested in iced tea than main street traffic.

It was a hot day and we gave him all the ice cubes from our drinks and he chewed them enthusiastically.

4. We made a stop at the pharmacy on our way home because we had another 1 hour 20min walk ahead and I had a blister, and the pharmacist noticed my donkey parked outside his shop and in a determined tone he said, "I want to try something." He took one of the donkey milk soaps from the overpriced-Provence-soaps-for-tourists display and opened the door and offered it for Pirlouit to sniff.

... I'm not sure what he was expecting—for my donkey to go "ohhh this smells like Mother's milk and aloe vera 🥺"—but unfortunately nothing happened.

(4. bis—Sorry, this 4th fact was anticlimactic.)

5. Pirlouit is now the proud owner of a surcingle. Not for equestrian vaulting and not for his log-carrying job because I don't know if it would be solid enough for the weight of a bag full of logs, but I'd like to tie bags or baskets to it to take Pirlouit grocery shopping, now that I know he's okay with going to town :) He even seems to enjoy the adventure, and the attention he gets from children.

And actually I shouldn't write off equestrian vaulting because Pirou is also remarkably chill with weird things happening on his back. I used to be very careful to climb on his back in a quick & fluid way so he wouldn't spook (because he used to! a butterfly flapping its wings in Brazil used to spook him!) but now that my friends are riding him I can confirm we've reached a point where you can climb on Pirlouit's back in any way you want and he'll just be like "...... sure"

6. I almost forgot to mention that Pirou turned 15 last month, according to his ID papers :) Donkeys have a longer life expectancy than horses, they can live 30-40 years on average so he's still a young lad really. Happy 15th birthday Pirlouit :)

7. I wanted to conclude with a nice aesthetic pic of Pirou's shadow on the road during all those walks, like I did with Poldine, but unfortunately donkey shadows do not have the chic je-ne-sais-quoi of llama shadows. Pirlouit looks like a hammerhead shark wearing a tiny fez and that's not his fault.

#crawling along #i am so proud of him! #4 years ago i couldn't even touch him let alone halter him let alone... any of this #he's a great donkey. very curious and interested in the world around him especially iced tea bottles

[finelinefae]

the aviator [pilot!harry x teacher!yn]

synopsis: It’s the 1950s. Harry is the best pilot on the Air Force base and y/n is a teacher at a nursery.

word count: 8.5k

contains: fluff, flirting, opposites attract, bad boy/good girl dynamic, Harry has a southern accent, alcohol, smoking, allusions to childhood trauma

This is part 1 of a new series that will probably have 3-ish parts !!

. . .

Offutt Air Force Base, situated in Omaha, Nebraska, housed thousands of civilians working in or connected to the military.  People living in the nearby town would often hear the loud plane engines as they take off and land on the runway. They’d look out the windows of their home and see spitfires piloted by men undergoing training, executing missions, or just having a good time, even when they technically weren’t given permission. 

“Wah Hooo!” The spitfire trembled as it finally landed on solid ground. Harry braced himself for the landing, pushing himself back against his seat to stop himself from jolting around. He did his best to hide his smile and remain nonchalant as he heard the familiar voices yelp in excitement as he landed the aircraft. 

He removed his helmet and pushed the canopy of the cockpit open, leaping down and getting familiar with feeling the solid ground beneath his feet after being in the air. Two figures ran up to him, flailing their arms and screeching in excitement, “Tha’s what I’m talking about!” Harry opened his arms, unable to stop himself from laughing the two men almost knocked him over as they joined in a group hug. 

“You flew her like a champ, H. Never seen anything like that in my life.” Harry looked into two sets of eyes an identical colour to his own. 

Standing in front of him were his two brothers, Sonny and George. All three of them were pilots in the military and had been since they left school to sign up after the War. There wasn’t too much age difference between them which was probably one of the reasons the brothers were so close.  Harry was the oldest, just over a year senior to George, who happened to be taller despite being the middle child, and Sonny was the youngest.

“Yeah well, she still needs some work. One of her engine cylinders is faulty.” The three of them walked side by side towards the maintenance shed. Despite their differences in height, anyone would assume the three brothers were triplets from how similar they looked. Most people on base knew them for their signature sea-glass green eyes and their brown hair. 

“Oh I’ll go and tell Ruddy, he might still be here.” Sonny ran ahead 

“Oh and Sonny,” Harry called for his younger brother, “Good job.” Harry winked at his younger brother, referring to his work on the plane he had just flown. In response, Sonny straightened his shoulders and smiled feeling proud after receiving a compliment from his older brother. 

Harry and George both lit a cigarette each, pausing outside the door to the warehouse to smoke together. “I opened up a letter this morning from Ma.” George exhaled, smoke escaping past his lips. 

Harry tried not to show his annoyance, “Wha’d she say?” He grumbled.

“She misses us… All of us and she wants us to stop by, come visit for dinner one day maybe.” George explained.

“Is she still with that old bastard?” Harry looked up at his younger brother.

George nodded, “Last time I heard.”

“Then we’re not going, none of us are.” Harry thought back to the last time he had allowed himself and his siblings to visit his mother. It was going well in the beginning, she’d cooked them up a roast pork and engaged in conversation, until their Father came home. It wasn’t long into their visit before they left the house and Sonny had gone home with a black eye whilst Harry had to get his hand stitched up at a hospital on the journey back.

Harry had grown up in Dallas, Texas, in a tacky old house that barely stood upright just on the outside of town. Whilst his Father was out working on a ranch somewhere and getting pissed up every night, Harry would spend most of his days keeping the house together whilst tending to his younger siblings. His mother was often somewhere in the house - nobody knew exactly what she was doing, since she wasn’t exactly all there half the time - but she was there.

Every visit they made back home was a reminder as to why they had entered the military in the first place. Whenever their mother would send them a letter, it was either because she wanted something or wanted them to come home so she could ask for that same something in person. The last time Harry had bought his siblings home was the first time in years. He thought his mother would be different yet he had no idea why - she was still letting that old man walk around as if he was the one who kept the house from falling. 

“Sonny and I agreed you’re picking up Elise from nursery by the way,” George smirked, chucking his cigarette on the ground and putting it out with his foot. 

“You and Sonny agreed that?” Harry frowned, receiving a nod from his brother, “I’ve been flying all day and y’ still want me to go pick up the baby?”

George clapped his older brother on the shoulder, “We’ve both got to help out in the warehouse this evening and besides, you’re Offutt's best pilot, I think you can handle picking up a two-year-old on the way home.” 

Harry didn’t have time to argue with his brother as he stepped into the warehouse. He let out a deep sigh and took one puff of his cigarette before throwing it to the ground. He put his flight cap on his head to cover his messy hair and straightened his aviator jacket, walking towards the nursery. 

. . .

“How have you found your first day Y/N?” Midge, one of the other nursery workers asked as they stood at the sink together to wash up some of the paint pots a few of the kids had been playing with in the afternoon. 

“It’s been wonderful, Midge.” Y/N grinned. Although she was tired, she also felt ecstatic to finally be working again after months of searching for a new job.  She had always been good with children thanks to her older sister having a kid of her own for her to babysit now and then. So when the opportunity arose to work a well-paying job at a nursery on the military base, she couldn’t pass it up. They’d even offer her free accommodation and discounted food for groceries which was perfect considering she didn’t have much of any of those things when she was living alone.

“I expect most of the kids will be getting picked up soon,” Midge glanced at the clock, “Everyone will be returning from work.”

Y/N hadn’t expected pick up time at the nursery to be so busy but fathers and mothers bustled in to pick up their children to take them home all at once. Once the majority of the kids had been picked up, Y/N glanced around to see the mess that had been left from the day that she’d have to clean up by herself. Her shoulders dropped as she landed on a small figure, realising she wasn’t completely alone yet. 

“Elise, what are you doing?” Y/N smiled at the tiny girl playing in the corner, she was picking up picture books and flicking through them as if she were actually reading them. Y/N crouched down in front of the small toddler, “Are you enjoying those?” 

Elise just grinned, picking something up with her small fingers and trying to put it in her mouth. Her brown, curly ringlets were no longer in uneven bunches like they had been this morning and her overalls were covered in food and paint stains. Y/N picked up the two-year-old to place in her lap, “Shall we read something before your dad comes to get you?” Elise babbled a reply. 

Halfway through their fifth book, Elise was near enough asleep on Y/N’s lap. It had already been an hour since all of the other children went home and it wouldn’t be long before the sun would set. Y/N carefully picked Elise up so her head was on her shoulder and it was comfy enough to sleep as she stepped towards the telephone to see if Elise’s father was coming to pick her up. 

As her hand went to pick up the telephone, a voice stopped her, “Hello?” It was deep and southern and husky like he had just smoked a cigarette or two, “I’m here to pick up Elise.” 

Y/N turned around, and her breath caught in her throat as she spotted a tall figure leaning casually against the door frame. He wore a brown leather aviator jacket and grey trousers, with his flight cap tucked under his arm. His piercing green eyes, similar to Elise's, met hers, framed by brown curly hair. An unlit cigarette dangled from his lips. 

Y/N had never seen anyone like him in her entire life. 

“Y-yes,” She cleared her throat and forced her eyes to look away from his intense gaze. She stood and walked over to where he stood by the door with Elise in his arms, “You must be Elise’s father.” 

“M her brother,” He corrected. 

“Excuse me?” Y/N wasn’t sure if she heard him correctly, too busy gawking at him to actually pay attention. 

“M Elise’s brother, one out of three of her brothers to be exact.” He repeated, his eyes glancing at the sleeping girl Y/N was holding. 

“O-oh,” She blushed, “My bad, you look so similar I thought you were her father.”

“Easy mistake,” Harry smirked, “Would you like me to take her from you?” 

“Yes, of course,” Y/N gently removed Elise from her and passed her to Harry.

“There we go,” He cooed as Elise whimpered at the sudden movement, “There’s m’ little Elise.” 

Y/N thought her ovaries might explode as she watched the pilot interact with the small girl in his arms, making sure she was comfortable enough so she could remain asleep. “Are you new here ma’am?” Harry spoke his focus now back on Y/N.

“Yes actually, today’s my first day here,” She explained. 

“No wonder, I ain’t ever seen y’ around the place. How’re you liking it so far?” 

“I’ve only been here a couple of days but it’s been nice. Working here at the nursery has been lovely too,” 

“Yeah?” Harry’s lips curled, “I hope this one hasn’t been giving y’ much trouble. She can be a little devil with my younger brothers.” 

Y/N immediately shook her head, “No, she’s been lovely honestly. Think I spent most of the day with Elise out of all the other children.” 

Y/N noticed how Harry focused on her face as she spoke to him, every now and then his eyes would dart to her lips and then back up to meet her eyes, “Y got any friends here?” 

She paused, “Any friends?” 

“Yeah, you know,” He half smiled, it felt almost flirty but maybe Y/N was just imagining it, “People y’ like to hang out with.”

“Uh yeah, I share a house with a few of the girls who work in various places around the base. I get along with most of them and the ladies who work here at the nursery too.” Y/N explained, cringing at how awkward she was and how she’d probably be replaying this conversation back later only to die of embarrassment of all the things she said. 

“Y’ know there’s a dance down at the community centre this Friday, y’ should come, oh and invite some of those friends of yours too.” 

“Oh I don’t know, I think I’m working this Friday and-” 

“A lot of my buddies who I fly with go there sometimes - a good time they said. It might be a good chance to meet some of the people here,” He shrugged, “Could offer y’ a dance or two if you’d like.” 

Y/N wondered if all this was really happening right now or if she was just so tired that she was hallucinating, “O-okay,”

Harry grinned, a dimple carving into his cheek, “Well alright then,”

“Alright then,” Y/N tried to keep her smile at bay as she took it as his queue to leave. She kept the door open so he could easily step out as he walked backwards with Elise in his arms and his eyes still on Y/N even as he said nothing. 

“So I’ll see y’ at the dance?” 

“Maybe,” Y/N shrugged, even though she had already decided she was most definitely going to the dance. 

“Alright, maybe I’ll see y’ at the dance then,” Harry responded with a light, amused chuckle. 

Y/N watched as he turned his back and began to walk down the dirt road until he stopped briefly and spun around, “I didn’t catch y’name by the way,” He called out to her.

Y/N cupped her mouth, “It’s Y/N,”

“Y/N,” He said the name like he was testing how it sounded, “M Harry. Hey, I better see y’ at that dance Y/N, I don’t handle rejection all that well.” Y/N couldn’t help but giggle.

“I can believe that,” She yelled back.

“I’d say goodbye but I wanna see y’ at that dance so I’ll say goodnight instead.” Harry said with a casual salute before turning and continuing down the road.

Y/N shut the door and leaned against it, clutching her hands over her chest in complete disbelief. Her sister had warned her the pilots on the base would be young men near enough her own age and that she ought to be careful hanging around them. However, her sister hadn’t warned her that a man like Harry would stumble over to her workplace to pick up his sister and invite her to a dance on Friday night.

Y/N quickly cleaned up the nursery, shoving things into boxes and wiping down the tables, before grabbing her coat and running down the road to her house.

On every street on the housing estate, there was a row of houses that all looked the same but were owned by different types of people. Some had big families all living under one roof, others were men who lived alone. Y/N’s house was the first house on the street. It was a traditionally designed home with a pitched roof, a small front porch and symmetrical windows. She shared it with three other girls who all worked different jobs across the Air Force base. 

The sun had already set by the time she entered the house. All the lights were turned on and the gentle music of Buddy Holly sounded from the living room. Y/N kicked off her heels and hung up her coat, walking to the living room where Patsy and Molly were lounging on the couch. Molly had Patsy’s foot in her lap as she painted her toenails a wine red. 

Y/N collapsed on the couch next to Molly, “What’s wrong? Work not go so well?” Molly inquired.

“No,” Y/N huffed, resting her head on Molly’s shoulder, “It was wonderful.”

“Well, what’s got you so blue Peggy Sue,” Patsy questioned, her tone playful. She was reading a magazine and smoking a cigarette. 

“A man came into work after everybody left to pick up one of the girls, Elise.” Y/N clarified. 

“You mean Elise Styles?” Molly asked. 

Y/N sat up, “Yes, you know her?” 

“Just about every woman on this base knows her. She’s the Styles’ little sister.” Molly explained, “We’ve all had to babysit her at least once for those brothers.” 

“Yeah and neither of us will be doing it again,” Patsy piped up, as if reminding Molly. 

“Oh, you must know Harry then,” Molly paused, shoving Patsy’s foot off of her lap and turning to face Y/N.

“Is he the man you’re sighing over?” Patsy’s magazine fell to the floor as she too stopped to listen. 

Y/N furrowed her brows, confused by their reaction, “Y-yes, what about him?”

“What about him?” Molly stood, grabbing a cigarette from the packet on the coffee table and lighting it up, “Y/N you oughta be careful around all three of those brothers but especially Harry.”

“What do you mean?” Y/N glanced at Patsy who nodded in agreement with Molly. 

“That boy is not good news. He’s Offutt’s best pilot and he thinks that gives him the right to go around sniffing out every woman that steps foot onto this base.” Y/N frowns, watching as Molly begins to pace back and forth, “He didn’t ask you to go out with him did he?”

“Well he asked me to the dance on Friday. The one at the community centre.” 

“Oh, I bet he did!’ Molly exclaimed, “Listen Y/N, I’m telling you this because I don’t want any trouble for you. That boy is no good, he’s slept with half the ladies residing here and even the wives too I bet! He asked Patsy to go out to dinner with him one night and stood her up to go see another woman.”

Y/N glanced at Patsy, “He was flirting with two different women inbetween the moment he asked and our date a week later.” She added. 

“That’s right. Y/N darlin’, we shoulda warned y’ before y’ stepped foot out of this house this morning. Those Styles brothers will mess you around and leave y’ lonely for sport. You’re too nice to deserve all of that.” 

Y/N's shoulders slumped, “But he seemed so… nice.” Y/N pictured Harry with Elise and how gentle he was with her. 

“He’s not a bad person Y/N but when it comes to women, there’s no guessing what that man turns into.”

“Everyone’s heard plenty of things about why they came here too. If you ask me, his home wasn’t exactly a perfect example to him.” Patsy said.

“Well, whatever reason, best stay away from him.” Molly finished. 

Y/N heaved a sigh, “So I shouldn’t go to the dance on Friday?”

“Oh no, we’ll go to the dance. Harry’s not the only fine, young pilot on base I’ll tell you that.” Molly smirked and Patsy cheered with excitement at the thought of going out Friday night. 

Y/N attempted to smile, but she couldn't shake off the sadness upon realising that the man she had met earlier in the evening wasn't as kind as she had initially believed. Molly fell back onto the couch next to her and put an arm around her shoulders, “Cheer up sweet cheeks. I’m sure plenty of men will want to take you out after this dance.” 

Y/N managed a weak smile, grateful for Molly's comforting presence. "Thanks, Molly," she murmured, leaning into her friend's embrace.

"Yeah, plenty of fish in the sea, darlin'. You'll find one that's worth your time." Patsy chimed in.

Feeling a bit more reassured by her friends' words, Y/N nodded. "You're right. I can’t let one bad apple ruin my night."

Molly squeezed her shoulder affectionately. "That's the spirit! Now let's focus on having a great time at the dance. We can tell you about some of the other fellas who live here too."

With her friends' support, Y/N felt an inkling of hope return. She might have been disappointed by one man, but she wasn't about to let it dampen her spirits for the rest of the evening. She was glad she told her friends about her interaction with Harry and now she was left with one rule stitched into the back of her mind.

Keep away from Harry Styles. 

. . .

The night sky was clear enough to see the stars glittering against the pitch-black backdrop. A soft, gentle breeze flowed through the air as Harry lay back on the swinging chair on the front porch of the house he shared with his three brothers. 

This was his favourite time of day when it was completely silent and the air was cool and crisp. He didn’t like the nights so much when he was living with his parents. After midnight, or sometimes just before, his father would come in through the backdoor stinking the place up with alcohol and waking everyone up with his nightly rampages. 

Nowadays, the nighttime was the most relaxing part of the day and Harry savoured every second of it. He often finds himself sat out on the porch after putting Elise to bed. He’d smoke a cigarette or two, and maybe play his guitar a little bit. 

Tonight felt a little different though. Whilst his brothers were upstairs trying to put a fussy Elise to bed after she’d napped when he brought her home from nursery, he came outside and could think of nothing but the woman he found holding his little sister in her arms. 

Harry knew everyone on base the same way they knew him. He recognised faces easily and had at least one brief encounter with everyone he met in passing. However, the face he had met for the first time this evening was unfamiliar and new. 

Her features were delicate and angelic, with large doe eyes that held a hint of shyness to them. A soft, rosy blush adorned her cheeks and her lips were full and plush that he couldn’t seem to take his eyes off of them. Her movements were gentle and her voice was airy and sweet, Harry thought of her stuttering and the way she’d blush whenever she spoke. He hadn’t seen anything like her in his life - he wasn’t a religious or spiritual person but, at that moment, he was pretty sure an angel had landed right in front of his very eyes. 

Even her name sounded as though it came from some kind of mythical text - one full of beauty and purity, love and light. 

Harry wasn’t the purist of men, far from it. He had slept in the beds of women he couldn’t remember the name of and indulged in his fair share of reckless behaviour. But in the presence of Y/N, he felt an unfamiliar stirring within him, a sense of longing tugging at his heartstrings. He didn’t know what it was and he wasn’t so sure he was ready to find out yet. 

He lit a cigarette with a matchstick and exhaled into the air, tendrils of smoke dancing above him. The sound of footsteps thudding inside of the house as someone walked downstairs, broke the silence he had been basking in. 

The door swung open and George stepped out, “Finally managed to get Elise to settle down though it took a whole round of nursery rhymes. Sonny’s still up there now, he’s afraid she’ll wake up again if he stops singing.” George took a cigarette from the pack Harry had in his pocket, “I thought you told those ladies at the nursery not to let her nap before she comes home.” 

“I did,” Harry spoke, his voice husky. 

“What? They didn’t listen to y’?” George chuckled. 

“There’s a new worker. I’ll let her know next time I see her.” Harry hadn’t wanted to tell Y/N that Elise wasn’t allowed to sleep so late in the afternoon because it was harder to get her to go to bed at night. He didn’t seem to have the heart to as he watched her hold the small girl in her arms. 

George scoffed, “A new worker? Is she a knockout at least?” 

Harry didn’t reply, instead asking,  “What do y’ think about the three of us going to the dance at the Community Centre on Friday?” 

George laughed until he realised his brother wasn’t laughing with him, “You’re serious?” 

The door swung open again and out stepped Sonny, “I swear if that baby wakes up, you two can sit in there and dance circles around her singing Miss Muffet for all I care. I ain’t doing that again.” He wiped his brow with the back of his hand, “Can y’ pass me a cigarette, George?” 

George handed the cigarette to Sonny, “Hey Sonny, Harry wants to know if we’ll go to the dance at the Community Centre this Friday.”

Sonny chuckled but that quickly went away, “Oh shit really?”

“Yeah tha’s what I thought,” George said.

“You got your eye on someone Harry?” Sonny spoke, “Is it that girl from the med centre? She sure is something.”

Harry sat up and turned to face his two brothers, “No, it’s not that,” He lied, “Jus’ thought we could go do something other than sit around and drink at the bar.” 

“But the dance?” Sonny quirked a brow, “You hate dances.”

“I never said that,” Harry said, even though he always made it known how much he hated the dances they held every Friday night. 

“No, I definitely think I remember y’ saying dances were for people who wanted to get laid but couldn’t,” George spoke, backing up his younger brother who nodded in agreement. 

“Alright,” Harry held his hands up, “Alright maybe I did say that. C’mon, what are you, Gunther and Francis? Sit down the pair of you.” They followed their older brother's orders, sitting on the seats opposite him. “Maybe there is a girl.” He sighed.

“Oh yeah?” Sonny smirked.

“Yeah, little shit,” Harry chuckled, “So if you could both do me a favour and get yourselves cleaned up Friday night because we’re going to a shitty dance and I won’t be having either of y’ covered in grease and soot.”

