#but it’s just. weird. I don’t have any anxiety with him and I know where I stand and everything like that

[ceilidho]

prompt: price/reader bear shifter fic. PART 3. (part 1 here) (part 2 here)

-

The man at your till is making you feel increasingly uncomfortable. 

He’s a stocky man, not quite as imposing as John, but still big. He’s particularly unnerving because the man has been standing by your till for the past few minutes without having anything in his hands. No basket in sight. Not a rutabaga or a bushel of carrots or even a single jar of olives.

It’s as if he just blew in off the street; dark hair mussed from the wind, shabbily dressed for the winter as if the cold weren’t even an issue for him. The intensity of his stare makes your skin crawl though, and it’s even worse when he decides to strike up a conversation with you. 

It’s like he only came into the shop to stare at you and make creepy, suggestive comments. Laswell comes out from the back when his presence starts to make even the other customers uncomfortable, but all that does is relegate him to the parking lot, where he’s free to loiter and stare at you through the window all he wants. 

You delay the inevitable for almost half an hour because you keep talking yourself out of calling John. It’s not like you’re not familiar with each other by now—he’s taken you to diners and cafés, and you’ve brought him tupperware filled with stew and casserole on the days when you’ve watched him slump up the steps of his front porch, looking haggard and about to fall on his face—but it feels intrusive. A favour you wouldn’t normally ask of him. It almost feels like you’re using him, actually. 

Still though, after some time you almost feel like you don’t have a choice. You either call John or the police, and the latter option is vastly more unappealing. Then you’d really be causing a ruckus for nothing. 

Since your phone is stored under the desk by the till, you take a second in between customers to dial John’s number, listening to it ring with your back to the window. That makes your shoulders tense up even more, acutely aware of two eyes burrowing into the back of your neck. The anxiety puts a cramp in your belly until you hear John pick up.

“John,” you whisper into the phone, hand cupped around the receiver. There’s static on the other end before you hear him grumble your name. “Are you—is this a bad time?”

“No, s’good a time as any,” he says, voice thick and heady. “What’s the matter, honey?”

The sound of his voice makes you shiver like it always does, but the effect is muted under the droning of your anxiety. Like a pale imitation of its usual force. 

“I just was wondering if—would you mind coming down to the shop for a bit?” 

“What for? Need help stocking the shelves?” he asks, still lighthearted. Maybe you’re keeping your cool just a bit too well because he hasn’t yet detected the undercurrent of fear making your voice almost tremble. You glance over your shoulder again and shudder when you see the same man still loitering in the parking lot, eyes locked on you. When he smiles, it’s mean. 

“Actually I—I hope this isn’t rude but there’s…this guy’s been hanging around outside for a bit and…” you start, then stop to chew on your lip. “Well, he’s really starting to freak me out.”

You can almost hear him straighten up on the other end. “What’s that?”

Now his tone makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. You’ve never heard him sound like this before—alert all of a sudden, a hard edge to his voice that you might have associated with his work persona if you’d ever seen it before. It fills you with comfort and worry all at once. 

“He came in earlier and he was…well, he kind of came in looking confused and then—I think he noticed me looking at him strangely or something, which I—well, I don’t think I was making like, a weird face or anything, but—”

“Did he say anything to you?” John asks, cutting you off. 

You cup your hand even more around the phone so it muffles your words. “He said I smell…fecund? I don’t even know what that means, but…”

He goes silent for a moment before he speaks again. At first, you think he sounds almost calm, but you clock the way his breathing pattern abruptly changes. “I’ll be there in a few. Don’t move, honey.”

He hangs up before you’re able to say another word. You hold the phone to your ear for another couple of seconds before your eyes inevitably dart back to the window, where the other man is still staring at you, his upper lip curled. 

You try your best to focus on your job, checking each new customer out while steadfastly avoiding looking out the main window. It wouldn’t do you any good anyway. In your peripheral vision, you see the dark shadowy form of the man still leaning against his car, eyes still trained on you. It won’t be dark for another hour or so, but the fact that your shift only ends when it’s well past the daylight hours makes your hands tremble when you scan a container of hummus. You mess up the code for artichoke three separate times.

You don’t see the moment John pulls into the parking lot, but you hear the commotion and your head whips around just in time to see him dragging the other man into the woods behind the grocers, one big arm wrapped around his neck. He’s somehow bigger than the man you’d thought towered over you, making his struggle seem pointless as he's dragged off by John. 

It’s over so quickly that when the two of them disappear past the treeline, you almost think you imagined it for a second. Then another second goes by and you find John’s car haphazardly parked in the lot, the door still open. At least he managed to turn it off.

“Kate, did you—” you say, turning towards when you remember last seeing her restock the boxed panettone display only to find your manager standing in front of your till, staring out the same window as you. 

“Shit,” she says, blinking. A bit awed. “Never seen John that mad before.”

“He’s, uh—I called him because that guy wouldn’t leave. I thought maybe he’d…I don’t know what I thought he’d do, honestly.”

“You know, we could’ve called the sheriff.”

You don’t want to admit that your first thought was always John. Not the police. “Oh. I guess.” 

The two of you keep staring out the window. Neither man emerges from the treeline. 

“Should I—”

“Don’t even think about suggesting that you go check on him. He’s a grown man and you’re still on the clock.”

“Got it,” you mumble, a bit peeved.

Kate looks at you from the corner of her eye. “Besides, John’ll have my head if he finds out I let his favourite cashier chase after him into the woods where he just dragged off a man harassing her.”

“He wouldn’t do that—”

You’re cut off when a customer waiting at your till clears their throat, forcing you to leave your station at the window. Kate’s smug smile haunts you while you ring the impatient customer up. She heads back to her office before you’re able to say your piece, leaving you to stew in silence.