“Okay, alright, H.” George took a puff of his cigarette, “But you’re paying for drinks after.”  Harry shook his head, unable to suppress a chuckle.

. . .

Y/N stood in front of her bedroom mirror when Friday night rolled around. She had left the nursery in a hurry, needing as much time as possible to get ready for the dance at the Community Centre. She had been wracked with nerves all week, knowing there was a high chance she would see Harry there and she’d have to do her best to ignore him like Molly had told her to. 

She had picked out her outfit the night before. It was one of her best dresses- a lovely duck egg blue, satin fabric with a fitted bodice and a sweetheart neckline that showed off her decolletage. From the waist, the skirt flowed down in a full, flared A-line silhouette, gently swaying with every step. She wore white low heels on her feet and decided to carry a small purse with her too. 

Most of her time in the evening was spent on her hair and makeup. Y/N had almost used an entire can of hairspray to ensure her hair would stay intact the whole night. Molly had even given her a French manicure the night before and she spent the whole day at the nursery trying her best not to ruin her perfectly shaped nails. 

It had been a long time since she had put this much effort into going somewhere and it was all for a measly dance. There would be many other pretty girls who had spent more or less time on dressing up who probably had a better chance of catching the eye of a man than Y/N did. Yet she wasn’t hoping for the attention of just any man. 

Even though Molly and Patsy had warned her of Harry’s nature, she couldn’t stop thinking about Harry. The way his eyes sparkled when he smiled and the sound of his voice as he spoke in that deep, southern drawl. Every time she thought of going to the dance, he would appear in her mind. Maybe she didn’t necessarily want anything from him but she wanted to at least catch his eye enough to make a lasting impression on him. 

Y/N applied a little more powder to her nose and did one final check in the mirror. She straightened her shoulders, “This will have to do,” She muttered, grabbing her purse. 

Patsy and Molly were already downstairs drinking margaritas and listening to Frank Sinatra on the record player. “Oh and another one comes to join us,” Molly grinned, wearing a navy, spotty dress with a red belt wrapped around her small waist. 

“What took you so long?” Patsy grinned, pouring a drink in a martini glass and handing it to Y/N.

“O-oh no thank you, I don’t drink.” Y/N shook her head and forced a smile out of politeness.

“What? You don’t?” Patsy replied like she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. 

“Oh c’mon! Just one little sip - liquid courage and all that.” Molly took the glass from Patsy to give to Y/N who forced herself to take it from her. She held the glass to her lips, taking one small sip and feeling a tiny burn from the alcohol. 

“Good right?” Molly smirked, lighting a cigarette and holding the packet open to Y/N. 

“No thank you, I don’t smoke either.” Y/N laughs nervously. 

“Fair enough,” Molly shrugs, passing the pack over to Patsy who happily takes one for herself. 

Y/N places her drink on the table, knowing she won’t be touching it again. “We’ll be heading out in a moment, we’re just waiting on one more.” As if she could hear them talking about her, footsteps thumped down the stairs and into the living room.

Y/N’s eyes widened when her eyes landed on the tall, blonde standing in the doorway. She was wearing a black dress with a neckline that showed off her bust and a tight waistline that accentuated her curves. The strands of her golden, blonde hair were tied back into a high ponytail with her fringe perfectly curled. She wore red lipstick on her plump lips which made the blue in her eyes even brighter than they already were. 

“You’ve been in your room for hours, Nancy,” Patsy whined. 

“Yes well, I don’t just plan on getting wasted tonight Patsy.” Nancy retorted. 

Nancy was Y/N's other housemate, but Y/N didn't know her as well as she knew Patsy and Molly. Even though they lived together, Nancy seemed a bit distant compared to the latter two, who were friendly and nice. Nancy would smile politely, but she didn't say much else. Oftentimes, Y/N would get a strange feeling about Nancy like how she would make little comments that seemed to be jabs masked by forced politeness or how sometimes it felt like Nancy enjoyed pointing out Y/N's mistakes, like how she did her laundry or what groceries she bought. She wasn’t sure what she had done to upset Nancy but Y/N hoped it was just her over-thinking that made her believe she was this way and that tonight would allow them to get to know each other a little better. 

Nancy’s eyes fell on Y/N and looked her up and down, “Nice dress,” She said, her voice dripping with saccharine sweetness.

“Thank you,” Y/N offered her a smile but received nothing in return. 

“Alright ladies,” Molly stubbed her cigarette in the ashtray, “Let’s go catch us a few good men.”

“A few?” Patsy giggled.

“You’re right, I think a few is a little too much for this place.” Molly huffed and led the way out of the house and towards the community centre. 

Y/N could hear the live music coming from the centre as they walked down the street. Patsy and Molly were stumbling ahead, arms linked together as they laughed side by side. Y/N tried not to laugh at her friends as she walked alongside Nancy. 

“You planning on hooking up with anybody tonight?” Nancy’s voice broke the silence between them. 

“No I don’t think so,” Y/N replies. 

Nancy scoffs, “These dances are mostly for that you know, better prepare yourself when a fella tries to talk to you.”

“You think they’ll want to?” Y/N asked, hopeful.

Nancy glanced at her, “I’m sure they’ll snatch you right up those pilot boys.”

Y/N blushes, “Is there anyone you’ve got your eyes on tonight Nancy?” She liked this, conversing with Nancy. She hoped this would be the start of breaking the ice between them and maybe they could become friends eventually, or at least build acquaintances. 

Nancy smirks, “Only one.” She said nothing after that. 

The girls walked into the community centre which was already full of people from all over the airbase. A live band was playing Elvis Presley songs, the music blaring into Y/N’s ears once they stepped inside. “Any of you girls want a drink-”

“Molly is that Everett?” Patsy pointed to a man in the corner, talking to a woman. 

Molly’s face scrunched up, “I guess he’s back from Italy.”

Nancy interrupted the conversation, her eyes darting across the room like she was searching for somebody, “You girls grab something to drink, I’m just going to use the bathroom.”

“Who’s Everett?” Y/N asked Patsy as they walked towards the drinks table. 

“A guy Molly had a thing with last year,” Patsy explained.

“Yeah until he told me he was going to Italy for a year and wanted to break things off so he could get laid by an Italian woman.” Molly ranted, leading the girls to the drinks table. 

A bowl of punch resided in the centre of the table, Molly grabbed the ladle and poured them all a drink. Y/N took a sip and allowed her eyes to scan the room. Couples were dancing in the centre whilst others spoke in groups off to the side.  

Eventually, her eyes caught sight of a group of men walking through the door. Each one of them was dressed in a similar uniform, a navy blue tailored jacket and matching, fitted trousers. She watched as an entire group of them continued to flood in through the doors until the last man stepped through. 

He was wearing the same uniform as the others and his hair was gelled back with one curl falling in front of his forehead, unlike the messy curls she had seen when they first met. Y/N couldn’t help but stare as he weaved through the crowd and interacted with people as he walked past them. Everyone seemed to know him from the looks of it. He exuded confidence and bravado, people’s faces lighting up whenever he stopped to talk to them.

“Patsy?” One of the boys spoke. 

“Here we go,” Molly muttered, forcing a smile. 

A man with features that looked similar to the man Y/N had been eyeing, walked up to them with a taller man following him. “Hi Sonny,” Patsy greeted. 

“Y’ sure know how to make yourself look good when you want to,” He winked, eyeing her up and down.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Patsy put both her hands on her waist. 

“You know what I mean,” Sonny argued, realising he might have said something to offend her even though he had no idea what that might be. 

“Hi,” The taller man behind him spoke. Y/N looked up and was met with familiar green eyes except they were a little bit lighter than the ones she had seen. 

“Hi,” Y/N blushed.

“I’m George. Are you new here? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you around.” He wondered, pointing his thumb over his shoulder to the crowd as he spoke. 

“Y-Yes, I arrived recently actually. I just started working at the nursery.” She clarified. 

“Oh, the nursery! You must know my little sister Elise.”  Y/N’s lips turned upwards thinking of the little girl she had been spending so much time with over the last few days. Since her first day, Elise had constantly been wanting her attention whether it was to nap or play with things or read books. “You must have met my older brother then.”

“Older brother?” Y/N didn’t have enough time to register as George glanced around the room and called out his brother’s name. 

“Harry, c’mere!” He called. 

Harry’s head turned towards them in the middle of his conversation. His eyes landed on his brother until they found hers. He offered a small smile and began to walk towards them with a drink already in his hand, “This is one of the new workers at Elise’s nursery.” George introduced even though he didn’t really need to. 

“Yes, we’ve already met,” Harry said and Y/N thought she might melt into a puddle on the floor at the sound of his voice. “Hi there,”

“Hello,” Y/N smiled, shyly.

“So you came?” He teased. 

“I did.” She laughed, lightly. 

“And these are y’ friends?” He looked to Patsy and Molly who were bickering with Sonny who seemed to have said something else to offend them, George now joining in on the argument as he let Harry and Y/N talk. 

“Yeah, they’re my friends,” Y/N said, feeling nervous under his gaze. But despite her nerves, she couldn't deny the thrill of being the focus of his attention.

“Good to know,” He murmured, “Y come here with anyone else?” 

"Um, no, just the girls from my house," Y/N stuttered, feeling a rush of nerves as Harry's gaze lingered on her. "I don't know that many people. Other than the girls I live with and the ones from the nursery, who are all lovely, by the way," she added, her words tumbling out in a nervous ramble.

Harry grinned, his eyes twinkling with amusement at her flustered state. "You know me too," he stated, his tone playful as he leaned in closer. 

Y/N gulped the air she breathed just as the lights in the centre dimmed. The fast-paced music began to slow down and couples gathered to the dance floor to slow dance together. “Y wanna dance with me Y/N?” Harry asked. 

“I-I’m not very good at it,” Y/N smiled sheepishly, her cheeks tinged with a delicate blush. It was impossible to resist the charm that radiated from him.

He held out the palm of his hand and Y/N’s lips parted as she glanced down at it, “S just swaying tha’s all. Think y’ can do that?” 

Y/N hesitantly nodded, her pulse quickening as Harry's long fingers gently wrapped around her wrist. A tingling sensation danced across her skin, sending shivers down her spine and causing goosebumps to rise in response to his touch. He led her to the centre of the dancefloor and turned around so they were face to face. Harry took both of Y/N's hands in his own, his touch sending electric currents coursing through her veins. With a tender yet confident touch, he trailed his fingers down her arms, causing her breath to hitch in her throat. As his hands settled at her waist, Y/N's breath turned shallow, her heart racing as the music floated through the air. 

She was stiff at first, unable to relax until he leant forward and whispered, “Relax birdy,” She felt his breath against her neck as he spoke. He squeezed her waist a little and she dropped her shoulders, trying her best to loosen up under the circumstances. 

“Birdy?” Y/N spoke, questioning the new nickname.

“I spotted y’ as soon as I stepped through the door. Your dress is blue ‘n it reminded me of the bluebirds I used to see back home whenever I’d go up in the mountains with my grandpa.” He explained. 

“I didn’t know you’d seen me.”

“I searched for y’ as soon as I walked in. I only came because of you, if I couldn’t find y’ I’d probably just turn back and go to a bar or something.” He chuckled and Y/N laughed with him.

“No Elise?” She questioned, unable to stop herself from asking about the little girl she had become fond of. 

“Elise is staying with the family next door. Little rascal tried to get ketchup on my uniform,” He rolled his eyes, “I got a free house if that’s what you’re implying though.”

Y/N’s face turned beat red, “N-No that’s not what I’m implying at all.”

“M just messin’” Harry grinned, cheekily.

Y/N relaxed, composing herself and trying to pull herself together, “I’ve heard things about you, you know.”

“Oh yeah?” Harry smirked, “What things?”

“Just things.” Y/N felt his fingertips press her skin for a moment.

“And do you believe these things?” Harry murmured, leaning in a little closer.

Y/N looked him in the eye, trying to see if she could read him without having to ask him a thousand questions, “I don’t know yet.” 

Harry opened his mouth to reply but was stopped by the sudden change in music and the lights turning on above them. People cheered as they gathered back into big groups and began dancing again. Harry bit back a grin, shaking his head, “Y wanna come outside with me?” He asked, shouting over the loud music. Y/N bit her lip and nodded, taking his outstretched hand and allowing him to pull her through the crowd of people. 

The air was cold once they stepped outside. Harry led her over to a small bench nearby where fewer people were gathered. He pulled out a cigarette and offered her the pack, “Oh no thank you, I don’t smoke.” She declined, politely. 

Harry smiled around his cigarette, his gaze lingering on Y/N for a beat or two as he casually slipped the pack into the pocket of his trousers. The air between them was filled with a comfortable silence, broken only by the soft sound of music drifting from inside the centre. Sensing Y/N's slight shiver, Harry swiftly removed his jacket and draped it over her shoulders without saying a word.

"But you'll get cold," Y/N protested, her eyes widening in surprise.

"Don't y’ worry about me. I don't get cold," Harry quipped, a mischievous twinkle in his eye as he shrugged off her concern. His white t-shirt revealed toned arms adorned with a few tattoos littering his tanned skin. 

As Harry tilted his head back to blow smoke into the night air, Y/N couldn't help but admire the way he carried himself with effortless confidence. Gathering her courage, she decided to strike up a conversation.

"Were those your brothers back there?" she asked, trying to keep her voice steady.

"Yeah, Sonny and George," Harry confirmed with a hint of pride in his voice.

"They look so much like you," Y/N remarked, her curiosity piqued.

"Strong genes, I suppose," Harry shrugged, his tone becoming more serious as he opened up about his family background. 

"What about you? Do you have any siblings?" He inquired.

"Just an older sister and my little niece, Rosie Jean," Y/N replied, a fond smile tugging at her lips as she thought of her family.

"And your parents?" Harry pressed, his gaze intense as he studied her reaction.

"My parents are doctors, they work at a surgery in town," Y/N explained, feeling a pang of homesickness as she reminisced about her upbringing.

"And yours?" She prompted, turning the conversation back to Harry.

"M parents are nobodies," Harry's voice took on a sombre tone, clearly his family life was a sensitive topic. Sensing his discomfort, Y/N chose her next words carefully.

"What about Elise?" she asked, hoping to lighten the mood with talk of his sister.

"Elise is better off being raised by us three than being left alone in a house with batshit crazy," Harry scoffed, his protective instincts kicking in.

Feeling the weight of their conversation, Y/N searched for a way to lift Harry's spirits. "What made you want to be a pilot?" she asked, genuinely interested.

“Sonny came home wanting to sign up for cadet training after they visited his school. He came home running through the doors with a flyer in his hand and told everybody he was going into the army. I told him ‘No brother of mine is going anywhere that requires trench foot and guns.’ He didn’t talk to me for a week after that. It wasn’t until I found an advertisement where y’ could train to fly planes when I decided I was gonna make a better life for myself and my siblings. It just so happened Sonny and George wouldn’t let me go at it alone.” He inhaled his cigarette before tossing it to the ground. 

As Harry shared the story of how he and his brothers found their way to Offutt, Y/N couldn't help but admire his determination. She found herself drawn to him even more, captivated by his strength and the way he always included his brother’s in everything he spoke about. 

A comfortable silence settled between them. Y/N's heart skipped a beat as Harry smoothly slid his hand next to hers, their fingers intertwining effortlessly. His touch sent a jolt of electricity through her. 

"Have I told y’ how beautiful y’look tonight?" Harry's voice was soft, his gaze locking with hers in a way that made her heart race.

Y/N blushed at his compliment, unable to tear her eyes away from his. "You're lying," she protested, feeling a surge of warmth spread through her cheeks.

"I swear it," Harry insisted, his hand reaching up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "Swear on m’ life, birdy."

Y/N's heart fluttered at the nickname, a secret thrill running through her as she turned to face him. His eyes held a tenderness that melted her defences, and she found herself smiling back at him.

"Hi, birdy," Harry murmured, a dimple appearing on his cheek as he leaned in closer.

"Hi, Harry," Y/N whispered, her voice barely above a breath as she savoured the moment.

Harry's shoulders dropped and a soft smile tugged at the corners of his lips, though he seemed to be fighting to contain it. “I can’t lie to y’ birdy, I can’t stop thinking about kissing you,” Y/N's breath caught in her throat, her heart racing at his words. “I was gonna lie and tell y’ I’d been thinking about it since I saw you tonight but… quite honestly, I think I've been dreaming of y’ since I met y’ the other day.” 

Y/N didn’t know what to say, she felt as though someone had put a zipper straight across her mouth and she couldn’t get it to open. All she could feel was every muscle in her body beating against her skin as though they were trying to force her to surge forward and kiss him herself. “Y-You can if you want,” She stuttered, cheeks pink.

Harry laughed, “What about if you want? Can’t go kissin’ y’ if y’ don’t want it birdy.” 

“I do want it,” Y/N nodded. 

“Yeah?” He spoke but it came out more like a whisper. 

“Yeah.” Y/N gulped, feeling nervous. 

Harry didn’t hesitate once the word had left her mouth. He leaned forward, closing the distance between them. Their lips met in a gentle, tentative kiss, soft and exploratory. Y/N's heart fluttered as she melted into the warmth of Harry's embrace, her senses flooded with the taste of his lips and the scent of his cedarwood cologne.

Time seemed to stand still as they lost themselves in the sweetness of the moment, their kisses deepening with each passing second. Harry's arms wrapped around Y/N, pulling her as close to him as possible. 

In that instant, everything else faded away—the noise of the party, the chill of the night air—leaving only the two of them, lost in the heat of their first kiss. 

They were both breathless as they pulled apart. Y/N’s eyes fluttered open to find Harry already looking at her, his eyes filled with emotion and intense desire. She noticed his tongue poke out to lick his bottom lip and she couldn’t help but giggle when she noticed the red lipstick stain she had left on his mouth from her kiss. 

“Where abouts do you live?” Harry murmured.

“Clemon Street,” Y/N spoke, her voice coming out a whisper. 

“Yeah? That’s on my way home,” He grinned. 

“Oh really?” Y/N bit back a laugh, “I thought y’ lived on Newark Street - it said so in Elise’s file.” 

Harry shrugged, “I like to go the long way round.” Y/N didn’t bother pulling him up on the fact that the two streets were on opposite ends of the housing estate. 

“Can I walk y’ home?” He asked, his fingers fiddling with the fabric of her dress. 

Y/N nodded, biting her bottom lip, “Yeah I’d like that.” 

Harry grinned, “Well alright then.”

They stood up, Y/N keeping his jacket around her shoulders since it was still cold out, “I’ve just got to go to the bathroom,” She motioned towards the community centre. 

“I’ll wait for y’ at the door,” He said, following her as they walked to the community centre side by side. Y/N walked up to the steps and opened the door, she looked over her shoulder to make sure Harry was still there- that he was real and not just someone she dreamt up.

Harry caught her eye, “M not going anywhere birdy,” he winked, “hurry up so I can walk y’ home and kiss y’ again.” 

Y/N laughed and hurried straight to the bathroom. Once inside, she closed the cubicle door behind her and sank down onto the lid of the toilet seat, a wide grin spreading across her face. Unable to contain her excitement, she let out a delighted squeal, her mind buzzing with thoughts of the moment she had just shared. 

She pulled out the pocket mirror from her bag and quickly reapplied the lipstick that had been smeared off. She fluffed up her hair with her hands and rubbed her aching cheeks from where had been smiling so much. She stood up and held Harry’s coat in her arms.  As Y/N stepped outside the community centre, she scanned the area in search of Harry, hoping to catch a glimpse of him waiting for her. Her anticipation turned to disappointment when she couldn't spot him anywhere, and her shoulders slumped slightly in resignation. Just as she was about to turn away, a figure caught her eye—a silhouette that had a striking resemblance to Harry—standing in a shadowy corner illuminated by the lights from the community centre.

Heart fluttering with excitement, Y/N smiled and took a step forward, eager to walk home with him. However, her joy quickly turned to dismay when she realised he wasn't alone.

A sudden giggle pierced the air, causing Y/N's heart to sink. Molly's warning appeared typed out in big letters at the forefront of her mind, filling her with regret and dread as she hesitated, frozen in place. With each step she took closer, the scene before her unfolded—it was Nancy, her housemate, clinging to the man she had just kissed.

I imagine George to be Callum Turner and Sonny to be Timothee Chalamet specifically from ms stevens but you can imagine whoever you’d like ! &lt;;33

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles blurb #harry styles x reader #harry styles imagines #harry styles fanfic #harry styles au #harry styles fic #one direction #harry styles one shot #harry styles writing #writing #pilot!harry #pilotrry #piloth #harry styles imagine #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles blog #teacher!yn #fic rec #harry styles fic rec

[munsonfamilyband]

I have no time right now to elaborate too deeply on this thought but I just had a brain worm and I need to write it down before I forget. Who knows, I may elaborate and make this a whole thing with dialogue tonight, we’ll see. TW for depictions of Steve’s injuries post s4, vomiting, gore(?)

Steve refuses medical treatment at the end of s4, they drop off Eddie and he hides in plain site until it’s time to take Dustin and Robin home.

They stop at Dustin’s first, both he and Robin getting out to get Claudia Hugs (I just know she gives INCREDIBLE hugs). He drops Robin off at home with her promising to keep her walkie on their frequency. And then he goes home alone.

He tries to shower, it hurts his feet and back too much. He tries to change the “bandage” but just gently tugging almost makes him black out from pain. So he collapses on his bed and passes out.

Days go by, he’s trying to act normal, like he isn’t always running a fever and his sides are itching and starting to smell under the cologne he practically bathes in. It works for a few days at least, but Claudia gets suspicious by day 3 post earthquake when Steve shows up for lunch with flushed cheeks. 2 days later he doesn’t show up.

She drives over alone, Dustin is at the Wheeler’s, and she lets herself in with the key Steve gave her and Dustin after last summer. She calls his name, doesn’t get an answer but something smells off. She’s a nurse, she recognizes the scent of disease.

She hurries upstairs and finds Steve in bed, only wearing boxers and the filthy scrap of cloth wrapped around his stomach. He’s sweating and has vomited on himself at least twice, recently too. She immediately knows that he is what smells, she can see the pus and blood on his abdomen. He’s delirious, mumbling to himself and part of her wants to shut down and cry, to go cradle this boy, her son in all ways but blood, but she can’t. She steels herself and walks to his bedside to feel his forehead, almost recoiling from how hot his skin is.