There aren’t usually many customers in the middle of a random weekday, so you have nothing to do except stare out the window and fret. Your heart skips a beat any time the trees sway with the breeze. Another customer gives you a bit of a hassle over a two-for-one deal that your scanner didn’t pick up and you almost snap at them. 

You finally make the decision to leave your till when the trees rustle and your heart stops for a second before John steps back out into the parking lot, looking dishevelled but no worse for wear. His hat is gone. There’s a nasty cut on his lip and it seems like his shirt has been fully ripped open, exposing a wide, hairy chest and two thick pectorals. You do not stare at the way the hair on his chest whorls around his brown nipples. 

His eyes are locked on you through the window and his brows furrow when he watches you jog to the doors. When they slide open, you hear him shout from across the lot, “Back inside.”

“I can—”

“Get back inside.”

You pout, but listen, taking a step back in and letting the doors shut with a whoosh. You wait anxiously on the balls of your feet until they slide open again when John finally crosses the parking lot in only a few short seconds. He zips up his coat before coming inside, depriving you of the view. You have to school your face so that your pout doesn’t deepen.

“Are you okay—” you ask when he steps into the grocery store, but no one in this town seems to be able to let you finish a sentence because he cuts you off almost immediately.

“Where’s Laswell?” he asks, almost rhetorically because he sidesteps you after a brief touch to your chin to tilt your head up, eyes tracking across your face as if looking for something to rile him up even more. “Kate.” 

You shush him when you trail after him towards the back where Kate’s office door is wide open. His voice carries on a good day; after his tussle out in the forest, it seems to boom across the store, drawing curious eyes. You smile weakly.

“Busy today?” It’s the first thing out of his mouth when he reaches the door of Kate’s office. Her chair is already turned to face him, arms crossed over her chest and blonde hair pulled up into a tight bun.

“It’s normal,” Kate says, almost like a challenge. “Business as usual.”

“Good. I’m taking your cashier home then. That gonna be an issue?”

Kate rolls her eyes. “I’m trembling. You didn’t get all of this out with the other guy? Still need a good fight?”

“Please, John, I can stay—I’m really sorry about all of this,” you say, turning from John back to Kate, a bit frazzled now that it’s sunk in. A faint tremor works its way through you. You don’t even realize the way you unconsciously grip John’s jacket, anchoring yourself in place. 

“Honey, we’re going home,” John stresses, fitting a hand against your low back, drawing you a bit closer. You move into him without a thought, like a natural pull. 

Kate’s eyes soften when she meets yours. “It’s fine, I can cover the till for the rest of the afternoon. John’s right—just go home. I still know how to work a register, you know.”

He doesn’t let you stay a moment longer to argue or insist that you stay and cover your shift. He sweeps you out the door with a warm hand still low on your back, letting you briefly grab your coat and bag before hustling you to his car. It’s freezing inside from the wide open door, so he blasts the hot air until you slump into the passenger seat, the heat lulling you into a stupor. 

The drive back home—whatever home at this point means—is long. Part of you wonders whether he’ll drive you to work tomorrow to pick up your car or if you’ll be forced to take a bus, but it isn’t the time or place to be thinking about those things. 

“What’d you do with him?” you mumble, turning your head to stare at the side of his face. The cut of his jaw is hard, obscured somewhat by the beard growing in heavy with the winter, but deeply masculine like something out of an old western. You think you’d happily count every bristle without complaint if he let you.

“Taught him to mind his manners,” John says. The answer is short, to the point. It makes you tremble. 

“Like, to respect women?”

He turns his head to look over at you. It’s just for a moment, brief in the grand scheme of things, but it feels significant. Pointed. Sustained. “To not touch what isn’t his.”

The truck never so much as wavers on the road.

#ceil writing #cod mw2 #cod x reader #john price #captain price #captain john price #cod price #price x reader #price x you #price/reader

[jazzyoranges]

Saw you take requests!! Can you do a fluffy Wednesday x Shape shifter!Reader (no smut please) where it's Wednesday's writing time but she can't think of ideas so reader turns into a cat and curls up on Wednesday's lap? Basically helping Wednesday by making sure Wednesday can't get up until she writes a chapter. Thanks!

Orange kitty - drabble

Wednesday Addams x fem!reader

Words: 0.8k

A/n: i feel like we as a fandom haven’t been putting the orange cat x black cat trope in enough fics. this is me advocating for orange cat!r

“I feel your eyes on me, (Y/n).”

“I’m not allowed to look at my friend anymore?”

“It’s distracting. You’re inhibiting me from writing.” Wednesday isn’t fully lying. She just doesn’t add how you give her an odd feeling. An odd feeling she doesn’t like.

“Aww, do I make you nervous, Wens?” You laugh, deciding to ignore the glare she sends your way

“Keep talking and I’ll remove your voice box.”

“Please, I think you’d miss me too much” You roll your eyes, stretching on Wednesday’s bed

You turn into a cat as per Thing’s request, and you two start to play tag around Wednesday and Enid’s shared room. Thing happily bragged that you and him were better friends once. His hubris only resulted in Wednesday taking away his favorite lotions for an entire week.

The Addams girl huffs when she, yet again, makes a mistake on her typewriter. This was unlike her. The tiny trash can under her desk was nearing being full only after one or two hours of her failed attempts at writing. Wednesday put her hands in her lap after she realized her words only became futile

The abrupt stop of clacking keys makes you turn your head, giving Thing the perfect opportunity to tag you back on Enid’s bed. You quickly turn human again with almost a cartoon-ish pop, and ask Thing if Wednesday was allergic to cats

“She’s not, why do you ask?” He signs

“Do you think she’d kill me if I sat on her lap?” You sign back, not wanting Wednesday to hear

“As a human, most definitely. But if you were a cat maybe she’d tolerate you. No promises, though” Thing somehow shrugs using his thumb and pinkie finger as arms. God, you loved the weird appendage

“I can hear you two talking. I’d prefer if you’d leave me in silence.”

“Writers block?”

“No, I’m merely thinking of the correct words to use.”

“Maybe you should ask Enid for help. The woman can reach over the Twitter character limit in like… three seconds. Two if she’s really excited”

“Recommend such a horrid idea again and I’ll release you in my pen of hellhounds.”

“We both know I’d win” You cockily smirk, again ignoring what looks to be annoyance on Wednesday’s face. Then again, she always looked annoyed

“Your hubris is laughable. Let’s see how you suffice when your digestive system is ripped open.”

“Tempting, but I’d rather stay here with you”

You can only assume Thing listens with watchful… fingers? You execute your plan to him, and a quick pinkie-promise indicates he gets to bury you if Wednesday decides to kill you after the stunt you’re about to pull

“Hey, Wens?” The Addams doesn’t show any form of talking but you decide to keep going

“Did you know people say cats can lessen anxiety?”

The Addams hums in acknowledgement, so you continue

“Well, I don’t exactly believe it”

“And why is that.” Wednesday sighs. Sometimes she wonders why she indulges in you

“I dunno, just seems fake. I was wondering if you’d do an experiment with me?”

“I’d rather not.”

“Great! Thanks, Wens” You give Thing a quick wink after turning into a cat and hopping up onto her desk. Turning your head to the side as if you were asking a question, you looked at Wednesday for an answer

You were crazy, but not crazy enough to do something to make Wednesday hate you

For some reason, the Addams girl doesn’t even have a second chance to think before scooting back her chair. You’re about to jump into her lap with a paw over the edge of her desk, but you glance up to make sure Wednesday was sure. You receive a small nod

The action is enough to make you whisper a small “thank you” but it only comes out as a small meow

You circle around her lap for a good area to lay, and you quickly take your spot with a tiny smile that makes your eyes close. Wednesday scoots her chair back in, and she has absolutely no idea what to do.

Only when you start to purr a shiver goes up her spine. The vibrations are light, and something about you happily laying on her lap makes you chip away at Wednesday’s walls the tiniest bit. She contemplates where to put her hands before Thing scurries on top of you to scratch behind your ear. Wednesday shoots him a deathly glare in return, but your favorite Addams (don’t tell Wednesday) stays put

As if showing Wednesday how to pet a cat, Thing gets off of your back and points a finger in your direction. Hesitantly, the Addams girl copies the actions Thing showed her

And you? You were having an amazing time. Wednesday’s fingers were cold but every stroke of her hand was calculated. She took note of which spots you purred louder, and continued her movements

Fuck you and your ability to get what you want, Wednesday thinks. Of course your smug ass knew cats lessened anxiety. Of course.

But Wednesday can’t help being addicted to your tiny purrs and vibrations

With her left hand fondling your ear and her right on her typewriter, she decides maybe a cat could be arranged in her novel.

#jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega #wednesday (2022) #wednesday x reader #wednesday x y/n #wednesday x you #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday addams #thing addams #enid sinclair

[moonstruckme]

Hey bestie!! I broke my neck yesterday so I was wondering if you could do something with EMT!marauders where reader falls or something and so they have to put a cervical collar on her and just a lot of comfort? I completely understand if not and I hope you have a wonderful day!!!

Hi lovely, hope you're doing okay!! That sounds so scary, wishing you the best and thank you for requesting <3

cw: injury, restrained movement (reader has some anxiety around feeling trapped)

emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.4k words

You wake with hands on your face. 

“Easy—no, don’t move, please. My name’s James, I’m with NHS.” You take a breath, and the head attached to the hands nods encouragingly. He keeps you pressed firmly to the headrest of your seat. “That’s good, just breathe. I’m gonna pass you off to my partner behind you, okay? This is Remus.” 

Another set of gloved hands plants itself on either side of your face, fingers splayed along your jaw. You swallow, and James gives you a smile. You can’t fathom how it reaches his eyes, deep brown and magnified by a set of glasses with thick lenses. You’ve only just woken up and you already feel like you could cry.

“He’s just going to keep your head still for us. Don’t try to move, yeah?” 

You think to nod, but Remus’ grip is tight, and the mere activation of the muscles sends shooting pains down your neck. You gasp. 

“Yeah, don’t do that,” James says. He takes your hands in his. “Can you squeeze my fingers, sweetheart?” You do. “Good. Wiggle your fingers?” You do, but it feels weird. “Good.” James gives your hands a squeeze of his own. His gentleness makes something hot and panicky press at the back of your throat. 

“Alright, this is my partner Sirius.” Out of the corner of your eye, you see another man climbing in the passenger door. He grins at you, flashing canines. “He’s gonna help me put you in a brace to hold your head still.”

“Okay,” you say. Your voice comes out quiet and squeaky, but still James smiles as he opens up the plastic collar. 

“Hey, there she is. Can you tell us what’s hurting you, sweetheart?” 

“My neck.” You try to take a breath. It shakes going out. “And my hands feel tingly.” 

“Alright, that’s alright,” Remus says from behind you. His voice is low and soothing, a bit of rasp to it. “Anything else?” 

“No.” 

He adjusts his grip to let the other two put the collar around your neck, but then his touch is back. It’s starting to feel less constraining than grounding. 

“That’s not bad, all things considered. We’ll have to get you some scans to know for sure, though.” 