As she keeps checking him over, she grabs the phone on his bedside table and calls 911, cradling the phone between her ear and shoulder to keep working. When the operator answers she explains who she is, where she is and what’s happening.

It’s a blur after that until she’s sitting in the hospital waiting room and she realizes that 1. her shirt and her hands reek of Steve’s blood, and 2. she’s completely alone in the waiting room. Swallowing her tears, Claudia goes over to the payphone and fishes out some coins to call the Buckely’s. Robin’s father picks up but quickly hands it over when Claudia mentions Steve.

She will never forget the choked off sound of pure distress Robin makes when she hears what’s happening.

Hours pass, Robin had arrived shortly after the call and her and Claudia have been curled up together in the waiting room every since. They haven’t called anyone else, haven’t even thought about it, too worried about Steve. Later, Claudia will remember the other kids who adore Steve, Hopper who treats Steve like a son. But in that moment, still not knowing if her boy is okay, she can’t.

Finally, a doctor steps out, clearly fresh from surgery, to speak with them. She explains that Steve had a very severe infection in multiple wounds, especially the ones on his side. They had to debride the wounds, which is what took so long. He was lucky that she found him when he did and that he hadn’t picked up any truly terrible bacteria. He hadn’t gone septic, thankfully, but he was going to be on seriously strong antibiotics for a while. She explained that he was in the ICU and they aren’t supposed to let anyone but family see him.

Claudia wanted to scream and sob and go find the Harringtons and get them to come see their son, but before she even says anything Robin explains that Steve’s parents had all but disowned him and her and Claudia were both in his emergency contacts, not his parents.

The doctor lets them see him. They have to wear face masks and gloves, but they can see him. Claudia had never seen him look so small. And there, in that ICU room, her and Robin both broke and started crying. That was how Jim Hopper found them when he arrived shortly after, the nurses having called him. He’s wearing a mask and gloves but his eyes are wild and scared. He nearly falls over when he sees Steve.

Steve is unconscious for almost two weeks, though the first four or five days or so were due to sedatives - the doctor wanted him to rest and let the antibiotics work. After he was taken off the sedatives he was moved out of the ICU, to a regular room where other people could visit. The kids came and decorated his room, even brought something Eddie had “commissioned” from Will (it looked like Steve ripping one of those creepy things from that alien movie apart, which she really didn’t get). Joyce brought him the quilt from her couch that he always enjoyed at movie nights and Robin came in every other day with his shampoo and conditioner to wash his hair for him (on days she didn’t come to wash his hair, she would come do something else with him. One day Claudia walked in on her painting his nails and her heart felt like it was melting).

The day he finally woke up was the first day Robin hadn’t been able to come. Her parents had forced her to take a break and get some sleep, so Claudia was there on her own just reading a book. She was so engrossed in it that she dropped it in shock when she heard the person on the bed in front of her make noise. Her eyes instantly went to Steve and she could see him scrunching up his face and groaning.

Claudia was by his side in a heartbeat, gently grabbing his hand and brushing a hand over his cheek, speaking softly to let him know she was there. His eyes slowly squinted open, clearly struggling to get the energy to move at all. Their eyes locked and his mouth twitched, like he wanted to smile at her. Then, as she was watching him with tears in her eyes, he opened his mouth and spoke for the first time in weeks.

“Mom….”

#stranger things #steve harrington #platonic stobin #steddie #(hinted at just a little) #CLAUDIA HENDERSON #SHE GETS ALL CAPS BECAUSE I LOVE HER #parental jim hopper #robin buckley #just had this idea of steve waking up in the hospital and seeing claudia and calling her mom and UGH

[marcsburnerphone]

And they were roommates

(Captain John price x F!reader)

Summary: that captain wants somewhere more homely to settle down and when an offer like yours comes alight on Zillow he must take up on it.

Warnings: some awkward moments but nothing crazy.

part 1 - Part two!!! - part 3 - part 4

—————-

You indeed did not see John price the next morning but what you did see was a handwritten note stuck to the fridge beneath a magnet.

“Good morning, as I mentioned my job is demanding. I’m not sure how long I'll be gone for but I can estimate at least a month. If you need me, my phone number is below along with my check for this month's rent and the next. - John price”

You reach for the envelope that is attached behind the note and pull it open and what the fuck. You knew he had to have money but in what world would someone pay this much rent for a house with a roommate? You immediately grab your own checkbook and write him for the amount that’s overpaid, making a mental note to make sure you give it to him.

————

Weeks pass slowly and life goes on as it did before. The only difference is you're no longer struggling to make ends meet. So to celebrate your success you order that 6 foot canvas you’d been wanting for ages and a new oil paint.

When you got the notification that it had arrived, thank god for two day shipping, you squealed and ran to grab it before the mailman even walked away. He offered to help you as he watched you give it a bear hug and waddle it through your door yelling out a meek ‘no Thankyou’. You dragged it down the hallway and into the sunroom resting it up against the wall. Ripping the clear plastic film off of new canvases comes in third place to the best things in life.

Sitting in the sun that evening you stroke deep blue oil paints that try their best to replicate ocean waters, and white specks that wish they could induce the same feelings stars do.

You’ve been at this same painting for 3 weeks, coming home and straight to it. Now that it’s finally done it sits sunbathing till it dries. You still visit it and admire its larger than life beauty.

John’s been gone for 1 month and 3 weeks now and in that time some problems have arisen, 1. The faucet in the kitchen leaks and below it the pipe also leaks and the only plumber that’s willing to drive out to your house and inspect it says he won’t be available for another week which means the water bill will sky rocketing till then. And 2. you have no idea where the huge painting will go.

You walk around wondering where to place it. You thought maybe the living room, or even in your room but after testing both those places it still didn’t look right. You can only think of one other place which is the hallway to John’s room. Of course that spot is perfect, maybe he wouldn’t notice since he only spent one night here. You grabbed the drill and got to work mounting it immediately. Once all was said and done you gave it a once over, smiled, snapped a picture of it to send to your sister and walked away.

———

John arrived back exactly at the two month mark early in the AM. He opened the house door as quietly as possible and removed his boots by the door to avoid the creaking wood of the floor and continued sluggishly hauling his bag to his room. Being the man he is, he notices everything, those watchful eyes of his never miss a detail so he does indeed notice and take a second to admire the newly found painting hung in front of his bedroom door before unlocking it to set his stuff down.

After a much needed and appreciated shower he reads the clock at 7AM thinking he can sleep for a little, that is of course until he hears a knock at the door. Making his way down the hall he peeps through the window and sees a handyman?

“Good morning sir, how can I help you?” He says opening the door.

“Good morning, your wife called for a leaking pipe, told her I’d come by sometime today.” He looks down the hall towards your room and confirms the fact that you're definitely still very well asleep.

“My wife? Oh yes my wife, that lady I could’ve sworn I told her to cancel this appointment we actually got it all sorted out.” He lies like it's second nature.

“I actually charge a late cancellation fee that must be paid upfront.” He inquires slightly annoyed.

“How much?” John replies feeling sorry for this man that drove out here and is now being sent away.

“100$ flat.” John shuts the door and quickly fetches his wallet from the pocket of his cargo pants and returns with two bills one for the inconvenience and sends the man on his way.

Sleep can wait.

—————

You wake up to the sound of clanking in the kitchen and as a woman that technically lives alone in the middle of the forest you're terrified.

Grabbing the bat beside your bed still fully dressed in the least threatening attire, you tiptoe to the source of the noise and breathe out the strongest sigh of relief ever known to man.

“Jesus Christ John you scared me, what’re you doing?” You loudly admit startling him in return.

“Fixing this pipe that you called an overpriced handyman for.” You stare at him subconsciously admiring the way he looks, slightly disheveled, face screwed in concentration and strong hands twisting the wrench in his hand and let’s not mention the rise of his shirt.

“You okay?” He says removing himself from under the sink leaning back on his knees to stare up at you.

“Yeah, yes I’m so sorry, um so where did the handy man go?” He stands with a grunt and leans his back against the counter.

“On his merry way.” He replies, turning around to turn the faucet on checking if it leaks, then off to see if it still drips and as he expects, it does neither.

“How much do I owe you for the late cancellation fee?” That man has handled your plumbing issues before and you’ve definitely canceled late more than once.

“Technically you didn’t cancel on him, I did so don’t worry.” He says picking his tools up off the ground placing them messily into the tool box.

“Well Thank You.” You say awkwardly.

“Of course.” He smiles making the dimples beneath his beard awfully noticeable.

“Oh and by the way your rent is only two thousand five hundred a month.” You say walking to the kitchen drawer beside him and pulling out a check that’s already filled out and handing it to him.

“Utilities included?” He asks, grabbing the check written out for three thousand and also taking in notice that same scent that clung to those sheets you made his bed with weeks ago as you sweep by.

“Yeah I don’t mind paying more cause I mean look around, this place has my style written all over it which makes it feel more like mine than yours.” He looks baffled at your reasoning.

“I actually like the decorations, not sure I’d change a thing about it.” You laugh at what has to be a lie.

“I doubt it.” You chuckle and slightly blush at his kindness.

“No I'm serious, I especially love that painting in the hallway, where’d you get it?” You seem surprised at the mention of it and even more flattered at the compliment.

“I actually painted it.” He gives you a surprised look.

“See you’re even hand painting the art, please I can afford much more than twenty five hundred.” You act like you're considering it for a moment.

“As much as I’d appreciate it, I'm already grateful for what you pay.” You say truthfully.

“Also, welcome home.” You quip before turning around walking back towards your room to get ready for the day

—————

John’s been home for nearly two weeks now and he’s slightly growing on you and you on him. You co-exist in harmony most times. That doesn’t mean the two of you still don’t clash from time to time.

“Good morning.” He says scrambling eggs in a pan as you walk into the kitchen reaching in the cabinet for a coffee mug.

“Morning to you too.” You say groggily, setting your feet flat on the ground and placing the cup on the counter, reaching for the pot to pour some coffee.

“If I can just- oh I’m so sorry.” He says accidentally bumping into you making the coffee spill on the counter.

“Oh no don’t worry about it, I can just clean it.” You say turning around quickly to go grab paper towels and end up accidentally running into his chest.

He grabs your shoulders to hold you in place and let your brain catch up with the speed of events.

“We will learn to both be in the kitchen together someday.” You affirm with a laugh that makes you feel alive.

“Hey the first week this happened almost everyday. If anything this is a huge improvement.” He jokingly abides.

“True.” You say as he turns around handing you the kitchen towel to clean it up. He watches you with amused eyes and a smile that still hasn’t left either of your faces and for a second something alights in John something that scares him so bad he doesn’t hear a thing you’re saying.

“John, I said did you sleep well?” You speak a bit louder, snapping him out of it.

“Yeah darling sorry I’m just going to take this to my office. I've got some work to cover.” He says hurriedly plating his food and scurrying off.

“Okay well I’ll be heading to work soon.” He doesn’t even let you finish before closing the door leaving you to stand there a little stumped.

“So I’ll assume he didn’t sleep well.” You say to yourself before pouring another cup and heading to your room to get changed.

——————

Comments and reposts are appreciated <3

@beebeechaos

@ttsbaby01

@arminarlertssword

@quakeroaksguy

@waves-against-a-cliff

@depressed-but-make-it-cute

#captain price x female reader #john price #angst #barry sloane #captain john price #john price x reader #task force 141 #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley #cod modern warfare #cod mwii #cod x reader

[hoasvuon]

(12:31 AM)

jeonghan never used to understand why anyone would want to leave the house after 11 pm. after all, his days were so long and all he wanted to do after work was lay down, drown himself under a pile of blankets, and go straight to bed.

plus, eating so late at night meant his body would have to spend even more time to digest the food late at night, and he would have to wake up bloated and still half full. which meant that often times, he would skip dinner, opting simply to crawl into his bed and rot away until the next day. i'll just deal with it tomorrow by eating extra well at breakfast and lunch, he'd always tell himself.

that is, before he met you.

now his nights were filled of random adventures, running with you to the local convenience store to grab kimbap and ice cream, or to the stand down the street that sold udon noodles at nearly all hours (hannie try some it's so good!).

and tonight was one of those lucky nights. around 12 am, jeonghan woke up to you softly tugging on his sleeve. still half asleep, he simply pulled you in closer and tucked your head into his chest before kissing the top of your head.

"what's wrong baby", he mumured, lips still planted on your head.

"hannie ... on a scale of 1 to 10 ... how mad would you be if i told you i wanted kbbq" you whispered.

finally opening his eyes, he saw you staring up at him, eyes wide with a small, hopeful smile on your face.

"negative 1, you know i'm always down for whatever you want" he replied.

you shot up in bed, clapping your hands quietly. "oh i'm so excited! i was worried you'd be mad, or worse, not want to go! ok let me grab my hoodie and we can go, ok?" you said hurriedly.

jeonghan looked at you from the bed as you flurried around the room to find a hoodie to take, smiling fondly. after all, he could never get mad at you for anything, especially not for your random late night food cravings.

tonight you wanted korean barbecue. that meant he could sit flush next to you, blaming his clinginess on the fact that it was so late and he was still sleepy. you'd definitely feed him, feeling guilty for dragging him out of bed. and then he could leave soft kisses on your cheeks as 'thank you's when you remembered to order some fried rice at the end, his favorite.

and no matter how many times you would apologize as you walked back home, clock striking nearly two or three in the morning, all he could see is your face, lit up in front of him and he'd tell himself he would do it all over again just to see you smile. especially when that meant he was able to see you in his hoodie (you always seemed to "not be able" to find yours in time to leave), head burrowed into his side as pulled the covers over the both of you, eyes twinkling at him, murmuring soft praises that he 'finally ate well for once'. plus, in the middle of the night, it meant that he could hold you extra. tight against his body, excusing it to the fact that his body hadn't yet adjusted from the cold temperature outside.

"i love you" you'd say softly, before falling asleep.

i love you too

#svt drabble #svt imagines #svt scenarios #svt x reader #svt #seventeen soft hours #seventeen kpop #seventeen fanfic #seventeen x reader #seventeen fluff #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #yoon jeonghan #jeonghan x reader #jeonghan fluff #jeonghan imagines #jeonghan scenarios #jeonghan svt #svt jeonghan

[hazelfoureyes]

⟢Alastor x Cupid FemReader Tasked with making a demon believe in true love or you can’t return to heaven, things immediately go off the rails when you hurt yourself and Alastor catches one of your most troubling arrows; Mania

˚₊ · »-♡→ Week 1 and Week 2 ˚₊ · »-♡→Week 3 and Week 4 smut💦 ˚₊ · »-♡→Week 5, Week 6, Week 7, and Epilogue smut💦

Alastor demands you tell him what you’d consider a nice date, which makes a surprisingly lovely time in the library. Dancing leads to… not dancing and a minor rearranging of your guts. And finally, you try to shame Alastor out of Mania and Alastor finds himself having to explain, well, Alastor.

「warnings/promises: Smut, guts➡️rearranged, kinda dub➡️con cuz Alastor still doesn’t listen, but funnily enough neither do you?, lots of interrupting each other, Luci’s hat, you’re down so fucking bad lmao」

🎶 minors DNI 🎵

Angel was live blogging everything you said when you recounted what happened to you after returning to the hotel.

“Wait there’s a character limit, I gotta make a new post.” He was wiping actual tears from his eyes, “Fuck this is funny.”

“Hmmph,” Alastor offered a small noise from his end of the sofa. Neither of you had mentioned or even referenced the sex. There was a strange feeling between you that it didn’t happen so it didn’t need a discussion. But also that it had absolutely happened, as Alastor’s hands found renewed vigor in their search for you when in public and private and your body seemed to respond in kind. You’d still occasionally move his hand off of you, but there was a pulse of electricity every time. When his hand would come to rest on your upper thigh while seated beside each other in the common areas, you let it linger. What harm was it? Heaven wasn’t fucking watching.

Everything aside, the sex had done nothing to dispel his interest. Perhaps you’d only made it worse, for both of you. 

By midweek you found the sling useless, happily tossing it aside and beginning gentle stretches. That was more progress than you'd made in your main task. 

Every morning you woke up beside Alastor, every day you had him in your orbit, every night you fell asleep feet from him.

Had Mania not taken him he would be a prime candidate for showing the virtue of true love. He was already fucking there, a captive audience. But that wasn’t how it worked. Cupid-induced manic love could never be true. Nothing you created was true, really. But atleast with Eros or Agape you could still have added the notion of  true love to the mix. His heart would still be receptive and open to the idea. The way he was now, you could proselytize until you were blue in the face and he’d still think manic love was true love. 

An unintended consequence of living with Alastor was discovering you both had quite a bit in common, as much as that information irked you. He enjoyed horror movies such as ‘Dracula’, you enjoyed horror movies as well, just newer ones. Ones in color. He could cook quite well, something you enjoyed to do. And his taste in music was actually lovely. You had assumed he listened to screams on a 7 hour loop.

Actually, upon closer inspection, Alastor was nothing like you had initially assumed. While he had shown you he was capable of terrifying feats of strength and power, he was also remarkably gentle. Every time you descended the stairs his hand was barely felt as it hovered at your elbow ready to save you. 

Early in the week you fell asleep watching the group play a board game, somehow redemption related, and awoke with his coat laid over your body. When you thanked him, he just smiled and continued enjoying watching Niffty hide the play money.

You were finding yourself more and more wishing the arrow had never fallen. If you’d just met him as you fell, perhaps you would be staring into that portal home. There were definitely worse options around. Even his imposing height had begun to…not bother you, perhaps was the best way to say it.

Or his large hands. There was a safety in the way they rested on your back. Speaking of…

Your throat ran dry when he leaned into you, one of those hands sliding across your thigh,  and asked against your ear, “Ready to go?”

He had to have seen you licking your lips to unstick your teeth. With a nod, he stood and offered a hand to you. 

You both were already out of the elevator and walking to your room when he slowed, coming to stop just in front of you. 

His room, fucking hell. 

“You know, I was thinking,” he wasn’t looking as he spoke to you, which was odd given how often he stared at you. “If you’re going to be here with me from now on-“

You opened your mouth to argue but he put his hand up, “I’d like to know the things you enjoy doing with your romantic interests.” His smile was almost pure, you could tell he was genuinely asking.

“Well I don’t have any so, why would you care?”

“No things you enjoy?”

“No romantic interests.”

His head lolled to the side, “Sometimes I think you say things just to bother me.”

You did.

“I do.”

You thought if you kept being rude maybe you could keep him at an arm’s length. Not get too attached. You’d been kind to people you didn’t like before and eventually you started to like them. This was that. But opposite.

He stared down at you, taking a step closer. You took one back. That smile shifted from pure to sinister, his eyes half lidded. You could almost see the thoughts playing on his face.

“Alastor-,” your back hit the elevator doors. The pounding of your heart when he brought his face to yours drowned out the sounds of the button being pressed. When the doors opened you fell backward with a yelp, but a strong arm caught you by the waist.

“You have twelve floors.” His hand hit the first floor button, “You can share with me your idea of a quality date. Or I can show everyone,” that clawed hand came to your neck, sliding down the evidence of your pounding heart, “how pretty you scream.”

As soon as the doors closed you were pressed against the elevator wall, right leg pulled up and around his waist. “You wouldn’t dare.” You had meant it to sound strong but instead it was half whispered with a shaky voice.

He popped a button off your blouse, “Maybe!” Warm mouth now on your neck, his tongue ran over your pulse, “I wonder if everyone is still in the lobby.”

Over his shoulder you watched the numbers counting down. The hand that cut off the button slid down to your bottoms, slipping under the waistband.

On the 3rd floor the elevator stopped. When the doors opened a demon you didn’t recognize was standing there, eyes wide and mouth open. He didn’t make a move to enter, Alastor looking over his shoulder and sharing what you could only assume was a death glare. The flickering lights were a giveaway to his anger.

His fingers dipped down and cupped your sex, hot palm pressing into your folds. 

The doors closed again and you watched the second floor light up. A finger bent and pressed into you.

A nibble at your ear, “You know I’ll win, regardless.”

He was right. Which was the smaller defeat? Humiliation or just telling the bastard your idea of a nice time?

“Books. Drinks.” You squeaked, the first floor lamp now aglow. His hand pulled away just as the doors opened. 

Expecting him to gloat you were surprised he just hit the 10th floor button. The library. 

He opened the door for you. The library’s main area had two reading chairs bookending a long antique sofa. You took the chair furthest from the door, hearing the door lock.

With a snap, the entire bar with Husk included seemed to fall three inches out of thin air.

“Oh for fucks sake.” Husk looked around, already annoyed, “You coulda just fucking asked for drinks to bring with you. You know cups are portable, right?”

It was nice, actually. Husk poured, you both read. There was an unnecessary fireplace crackling behind you. Cozy. And it got cozier and warmer the more you drank. Your shields softened as the glasses emptied. 

Your book was good, but as you felt the alcohol hit you were reminded of the last time you’d gotten a little past tipsy. Sneakily, but not at all, your eyes wandered over to Alastor.

His legs were crossed, but you could remember looking down and seeing them spread open beneath you. Open. Did many people see him like you had? Had his talk about a disinterest in sex actually been a trick to intrigue you? It hadn’t worked, you genuinely didn’t care what his preferences were. If anything it made you less likely to make a pass.

Your eyes wandered down his slender neck to his wide shoulders. Less than a week ago your arms were resting there. Further down, you remembered that soft bit of fur at the base of his cock, a small trail from his belly button. 

Husk watched your face turn pink, “You good?” Your head whipped around, looking confused. “You’re getting red.”

Oh. I was just thinking about my pussy drowning in Alastor’s cum.

No, obviously not!

Alastor’s eyes left his book and found yours. They were so red; his eyes, not your cheeks. No one in heaven had such wicked an appearance. When you didn’t reply, busy staring back at Alastor, Husk groaned, “Aah fuck.”

“What are you reading?” You asked, clearly able to see the book title from where you sat. 