“Hold on, is that optimism from you, Remus?” Sirius grins, securing the velcro on one side of your neck. “He must really like you, doll.” 

“Sirius,” Remus says warningly. 

“Just making an observation. Jamesie, can you bring us the backboard?” 

“Yup.” James gives your knee a little pat and disappears from your vision. Oddly, you’re a bit nervous to be without him. 

“I’m gonna get your pulse here,” Sirius says, taking your wrist in hand. “Just keep doing what you’re doing.” 

“He means don’t move,” Remus clarifies. “You’re really doing quite well.” 

The pressure of Sirius’ gloved fingers on the inside of your wrist feels more intimate and vulnerable than it has any right to. You’re suddenly aware that you’re trembling. 

“Thanks,” you manage. “It’s not a hard job.” 

Remus chuckles behind your ear, and Sirius lets out a sharp laugh, looking up at you in surprise. 

“We don’t usually get comedians on these sort of runs,” he tells you, eyes studying your face with something between bemusement and admiration. “Remus is understating things, gorgeous. As far as horrific car accidents go, you’re killing this.” He sets your wrist back in your lap. “You’re definitely in shock, though. Are you afraid of needles?” 

“Um, not very. Why?” 

“No reason.” 

Sirius looks past you, and then James is back on your other side. 

“Hi, sweetheart. Miss me?” 

What’s humiliating is you almost had. You keep your mouth shut, smiling tersely. 

He blazes right past the joke, fiddling with things out of your view until there’s something hard poking into your thigh. “Okay, on Remus’ count Sirius and I are going to lift you so I can slide this backboard under you. Your only job is to keep being good and still for us, yeah?” 

You don’t get to respond before Sirius and James are wrapping their hands around your thighs. And then you’re not sure you can respond. Your breath freezes with the rest of you, caught in your throat, you can feel fingers digging into the soft undersides of your thighs even through your jeans. Remus counts down from three, and their grips tighten as they lift. You hiss as the muscles in your neck and back tighten instinctively, but James quickly slides the plastic board underneath you and they set you down again. 

“That’s it, well done,” Sirius murmurs as James settles his hands carefully on either side of your face. Remus lets go. 

“You doing okay?” James asks you, ducking his head a bit to see your eyes. You hope you don’t look quite so petrified as you feel. 

“Yeah,” you say. 

James’ expression doesn’t change, but his thumb makes a couple of quick, soothing strokes at your temple. “Alright, sweetheart,” he replies. “After this is the easy part, we’re just gonna get you lying down.” Remus gets out of your backseat, squeezing in your passenger door with James to grab hold of your shoulders. James looks to him and Sirius before counting down, “Three, two, one,” and they’re turning you. 

Your neck blazes with a pain that’s so sudden and acute you nearly choke on it, a strangled whimpering sound escaping you as they lower you backwards. Your back meets hard plastic. Soft shushing sounds are falling from Remus’ lips, his grip on your shoulders easing now that you’re in a more secure position. 

“We’ve got you,” he murmurs gently, the way one might to a stray kitten. “You’re alright, love, you did so well.” 

If you talk now you’ll cry. You’re sure of it. So you settle for giving him a watery smile you know isn’t believable, and he returns it nonetheless. 

You hear the ripping of velcro, and then Sirius is standing over you, passing the other end of a strap to Remus. James is still grasping your head. They start placing the straps over your chest, careful, businesslike hands lifting your arms and pulling the material taut against your sides. Your hands are lying awkwardly at your sides, and Sirius pauses to take them, placing them atop your stomach with one folded over the other. Soon your upper half is strapped down. Your heartbeat is loud in your ears.

“What are they doing?” you ask James quietly. 

“They’re just restricting your spinal movement,” he explains. “We have to make sure you don’t hurt yourself by moving, and once they’re done I can let go of your head.” 

“Oh.” You take a breath. “Okay.” 

You know they’re really helping you, just doing their jobs, but even still every tug of the straps feels like it’s restricting your airflow. You feel tight and tense. Trapped. You try to fill your lungs, but it’s useless. 

“Hey.” James’ voice is tender, and you don’t want to look at him but you don’t have much choice when he leans over you like that. You feel like a child, breathing through your mouth to try and keep tears from spilling. “Hey, it’s okay, sweetheart. What’s going on? Does something hurt?” 

You want to shake your head but you can’t, and that makes you cry harder. “No,” you squeak out. 

“Just scared?” You press your lips together, inhaling deeply to try and suppress the next sob that’s trying to break free from you. Down by your legs, you can feel Sirius and Remus moving faster to finish up. “I could certainly understand why. This is a lot, you know? But really, you’re being so great about it. We’re almost done here.” 

You close your eyes embarrassedly, you feel a strap tighten snugly around your ankles, and then James is letting your head go, wiping your tears with careful fingers. Another hand lands on your shin, rubbing soothingly. 

“We’ve gotta keep moving,” James says quietly, “to get you to the hospital, but if you need anything from us you can ask, alright?” 

You hum brokenly. 

“Alright.” He brushes a finger under your eye. You open it, and he gives you a reassuring little smile before looking to Remus and Sirius. “Ready?” 

“Yup.” Sirius’ voice is teeming with faux pep as they snap up the handles of the cot, starting to wheel you towards the ambulance. 

They lift you and all the equipment like it’s nothing, and then the sky is gone and you’re looking up at a plain gray ceiling. You’re working to steady your breathing now, counting both ways. You start to feel better. 

“There we are.” Remus sits down on a bench beside your head, stroking a knuckle over the teartracks his partner didn’t get. Sirius climbs in behind him and starts to mess with something on your other side while James swings the doors shut. “Just keep breathing like that, love. You can relax, alright? We’ve got you.” 