Alastor held it up, “Oliver Twist.”

“Never read it.”

You had read it.

Setting your book down, you tried to walk as straight as a line as you could to him. You took the book from his hands and sat down on his lap, back against his chest, before picking it up again. “What page are we on?”

“You can leave, Husker.” Alastor didn’t even look at Husk when he said it, eyes still on your face.

When the door closed and Alastor could lock it with a snap, he uncrossed his legs. “Would you like to start over dear? From the beginning.”

Maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad idea.

“Can we?” You leaned your head onto his shoulder. When had he become so comfortable…?

“We can.” The book was set aside, his left hand pulling your chin up, “I think we skipped a few chapters before.”

You opened your mouth, “I don’t like kissing.” 

“You will.” 

The front part of your brain dissolved, you were sure of it. Your decision making abilities were entirely eradicated as his lips pressed into yours. Fuck, maybe even your basic motor skills had been fried, his tongue swiping across your mouth before you just—opened. Your hips ground down into his lap, and you felt his smile widen against your lips.

“Stop smiling. I just like warm bodies.” You reached for the book and opened it to the first page, “and you’re so fucking warm.”

He began to read, but between the rumble of his chest, his voice in your ear, and the heat of his body, you fell asleep.

No matter. Alastor just hummed. With a summoning of his shadow you both sank into your shared bed, where he continued reading with you against his chest.

You dreamt about home. About red eyes and warmth.

Was it so bad, being in hell? Sure you had a fucking deer demon as guard dog but it seemed his mania was … not so terrible. Honestly he seemed relatively normal now. He would wander off for significant lengths of time, even leaving in the mornings while you were still lazing about. A kiss to your hand was the indicator he would be popping off somewhere.

Alastor still wouldn’t let Lucifer alone with you, but otherwise everything was okay. You’d even come to enjoy certain aspects of his possessiveness. That ever present hand, for example. Even when it wasn’t on you, you could still almost feel it. It had become second nature now.

The week was actually peaceful. Your pain was entirely gone, you could move about freely. Despite that Alastor still would press up behind you and offer to help dress you. An offer you declined, but every time he asked you paused longer and longer before saying no.

Alastor was happy to find you in the library toward the end of the week, you having wandered off when he was called away. He summoned a confused but pissed off Husk again, who was midway through making someone else’s drink. He set it aside, pouring Alastor his whiskey. You decided against drinking, you knew you always made poor decisions. Like sleeping. 

Delighted by the impressive collection you found a non-fiction and settled into the same large chair.

“Reading is a virtue.” He said to himself yet out-loud, taking a seat and setting the radio on from across the room. Etta James. ‘Somethings got a hold of me.’

“A little past your time, isn’t it?” You smiled, you liked songs about love. Not because of who you were, you just liked the idea of someone so enamored they have to make art.

He laughed, “Nosey little bird, have you been asking about me?”

Well shit. You had forgotten to play dumb. The past couple weeks you had casually inquired about Alastor from the other staff members. A modest collection of facts to help you better understand the man. A quick recovery. “Know your enemy!” 

He cackled, “Sun Tzu! What does Cupid need ‘The Art of War’ for?!”

What, did he expect you to only read romance novels and Roman mythos? “You can’t make a shadow without light. In fact,” you put the book down, “The Greeks thought Cupid was a child of War and Beauty.”

Okay well, Greek mythos is a little different than their Roman counterpart’s. So. There.

Alastor watched you leaning over the arm of the chair, no sign of pain as you did so. Your injury must have mended well. “Do you have parents?” He asked, genuinely wondering how your kind were created. 

“No, we're just… made. And then sent off on assignments.”

“You must be terribly busy, just one person for all of earth.” If Alastor could pull some limbs and find out more from anyone but you, he would, but unfortunately no one but Vaggie would know anything about you and he had a feeling her time in heaven was never spent thinking about love. 

“Oh, actually not so much! When I’m with humans I can travel around without worrying about the concept of time at all. But it takes a toll.” Or so you were told. There were never two Cupids at one time so you couldn’t really ask your predecessors. Alastor’s brows rose, unsure how exactly a Cupid could be taxed if they didn’t feel pain and couldn’t be hurt. “Every trip to Earth weakens us. Until our bodies just, I guess, give out.” A smile crept across your face, unsure what expression you were supposed to be making.

“Is it just Earth? Or,” he lowered the radio volume with just a glance, “Every time you leave heaven?” It would take a great effort to not notice the weight suddenly blanketing the library. Silence was heavy with what he was really asking you. Would remaining here kill you?

It was a great question. Wow he’s really good at this. It almost seemed like he gave a shit. No one had ever asked you about your creation, about your work. It was nice. Even from him. Maybe especially from him.

You had never been to hell, so you couldn’t be sure, but, “I think it’s a human-world time-thing. But I guess we’ll find out!” Another misplaced smile before you awkwardly leaned back and picked up the book.

While you hadn’t noticed the slip up you had made, Alastor had. “I suppose we will.” 

You would find out, because you wouldn’t be returning to heaven. He was glad you, even if unconsciously, understood that. And perhaps you could live forever if you never returned to earth.

When the song ended, you offered one of your own. 

Alastor was pleasantly surprised to hear you request Nat King Cole’s ‘It’s almost like being in love’.

Standing, he offered you his hand for a dance. “Ugh I hate this cheesy shit.” You said it but stood anyway, putting your hands in his.

Alastor laughed, swaying side to side, “Not a fan of romance? Has Cupid never been in love?”

Those were two seperate things. How could you explain? “Drug dealers number one rule. Never get high off your own supply. That would be—.”

Lonely. Pathetic.

“A bad idea.” His cheek rested on your head. It was a shockingly tender act. “Can you understand? Why would I want something I made. What’s special about that?” 

“And what of true love? It isn’t made by you, yes?” Asked into your hair.

“Yeah but when will I ever find the time to make a connection worthwhile. Winners and Angels are gluttons for choice, I am obviously built for a fun time not a long time.” Which you were…fine with. Yeah. I mean, what choice did you have? “And I don’t want to force it…so…” you trailed off. The rest didn’t matter.

He nodded, suppressing another laugh.  “I see. Well, allow me to give you something you inspired, how about that? Not made. Would you say no, my muse?”

Inspired? Like a song? “Ha, what have I inspired in you, heathen.”

Alastor stopped dancing, his hand pulling your face up for a kiss which took you by surprise.

“Seriousl-,” Husk mercifully disappeared in a flash of neon green.

You couldn’t remember exactly how it happened, much like many of the moments you surrendered to Alastor. It was so fast and he was so strong, his hands large and confident in how they moved you. Before you knew it you were bent over the sofa’s arm getting fucked so hard your leg was shaking and your stomach nauseous.

This was much better than songs or art or whatever you inspired in others. You were gasping with every breath, the action somehow heightening the sensations. The little huffs and groans your body was pulling from him had your heart racing.

His cock was smashing your womb into your guts, the entire organ suddenly feeling like a new pleasure spot. Every jolt to your cervix made a novel kind of bliss pool in your stomach. 

You cried, head empty as he completely left your heat before bottoming out again, “Stop, Alastor. Stop.” A strained moan, hands gripping the wooden sofa arm, “stop, stop, fuuuuck.”

He was pulling out too far and too fast, hitting back too hard and too deep. Your cunt felt swollen around him, your entrance so soft and wet he didn’t need precision to sink back in.

“Does it hurt?” He said quickly on the down beat of his thrust.

“Nngh no.”

“Theeen, no.”

Alastor pulled you up by your chin, back bending as he titled your mouth to his. Despite your mouth hanging open with your tongue out as salacious as you’d ever been,  you told him, “I really don’t kiss during sex.” 

The look in his downcast eyes sent a shiver along your spine, a power there you couldn’t push against, “You do now, my dear.”

When in hell, you supposed. You didn’t even try to argue, accepting his tongue wrapping around yours and exploring your mouth while his dick churned up your insides. Full from top to bottom. Full of Alastor. Safe. Wanted. Needed. 

You pulled away when there was an overwhelming bone-deep sensation spilling through your hips and down your thighs. The muscles felt weak there, and you had an urge to runaway from it but Alastor held you still. 

A scream of ecstasy as both legs shook violently, you finally got your hands free orgasm but to your shock it didn’t stop. As it appeared to wane, it just started mounting again. By the third roll, Alastor came with a push so deep your chest fell over the arm of the sofa. If not for the hands bruising your hips, you would have fallen off entirely.

The ache in your stomach began immediately, you’d have thought someone had been punching you in the gut. Well, more literally than they had been. When you groaned and complained to Alastor about what he had done, he pulled you up by your waist.

You were drawn into him, back to his chest again with your body between those long legs. His hands came to your stomach. Alastor massaged deep circles into your abdomen. 

“Does that help?” His high voice lowered, husky and kind into your ear. You nodded, the pressure relieved the discomfort. 

You wondered if he was used to taller demons than your shorter heavenly form, or perhaps he wasn’t used to anyone at all. Maybe sinners had more room than you did. 

“I didn’t mean to hurt you. Believe it or not,” probably not, “I’m never trying to hurt you.”

Was it terrible you actually did believe him? Yes he was a serial killer, and considered one of the most cruel overlords in recent memory. But he was always gentle when his hands were on you. Flits of memories of him washing your feet came back to you. 

“I know perhaps,” his hands kept moving, your back already stuck to his with well earned sweat, “I have at times been easily incensed.”

You nodded quickly.

“But, It’s just,” you heard him swallow hard, “ah I absolutely hate this,” He whispered it to himself. “I’m just scared you’ll leave before I’ve managed to convince you how much happier I can make you here.”

It’s not that it was funny, necessarily, but the very idea hell could be happier than Heaven was laughable. It was Heaven. It was made to be happy.  It existed purely to please. 

The smile faded from your face. Well, for the winners. It was made to please the winners. It wasn’t made for you, but you still got much enjoyment. You had…sex. Great sex. Not held aloft in a radio tower great, but…You always came. Everyone did. Wasn’t that the point of it?

Wasn’t that the point?

What was the point?

 A warm and lonely bed is better than an empty one alone. So.

Well, your bed was always warm and never lonely in hell now that you’d been “moved”.

You had… Hobbies. You liked swimming. 

Okay well the hotel had a pool. And yes, if you weren’t running off to earth on command you’d have more energy for hobbies.

What were you thinking about this for again?

You gathered the scraps of your relevant thoughts, “Happiness isn’t being confined to a hotel, Alastor.”

“As soon as you show me you won’t leave me, I won’t care where you go. As long as you’re safe.” One of his hands left your stomach to stroke your cheek, “I’m just waiting for you to realize what I already know.”

If Alastor were to ease his grip on you, could you enjoy yourself? Well, more than you did. But it was more than that, you had to admit you hated the idea of losing, of just running away. “I don’t like giving up.” 

His laugh was quiet but it rocked you as his chest moved. “Darling they threw you to hell and told you you’re not allowed to leave unless you do homework. Giving up what? Being a servant to heaven?”

If he had said it a couple weeks prior, you would have left the room indignant. But now, settled against his hot skin and being so softly touched, it sounded like tough love.

“I don’t belong here though.” You were talking to yourself. So many excuses.

His arms wrapped around your chest to hug you into him, “You belong wherever I am.” His cheek pressed against yours, “I won’t let you go.”

A threat. A threat you leaned into and warmed yourself with. A threat a quiet part of you hoped he kept his word on.

You were getting too comfortable. Every morning you woke up to Alastor curled into your body, holding you tightly to him and you found yourself smiling before your consciousness clicked on. At some point in the last week he grabbed your chin and kissed you good night and suddenly every time he left your side you allowed a kiss to your cheek before he parted. What was worse was how you’d talk in bed about your recent reads and what happened the few hours you weren’t with each other. 

The thing that made you realize you were getting honestly too deep was when you went to go to bed early and actually took the elevator past your floor, walked all the way to his station and told him good night. You’d made it to his chair and were leaning down for your kiss when your face fell flat. 

He asked what was wrong but you shook your head. A poorly faked smile offered to him.

You sat in your bed. His bed. Your bed?

You sat in bed and wondered how to press forward. Two months, nearly, you’d been in hell. At this rate surely heaven had made a replacement. If you could make it back quickly you could still keep your place.

A decision was made, you’d never confronted Alastor head on. You had misunderstood his illusion of you. But maybe if you just forced it into his thick skull he’d been controlled and puppeted by an arrow, not his free will, he would abandon it to save his pride. 

Knees to your chest, why were you crying again? Did you want to go home?

No, you wanted to curl into his stupid fucking lap and listen to him hum his stupid old, forgotten songs. You wanted to dance while Husk groaned and rolled his eyes. You wanted to feel loved.

But you weren’t made to want things. And Alastor didn’t love you.

Okay, one more night to enjoy yourself before you pissed him off so much he kicked you out of his bed. Or took such a turn into obsession he never let you leave the room again, allowing you to shirk responsibility for not returning to heaven.

When you turned the handle there was resistance, the door pushing in. 

“Alastor? Done already?” He’d seemed busy earlier.

He closed the door and locked it. Oh. A blush. The sound of a locking door had come to mean certain things to you.

“You seemed bothered.” His thumb wiped where your tears had already dried, “What ever is the problem? Did someone upset you? Some neck I should wring?” You shook your head no. His other hand came to join in  holding your face, those goddamned red eyes melting you to nothing, “Some limbs I should snap?” He took a step toward you and you took two back, hands holding his wrists. Another no. “Or some cheeks I should kiss?”

Stop crying.

An eager nod. “Don’t cry, my love.” Soft lips catching your tears, thin fingers wiping them away. He kept walking forward and you kept walking back until your legs hit the bed. 

One more night, just in case. In case he forfeits the mania.

You kissed his neck, startling him. “Rare form. Did you need some more intimate attention, darling?” You tried to avoid initiating, never knowing what he wanted or when, never wanting to enjoy his touch too much. “I could indulge you.”

What you wanted was to be reduced so thoroughly to just a physical creature by way of pleasure that your mind disconnected from your brain. Fucked dumb, as people said. Alastor wouldn’t know what that meant but you were confident he’d enjoy sussing out the finer details of the meaning if it meant your full surrender.

You bit down on his neck, getting you pushed onto the bed in return. “I need overindulgence. I don’t wanna feel anything tonight but you.” You should practice your manners, for heaven's sake. “Please.”

There it was again. That look that turned your bones to jelly and your brain to cotton; that downcast half lidded stare as he towered over you that promised to devour you whole. His hand pulled at his bow tie and loosened his collar, knees on the bed as his legs spread you open at the thighs.

 “Good girl.”

No punishment or inspiration, just that mental numbness that turned off all your worries. We’re you making stupid faces? We’re your sounds embarrassing? Didn’t matter. You didn’t care. You clung to his body like you’d fall apart without his skin on yours. Because you would, in some fashion. 

Every gap between your bodies felt like room for doubt. So you filled them with flesh and sighs and moans. 

With his height difference you were smothered by him when in traditional heaven-approved missionary, but you liked lying on top. Your head only made it to his chest when your hips were positioned above his cock. You could go slack and let him move you on and off himself. You had been lying when you said you preferred to not move or make noise, but you’d learned he got harder and more feral when you let him manipulate your body any way he pleased. 

He smelled like sweat and leather, probably from the chairs in the lobby. No one sweats in heaven, this seemed like a mistake now. You’d have to be sure to not wash your clothes after you left hell, or else you’d forget his scent.

After finishing, he was surprised to find you still clinging to his torso, arms under his armpits and hooked onto his shoulders. He offered to pull out and let you lie down but you just held on tighter in response. He glanced around the room, soft light and softer music on the radio. Your quiver and bow rested against the armoire, practically dusty. He asked if you were alright, a hand coming to your back with large claws gently scratching.

“Yeah I will be.” you lifted your head, waiting.

Both of his eyebrows rose, unsure what you were waiting on.

Complete surrender. “Good night kiss.” You had to stretch to meet his lips before settling back into his chest, “okay bore me to sleep with your day, sinner.” He gladly did, you falling asleep yet again to the sound of his slow heartbeat and the rumble of his words.

You awoke nauseous, already knowing your day was going to fucking suck and it’d be your own fault. The idea of approaching Alastor and initiating the conversation felt impossible, your feet became stone when you thought of it.

The coward’s option. Wait for time alone and then pace the library until he came to find you.

After an hour or so he did, smile brightening as he entered. “Should I summon the bar?”

You shook your head no, struggling to speak. He sat in his chair, book still on the small side table.

Heart pounding, you considered doing this another day or week or maybe year but knew you’d already lost so much time. “Alastor, I need to talk to you about my task.”

He snapped the book shut, eyes not leaving his hands. “Oh?”

“I need to leave the hotel or at least need serious time alone with someone. I need to change someone’s heart on true love. I can’t go home—,” you were cut off, Alastor standing quickly.

“Home?”

“Alastor.” You stood your ground even as his spine stretched and antlers widened.

“Your home is wherever I am.” A pained smile now, something akin to hurt in his eyes that did damage to you too. “Ah. So last night— and people say I’m cruel.”

“I’m not supposed to be here!”

A snap, his anger and desperation eclipsing his pain, “Why don’t you ever listen-,”

Your turn to cut him off, “Because you’re under a spell! You act so fucking tough like you’re in control all the time. But you’re not! It’s just the effect of the arrow.”

He laughed, but you kept going, “Don’t act like you’re sooo strong you can fight the effects of my shot. You don’t fucking love me. Not really, not naturally. It was an accident. You’re just— it’s been made by me. I don’t want it. I want something real and true.”

“My feelings are true, just let me speak. I can make you understand if you’d just listen to me.” Pupils like pins, teeth somehow sharper.

“Alastor you can’t have true love. Nothing triggered by my arrows can ever be true.”

Another ring of laughter, “Tell me then how your true love is different than mine, Oh Wise Cupid.”

You huffed, “Don’t talk down to me, radio demon. True love means caring deeply for someone else that occupies your heart and mind-,” he opened his mouth, looking around the room for where you found the audacity but you snapped twice to get his attention back, “not just that! You put them first without fear because if they truly love you they would never take advantage of that. It’s trusting them with the most fragile parts of yourself. It's a best friend. Someone who makes you feel like a better version of you, makes you want to always be improving yourself.”

Alastor was still smug, staring at you from his unnervingly demonic height, “Lovely! Last question, expert, is true love ever one sided?”

You thought for a beat, “It can be.”

He hummed, body swiftly resuming his smaller but, again, still too tall scale, antlers remaining fierce as his sinister smile dropped to just a small upward turn of his lips. “I see. You’ve truly enlightened me. I believe you.” The sarcasm wasn’t lost on you.

You rolled your eyes and licked your lips to go off when a portal opened beside you.

Heaven was just beyond the shining circle.

You looked from Alastor to the circular doorway, taking small steps towards it. Your hand pressed through, confusion wiping your own smugness off your face.

Alastor began a mocking slow clap. “I’ve been convinced. Happy now? Task complete.”

“But- the love Mania causes…It clouds the mind, you can’t even process the idea of true love properly.” You searched the floor for some clarity.

His hands stopped, eyebrows meeting his bangs as a laugh that started typically but quickly morphed into maniacal filled the room. You just kept pushing your hand in and out of the portal. Alastor finally quieted, antlers fully drawn back into little prongs. He stared at you. A shiver as his smile reached his ears. That look again. You took a deep breath, ready to be eaten.

“Your little arrow didn’t pierce me, you glorious fool. It literally fell into my pocket. I was never under the effects of your magic. I said that many times.” He straightened out his suit jacket,  “Very plainly, might I add. You just never listened to me. So sure you knew better than I did.”

You sputtered, too many thoughts trying to express themselves, “Why did you act like that then?!”

“Because I wanted you. Something something first sight, as I recall the adage goes.” He crossed his arms and looked at his claws, “Perhaps my love happens to be manic by default. I am a murderous overlord, darling.”

All the energy left your body, shoulders relaxing. “Oh.” 

“So, here I am,” he opened his arms, “trusting you to not hurt me any further today. Does that fall into your narrow view of true love?”

A good question. You shifted your weight onto your other foot, looking back at heaven. You could see the shining gates.

He sighed and brought his arms down, “I can’t promise how long I’ll let you stand there and look at anything other than me.”

A warning.

A deep breath, another shift onto your other foot again as you shook the anxiety out of your hands before finally making eye contact with him, “Well, eldritch horror, prove it.”

You heard the door lock from across the room. 

You decided heaven could wait. It took about two days before they seemed to notice you hadn’t entered the portal, which closed on its own some time between Alastor pushing you onto the floor and you begging him for more. Luckily St. Peter wasn’t privy to your escapades.

It was a fact Sera was aware you had completed your task, because a knock came to the library door on that second day after you did so. Entering without waiting for a reply, which was brave, Lucifer and his hat popped into the room.

“Heeeey giiiirl. I got a message from heaven asking what’s the hold up, worried you were incapacitated.”

From your seat in Alastor’s lap you lowered your book, “How nice of them to suddenly care about my well-being.” You brought the book back up, “Little late.”

He nodded, “Uh huh, uh huh. Yeah I can understand that. Sooo,” his fingers tapped the door, “What should I reply with?”

Alastor turned the page and hummed a reply, “Finders Keepers.”

ᡣ𐭩ˋ°•*⁀➷ masterlist

∰ Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult (general tag list):

@cxrsedwxrlds , @nonetheartist , @tsunaki , @janchei , @wettiny-in-smutland , @moonmark98 , @hoebihoeshi , @pansexual-opera-house , @polytheatrix , @lorddiabigmommymilkers , @backinthefkingbuildingagain , @harley2223-blog , @coffee-colored-hopeless-romantic , @poinappel , @midnightnoiserose , @spookieroz , @missmidorima , @ivebeenthearchersstuff , @downbadforfictionalppl , @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx , @sleepylittledemon , @aether-th3-enby , @dontfuckbutimfab , @breathlessaura , @aperfectidiot , @certainlygay , @jth12 , @star-kujo-platinum ,

@ivebeenthearchersstuffn, @rubyninja1 , @simphornies , @alleystore , @readergirlstuff , @berry-demon , @chirimeimei , @fairyv-ice , @olive-frog , @thonethatflies620 , @tiredkiwiii , @ilikemyteawithmilk , @whateverlololo , @psipies , @howabouticallyou , @roxxie-wolf , @ive-no-idea-what-to-call-this , @fizzled-phoenix , @fjorjestertealeaf , @phobophobular , @surusurusuru , @mariaclarade-la-cruz1 , @whateverlololo , @simplyonehellofanotaku , @xixflower , @i-am-nonbinary-bean-deal-with-it , @roxxie-wolf , @a-case-of-attachment , @multifandomfanatic02 , @watereddownmilk , @raynerrold , @crazii-saber-wolf , @valkyrie-expeditions , @bontensbabygirl , @sillyb0nez , @oo0lady-mad0oo , @jazzmasternot , @pseudobun , @fraugwinska✨, @alitaar , @straows , @alastorssimp , @angelicwillows , @b-o-n-e-daddy , @one-and-only-tay , @asleeponelmstreet , @tremendoushearttaco , @mutifandomkid , @sapphirecaelis , @itzzzkiramylove  @saccharine-nectarine , @viannasthings , @looking1016 , @ultimate-duck-king-lucifer , @blakeaha , @astraechos , @reath-solia ,

🏹Alastor stalkers: @celestial-vomit , @amurtan

@faeoffaith , sailorsmouth , @jeannyjaykaydeh , @jyoongim , @cosmic-lavender , @saturn-alone , @lustylita , @radio-darling , @kaylopolis , @dickmastersworld , @leviskittywh0re

@asianfrustration13 @alittletiredcry @sirens-and-moonflowers @alastorssimp

@sugurubabe , @zzzykiek , @phamtasic

#alastor smut #alastor #alastor x you #hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin alastor #alastor x reader smut

[alltheirdamn]

Killing Me Softly | (Joel Miller x teacher!f!reader)

Chap. 1 : Your Name

Series Summary: You've nursed a broken heart for two years. ‘Love’ felt like a foreign term, but maybe it wasn’t so far out of reach. Chap. 1 Summary: When you catch the eye of your students' dad at a school dance, he starts showing up everywhere. Rating: 18+ MDNI (for the future smut) Word Count: 6.8k Warnings: pre-outbreak AU, age gap (joel is 36 reader is 27), no smut (yet), sexual tension, flirting, pining, mentions of alcohol, language, angst, reader's last name is 'Smith' for no other purpose than the fact she is a teacher A/N: This will definitely be a slow-burn fic, so please hang tight!! Tropes include: second chance at love, strangers to lovers, secret relationship, etc. I'm actually so excited about this one, so I hope you guys stick around to see where it goes :')

Masterlist

PROLOGUE

You never thought you’d be the girl sitting at the steps of an abandoned altar with your wedding dress covered in mud from the rain.

 Just minutes before you were supposed to take your first steps down the aisle, your fiancé fled. You watched the blur of his suit in the distance as he ran through the rain and left your family and friends in shock. Motionless at the back of the rows of chairs, you dropped your bouquet and stood in heartbreaking silence as the cords of the violins faded into the air. Your parents and siblings swarmed around you, trying to break the paralysis that kept your eyes locked on the vacant spot under the archway and steps of what would have been the place you said your vows. You still had them in your hand; the words scribbled neatly on a folded paper torn from your journal. You’d never get the chance to say those words aloud; he never would have deserved them, anyway. 

The ring sat heavily on your finger now as you watched it glisten under the pelting rain. Your dress clung to your body in layers of silk and lace, a taunting reminder of who you had become for a man unworthy of your love and devotion. 

Five years together, all stripped away in a matter of minutes. 

You’d never love again. 

“Everyone’s gotta do it,” Maria sighed as she stood at the student drop-off with you.

By ‘it,’ she meant chaperoning the father-daughter dance later in the week, which you seriously wanted no part of. You had been through enough school dances in your three years working at the middle school, and you were tired of watching pre-teens grinding on each other to god-awful music. You had better things to do with your Friday nights, like sitting on the couch with a pint of ice cream and a horror movie playing in the background—you’d sworn off rom-coms long ago.

“Yeah, I know,” you grumbled, waving another line of kids across the road. 

You watched as they trudged across the crosswalk with their backpacks slung over their shoulders, eyes bright and broad at the realization school was over for the day. If only they were that chipper in class, maybe you’d have an easier time teaching them how to write three-point essays. 

Maria chirped goodbye to each one as they passed, her cheeks pinched with a fake smile only you could recognize. You knew she loved the kids but loved the final school bell even more. You, on the other hand, hated it. The end of school was just another reminder that you’d go back to an empty home and an empty life. 

Two years had passed since Bennett ran from your wedding ceremony—two years without closure or an answer. By the time you had pieced yourself together and returned home from the would-have-been ceremony, his things were gone, and the house filled with the ghost of his presence. Your in-laws went radio silent, avoiding all calls and emails from you until they eventually moved out of state and changed numbers. The hours leading up to the ceremony would forever be a mystery as to why he left, and you would spend the rest of your life fighting for an answer as to why you weren’t good enough to love. 

Dragging you from your thoughts, Maria bumped you with her hip, giving you a concerned look. You shook away the memories and returned her stare with a fake smile you had mastered over the last two years. You couldn’t even remember the last time you had genuinely smiled or laughed without feeling the force of a facade washing over you. Concealing the pain of it all made it easier; maybe if you believed you were okay, you’d start feeling okay. But you never did. Not even the countless hours of therapy had helped reconcile the person you once were. Bennett had left and taken every vulnerable part of you with him, leaving nothing but a raw and broken shell in his wake. 

“You’re doing it again,” Maria scolded. 

“Doing what?” You asked, already aware of the answer.

“Wallowing. You really should get back out there again.”

You focused on the next grouping of kids setting out to cross the street, your hand instinctively coming up to hold the passing cars at a standstill. You plastered on a fake smile as they waved goodbye to you, and you glanced back at Maria once they finally stepped foot on the next sidewalk.

“I’m not interested,” you stated. “I’m fine on my own.”

Her eyebrow lifted as if challenging your blasé response. Your answer always remained the same, yet Maria relentlessly attempted to change your mind.

“You’ve got to at least try. What if there’s already someone out there just waiting for you?”

“Maria, I promise no one is waiting for me.”

“I wish you’d just give it a shot. You deserve to be happy.”

You had heard that phrase often over the last couple of years; a pitying tone always accompanied the words. People loved to soothe you with words that held no weight or purpose. You learned to nod along to their sympathies and turn a deaf ear to their suggestions of what you deserved. 

The final round of kids made their way toward the line of parents waiting in their cars, and you followed Maria back to your classrooms to clean up before leaving for the day. Her words stuck with you on the quiet drive home; the radio wasn’t enough to drown out that taunting voice in your head reminding you that you’d never be enough. 

Your single-story house was nestled into an older neighborhood of Austin, only a handful of miles from the middle school. You’d argue that the house was the best thing to come out of the failed engagement; its personality stood firm against the other houses with a vibrant shade of blue painted over its wooden panels and wrap-around porch. You spent the last few months sprucing up the front yard, planting rose bushes and trees to liven up the house. It hadn’t fixed all your problems but pacified them temporarily as you dirtied your hands in the soil. 

It became second nature to shut your garage immediately after putting your car in park. You didn’t want the typical neighborly interactions or shallow conversations. You were content with living between closed doors and drawn curtains. The less of an interaction with the world, the better. 

Dropping your purse and work bag on the kitchen counter, you sunk onto a barstool, staring blankly at the fridge and knowing all too well there was hardly anything inside it. You’d settle for another frozen meal and glass of wine, a typical meal these days to satisfy a hunger you no longer had. Despite the colorful kitchen cabinets, the mustard yellow couch in the living room, and the obscure wallpaper…your life was dull. How could one person suck out all the energy from another human being? How could pain last this long? 

You stabbed a fork into the TV dinner meal before you and wondered if you’d ever feel happy again. 

**

You managed to survive another week of teaching, only to now be standing in the shadows of the school gymnasium, nursing an overly sweet fruit punch. The PTA had done a decent job of turning the space into a somewhat realistic dance floor: string lights hung corner to corner of the ceiling, a DJ booth in the center of the basketball court, and colorful balloons circled the air. You spotted a few of your students dancing with their fathers, their eyes squeezed shut from their too-wide smiles and bubbling laughter. A foreign ache in your chest reminded you how you would have had a father-daughter dance at your wedding. Your father even took it upon himself to brush up on dance lessons to sway you across the floor to some overly emotional song. As corny as it was, you had been looking forward to that moment throughout your engagement. 

“Look who got all dolled up!” Maria hollered as she strolled over, fruit punch in hand.

“I would hardly call this dolled up,” you said, tugging at the hem of your dress.

You only had a handful of dresses in your closet, this particular one being a flowy black cocktail dress with a halter top and ruffled skirt. It was barely passing the school dress code, so you decided to pair it with a low kitten heel to try and deter the admin’s scrutiny. You did, however, spend a little more time than usual on your makeup and hair, hoping if you looked pretty, then maybe you’d feel it, too.

“You’re too hard on yourself,” Maria sighed.

“You look great,” you said, sidestepping her lecture.

Maria had chosen a plum floor-length maxi dress decorated with embroidered blue flowers. Her curly hair was pinned in a bun, and several sparkly barrettes were clipped to the side. Her makeup was no different from usual: a rosy red lip and simple mascara with a hint of blush on her cheeks. 

“Really, Maria. You do.”

“Well, thank you,” she blushed, looking back toward the room full of bodies dancing.

Your eyes followed hers, settling on the duos as they swayed to a slow song. Every father was dressed up in some sort of button-up or the occasional suit except for one—the same one who happened to be twirling around your student, Sarah Miller. You nudged Maria, pointing secretly at them with a questioning glance.

“Is that her dad?” You asked.

He wore a basic cotton T-shirt, jeans, and dirty work boots. There was barely any thought behind his appearance as if he had rolled up to the school right after a long shift at work, forgoing any effort or care. Some part of you hated him for it. The least he could do was get dressed up for a silly school dance, especially when Sarah wore a lavender tulle dress that complimented her olive skin tone. 

“Yup,” Maria elongated the word. “That’s Joel Miller.”

“Sure looks like he doesn’t care to be here,” you grumbled.

Maria barked a laugh, looking at you through narrowed eyes.

“As opposed to you?” She questioned. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but weren’t you bitching about this dance all week long?”

“Well, at least I put some effort into my looks tonight,” you defended.

You glanced back at Sarah, seeing her father twirl her one last time. You caught a glimpse of his face for the first time in the flow of his movements. Messy dark curls framed his head, curling in every which way as if he’d run his hand through them a million times. Even from a distance, you could see the patchy beard and short mustache covering the lower half of his face, alongside the several creases around his eyes as he smiled.  And his eyes… They looked like big brown saucers under the lights, reflecting a genuine softness as he watched his daughter dance. 

And then they snapped up to meet your gaze through the crowd as if you had silently called out to him. Everything slowed around you for a moment as he studied you from afar, his eyes drifting down your body and back up with a hint of a smile teasing his lips. A rush of heat crawled up your neck, and you broke the eye contact between you. Maria cleared her throat beside you, tearing you away from the man holding your sincere interest. 

“What was that?” Maria chirped. 

You shook your head, glancing between her curious face and the dancefloor. Joel had since moved on, steering Sarah toward the refreshment table. He never once looked back at you, which left you unexplainably disappointed. For a moment in time, someone looked at you and saw you. 

“I–I don’t know,” you stuttered. “Probably nothing.”

“It looked like something.”

You turned to face Maria, a scowl twisting up your lips entirely. You were tired of her pushing nonexistent things on you, and that’s what this was— nonexistent. Whatever moment between you and Joel had gone as quickly as it came. You were done with the night and standing among so many cheerful people. You couldn’t stand it any longer. 

“I think I’m going to take off,” you announced, placing your half-drunk fruit punch on the table behind you. 

Maria was defeated, knowing you'd still leave no matter what she said. Stalking out of the gymnasium, you grabbed your purse from the teacher's booth and booked it to your car with your heels in your hands. You carefully walked along the sidewalk toward your car, catching a conversation drifting through the wind between the other vehicles. 

“...Dad, you promised we’d watch movies tomorrow!”

“I know, sweetheart, but Uncle Tommy needs help on the job sight.”

You hid between two cars, listening to their voices bounce back and forth. It wasn’t until you peeked out to see the two figures that you realized it was Sarah and her father, Joel. For fucks sake. You tiptoed around the car's bumper beside you, attempting to make a getaway before either of them saw you. You must have done a terrible job because Sarah called your name as you edged closer to your car.

“Miss Smith!”

“Shit,” you muttered to yourself. 

With your purse in one hand and heels in the other, you turned toward them with your rehearsed fake smile. Sarah was standing beside her dad—Joel—a small smile shining up at you. You knew her usual upbeat personality in class, always laughing and joking with other kids. She was an A+ student, too, and her work showcased her smartness. But in her father's shadow, a distinct sadness clouded her eyes. 

“Hello, Sarah! How did you like the dance?” You asked. 

“It was really fun,” she grinned, forcing her smile wider. You saw through it. 

“I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

Joel cleared his throat, extending a large hand toward you. You blinked at his open palm, afraid of making that same startling eye contact as you had in the gymnasium. Shuffling your purse into your other hand, you took his into yours, focusing on the warmth of his grip crawling up your skin. His fingers dwarfed your own, tightening around your hand until you were forced to look up finally. 

“S’nice to finally meet you, Mrs. Smith,” he said, his thick Southern accent shining through.

“Miss Smith,” you corrected. It was hard to hide the bitterness in the statement. 

“Miss Smith,” he echoed. “I’m Joel, Sarah’s dad.”

His eyes still hadn’t left yours, their piercing stare making you shiver despite the September humidity. You pulled your hand away, overly aware of how his fingers lingered a moment too long. Shifting your weight from one leg to another, you were starting to feel the asphalt dig into the soles of your feet. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Miller,” you replied.

“Joel,” he insisted.

You nodded politely, giving him another faltering smile. Hauling your purse over your shoulder, you said a soft goodbye to them and bolted to your car. In the confines of the driver's seat, you rested your head against the wheel, inhaling deeply as you steadied the nerves inside your body. Why did such a simple interaction light up your body with emotions you had spent so long suppressing? And why did Joel’s smile haunt you even when your eyes were shut?

Forcing your keys into the ignition, you tore out of the school parking lot and back to the confines of your tiny blue home. 

The weekends were usually filled with nothing more than grading papers and lesson planning. The coffee beside you on the kitchen counter had gone cold hours ago as the morning sunlight faded into the afternoon. Through tired eyes, you glanced up at the oven clock: 2 pm. You needed a break from reading through piles of essays, and your fridge desperately required replenishing. Grabbing your keys off the counter, you forfeited any plans of changing out of your sweat set and headed to the supermarket.

The packed parking lot and crowded store were daunting reminders of why you typically decided to leave your fridge vacant. But as you pushed your shopping cart down each aisle, you had no choice but to comply with your basic human needs and stock up on miscellaneous food you would want throughout the week. Rounding down the next aisle, your eyes caught on a tall figure standing in front of the bakery section, his face scrutinizing every cake in the display case. Shit. 

You tried—and failed—to maneuver your way into the next aisle, somehow crashing into an older woman’s cart, forcing her carton of eggs to fall and smash onto the linoleum floor.

“Dammit,” you hissed, crouching down to try and help them clean up the shattered eggshells.

“S’alright, sweetheart,” she assured. “I’ll just holler for a worker to come clean it up.”

“No, I—I can help,” you stammered, fingers still running over the broken yolks spreading across the floor.

“Miss Smith?” You heard a deep voice above you.

Your head snapped up to see Joel standing above you; his forehead creased with concern. The woman you had crashed into was already down the next aisle looking for a store employee, leaving you alone with a mess you had caused. Joel crouched beside you, his hands folding over yours to slow your frantic cleaning.

“It’s alright, I got it!” You snapped, pulling your hands back.

“Just tryna’ help,” he said. “That’s all.”

“It’s my fault. I can fix it.” 

You had said those words to yourself many times before, and never once did they prove true. 

“Someone will come and clean this up; you ain’t gotta do all that,” Joel said softly. “C’mon.”

He offered a hand, which you took reluctantly, leaving you both standing awkwardly in front of the mess. You shifted your gaze downward, too afraid to meet those deep brown eyes that had plagued you the night before. 

“Hey,” Joel said in a soft tone. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” you mumbled.

“Doesn’t seem like it.”

You huffed a sigh, gripping the handles of your cart to start moving. Today was going downhill rapidly, and you only wanted to go home and hole yourself away…like you always did.

“I, uh, was tryna’ pick out a birthday cake,” he rambled. “S’my birthday tomorrow, and Sarah wants to make sure I have a cake, ya’know? Any ideas on what she might like? I’m not sure if y’all ever have parties at school with sweets and all that.”

Your eyes snapped to his, a scowl forming on your face. Sarah’s dad was asking you what she liked? He was proving to be worse and worse by the second. But you were her teacher and needed to hold your tongue.

“I’m sure she’ll enjoy anything,” you said, a tight smile forming. “Happy birthday, Mr. Miller.”

His eyebrows furrowed together, clearly seeing through the mask you put on. It was infuriating how easily he had wove his way through your bloodstream, even in just twenty-four hours. 

“Joel,” he insisted. “You don’t need to do all that formal stuff.”

“I kind of do,” you laughed. “You’re my students’ father; that’s how I’m supposed to address you.”

“S’all I’m sayin’ is that you’re free to call me Joel. No harm in it.”

There was a lot of harm in it. 

You didn’t know what else to say, so you dipped your head to say goodbye and pushed your cart past him. You weren’t being the kindest nor the most respectful person, but your anger was at a low simmer. Any longer around him, and you might explode. You weren’t used to someone getting under your skin like he was. And the worst part was that he wasn’t even trying. You couldn’t understand why you reacted so strongly. 

“Miss Smith!” Joel called, catching up as you moved down the next aisle.

You inhaled and stopped walking, mustering another fake smile to appease him. He gripped the side of your cart with a large hand, a simple gesture to keep you firmly in place. Clearly, he decided when the conversation was over.

“Yes, Mr. Miller?”

“Did I do somethin’ to upset you? ‘Cause I swear, I didn’t mean anything inappropriate by what I said back there. 

“No, no, you’re fine,” you lied. “Just having a bad day, that's all.” That wasn’t a lie.

Joel ran a hand over his neck, studying you quietly for a moment. Something about the atmosphere around him was intoxicating and so fucking dangerous. 

“Well, I’m sorry ‘bout that. Guess I was just tryna’ make small talk, and clearly, I ain’t doin’ a good job.”

“It’s fine—no need for apologies. I hope the cake and birthday celebration go well. I’m sure Sarah will tell me all about it on Monday.”

His eyes shifted over you again, lingering on your lips, set in a firm smile. You tried your best to hide the shiver that ran up your back as he drank you in. 

“Y’probably think I’m a terrible dad, huh?” He sighed.

“What?” You blinked away the thoughts swarming your head.

“I mean, I know you probably heard us arguin’ last night, and I’m out here asking her teacher what her favorite kind of cake is. You ain’t gotta be polite about it. I know I’m not doin’ the best job,” he confessed.

“Mr. Miller, I don’t think that at all. I just think maybe asking your wife would be more helpful than asking me.”

That garnered a laugh from him, a genuine and sincere laugh.

“Never had a wife to begin with. Sarah’s mom left us when she was only a year old,” he explained. “Been doin’ it all on my own.”

“Oh.” Dammit, you really were a bitch. 

“Trust me, I get it. I could do a better job, bein’ a dad and all that. I’m tryin’.”

“I think you’re doing just fine,” you said. “I’m sorry I didn’t know.”

He brushed it off, replacing the sad look cresting his eyes with a lopsided grin. You wanted to hate it, but your body reacted traitorously. You felt the softness in his gaze crawl over you, slowly replacing the anger coursing through your veins with something else…something you hadn’t felt in a long time. No one had looked at you that way since—well, since Bennett. Even if Joel was only being friendly, you were drawn to the charm he exuded. Dangerous, you reminded yourself.

“Anyway,” he continued. “I won’t hold ya’ up any longer. I hope your day gets better, Miss Smith.”

“Thank you,” you replied. “And Happy birthday, again.”

Joel’s eyes settled on your lips again as you talked, and you felt your cheeks warm under his gaze. His eyes flicked back up to yours, a flash of something behind them, and you were ready to bolt. He muttered a thank you and left you standing in a vacant aisle, your hands still covered in egg yolks and your mind reeling.

It was hard to maintain your good mood once Monday rolled around. Seeing Sarah sitting in class was an unwelcome reminder of your interaction with Joel on Saturday, and you had to refrain from overstepping boundaries and asking about his birthday. She didn’t need to know you cared, even though you struggled not to care. You wondered what kind of cake he decided on, how old he turned if he blushed when she sang Happy Birthday. Every thought burned a hole in your head that you tried to patch up and forget. 

The final bell rang for the day, and the kids began to pack up in a rush. You straightened out the papers lining your desk, avoiding eye contact with Sarah as she slung her backpack over her shoulders and lined up to leave. Grabbing your whistle and bottle of water, you followed them toward the front gates, taking your usual place alongside Maria—who was overly chipper for a Monday.

“Soooo,” she prodded. “How was your weekend?”

“Uneventful,” you lied, walking with her to the crosswalk. 

“You really need to go out and have fun! You’re young, and you need to enjoy your 20s!” She exasperated. 

“Maria, I’m 27,” you groaned. “My 20s are practically over.”

She folded her arms over her chest, leveling you with a heavy glare. Maria was in her late 40’s and clearly exuded a motherly-type attitude. You shifted your focus to the kids crossing the road, watching as they reunited with their parents. 

“We go out on Wednesdays for Happy Hour! Join us this week,” she suggested.

“I don’t know,” you sighed.

“Come on!” Maria pressed. “If you hate it, I’ll never ask you to go out with us again.”

There was no point in arguing with her, so you relented and agreed to one night out. A few drinks and hours of mindless conversation could be good for you. It would be better than sitting in front of the TV with a bland meal and another glass of wine.