#emt!marauders #emt!marauders x reader #marauders au #poly!marauders #poly!marauders x reader #poly!marauders x fem!reader #poly!marauders x you #poly!marauders x y/n #poly!marauders x self insert #poly!marauders fanfiction #poly!marauders fanfic #poly!marauders fic #poly!marauders angst #poly!marauders hurt/comfort #poly!marauders imagine #poly!marauders scenario #poly!marauders drabble #poly!marauders blurb #poly!marauders oneshot #poly!marauders one shot #james potter #james potter x reader #sirius black #sirius black x reader #remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #marauders #marauders fanfiction #the marauders #marauders fandom

[fuckyeahisawthat]

“I don’t think that is what God wants. And I don’t think you want it either.”

This line of Aziraphale’s in the Job minisode keeps sticking out to me. Because this is the heart of the problem, right? This is how Aziraphale can see Crowley so completely and also not at all.

Because yes they suck at open communication and yes it’s because they had to hide their relationship for thousands of years and have so so so much trauma and fear to work through. But ALSO they actually do have a profound difference in how they see the world that keeps coming between them, and it’s not just theoretical but deeply personal to both of them.

Because Aziraphale still wants to believe that God is good. He can’t let go of that because his whole identity is wrapped up in being an angel of the Lord, and if God’s not good then what has he been doing for his entire existence?

And so when bad things are happening he falls back on This cannot be what God wants. The whole of season one, he refuses to believe that God could really want the world to end—even though we now know he knew this was a possibility before the world even started. He keeps going up the chain of command, trying to find someone to intervene. “That’s why I’m going to have a word with the Almighty and then the Almighty will fix it.” As if God doesn’t have all the information or hasn’t been paying attention.

And really, the events of season one reinforce this worldview for him. Because if the Archangel Fucking Gabriel isn’t sure what God wants, then maybe God did want them to stop Armageddon. Maybe it was Aziraphale and Crowley who were doing God’s work after all.

He’s gotten as far as realizing that Heaven’s orders are not the same thing as God’s will, but he still hasn’t detached the concepts of Good and Right from God in his worldview.

Crowley is a good person who does the right thing so he must still be an angel deep down. “I know the angel you were.” The only way Aziraphale can conceptualize Crowley saving Job’s children is, “Come on, you’re a little bit on our [God’s] side.” So Crowley’s fall was a mistake; Crowley belongs in Heaven, where he was so happy before the Fall. Why wouldn’t he want to be an angel again? And yeah maybe Heaven sucks now but God is still good, so there’s hope that the system can be reformed with a change of leadership, and Heaven can be made to actually do good, the way God always intended.

But that’s not how Crowley sees the world at all. He is operating with an entirely different understanding of reality. Because he figured out a long time ago (at least by the time of the Job job, but probably long before that) that you can’t base your sense of morality on what you think God wants. Not just because you don’t know for sure, but because sometimes God’s plans are fucking awful. God in Good Omens is not kind to Her creations. She doesn’t tolerate questions or doubts or disobedience. She’s capricious, turning on the creatures She made and killing a bunch of them when She’s in a bad mood. She punishes indiscriminately and disproportionately. She wagers human lives like gambling chips. The kids were supposed to be dead no matter who won the bet.

I think it’s interesting that Crowley is the one who introduces the idea in season one of “What if the Almighty planned it like this all along? From the very beginning.” That’s probably a comforting thought to Aziraphale, soothing his anxieties about going against Heaven right when he is feeling acute distress at the idea of no longer having a side. (And, in that particular moment, no longer even having a bookshop.)

But it’s not a comforting thought to Crowley. Have you seen what happens when God has a plan for you? It fucking sucks. Woe betide you if you’re the Barbie God decides to play with today. (At bare minimum, you’re coming back with some burn marks and a weird haircut.)

I’ve brought up the line “There are no right people. There’s just God, moving in mysterious ways and not talking to any of us” before, and I tend to focus on the “there are no right people” part. But also, there’s just God.

Aziraphale tends to draw a distinction between God’s will and Heaven’s orders when it suits him, and collapse that distinction when it doesn’t. Crowley almost never differentiates between God and Heaven. There’s just God, and She’s not going to explain why this is happening or listen to pleas for mercy (although Crowley still tries). You can’t trust Heaven or Hell, and you can’t count on God to show up and make everything all right. Sometimes God is in fact the reason that things are not all right. You’re on your own.

(And. Look. Crowley is right on this one. There are certainly aspects of their relationship where they’re both equally responsible for things being a shitshow, but the text is pretty unambiguous about Crowley, a demon, having the most accurate read on the nature of God in the world of Good Omens out of any of the metaphysical characters.)

Crowley rebuilt his entire sense of self, alone, after the Fall. He created himself anew and developed his own moral compass and sense of identity independent of both Heaven and Hell. “The angel you knew is not me.” When Crowley does the right thing, that’s not his angel-ness shining through; that’s just Crowley.

And from a like, trauma recovery point of view, it’s actually very healthy for him to have the realization that sometimes God’s just kind of a dick. He didn’t do anything to deserve getting kicked out of Heaven. None of them did. Just God messing them about because She didn’t like being questioned, or She wanted to see what would happen, or She needed two sides for Reasons and didn’t much care who was on one or the other, or She’s playing some fucked up little game for Her own amusement. (And if there was some Great Plan that required Crowley to fall…well, that is also fucked up. Because it doesn’t matter if there was a reason. It still hurt.)