You managed to evade all thoughts of Joel somehow the next two days, putting all your time and energy into prepping your students for their first test of the year. Lesson planning and preparation took up your free period and late evenings, leaving you little room to think about those brown eyes and disarming smile. It was Wednesday evening, and you were knee-deep in your closet, trying to find an outfit for Happy Hour. You had changed at least five times, discarding every top and skirt onto your bedroom floor. Eventually, you gave up, settling on tight jeans, a flowy red blouse, and black flats. You left your hair in wavy curls over your shoulders and simple makeup to balance everything out. 

The group took their Happy Hour rituals to a local dive bar on the outskirts of town, a row of motorcycles and trucks lining the entrance. You felt a bit out of place walking into a smoke-hazed bar, with the patron's wandering eyes crawling over you, but you quickly picked out the huddle of teachers in the corner laughing over a round of beers. They welcomed you with bright smiles and hellos, offering to buy your first drink. After about an hour and a few drinks, you felt warm and far more relaxed. Conversations about quarterly goals and admin meetings flowed over the table, each teacher complaining about something. You chimed in when necessary, keeping quiet when you had nothing to contribute. You were on your fourth beer when the girls around you started whispering low about a group of men entering the bar. You stole a peek over your shoulder, eyes settling on the last person you wanted to see. 

Joel Miller.

He had on his usual simple work attire, the fabric of his cotton shirt stretched out over his broad chest. His neck was tanned, most likely from working outdoors, and his hair was just as unruly as you remembered. The man beside him, shorter but with similar features, clapped Joel on the back and steered him towards the bar. You lowered your head, taking a longer gulp of your drink to try and steady your nerves. Of all fucking places, he had to be here. 

“He’s just so handsome, isn’t he?” Maria nudged you, tossing back a look towards Joel.

You shrugged, feigning disinterest. Joel was handsome, but no one needed to know how you felt. Because what you felt was very, very confusing. 

“He’s my students’ father, Maria.”

She rolled her eyes, swirling the contents of her drinks before taking a sip. 

“Okay, and? There’s nothing inappropriate about dating a student’s parent.”

“Yes, there is,” you snapped. “And I’m not even considering dating him.”

“But you think he’s attractive,” she stated.

You didn’t want to respond to that, knowing the warmth in your cheeks was already enough of a giveaway. If you shrunk far enough into yourself, you might go unrecognized the rest of the night.

Maria thankfully dropped the subject, returning to the conversation around the table. After another hour, the ladies started to trickle out of the bar and home for the night. You, on the other hand, still had to wait a bit longer until the alcohol phased out of your body. Which meant you were sitting alone in the same space as Joel. You could feel his eyes on your back the longer you sat there, and to your detriment, decided to steal a glance over your shoulder. Joel’s eyes raked over your body, returning your stare with a soft, welcoming smile. Shit.

You watched as he slipped off the barstool, waltzing towards you with a beer clasped in his large hand. You tried so hard not to notice his thick fingers wrapped around the bottle, and you most definitely tried not to think of what his fingers would feel like inside—

“Miss Smith,” he greeted, silencing your awful thoughts.

“Mr. Miller,” you said.

“Are all these formalities necessary in a bar?” he teased. 

“A couple of drinks won’t change my mind.”

Joel slid into the seat beside you without an invitation, his arm brushing against yours as he settled into the stool. It was instinct to flinch away, afraid of the reaction his touch would cause to your body. 

“What will change your mind?” he pressed, keeping a steady gaze on you.

“Nothing,” you shrugged, deciding to change the subject. “How was your birthday?”

Joel ran a hand through his hair, that stupid lopsided grin forming on his lips. 

“Can’t say I love gettin’ old, but celebratin’ was sure nice.”

“And how old are you, Mr. Miller?”

“Ripe age of thirty-six, Miss Smith,” he grinned. 

“What cake did you choose?” you asked, watching him take a long sip of his beer. 

“Vanilla. Everyone’s gotta love vanilla, right?” 

Was he… flirting with you? 

You’d blame your following response on the beers coursing through your bloodstream, but truthfully, you just wanted to play along, even only for a moment. 

“Hmm, I don’t know. I don’t always love vanilla, Mr. Miller.”

Joel’s eyes darkened, falling to your lips as you took another drink. It was bold and stupid of you to say that, but at this point, you didn’t care. 

“What other flavors do you like?” 

He leaned forward in his chair, his thigh pressing against yours. The heat of his body and the smell of smoke on his clothes was a dangerous combination for your self-restraint.  

“I have a few guilty pleasure flavors,” you smirked.

Joel’s hand damn near crushed the bottle when you said those words, his entire body tensing beside you. You couldn’t care at that moment about how you spoke; the drinks started speaking for themselves. You hadn’t dared to flirt with a man since Bennett left, too afraid of what falling in love again might do to you. But, for some reason, flirting with Joel felt so simple. He was older than you, and maybe that piqued your interest, knowing he was far more mature than anyone else you had considered. 

“Indulge me, Miss Smith,” he whispered. 

“I think I’ll leave it a mystery,” you whispered in return. “I’ve already said too much as it is.”

“I reckon you ain’t said enough,” he countered. 

Heat flared through your neck and face as he leaned in closer, his face only inches from yours. This had gone too far. You had broken any rules you had previously set in place, and now you were dancing on a fragile line between professionalism and indecency. 

Glancing at the clock above the bar, you watched as the hands ticked closer to midnight. Just like in the fairytales, your time was up. Back to reality. 

“It’s getting late,” you started. “I should get home.”

Joel’s demeanor shifted, and his grin faltered as he watched you rise from the barstool. He brushed his hand over your arm, barring you from walking away. 

“Not real sure if you should be drivin’ home yet, Miss Smith. Y’had a few drinks tonight,” Joel protested.

“How do you know? Were you watching me?”

“Gotta make sure my daughter's teacher is safe. Who else’s gonna make sure she gets straight A’s?” 

He was trying to make light of the situation, but you knew better. You knew he had been watching you since he had arrived; his attention had never been on his group of friends. 

“I assure you, I’m fine,” you argued. “You go enjoy your night with your friends, Mr. Miller.”

Joel’s brows furrowed as he considered you. His hand still lingered on your arm, thick fingers flexing against your skin. You glanced between his hand and his eyes, trying to make sense of his intentions. This was far past a coincidental run-in; this was a strange desire out of reach. 

“Can I drive you home at least?” He asked. 

“I’m okay. Thank you, though.”

“Can I at least drive behind you to make sure you make it alright?” He offered.

You looked back toward the bar, seeing the man he walked in with staring at you with an apparent scowl.

“I don’t think that’s fair to your friend,” you said.

Joel peered around you and huffed loudly. 

“That’s my brother, Tommy. S’all good, he’s probably ready to hit the road, too.”

“He doesn’t look too happy.”

“He’s fine,” Joel grumbled.

Tommy noticed you both staring at him and decided to join the mix. He walked up with a grin despite the scowl he had just worn and extended his hand to you.

“I’m Tommy. Joel’s brother.”

“Hi, I’m Sarah’s teacher.” You gave him a quick shake and tried to sidestep to leave.

“Wait!” Joel called out.

“I’m okay, Mr. Miller,” you tossed over your shoulder. “Be safe tonight.”

You made a beeline for the door, hoping to escape him before he reeled you back in. You let yourself float in his atmosphere for too long, testing the waters you knew were off-limits. There was still an alcohol-induced haze lingering in your head, but the sooner you could leave, the better. Tomorrow would come with a headache and a post-drunken clarity to put you back on the right track. You needed to steer clear of Joel before you slipped up and allowed another man inside the walls you built. 

You attempted to retrieve your keys from your purse, only to fumble them out of your hands and onto the dirt ground of the parking lot. 

“Fuck,” you groaned.

As you bent to pick them up, footsteps crunching on the ground grew closer. You already knew who it was.

“Miss Smith,” Joel’s voice sounded pained. 

“I’m fine!” you shouted, whipping your head around to find him nearly toe-to-toe with you. 

The moonlight above you illuminated his brown eyes, which darkened the longer he looked down at you. You shrunk away, letting your body hit the driver's side of your door while Joel stepped closer. 

“Please. You shouldn’t be drivin’ right now. Lettin’ you leave like this wouldn’t be right of me.”

Your only focus was on his lips as he talked. The plushness of his lips enticed you, leaving you imagining how soft they’d feel pressed against yours. Your control was slipping, and the alcohol was pulsing faster in your veins. 

“You’re not going to give up, are you?” You wondered aloud. 

Joel looked at you like he knew the layers of the question. He knew what battle you were fighting inside and saw the fear plastered on your face.

“No,” he whispered softly.

Your eyes bounced between his eyes and his lips, trying to grasp the moment's weight. You needed to be firm and say no; your future self would thank you for it. Gripping your keys, you exhaled and turned towards your car door. 

“Have a good night, Mr. Miller,” you tossed over your shoulder. 

The warmth of his body pressed against your back, the smell of smoke and liquor wrapping around you and enveloping you in a cocoon of temptation. Joel’s hands reached around to grab your keys from your shaking hand, dangling them between you and the car. 

“M’taking you home, Miss Smith. Ain’t gonna argue anymore,” he said as his mouth fell to the shell of your ear. 

“I’m—.”

“Don’t,” he interjected. “Go to my truck.”

He had the exact tone you did when you reprimanded your students, but the deep rasp of his accent made it all the more inviting. You didn’t want to listen to his demands, but you were getting nowhere successfully. Joel sidestepped to free you of the cage he had you in, watching you intently as you sulked to his truck. It wasn’t hard to know which one it was; only a few cars were left, and the truck exuded the same masculinity as the owner. 

“What about my car?” You protested, folding your arms across your body as you leaned against the truck. 

“I’ll give Tommy the keys,” he said. “He’ll drive it behind us.”

You were about to ramble another slew of protests when Joel yanked the passenger side door open and tilted his head toward the interior. 

“Get in.”

His tone left little room for arguing, so you did as he said without another word. Despite the anger radiating off his body, Joel shut the door softly before heading back into the bar. 

You fidgeted with the seatbelt, the press of it against your chest not strong enough to stabilize the rhythm of your heartbeat. You were in his truck, meaning you’d be alone with him for the next several minutes. It was enough to force a roll of nausea through your stomach. Leaning your head against the window, you watched him reemerge from the bar with Tommy in tow. There was a clear expression of annoyance etched on Tommy’s face, all at the cost of your own stubbornness. 

Joel tossed him the keys to your car before rounding the truck's hood and climbing into the driver’s seat. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, so you kept your eyes on the road as it blurred past with each passing mile. 

“Where do you live?” he asked, passing through another vacant green light. 

You rambled off your address, still keeping your gaze steady on the streetlights as they passed by your window. He didn’t attempt to make small talk after that, and the silence settled onto you like a heavy blanket. Your control of consciousness was slipping the longer you sat beside him, but you willed yourself awake. The streets started to become familiar, and you shifted in your seat. Taking a risk, you looked at Joel, finding him white-knuckling the wheel with his jaw clenched. 

“I’m sorry,” you muttered. “I—I don’t go out and drink normally. I should have just stayed home tonight.”

“S’okay,” he said, glancing at you. “Just don’t get why you’re so stubborn about askin’ for help. First at the supermarket and now at the bar. I don’t get it.”

A rush of tears stung your eyes, and you quickly looked away, trying to blink them back before he noticed. Joel’s hand fell onto your thigh, sending a jolt of shock through your body. You wanted to shy away from it, but there was no use in fighting at this point; you were already failing miserably. 

“Hey,” he prodded. “Shit, I’m sorry. Don’t cry, alright?”

You swiped away the tears running from your eyes, schooling your emotions back into a state of numbness. Your little blue house came into view, and you pointed a tired finger toward it to guide him in the right direction. 

“This is me,” you sniffled. 

“Big ol’ house, Miss Smith. Y’live here alone?”

“Yeah,” you exhaled. “Thanks for the ride, Mr. Miller.”

“I really wish you’d stop callin’ me that,” he sighed, parking his car at your home's fence.

“It’s all formalities.”

“Yeah, I know. I just think after tonight, we’re far past all them formalities and shit.”

Your hand lingered on the door handle as you took one last look at him. Joel’s eyes looked over you with a softness you didn’t deserve. You deserve to be happy. Maria’s words rang out in your head the longer you stared at him. ‘Happy’ was a foreign word to you now, out of reach and out of your control.

“Can I just know one thing?” He asked. 

You nodded, your fingers wrapped around the door handle.

“What’s your name?”

Blame the alcohol…blame your vulnerability…but you told him.

#joel miller x reader #joel x female reader #joel x f!reader #joel miller x teacher!f!reader #joel miller fanfic #joel tlou #tlou #tlou fanfiction #joel miller #pre outbreak!joel

[writers-hes]

tell me you need me (1 of 2) | c. berzatto x reader

It was good when you started but Carmen Berzatto had the ability to make anyone fall in love with him no matter how much you tried not to. (friends with benefits!carmen, smut, mndi!!!, unprotected p in v, smut! smut!, angst!! fluff, maybe some bad words, blood, unedited) MASTER LISTS

TAGLIST

I need you tonight. Want to go?

You sighed at the message that Carmy sent you. “Want to go” was a code for “I want to have sex.” and it’s been working pretty well for these past few months. You both needed some sort of release for the pent-up stress that you both have. Carmy, with the Bear and you, with art. You were a full-time artist; creating art inspired by food using oil paint and other forms of media. You’ve been stressed with your upcoming gallery opening next month. Would they love it? It’s quite hard to meet the expectations after winning the Herb Alpert Award in the Arts last year. It was close to Carmy’s James Beard Foundation award, if not the same. In a way, at the end of the day, you were two people excelling in your jobs except for everything else. You sucked at relationships, friendships, connection…what wasn’t artistic; you sucked at. Carmy was the same. Without thinking, you typed your response, a four letter word. Maybe you’ll see him tonight.

-

Carmy enters your home like he lived in it. He had his own set of keys, it was easier that way. He’s been so stressed with the Bear and the only thing that he needs is to blow off some of that steam before he can be functional again. There was supposed to be a celebrity who was wishing for a whole fucking kitchen tour tomorrow and he had to stay behind to make sure that everything was perfect. 

“Hey,” he greets you when he sees you perched on your couch. He liked your apartment much better; at least you had multiple rooms and your own space. It’s not like his; there was work everywhere while yours felt homey. Except your studio down the hall—damn, how much do artists earn today?

“Hey,” you replied. “Did you have dinner yet? I can heat up some of the Chinese food I ordered earlier.”

“No, no. It’s alright,” he says, removing his shoes in the doorway. You were always so tidy and meticulous. No outside clothes on the bed; he had to learn that the hard way. “Actually, um, can-can I take a shower first? I want to wash the day away and I-I smell like the kitchen.”

“And you took the L,”

“Ubered here, actually.”

“Surge rates?”

“I was in a rush.”

“Oh,” you gulped. “Well, you still have your clothes in my wardrobe and your toiletries in my bathroom.”

“Which one?” he asked. “Which-which bathroom?”

“The one in my bedroom,” you replied. “You know where the fresh towels are. So…”

“Uh, yeah-yeah,” he says. “Thanks.” You only smiled at him. Conversation before your engagements are usually awkward because you both knew what the two of you were there for. It’s more comfortable afterwards; when he talks about the Bear or asks you about your art.

You and Carmy met from a friend of a friend. You were looking for chefs that could serve you inspiration for your paintings when she mentioned Carmen Berzatto. You reached out to him and he replied three months later, telling you that he can show you some of the recipes that he’s been working on. He’s an artist himself—Sistine Chapel art kind of stuff. He explained the components of his dish over dinner in your hotel apartment in New York. You mentioned that you were from Chicago and he mentioned that he’s from Chicago too…you drank too much wine and the rest was history. 

You both stopped communicating when he met Claire but he reached out again, asking if you wanted to meet. He told you all about her and how he fucked up. You drank too much wine again. History has the habit of repeating itself.

You swore to never fall in love with Carmen Berzatto and you didn’t…not until recently. He used to leave immediately once you’re both done. Lately, he’s been staying over. He talks to you about everything. He stays over and wakes you up with coffee and some Michelin Star quality pancakes or French toast. He watches you take your first bite before he takes his, likes to watch your reaction and likes hearing your praise.

You were too lost in your reviere to notice Carmen walking to you, all fresh and clean. He lays a hand on your shoulder and kisses your neck.

“What are you thinking about?” he asks, voice deep and sultry. 

“You,” you replied, reaching up to massage his curls. 

“Good,” he says, removing himself from you and sitting on the opposite side of the couch. “Needed you today…but I want to talk first before…before…”

“That’s fine with me,” you replied, inching closer to him. “What’s wrong?” He puts his hand on your knee, squeezing it lightly. Since when was he so comfortable around you?

“I…I just… Mikey,” The name lingers heavy in the air. Anytime Carmen feels the crushing weight of the pressure, he says Mikey. Whenever he feels inadequate, not enough, never enough—he says Mikey.

“He’ll be proud of you, Carm,” you said, smiling at him. “Like everyone else is.”

“I’m sorry for not inviting you to the opening…Claire was-was there and…”

“I understand,” You put your hand over his to reassure him that everything’s okay. “I understand.”

“You wouldn’t have seen me,” he chuckled. “I was locked inside the walk-in the whole time and well, everything was great. What if I’m not needed?”

Is it too late for me to love you? 

“Carm…” you trailed off, trying to find the words. “Of course, you’re needed. The Bear wouldn’t be The Bear without you, you know? Your family must be so proud of you because I know that-that I am. I’m so proud of you and I-I need you so much,” you told him. “I need you, Carmen. More than you could ever know.”

Is it too late for me to love you? 

Maybe it was the words that you said, maybe it was the long forgotten show on the T.V., maybe it was because the T.V. screen illuminated your face in a way that was so, so beautiful. Maybe it was just him.

“Let’s go to bed,” he rasps, taking your hand and dragging you to the bedroom. Once he closes the door behind him, Carmy presses you against it, taking your chin and kissing you. It was slow and needy; this kiss was needy. You trail your hand underneath the white shirt that hugged his figure. You caress his sides up and down; softly; slowly and Carmen releases a whimper into your mouth. I need you. I need you. I need you. 

“Baby,” he whispers, pulling away from you to remove his shirt. “Baby, baby, baby.”

“I need you, Carmen,” you muster the courage to kiss his neck now, sucking and nipping right under his collarbone. He lets you do it, he lets you mark him like you own him. He tugs on the roots of your hair lightly. You lick the purple bruise, nipping it again just so it could last one more week. Carmen was sighing above you, letting you take him like he wanted to be taken. His hands itch, slipping right under the waistband of your panties to cup your heated cunt. “Carmy,”

“I know, baby. Let’s get you to bed, hm?” he asks, pushing you slightly. “Lay down for me. I missed you so much. Let me show you,”

You obey his commands, opening your legs widely like he likes. He crawls until his face is right in front and removes your underwear, tossing it to the side. He’ll take care of that later.

“You’re so wet,” he groans, when he lets his index finger trail along your slit. You buckle in need; silently begging him to do more. “So, fucking wet,” he repeats, parting your folds until he sees your glistening cunt. 

“Carm…” you whine. He spits on your clit and you whimper. 

“Let me taste you, hm?” you heard him say, his wandering fingers rubbing all sorts of shapes on your folds. You could only nod and he takes that, licking a bold stripe. You press your cunt against his tongue and he just takes it. He licks a few more stripes before sucking your clit softly. 

“Carmy,” you moan. Your hands trail down underneath your shirt, thumbs softly flicking your sensitive nipples. Carmy could just come at the sight of you playing with them but he holds back, sucking your clit harsher before plunging his thick middle finger inside you. “Oh, fuck,” 

He pumps the finger slowly…in, out, in, out while he licks your sensitive bud. 

“Fuck, Carmy,” you whimper. “Fuck me,”

“Later,” was his nonchalant reply; enjoying the sweet nectar that dripped from your sloppy pussy. It was better than any dessert he’s ever had before. If it was um to him, he’d have his head buried in between your legs, eating you out forever. You buckle again, pinching your nipples hard and tugging them. 

“Carm…”

“I know, I know,” he says, sucking your clit harshly for one last time before crawling on top of you. “Taste,” he orders. You obliged, opening your mouth and putting on a show with the way you licked your juices off of his finger. “Fuck,” he groans. He palms himself through his boxers while you sucked on his finger. You released it with one last suck before putting your hand on top of Carmy’s to feel his hardening cock underneath. You push his hand away while you squeeze his member lightly. Just enough for him to rut his hips against your hand. Just enough for him to toss his boxers to the side.

You tried to sit up to see him pump a few strokes, moaning your name while he did. He gets off the bed, looking at the way your body moved while you breathed. 

“Beautiful,” he whispers to himself before dragging your body to the end of the bed. He pries your legs open and puts one of them over his shoulder. He liked it like this, it fills you up in ways you cannot describe. “Need you to play with your tits while I fuck you, hm?”

He taps his cock against your pussy.

“Can you hear how wet you are?” he asked, sliding his cock in between your folds. You could feel the protruding vein run along your nub and you moan, massaging your breasts to show him your obedience. “Fuck,”

“Carmy…” you whimpered. “Please.”

He hums, grabbing his member and teasing your wet entrance with his pink tip. “You’re so…”

With no warning, Carmy plunges deep into you and you both groan. You were waiting for this. He’s been wanting this the whole day. He stays there for a few seconds before he thrusts in and out of you slowly. 

“Fuck,” 

The slopping noises inside your room reverberated in your walls and for a few moments, the sounds of your groans and skin slapping against skin heightens your arousal. Carmy thumbs your clit and he feels your walls clench around him.

“Don’t do that, petal,” he rasps, sweat dripping on his forehead. “I’ll cum fast if you do.”

“Sorry,” you choked out. He only grunts as he adjusts his pace. He was faster now and you could hear he ragged breathing. “Carmy, I need you.”

“Y-you need me,” he repeats to himself. “You need me.”