And while Crowley in general is extremely patient with Aziraphale and his slow, halting journey away from Heaven…it’s gotta sting, every time Aziraphale doesn’t want to believe that God could be cruel, when Crowley is standing right fucking there. It’s gotta hurt when Aziraphale refuses to see something that Crowley knows to be true through his own lived experience. Because it should be enough. What happened to him should be enough to make someone who loves him walk away from Heaven and never look back. And it isn’t.

But of course Crowley is one hundred percent not going to talk about this, if he is even fully self-aware about having these thoughts, because it’s far too painful and vulnerable. (He talks to plants, goats, God, and no one in a bar at the end of the world, but never to Aziraphale.) And so he says “Tell me you said no” and “I think I understand a lot better than you do” because he can’t say Choose me. Just this once, choose me and he can’t say Believe me.

And Aziraphale is not going to think about all this and work it out for himself, because he has a massive lump of denial centered around exactly this thing, that sometimes God hurts people who didn’t do anything to deserve it. I’m sure he’s thought about the Fall in abstract terms, enough to be afraid of it, but not in terms of this is a thing that happened to a person I love. And he has certainly not allowed himself to draw any conclusions about the nature of God from it, because that is far too scary a prospect.

And so they’re stuck. Until they can figure out how to remove this massive landmine from the center of their relationship, they are going to keep having the same fight over and over again, and they’re going to keep hurting each other without fully understanding why.

#do you know HOW HARD it is to write genuine ideological conflict that also feels deeply personal?? and they did it SO WELL #i am in awe tbh #good omens #good omens s2 #ineffable husbands #crowley #aziraphale #heaven #hell #god #the god in good omens is not nice and you can’t convince me otherwise #is a tag i have from s1 and i’m sticking with it #fall thoughts

[emssturniolo]

delicate

pairing: matthew sturniolo x reader

summary: your soft spoken tone doesn’t let you make new friends, but matt is who you only really need

warnings: use of yn, and names such as baby ;)

a/n: very rare emssturniolo matt fan fic ! whaaat ?!??

happy reading :)

you and matt were currently at a party with his brothers. it was a party of some influencer who you didn’t really know, and had never spoken to

but you didn’t want to ruin the night for matt, who seemed to be excited to go to this party with his brothers and friends, so you promised yourself, for his sake, to try and make some new friends to talk to while you’re there

you went in confident and ready, to just tell your anxiety to fuck off and get out of your (very comfortable) comfort zone. yet, every time that you tried to talk to some girl that seemed remotely interesting to you, they would give you one of three main responses: make a weird face and shrug you off, try to talk to you and end up leaving, or just straight up insulting you - see there was a small problem with you and parties; you were too soft spoken to be heard in places with loud music and a lot of talking. so every time you tried to talk to someone, they wouldn’t be able to hear you and they’d either just leave or tell you to speak up, which was quite literally impossible for you to do, since your voice just didn’t go any higher than the slight next step from a whisper

yet you were determined. you didn’t want to cling onto matt, you wanted him to have fun and have some alone time with his friends, away from you. the last thing you needed was for him to think you’re too clingy. so you tried again, for the third time, to talk to a girl. this time, you spotted a girl sitting alone on the couch in the living room of the house the party was being held in. she was just on her phone when you sat next to her, and said “hey, you wanna talk?” and she diverted her attention away from her phone and looked at you with a smile. this was going well,,, surprisingly. “yeah sure! what’s your name?” she asked, “mine’s jenna.”, you smiled, “i love that name! i’m yn!” - jenna looked confused for a second before asking you, “sorry, what was that?”. she hadn’t heard you. “i said i love that name, i’m yn!” you tried again, raising your voice a bit higher, or as much as you could. “i can’t hear you! look, if you’re not gonna speak up i don’t think we can talk!”, jenna scoffed, and got up and left

tears brimmed at your eyes. you knew you weren’t speaking loud, but there was no reason for people to be so mean about it - so you gave in, and went to find matt. you needed him urgently, just a hug would be enough, but you couldn’t find him. you were growing more anxious by the second, so you quickly shot matt a text

matt<3

hey where are you?

i’m on the balcony

why what’s wrong?

can we meet ? like outside ?

yeah sure :)

and with that, you found matt outside the door of the house. the second you came close enough, you hugged him tightly. light tears ran down your warm cheeks, and as soon as matt realized, he pulled back, his hold still on you - gentle, but firm. “what’s up, my love? what’s wrong?” he spoke gently, just to match your delicate state. “nothing, just tried to talk to some people to let you have fun, but they always gave me weird looks or responses when i talked low.” you lightly let out a breath. he hugged you again, his delicate hands sinking into your skin, you above your hips - to let you know he’s there

“baby, look at me. you know i love everything about you, but trust me, that soft, gentle, beautiful, sweet, delicate tone of your voice is on my ‘top three things i love about yn’ list. promise.” and with that, he stuck out his pinky finger, which was immediately interlocked with yours, a kiss planted on each other’s fingers, and another one right after, planted on each other’s lips

“i love you, my sweet girl.” he said, sincerely. and you could tell, just by the stars in his eyes which show up anytime he talks about something he’s passionate about,,,

or talking about you

#matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo x reader #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #emssturniolo !