“I do,” you told him, moaning when he plunges his cock deep inside you. “Need you, need you,” 

“Oh, fuck,” he groans. “Tell me that you need me. Tell me,”

“I need you, Carmy,” you whine. “I need you to cum inside me,” 

Carmy’s eyes widened. You’ve never let him do that before. He always had to pull out or use a condom. 

“Want me to fill you up?” he asks, his voice strained. “I’ll fill you —oh, fuck,” 

“Yes, please,” you sobbed, breath hitching at the feeling of his cock twitch inside of you. “Fuck, Carmy.”

Sex has never felt this good. 

You could feel the breaking point come nearer and he does too. His movements were sloppier, his breathing even more ragged that it was. Your walls were clenching around him but that seemed to arouse him even more. 

“Fuck, fuck,” he grunted. “I’ll fill you up, hm?” 

“Yes, please, Carmy,” you whine. He could only nod, doing his best to keep his orgasm at bay. He wanted to prolong this feeling; this emotion but he couldn’t. “Fuck, Carmy, I’m cumming, I’m cumming. Carm—oh!”

He follows soon after, moaning your name as he shoots ropes of cum inside your pussy. He could feel your walls clench around him and he thrusts in slowly, to ride both of your orgasms away. 

“You-you liked that?” he asked. He doesn’t pull out. Instead he takes your other leg and hangs in on his shoulder. “We have to make sure that not a drop goes to waste.”

You nodded and felt his hands caress your legs slowly. He slowly lays your legs back down on the bed and crawls on top of you, kissing your torso, neck, and your chest while he did. 

“Stay there,” he ordered and you nodded in assent. You just let him cum inside you. He walks over to the carafe on your bedside, filling the glass with water and then, taking a hand towel from your cabinet. He pours a little bit of the liquid onto the towel. You sit up when he wordlessly gives you the glass of water. He watches you finish it and kisses your head when you gave him the glass back. He sets it on the floor carefully before opening your legs so he could clean you up.

“No,” you shook your head and he stops, alert because you told him no. “I’m…I’m still sensitive,”

“Okay, petal,” he nods, taking the glass and the towel away. He picks up the tossed articles of clothing puts it in the laundry basket. He was quiet when he takes a fresh set of pyjamas and underwear from your wardrobe. “Raise your arms,” he says and you do. He puts a new shirt on you. “Lay down.” You followed him. He puts a new pair of panties on you. “Thank you,”

You were so tired now but you were still so aware of Carmy’s actions. He stands up from the bed to wear new clothes and sits down on the bed. He carefully places your head on his lap and plays with your hair.

“Thank you,” he says, bowing down to kiss your forehead. “Why don’t you sleep for me, hm?”

“Will you be here when I wake up?”

“Waffles or pancakes?”

“Waffles with whipped cream.”

-

Why won’t you let me love you?

There were times when you’d fight with Carmen. A disagreement over something so, so, so small. This time, it was big. It was the opening of your gallery and he promised to be there. It was a big night—multiple art collectors and mongers from all over America came to see your latest pieces. They were all inspired by the food you grew up eating in Chicago; a collection of how culture, identities, and personalities affect eating. Your paintings were in vibrant colors—cup ramen with cheese, cannoli, food that you grew up eating whenever your mom was away. There were small details on the significance of the new collection to your life and he wasn’t there. You were on the stage, telling everyone how grateful you were to the audience but you were preoccupied, looking for a familiar mop of curls in the crowd. He didn’t come. He didn’t go. 

You smiled at them half-heartedly before leaving the stage, ready to be whisked away by some art dealer. You were whisked away by multiple guests, asking you for more details on the painting. You all told them everything they needed to know, what they should do if they’d like to make a purchase…

It would have been alright if he texted you…but he promised he’d be there. He promised he’d take you home. He promised.

-

Carmy was sitting alone in his apartment. He left The Bear earlier than usual and went straight home. He did it all, shower, put a nice suit, and fix his hair. He did it all, he even ran to the nearest florist to buy you flowers but he didn’t go. 

Isn’t this what lovers do? 

He wasn’t your lover. He couldn’t let himself be distracted again. He had to focus; he couldn’t fail the people that relied on him. He looked at the bag of groceries he got from the store; he was supposed to cook you something special tonight. Have you eaten yet? Fuck the suit that he paid for dry cleaning; fuck the flowers; fuck him. It must have hurt you—he knows that. Tonight was a big night and you were so excited to show him a painting that you’ve been working on. 

“I won’t sell it,” you told him. “I’ll have it shipped to you first thing in the morning.”

Would you still send it to him?

-

By the end of the night, you were exhausted. Happy, but exhausted. It was normal; talking to everyone and being scintillating the whole night was work but it was worth it. Your paintings all had their new owners, except for the painting that you promised to Carmy. Would he still want it? You were alone in the studio, wrapping the 4 by 3 foot canvas with the best quality glassine. You were giving this to him tomorrow. If he doesn't want to have it, you’ll probably just donate it somewhere else. 

You laid awake in your bed all night long, waiting for his text. It was funny, just last week he was begging you to tell him that you needed him but when you needed him most, he wasn’t there. 

You arrive at The Bear just before it opens, the big canvas tucked under your arm. He was sure to be there and had always told you to use the back door if you weren’t dining. You always obliged, of course, opening the backdoor to reveal everyone. You’ve met Sydney and Richie before but you haven’t met the others yet. You were an alien in an unknown world; Carmy’s employees looking at you, as if wondering who this girl was. 

“Hey,” Sydney greeted, looking at the glassine covered thing that you were carrying. “Didn’t know you were coming in today. Congratulations on your exhbit,”

“Yeah, Congrats. What’s that, sweetheart?” Richie asked. 

“Oh,” you just nodded. Carmy couldn’t even look at you. “I just came here to give this to…uh, Carmy,” you cleared your throat. “Carm…?”

“Uh, yeah-yeah,” he stuttered. “Can we go to the office?” 

“Sure.”

You followed him into the office while Richie tells everyone to go back to what they were doing. Your heart was hammering inside your chest, afraid that this was going to be another one of those petty fights that you’ve had with him. 

You were wrong. So, so wrong. 

“You didn’t come last night,” you told him, shielding yourself from him with the painting. “I…I waited.”

“Sorry,” was his laconic reply. You nodded, chuckling. 

“That’s all?” you asked. “Just…sorry? No explanation, no nothing?” you asked. “I was looking for you the whole night, Carm. You promised you were coming,”

“I don’t know what-what you want me to say,” he says, looking everywhere but at you. “I-I-I’m sorry, okay? I had other plans.”

“You promised months ago that you were coming,” you repeated. “I called Sydney last night because you weren’t answering and she told me that you left early.”

“You’re spying on me now?” he asks, suddenly defensive. “I had things to do that night. I can’t-can’t just put everything on hold for-for you.” He spits his words like venom, voice getting louder with every word.

You frowned, not recognizing who the boy was in front of you. It’s not like you asked him to put his life on hold. Your heart was beating so fast in anger, ears ringing. 

“I see. So you just need me around and you-you just I don’t know, call me because you need to get your dick wet?” you asked, matching his volume. “You just need me around when no one else is there to fuck you? Is that it?” you asked. “What the fuck?” 

Carmy blinks, tries to think of the words he’s about to say but he couldn’t stop himself. He could never seem to stop himself. 

“You’re the only one desperate enough to do so,” he shrugs. It breaks your heart in pieces, really. The nights Carmen spent nuzzling his head in your shoulder before you slept probably meant nothing to him. Your face falls, contorting in hurt at what he just said. Fuck Carmen Berzatto. Fuck him. “I’m not your fucking boyfriend. I don’t know why you expect me to just-just-just do something!”

“Maybe I wanted you there as my friend!” you shouted over. Your voices could be heard from outside but everyone else pretended like they weren’t listening to anything that you both were saying. You were shouting over each other now, the fuse just breaks. “If you didn’t have any fucking plans to actually go, then don’t give me your good for nothing fucking promises!”

“I don’t need a girl leeching on me when I’m opening a fucking restaurant. Do you want me to put everything on you just because you asked me to? I’m not your fucking boyfriend. You know that right? And maybe-maybe I don’t want to be your fucking friend either!”

“Why would I want you to be my boyfriend, Carmy? You’re-you’re fucking unreliable! You have issues that need fixing. You think Claire could fix that? You think I could fix that? You think the girls you get wrapped around your fucking finger can fix your fucked up fucking head? Huh? Is that what you think? You’re so fucking miserable you make everyone around you miserable! Grow up!” He’s hurt. That’s what you thought of him? That he was miserable? Did he make you miserable?

“I don’t need to go to your fucking art exhibition when they’re all fucking shit.”

You closed your mouth before you could protest. The pain of his words felt like a slap on the face. If he regretted it, he didn’t show it. You turned away, nodding. 

“Fuck you, Carmen. Don’t fucking call me. Don’t fucking knock on my door. Don’t…don’t fucking think of me. I’m fucking done with you,”

“Yeah? You’re done with me, huh? Fuck you,” he spits back. He heard the waver in your voice; heard how you tried to steady everything. He wanted to say sorry but you were already leaving. Richie and Sydney couldn’t even ask you what happened because you were rushing out, throwing the painting you worked hard on for days at the back. Fuck Carmen Berzatto. Fuck him. 

-

“Fuck!” his chefs could hear from outside the office. Everyone heard the vile things you both screamed at each other; everyone heard why you were so angry. Everyone fucking heard. Nobody dared to move, they didn’t want to be on the receiving end of Carmy’s anger; not when The Bear was about to open. Continuous loud bangs and sounds of some object being thrown were heard too. Sugar sighed. 

“Carm?” she called from the door. “It’s almost opening,”

“I-I-I know, Sug.” he replied, blinking. “Uh, can-can you guys go ahead? I’ll be there, I just-just need to you know, calm down?”

“Okay, Bear,” she smiles, tapping the door frame before leaving Carmen in his own thoughts. He gets out of the restaurant through the back door, about to light a cigarette, when he sees the canvas wrapped with glassine. 

“Fuck,” was the only thing he could mutter before taking it and sitting where the staff usually stayed at when they wanted a break. He lights up a stick and lets it hang loose on his lips while he opens your gift with shaky hands. He was so immersed in the experience, gently removing the tape and making sure that nothing was ruined that he didn’t notice Sydney. 

The glassine reveals a painting of a plate of cannolis. He remembered that he told you the story about cannolis during Christmas and how he wanted to recreate that—take it for himself. He traces over the precise brushstrokes shakily. 

“That’s a good painting,” Sydney spoke, her hands behind her back. “Would be a waste to just throw it out.”

“I know,” Carmy nods. “I’m sorry you had to uh, hear all of that.”

“It’s…something,” Sydney replied, making Carmy chuckle. 

“I always…always seem to uh, fuck up everything,” he muttered. “I was on the way there, you know? Last night?”

“Yeah. You were so excited,”

“I was,” he coughed. “But I didn’t go because…” Words died down in his mouth. Why didn’t he go? “I’ve said some things and she-she doesn’t want me to call her anymore and I-I understand but like, I don’t know, Syd.”

Don’t know why I could never seem to just let myself enjoy things. I don’t belong anywhere else but in the fucking kitchen. It’s the only thing I was good at.

“I didn’t really want to to, uh, fuck this up.”

-

I want to talk to you.

Come to my apartment after your shift. Or whenever.

Carmen feels his palms sweat when he reads  texts you sent him days ago. He decided to go today, finally—he was never good at confronting things; always so explosive, so defensive. He didn’t know what he’d feel like today. He knocks on your door and hears the shuffling from the other side. He just got out of The Bear; he was tired but he forced himself to go. He had to go. 

“Hey,” you smiled tightly when you opened the door. “Come in.”

He nods, wordlessly entering your apartment like how henused to. Bag and shoes on the side. Somehow, this made him more nervous than usual. This was a prelude to something else entirely; he believed that.

“How are you? he asked, voice small and looking down. 

“I’m…good,” you replied, looking away. “You?”

“Busy,” he replied. The air felt heavy and his palms were sweating. “I’m…I’m sorry for not being there when I promised you that I would,”

“Why weren’t you there, Carm?” you asked and he could hear the sadness in your voice. He knew that your exhibit meant a lot to you. “You…you told me you will and well, you were…the-the person I want to be there the most.”

“I didn’t know that. I’m- I’m sorry,” he shrugged. “But why? I mean, I-I don’t know art. I like my shit but I-I’m not cool or understand—“

“Because I like you, Carmy.” you told him, looking at him now and trying to go nearer. He stepped back and you stopped your tracks.

“You—what?” he asked, shaking his head furiously; like your confession offended him. “You…like me.”

“I do,” you nodded. “But…it doesn’t matter.”

“Fuck. How many times do we have to go back to this very same place for you to understand?” he asked, running a hand through his hair. He told you before that he didn’t want to date. You told him you understood. You told him he was being egotistic when he told you not to get attached. He wanted to leave. He didn’t expect this to happen—he didn’t want this to happen. “I don’t—I don’t—“

“Carmy,” you cautioned him, trying to ease your beating heart. “Can you listen to me? I-I-I like you, okay and I’ve been thinking about it too. I’m—you’re always staying behind after sex and well, I just maybe thought that you liked me too.” You replied, swallowing his rejection for now.

“I don’t,” he snaps, tone sharp. “We’ll both be miserable in a relationship. I’ll never make-make you happy. You’re right, you know? I’m unreliable and-and-and issues that I need to fix…and I’m not the one you’re looking for,”

“I’m sorry for saying that. It wasn’t my place to do so,” was your meek reply. How does he feel so far away when he feels so, so, so close?

“No, uh,” Carmen blinks, shaking his head. “It’s fine. I-I-I needed to hear those things, you know? I’m sorry too…for everything.”

“Thank you.”

“That’s it then?” he asked. He was distressed. How could he fuck this up after telling Sydney that he didn’t want to fuck things up with you? “I…I had fun,” You were the only one who kept me afloat when everything else turned to shit. I missed you when we stopped talking. I should have fought harder. What else could I have done?

“Fun,” you chuckled bitterly. “Fun…that’s the only thing you’re going to say to me?”

Carmy frowned. 

“What else did you want me to say?”

“I don’t know, Carmy!” you exclaimed, pacing back and forth but never towards him. “God! Tell me that I’m important to you. Tell me that I’ll still be your friend…tell me that you—that you—that I mean more than a fuck!”

Silence. Carmy couldn’t find the words to tell you what you truly meant to him…that he wanted what you wanted too but he was too scared to fuck it all up again like he did with Claire.

You nodded, looking away. You breathed in deeply, as if trying to relieve yourself of the hurt. That’s all you’ve ever meant to him. 

“You lead me along and it’s fine. I know that it’s my fault for wanting other things but at least…at least tell me that I’ll still be your friend; that I still matter to you even if I dug myself a hole by feeling things. Tell me that you still need me to put everything on hold for you because I’ve been waiting you to call me all day…”

“I don’t want you to do that. I don’t want you putting your life on hold for me,” he rasps. “I don’t…”

“But what if I wanted to?” you asked, face slightly contorted because you didn’t want to be so vulnerable in front of him. Not when he hasn’t told you what you wanted yet. Carmy was just looking at you, tapping his foot on the floor. It was a nervous habit that he developed. Fuck, he needed a cigarette.

“Can you, uh, leave?” you asked, voice low. “I…” 

“No, no, no,” he begs, rushing towards you. He grabs a hold of your elbows to remind you that he was there. Would it mean anything? Would his touch convey all of the words he wanted to say? 

“Carm…” your voice breaks. “Carm…”

“No, no. You’re not just that to me,” he reassures “But you have to understand that-that I can’t love you like that.”

“Carmen, please…” you beg, tears brimming in your eyes. “Please…just, just leave,”

You’ve never asked him to leave before but it seemed like it was what you really wanted—like it was what you really needed. He nods, kissing your head softly before detaching himself from you. 

“I’m sorry,” Carmy said. “For-for not saying the right, uh, things.”

“Yeah,” you nod, hiding yourself from him. He hated that you had to do that when you’ve cried on his shoulders multiple times. He never liked seeing you cry; he just didn’t know that one day, he’ll be on the receiving end of your sadness. He watches you rub your forehead, biting your lip to stop yourself from crying. If you started crying, would he stay?

-

It’s been months since Carmy left. He’s been in his best form in the kitchen. He was making things easier for his staff; he was working twenty four hours a day. Going to The Bear early to help with prep; staying late to help them clean after a long shift of cooking and cooking and kitchen tours. He’s been getting acclaim—more acclaim, really. There was a waiting list on his restaurant and positive reviews from left and right flooded in. The Bear was dubbed as “The Restaurant of the Year” in Chicago despite being less than a year old. 

He’s been doing good—perfect. 

It was like he was a hamster in a fucking wheel with no other way to escape. He likes putting himself in gear, like driving fast because it makes him believe that nothing really hurts him. He didn’t like being at home; it reminded him too much of you. It reminded him of when you’d lean on the kitchen counter, a small smile on your lips while you watched him cook you something. He didn’t like sitting on the couch because it reminded him of when he slept with his head on your lap. He didn’t like it in his bedroom because he’s reminded of that night when you pulled him closer in your sleep. He didn’t like The Bear because the painting that you gave him hung so proudly by the dining area. It was marvellous—they said. How was he able to get a painting that you did when your art was so valuable and in demand? 

He was moving so fast so you wouldn’t cross his mind but it seemed like no matter what he did, he'd end up thinking about you anyway. 

It didn’t matter, how come a fall like that made him feel like flying? Maybe he’s waiting for it to hit him but he was feeling alright. 

He was alright. 

“Chef!” Sydney called, looking at Carmen who was chopping the vegetables like a madman. “Carmen!”

“Fuck, what, Sydney?!” he asked, slamming his knife on the counter. 

“You’re bleeding,” Marcus told him and Carmen looked down, blood was all over the chopping board. “You’ve been bleeding for a few seconds now…we’ve all been calling your name, Chef.” 

“Fuck, I-I-I’m…” Carmen was a blubbering mess, just watching his hand bleed like it didn’t matter. “I’m-I’m,”

“Take a break, Carm,” Sydney says but her partner just shakes his head. “Carm—“

“Sydney, don’t—don’t make me take a fucking break, please.”

“You’ll need to clean up and make sure there’s no more blood,” Sydney told him. “I’m not fucking around,”

“Yeah,” he nods, putting his fist over his heart and drawing circles. Sydney nods and Carmy fixes his station. 

He couldn’t stop shaking, though. Even Tina saw how his hand trembled. What the fuck?

“Carmen,” 

“Yeah…just…just give me a second, please.” he nods, picking his knife again and doing everything perfectly. Like clockwork. He’s back. He’s back. He’s fine. I’m fine. I’m fine. I’m alright. 

PART 2

AN: Thank you for the love! This is going to be a two-part fic because I love how everything is right now… Don’t forget to comment / reblog if you like it! I read every single little thing you guys type…even the hashtags.

TAGLIST: @kpopgirlbtssvt @morgthemagpie @hal3ynicol3 @1800-queen-trash

#carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto angst #carmen berzatto smut #carmen berzatto fluff #carmy berzatto x reader #fanfiction #fanfic #carmen berzatto fanfiction #carmen berzatto #angst #smut #fluff #the bear #the bear fx #carmy berzatto smut

[aziraphale-rights]

So, what is the deal with the world’s most conspicuously uneaten Eccles cakes? (A meta)

Well, I wouldn’t say it’s bad writing, not even the on-purpose-as-a-secret-message kind. I agree there is a visual ‘loose thread’ here that the creators wanted us to notice, but I don’t think the meaning has anything to do with Metatron or the eventual plan for S3. I think the eccles cakes are all about what’s going on in this episode with Crowley and Aziraphale, and they’re unsettling in exactly the way they’re meant to be, even if we might not register the full implications consciously on first watch.

On the most straightforward level, this shot is the punchline to a joke set up by Aziraphale and Nina in the coffee shop. Crowley orders six shots of espresso, bound to get him all worked up and stressy. Aziraphale, who desperately wants Crowley to be thinking clearly when he learns about the Gabriel situation, says to Nina: ‘What do you sell that calms people down?’ And she replies: ‘Eccles cakes.’ From this moment on the cakes are a visual symbol of what Aziraphale needs from Crowley right now.

That’s why they get so much screentime as we cross the road and go into the shop. Aziraphale won't leave those eccles cakes behind because he’s still hoping that Crowley will respond to the request they represent: Please stay calm, please be patient and listen to me with empathy.

But Crowley never does respond, and as he storms out we get that close-focus shot of the abandoned plate to make sure the subtext hits home. The cakes are framed sitting in front of the horse statue, brilliantly dressed up in Crowley's sunglasses, to remind us that they were brought there for him and he's dismissing them. (Crowley is the frantic horse who can't be managed!)

There’s another level to it, though, which doesn’t fully become clear until episode 6. The episode 1 meeting in Nina’s café is the first time that Aziraphale and Crowley share a scene in the present-day in S2, which means that the last time we saw them together was when they were dining at the Ritz. As viewers, we quickly recognise the visual language of their partnership: a table for two, a drink, a dessert. It feels familiar. But the food gets delivered and then nobody eats it. On that level, it is a set-up without a pay-off and it really niggles as you watch. S1 closed out their relationship with a happy toast after a resplendent dinner; S2 opens it with a snack that gets ignored. The dynamics of who offers food to whom are also off, atypical. It’s a sign of how things are going to go later on, hinting at the fact their dynamic is dysfunctional right now, even though it might seem OK on the surface.

Which brings me, finally, on to the other thing I’ve wanted to point out…

The punchline is that Crowley doesn’t eat the eccles cakes, but the really subconsciously disconcerting thing is that Aziraphale doesn’t. That he seemingly never planned to, and never orders anything for himself. In fact, we don’t see Aziraphale eat anything substantial in any of the present-day scenes in S2. The only things he consumes onscreen are sherry, tea, and a travel sweet. (Oh, and Manipulation Coffee, which is definitely a callback to Crowley’s disastrous sextuple-espresso.) We see him with food, yes, but primarily he wants to give it to other people.