[petrichorium]

the merman is back.

it’s a little weird how used to him you’ve gotten. he’d only shown up for the first time a few months ago, but when you’re largely alone out on the boat or in your oceanfront lab there’s no shortage of ways for him to visit with nobody around.

he’s yet to tell you a name, but after the first few weeks of silence he suddenly revealed a passable understanding of english; when he speaks it's rudimentary, but he clearly understands everything you say, even if he doesn’t listen half the time.

you haven’t gotten the nerve to get in the water with him. in fact, you haven’t gotten in the water at all since he arrived, even when your colleagues are around and he’s notably not. he’s massive, his tail alone being well over two meters long and possessing the torso of a man who would tower over you on dry land (a handsome man, you're begrudged to admit, with those broad shoulders and blood red eyes and that ash blond hair that somehow looks good immediately coming out of the water). he’s assured you in his blunt, curt way that of course he doesn’t want to eat you but you still have anxieties about getting out into the open water you’ve always loved and being pulled under by a fucking sea monster.

he’s getting bolder, though. when you take the boat out today, he follows it, like the dolphins used to back when you operated out of the keys; that sleek black body would be terrifying just from the size, like seeing a fully grown orca bump up against the hull.

and when you weigh anchor, almost immediately, the boat keels aftward when he pulls himself onto the deck.

you shriek and he immediately pins you with a steely glare. he’s never done that before. it’s fucking terrifying, though he’s not managed to drag his whole body up and you’re a little comforted by that. it’s just his arms—two massive, heavily muscled things that are flexed and crossed in front of him, holding his head, shoulders, and much of his human-like torso up out of the water with ease. that enormous tail trails behind him and it’s still terrifying to see, your heart skipping a beat every time the shimmering orange markings catch your eye.

you don’t know what you’ll do if he decides to come all the way onto the boat. he wouldn’t be able to maneuver that well, but where the fuck would you go? into the damn water?

“fucking christ!” you yelp. “don’t just do that, motherfucker!”

“calm,” he snaps as he rolls his eyes.

the urge to flip him the bird is overshadowed by the knowledge that he wouldn’t understand, and you’re too frazzled to explain what go fuck yourself means. instead, you turn back around to clean up the cabin that he’s managed to mess up.

“oi, human, come.”

you huff, shouting your name at him and pointedly refusing to turn away from your task. he’s clearly annoyed at that, and you belatedly realize that perhaps if you’re really that terrified of him coming onto the boat you shouldn’t provoke him. luckily, rather than heaving himself up, he jerks the entire hull.

it’s a smooth motion for him, gripping the stern and rolling his tail so that the boat moves with him. it’s like being out in a storm, and though you’re well aware that it’s just your needy visitor, your sea-hardened stomach still lurches at the familiar feeling.

you stumble out of the cabin, careful not to be thrown over the edge. “i’m out! holy shit, i have a damn job you know, i can’t spend all my time catering to your whims.”

he stops as soon as you get back on deck. “calm,” he tells you again, and you're really starting to hate the word, “too loud.”

“who’s fucking fault is that? don’t rock my damn ship.”

“sit,” he demands rather than apologizing.

there are a plethora of reasons not to. you won’t be able to get away quickly if you need to, you shouldn’t be encouraging his demands by obliging immediately, you really do have a job to do instead of… whatever this is—instead of listening to any one of those reasons, you ease yourself down with your legs crossed a little ways away from where he’s holding himself.

he snarls, baring a mouthful of sharp teeth. “closer.”

“no,” you snap. “not if you’re threatening me.”

his mouth shuts immediately, brow furrowed and lips pouting in an expression that’s less pleading or apologetic and more contemplative.

“not a threat,” he seems to settle on saying.

you roll your own eyes. “yeah. okay.”

“come here.”

“why?”

“wanna feel you.”

that throws you for a loop. what could he mean by that? you realize that perhaps he’s as fascinated by you as you are by him.

you’ve caught him staring at your body in the past. he’s never reacted like you’d expect—if you’d caught a human looking at you like that and then turning away when you caught his eye, he’d have been checking you out. but when it’s an apex predator of a different species, there’s an entirely different context, one you’re even less enthused about.

you’re standing before you’ve fully thought it through, fully freaked and ready for him to go. you barely get to uncross your legs, however, before he lunges.

it’s far faster than your not-normally-hunted-because-you’re-a-modern-person mind can follow. a cold, clawed hand snaps out to latch around your ankle and yanks you downward, slamming your back into the boat’s coarse deck and then dragging you towards the edge. there’s not even time for you to shriek.

this is it, you think. he’s going to eat you now; he’ll drag you under and rip you apart, or maybe he’ll drown you first as a mercy. you hope he doesn’t want to play with you further, drag you into the water and let go to make you swim because he wants a chase.

the moment your ankle hits the water he stops.

you’re breathing heavily, free leg still braced on the deck, arms finding purchase on a pole nearby. his whole body is underwater aside from his eyes and the very top of his head, but you can still see that massive dark shadow—only little flashes of that pretty orange-gold patterning visible as his scales glint beneath the sun—and it sends a thrill through you. he’s so ungodly enormous.

that hand is still around your ankle, but it’s looser now. his mouth is beneath the waves so he doesn’t speak, but his eyes are soft and almost regretful as he regards you.

“okay…” you move slowly, getting to a better position. it pulls your captive ankle from the water and the movement causes his grip to tighten as if he’s reluctant to remove it—he doesn’t stop you, but he doesn’t let you go. you’re forced to sit on the edge of the deck with your feet dangling over the side.

“let me feel you,” he tries again, as if he’s giving you a choice.

“ask,” you decide upon demanding. his words have made you realize, with a burst of shame and a promise to never tell anyone in the future, that you’re not entirely opposed to the strange rude merman feeling you.

you’re gifted a growl, not unlike the snarl from before but lacking the teeth. he’s learning, you realize, not only in not baring those terrifying weapons at you but also in removing his hand from your ankle.

“can i… touch you,” he spits out, like the words and your request are insulting.

and again you think there are far too many reasons to give in just like that. you’ve been around enough children to know that rewarding problematic behavior is hardly the way forward, but there’s a certain part of your brain that’s in control right now and it’s not particularly interested in breaking him of his demanding attitude (quite the contrary, to your chagrin, this very annoying part of your brain is enjoying it).