For me this little detail of S2 – not something you even fully notice until you think about it – is a very telling understated cue in terms of Aziraphale’s post-Heaven state of mind. It's about what amuseoffyre puts so well in another meta: 'the whole series looks like he’s having so much fun doing silly human things, but there’s this brittleness to it.' At first glance, we see Aziraphale interacting with food and assume he is now living the happy Earthly life we wanted for him, but on closer inspection he's not engaging much in the pleasure of eating for his own sake. He gets a quick sweet pick-me-up on his way somewhere else in the Bentley - all alone - and that's it. He's too anxious, too busy, he doesn't have time. Crowley doesn't have time to invite him for lunch.

I find it fascinating that Gabriel gets a squillion cups of cocoa in this season, waxing all lyrical about them, and Aziraphale gets none. Aziraphale's mug becomes Jim's mug, even. And he mostly makes the tea to show Muriel how to blend in. In short, S2 Aziraphale is terribly preoccupied with looking after/managing others, and not taking the time to look after himself. Like the Maggie and Nina match-making, all that kindly treat-offering is displacement, displacement, displacement.

No wonder it all goes wrong.

#SORRY for image quality #good omens spoilers #good omens meta #good omens #takes by me

[eternalxvenus]

༻ room for one more? ༺

summary: after many failed dates, you begin to give up on the dating scene until Sarah and John B give you an interesting proposal.

cw: smut 18+, sarah x f!reader x john b, threesome, oral (f and m receiving), face sitting, overstimulation, squirting, dirty talk, praise, p in v, unprotected sex, pet names (sweetheart, pretty girl, good girl, baby), brief drug use, lmk if i missed any!

wc: 3.6k

notes: thank you to the lovely @juniebugg for giving me this amazing idea, i loved writing it and hope i did it justice 🙏🏽

☆ obx masterlist ☆

The sun was setting but the day was still hot, a soft wind tickling your skin. You were lying on your towel, opting to enjoy the last few rays of the sun with Kie. JJ, Pope, John B, Cleo, and Sarah were all in the water swimming and playing around. You all had a rough week for different reasons and so JJ called for a mandatory beach day.

As you dozed in and out, listening to the sound of the waves, Kie nudged your side softly. "So... how is the whole dating thing coming along?"

Even though she was genuinely curious, you couldn't help the sting of embarrassment as you tried not to groan. "Not so great. I have a date with Kelce tomorrow, but I'm not over the moon excited." You turned to look at Kie through your sunglasses with a tight smile. "If this one doesn't work out, I'm giving up."

Her nose scrunched up in mild disapproval. "Kelce? I didn't think you'd go for someone in that circle.

Truth be told, you usually wouldn't. Even though the whole Kooks vs Pogues thing isn't as relevant anymore, some Kooks were still stuck in their old ways. "Me either. He came up to me and started a conversation at the boneyard a couple nights ago and asked for my number. Now we suddenly have a date at the country club," you sighed with a shrug.

"Even if it doesn't go well, don't stress it. You don't have to push a relationship anytime soon– you're still young."

You sat up and turned onto your back, deciding to take a nap while you could. "Easy for you to say. You have JJ, Cleo has Pope, and Sarah has John B. I'm the odd one out." Kie gave you a solemn smile but didn't say anything else, which you were thankful for.

A few hours later, everyone was out of the water, and the wind picked up leaving goosebumps on their wet skin. While everyone was drying off, Kie woke you up and said it was time to go.

You asked John B to take you home because you had plans tomorrow. As everyone laughed and joked around with one another, you couldn't bring yourself to be in a cheerful mood knowing they each had their special person within the group.

Once you were home, you immediately took a warm shower to try and let the warm water relax you. It did somewhat, but it didn't stop your brain from overthinking. After what felt like hours of tossing and turning in bed, one melatonin later, you finally were able to fall asleep and stay asleep.

⭑*•̩̩͙⊱✩•̩̩͙⊰•*⭑

The room was unbearably hot when you woke up. You flung the covers off you as you wiped the light sheen of sweat from your forehead. You'd left the window open, and your AC wasn't on. With an irritated groan, you got up and closed the window. Wanting to cool down your room as quick as possible, you turned the AC on as low as it could go.

You checked your phone and saw a few missed messages.

Kie: have fun on your date, lmk how it goes!

Sarah: if you aren't busy later come swing by the chateau :)

Kelce: morning, i'll be there at 1 to pick you up for lunch. can't wait to see you.

You sent in your replies and got ready for your date with Kelce. Light makeup and a cute but simple white dress. As you grabbed it from your closet, you saw the red dress you shoved in the back with the price tag still attached. You'd bought it impulsively while shopping with the girls one day but had never worn it. 

It was a mid-thigh deep cherry red with a slit and showed off your cleavage perfectly—according to Sarah, at least. It had never seen the outside of your closet, no matter how many times your friends tried to make you wear it. You never felt like you could truly pull it off.

There were five minutes to spare when you'd finally finished up. As you were spraying your perfume a text from Kelce came in letting you know he was outside. You grabbed your purse and met him outside, where he sat in his car.

A small sigh left your lips. He didn't bother to meet you at the door. Perhaps he wasn't the gentleman type. You got into his expensive car, the leather seat cool from the AC blasting on high.

"Ready to go?" He asked, giving you a once over. You nodded softly and gave him a small smile. Neither of you spoke much the entire ride there. You sat on your phone checking social media, playing games, anything to pass the time.

Kelce parked in front of the country club and beckoned you to follow him. He led you to the outdoor patio that connected to a restaurant. After a waiter sat you both and you ordered drinks, Kelce started the conversation.

"So, is this your first time at the country club?."

"Uh... yeah, it is."

"What do you think of it?" he said, taking a sip of the drink that had been placed in front of him.

You shrugged, "It's nice, I can see why people come here." There was a beat of silence and you knew this date wasn't going to be the best.

"Honestly, I'm surprised we're here right now. I never thought I'd be taking a pogue on a date at the country club. But you're really hot, so I've got no complaints."

His statement made you internally roll your eyes. "Right..."

⭑*•̩̩͙⊱✩•̩̩͙⊰•*⭑

You were back home, feet aching slightly from your shoes, and the heat was making you feel groggy and gross. The date was not good. All Kelce could talk about was himself, the kook life, and how he wanted to bring you to a party at Topper's next week. You declined. He also made slick remarks about you being a pogue which pissed you off.

You: hey sarah, i'll be over in a bit.

She sent a thumbs to your message. You got in your car and made your way to the chateau. When you pulled up, you saw John B out by the deck. 

Inside you could see Sarah walking around so you went in to greet her.

"Hey, I'm here," you said knocking on the door as you walked inside. 

"Hey! Glad you could make it." She sat the plates she was holding into the cabinet and motioned for you to sit. She came over and sat next to you on the couch as you both got comfortable. "Kie mentioned you had a date… how did it go?"

You picked at your nails and shook your head. "Not too great."

Sarah hummed sympathetically. "Well, Kelce isn’t as interesting as he makes himself out to be." You both laughed as you nodded in agreement.

You laid back on the couch letting your head fall back. "When is everyone else coming?" assuming Sarah or John B had something planned for everyone tonight.

"Actually, I only invited you. John B and I wanted to talk to you about something," she sighed. You felt nervousness bloom in your stomach as she stood up. "I'm gonna go get John B, just sit tight."

While waiting for them to come back your mind was wandering, not sure what could be so important that they had to talk to you together and in person. The door swung open and Sarah walked back in with John B right behind her. No one spoke as they pulled up two chairs and sat in front of you on the couch. John B gave a soft smile which helped your nerves just a little.

"Okay so," Sarah spoke up. "We weren't really sure how to go about this so just bear with me here. You're one of our best friends and we've spent a lot of time together over the years..."

You could hear your heart beating in your ears, almost drowning out Sarah's voice. Please don't tell me they don't want to be friends anymore, you thought to yourself.

"Anyways, me and John B have been talking. We both find you attractive obviously. And we wanted to invite you to bed with us! Like a threesome." Sarah had a smile on her face and your eyes widened.

"W-what? You want to have a threesome? With me?" They both nodded.

"Basically, me and Sarah had been talking and we asked each other who we'd want to hook up with if we were single. To our surprise we both said you, so we figured why not just ask."

Your face felt burning hot with shyness and embarrassment. You'd only had sex one time and it wasn't all that great. You and your boyfriend at the time had wanted to lose your virginities to each other but neither of you knew what you were doing.

Sarah's hand grabbed yours and pulled you out of your swarming thoughts. "You don't have to answer right now." She was caressing the back of your hand with her thumb reassuringly. "Go home and just think about it. We'll be waiting patiently for your answer— no pressure at all, okay?"

The air in the room felt a little less heavy. You knew they wouldn't force you or be mad if you decided not to. "Okay," you said with a small smile.

They both hugged you, walked you to your car, and waved you off home. On the ride back, all you could think about was whether you should accept or not. You weren't experienced and didn't want to disappoint them.

You were laying in bed but once again couldn't sleep. You decided to take a few hits of the weed pen JJ had given you a while back, it's lasted you a while since you only use it when you can't sleep or need to relax.

Once you felt the high encompassing your mind you laid down and closed your eyes. Your mind drifted to the thought of being in bed with Sarah and John B. With that, you fell asleep.

⭑*•̩̩͙⊱✩•̩̩͙⊰•*⭑

It had been three days since your threesome invitation. You had thought about it a lot. Even though you hadn't spoken to Sarah and John B directly, you all still talked in the group chat with everyone else like normal.

It was still early in the morning when you texted Sarah.

You: hey are you and John B up yet?

20 minutes later, you got a reply.

Sarah: good morning! i am but he's still sleeping lol. what's up?

You: i've given it some thought and i wanna do this but are you sure? i'm not the most experienced when it comes to all that

Sarah: i'm so happy! thank you for trusting us and don't worry we'll both be there to guide you. are you free tonight?

You said yes and she told you to come over at 7. That gave you 11 hours to completely freak out before heading over there.

⭑*•̩̩͙⊱✩•̩̩͙⊰•*⭑

The warm air from outside blew into your car as you sat outside the chateau, trying to give yourself a mini pep talk. They suggested that you come in loungewear, so you wore shorts and a cropped tank top with no bra, all things considered.

You went up and knocked on the door and waited. John B came and greeted you with a hug. He didn't hide the fact that he was taking in your body. 

"Hey, come in. Sarah's finishing up in the shower so she should be out in a few minutes." With a brief nod, you followed him inside.

It was so weird, normally the chateau felt like a second home. You'd help yourself to whatever and never felt out of place. This time it was the complete opposite. You didn't want to touch anything or sit without someone telling you to. You felt like a guest, who was visiting for the first time.

John B sensed your nervousness and gave you a smirk. "Don't get all shy now sweetheart, we haven't even started. Speaking of which, is there anything you wanna do? We could have some takeout, watch a movie, anything really."

You gave him a puzzled look. "I thought we were going to... you know."

"I love your enthusiasm," he chuckled. "We are, but Sarah and I both thought it'd be best to ease into it rather than just jump right in. We want this to be as comfortable as possible for you."

It was the little things like this that reminded you that these are your best friends. They knew you like the back of their hand and wanted this to be enjoyable for you and them. "A movie sounds nice," you said with a smile.

A little while later you were all sat on the couch watching some random movie that you'd picked. It wasn't all that good but you were still tuned in. Your eyes glanced away from the TV when you felt Sarah's hand start grazing the inside of your thigh. She was still facing forward almost as if nothing was happening. You looked back at the TV and spread your legs a little wider.

It was summer, entirely too hot for any blankets— even with the cool air of the AC blowing— so if John B looked, he'd see what was happening. The light, teasing touches went on for a few more minutes and you could feel yourself getting more and more worked up. You were ready to break the silence and ask for more until you felt John B's lips on your neck. A soft gasp slipped past your lips as your eyes fluttered closed.

"This okay?" he muttered against your neck, and you nodded. "Use your words, pretty girl."

You managed to whimper out a soft 'Yes' which encouraged them both to keep going. Sarah's hand moved higher, lightly rubbing you through your shorts. A moan slipped from your pouty lips at the contact and you tried grinding your hips against her hand for more stimulation. "Let's go to the bed," Sarah whispered.

The short walk was filled with little kisses and light touches, none of you wanted to stop even for a second. Sarah instructed you to take off your clothes and lay on the bed. She and John B did the same as she sat behind you and John B positioned himself in between your thighs.

"Fuck... your pussy is dripping." You attempt to close your legs but he has a strong grip on your thighs. "Don't try and hide yourself, I wanna see everything."

Sarah brought her hands up to massage your tits, your nipples feeling painfully hard. "John B is gonna use his mouth to make you feel good, okay?"

"Okay– oh!" He wasted no time licking a long stripe to collect your arousal on his tongue.

"How does she taste baby?" Sarah asked. You could hear the lust and neediness in her voice. "She's so fucking sweet, like candy." John B couldn't help but moan as he continued to move his tongue in and out of your hole. You felt one of Sarah's hands leave your breast to touch herself behind you. Her soft moans make you even more turned on.

John B brought his mouth to your clit and sucked hard. That was all it took to have you falling over the edge in pleasure. One hand squeezed Sarah's arm while the other tugged on John B's brown tresses. Your moans filled the room as you rode out your first orgasm of the night.

Sarah replaced your spot in front of John B and once again he wasted no time lapping at her essence. Once she reached her peak John B didn't stop he was pushing her into overstimulation and instructed you to hold her legs open.

"John B! Please– ohmygod– it's too much!" she tried to push his head away but he didn't budge until he pulled another orgasm from her. You watched in amazement as she started to squirt making a mess of the bed and his face. He wore your combined juices proudly, not bothering to wipe any of it off. 

You leaned down to whisper in her ear. "Fuck Sarah you look so hot like this, squirting all over the place, being so messy." She whimpered at your words as John B finally gave her some reprieve.

She pulled you down so your lips collided with hers in a heated bruising kiss. Her tongue swiped across your lip and made its way into your mouth massaging your tongue.

In the corner of your eye, you saw John B stroking his hard cock slowly. Sarah noticed as well and gave you a smirk. "Let's show him how thankful you are for making you cum."

John B positioned himself up against the headboard and Sarah brought you face to face with his length. "Grab the base and take him into your mouth. He likes it really messy," She whispered while keeping her gaze on him. You followed her instructions and did your best to please him.

Once you'd taken as much as you could into your mouth, a light gag leaving your throat, he groaned. "Fuuuuck, that's it, take it all in that tight little throat." You went at your own pace for a bit, then Sarah took over gagging you on his cock at a brutal pace. Your eyes watered and there was spit and drool all over your chin and his pelvis. John B's thighs tensed and without warning his load filled your throat forcing you to swallow it all. 

You coughed a bit and Sarah rubbed your back soothingly while you and John B caught his breath. "You did so good baby." She went to kiss your neck and caress your body.

The praise did things to you. "Thank you." John B pulled you against him and kissed you deeply. "Do you wanna keep going, sweetheart?" John B muttered against your lips. The room felt so hot in combination with all the body heat and the summer air. You were definitely spent, but you wanted to go again. "I want you inside, please."

He nodded and moved you down to straddle him. Sarah moved to sit on his face, facing you. She moaned, feeling his tongue on her clit again. You sink down on his length feeling completely and utterly full. Sarah pulled you in for a kiss as you rocked your hips in a slow rhythm.

The stimulation on your clit from grinding felt delicious, you knew you wouldn't last much longer. One look at Sarah and you could tell she was close too. "I wanna cum together," you whispered against her lips. "Okay, together." she nodded. John B pushed his hips up to get impossibly deeper and gave a harsh such on Sarah's clit, pushing you both over the edge.

You both collapsed onto the bed, your body completely worn out. Sarah and John B left kisses and comforting touches anywhere they could, telling you how well you did and that they were so proud. Their voices faded away as sleep overtook you.

⭑*•̩̩͙⊱✩•̩̩͙⊰•*⭑

A month after your night with Sarah and John B things couldn't have been better. You'd spent many pleasure-filled nights at the chateau. They were always showing you something new and making you feel so good. There were even times when it would be just one of them if the other was busy or not around.

You weren't expecting the text from Sarah asking you to come over considering you were just there two days ago. She asked you the wear that red dress which made you even more confused.

Walking into the chateau, not bothering to knock, you saw the table with lots of food and a candle adorning the middle of the table. "What's all this?" you questioned. John B and Sarah both turned from their spot in the kitchen and greeted you. 

"We wanted to do something special to thank you, you look beautiful by the way," he said leading you to the empty chair. They sat down at the table and you could tell something was coming up. Even Sarah looked a bit nervous. Maybe they were going to end things.

"So, we don't want to keep you here with this uncertainty. We did all these because this past month has been amazing. You've always been a great friend and I think– we think– doing this has made us incredibly closer." You nod in agreement. "We want you to be our girlfriend. We'll be an official polyamorous couple. I don't want to have to give you up to someone else and neither does Sarah. We want you to be ours and we'll be yours completely."

You felt like the wind had been sucked out of you. They wanted you to be their girlfriend. Before you could say anything Sarah chimed in. "Sorry if this seems sudden and we understand if you want to keep things how they are. You don't have to have an answer–"

"Of course I would," you cut her off with a wide smile. You could see the worry leave both of their faces. "God I love you." Sarah laughed leaning over to place a kiss on your cheek, John B following suit.

The rest of the night was spent having an amazing dinner and even better sex with your new partners. Never in a million years did you think this would be your life but you loved it and you loved them. They were your best friends and lovers wrapped in one.

likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

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[a-small-safe-place]

His Haven

Homelander x Psychiatrist!Reader Pt. 1?

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

When Homelander first met you, he just came in because Madelyn cooked up some scheme with Edgar to 'prove' that the members of The Seven were sound of mind and could pass a psychiatric evaluation similar to the one used in the army. Of course, you had been paid a lot of money to do the evaluations and even more money to ensure that these heroes passed no matter what they said. You were a respected psychiatrist in your field; that’s why Madelyn wanted you specifically.

Homelander went to his appointment, planning on leaving until you said something that caught his attention. You said, 'I am here for you. I took this job because you all spend your days helping and saving people, but at the end of the day, who helps and saves you? Obviously, I couldn’t physically save you, but I can be a place for you to talk if you need it. Nothing you say will leave this room.' Boy, did that stroke his ego in all the right ways. He decided to stay. Something about you was comforting, and he wanted to talk, so he started small with the obvious stuff. He led the conversation by making off-handed remarks about being better than everyone and having to be perfect for Vought. It was clear you didn’t understand his pain, but you were listening to him. You were actually listening to him and responding.

You weren’t like Madelyn, who seemed to argue with every other thing he said; you didn’t respond with dismissive and uncaring responses like Queen Maeve, and you could actually keep up with the conversation, unlike The Deep.

Homelander surprised you and himself when he began attending regular scheduled sessions. You usually led the discussion by asking various questions. Some questions he would lie about, not feeling totally safe to dive into certain topics, or he would just dodge the question and change the subject. Homelander knew you noticed this because anytime he did either of those things, your body language would change, and you would write something down in your little notebook. That notebook had made Homelander incredibly nervous until he found out you were not in there calling him a useless pussy. You were just simply writing topics you two had discussed and what topics made him uncomfortable.

You seemed to actually care about Homelander’s feelings, even the bad ones. Stan Edgar put Homelander in his place, and Homelander looked down avoiding Edgar’s pointed gaze like a child being scolded by their father. Homelander needed some reassurance, but he would never admit that willingly. Homelander felt weak and stupid for needing someone, but you didn’t seem to mind even when he was ranting and raving, so he went to you. You had been his haven. The one person he could confide in and actually be himself.

He arrived at your office in the morning while you happened to be filling out some paperwork. He knew you didn’t have any appointments today because this had been previously the day Vought scheduled for the evaluations of the heroes. Homelander spent the whole day pestering you. 'What are we doing now?' He asked, not entirely oblivious to your mild frustration. 'Still just filling out paperwork,' you replied. He rolled his eyes. 'God, your life is so boring. Go to work, talk to the crazies, fill out paperwork and go home, and you do that all alone? I forgot how boring normal people can be.'

You laughed before telling him, 'no one is keeping you here.' Homelander’s jaw tightened. This pissed him off. You’re not supposed to say that. You’re supposed to offer to do something more fun. You seemed to notice that 1,000-yard stare he has as he retreats into his own mind. 'Look, I just mean that I have to finish work. I know it’s probably boring you to death just sitting here; you don’t have to stay if you don’t want to,' you told him, which seemed to make him feel a bit better, but he’s not entirely out of his head. 'It’s fine, we can just talk while you work,' he tells you with a feigned smile.

Homelander begins to perk up while you finish your paperwork and finally asks you the million-dollar question, 'What are we doing when we get home?'

'I am going home to cook up some dinner and watch some television,' you told him, trying to hint that you were wanting to be alone. Homelander was undeterred. 'What are we eating? I could use a home-cooked meal. We could watch one of my movies. I’ve been told I’m a great actor.' Homelander needs you to agree and compliment him. He desperately wants you to tell him he does a good job, even if you’re just talking about acting. 'Yeah? Your movies are pretty famous,' you say, accepting your fate that he isn’t leaving you alone tonight.

The night is spent with him at your house. Homelander wastes no time making himself at home and pilfering through your things. He feels comfortable being so ensnared in your scent. He becomes more comfortable as the night carries on. You fix his plate and drink for dinner, and the two of you share a dinner that he perceives as romantic. Your food isn’t as good as the private chefs at Vought, but Homelander loves it because he got to see the love you put into making it just for him.

You two clean up together. It’s really you cleaning, and Homelander helps by talking about which movie of his you should watch tonight. Finally, you try to retire to your room, but he follows. 'I thought we were gonna watch a movie… it doesn’t have to be one of mine,' Homelander tries not to sound too desperate, and he hated to say that last bit.

'I had planned on watching something in my room, but you can come lay with me if you want,' you tell him reluctantly. Homelander is excited but tries to keep that hidden. You two lay down and begin watching one of his movies. By the end, Homelander is 'asleep.' He knows you can’t tell the difference in him and ignores you when you gently shake him trying to wake him. He’s not the biggest fan of sleeping in strange beds, but for you, he can make an exception. Next time, he wants you in his bed though.

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