“are you sure you’re not going to eat me?”

“no eating.” he huffs, wrinkling his nose.

“what, i smell bad or something.”

he regards you, approaching a little closer, and you resist the urge to pull your legs up to hold your knees to your chest.

“smell good,” he says, “not like food.”

all right.

“fine, then. if you’re not going to take a bite out of my calf, then… sure. feel me, i guess.”

he’s just as fast as before, not even waiting for you to finish your sentence before he’s lashing out and grabbing your leg again. this time, he’s not looking at your face; he’s focused entirely on your feet, those big hands inspecting them thoroughly.

it’s rough, and you’re a little glad because if he’d been gentle it would have likely been too ticklish. he’s still careful with his massive claws; you’re sure they’re sharp enough to pierce your skin with ease, and he’s clearly skilled enough to avoid it. you’re more than thankful, because you’ve seen how he hunts with them (he’s dropped disemboweled fish in front of you before as strange gifts) and you don’t want your legs to end up like his prey even if he doesn’t eat you.

he moves on from your feet, both hands latching onto one calf and almost massaging it in reverence. his face is even closer now; you really ought to be more worried by the proximity of those teeth to your skin, but the fascination on his face is so enthralling.

by the time he reaches the back of your knee, you're tensing. while before he’d been mostly in the water, he’s very nearly at your height now, holding himself up by his grip on you and an awkward hold on the deck with his spare hand.

and then he’s at your thigh, and your breath is heavy.

because he’s basically laid out on your lap, one arm wrapped entirely around your upper leg such that his large palm rests flush, fingers spread, against the plush flesh of your inner thigh. and he’s no less fascinated, expression no less sincere, as he pulls further up to get closer.

“warm,” he says, more to himself than you. he blinks, as if shaking away a daze, and his eyes jump up from your thighs to look at your stomach. “soft…”

his head drops. you jump, caught up in the strange haze he's brought with him but snapping out of it as he lays his head on your lap. your heart thumps erratically, your breath long bated. he’s not looking at your thigh anymore, and not your face either—he’s locked on your stomach, your loose t-shirt having ridden up slightly to reveal more bare skin.

you ought to see it coming, really, but when that big, cold hand moves from your thigh to your torso, sliding smoothly beneath your shirt and running up your bare stomach, you yelp and jolt back.

he startles, and then he’s gone, slipping back off you and disappearing down into the murky water. you’re left panting, with nothing but a very wet body and the ghost of his touch on your legs…

and the heat of your face at the knowledge that, while you’d been surprised, you kind of wanted him to go further.

#bnha x reader #bakugo x reader #mine.🌧 #char.🌧 bakugou #that one beach episode #just a lil merbaku 👉👈 #for the soul #w a spitfire reader bc im me JHSBDF #this is reposted!!! i wrote it like two yrs ago for jotato kujo lmfaoooooo but rewrote it for bakugo who tbh i think it works for even bett #but the og is still up on my ao3 so

[stuffeddeer]

Hello I’m new here, I just couldn’t help but notices how lovely you write. So I have little request for you.

Can I request Nikolai and any characters you want reaction when their s/o hides stuff between her breasts?

omg welcome just my drunk friend! tysm!!!! i love nikolai im on it 🫡 and dazai ofc..

has: no pronouns used but mention of boobs and bras, also one (1) use of the word tits. is that worthy of a warning? probably not. but Nikolai says it in a weird way bc he’s the worst so just in case 🤞🏻

You knock feverishly on Nikolai’s door. Fuck, where did you leave your key? You’d already made it back to your apartment when you realized it wasn’t in your pockets. The last place you were was Nikolai’s, so if he didn’t have it you aren’t sure who would.

“Nikolai, you dick,” you mutter under your breath. That asshole is definitely still awake, so why wasn’t he answering the door?

The knocking ceases as Nikolai swings the door open, hair unbraided and eyes glimmering. “Missed me that badly?” He leans forward, bending down slightly to maneuver his face just above yours. “You could’ve called, y’know.”

“Yeah, well,” you shrug. “I need to come in.”

“Pushy!~” He pouts, crossing his arms and standing up straight. “Not even gonna say hello?”

A groan passes your lips, too frustrated at your missing key to play his games. “You didn’t.” You pause momentarily. It’s less frustration and more so anxiety that makes your skin crawl and your tone snippy. “Sorry, I just lost my key. I’m worried I dropped it on the street walking home.”

Eyes lighting up, you would’ve sworn Nikolai beamed down at you with two mismatched flashlights. “You need your key, you say? And what if I told you I could procure it for you?”

Your shoulders slump down, relaxing. He’s being an asshole, sure, but at least you know he has it. “Please, Nikolai?”

“Mm… You gotta promise not to be mad when I retrieve it. Especially since I’ll be your savior, you know!” He puffs out his chest, already proud before he has even produced the key.

“I promise, I’ll be eternally grateful as long as I can find that key.”

Nikolai’s warm and ungloved hand slips under your loose shirt collar, digging beneath your bra and in between your breasts. You freeze, even with the warmth of his hand on you. Before you can chew him out for the random grope, the jester pulls your apartment key from in between, flashing both it and a wolfish grin to you.

You say nothing for a moment, just staring slack jawed at your key. Had you really..?

“You dropped it in there before you left,” he shrugs before dropping the key back in between your breasts, not bothering to hand it to you properly. “And I just stare at your tits all the time, so I noticed.”

With a gentle smack to his bicep, you fish the key out once more and let out a sigh of relief. “Thank god; I thought I was going to have to change my locks!”

“You still should - I have, like, several copies of your apartment key littered around my apartment,” Nikolai smiles once more.

You don’t even bother replying, just turning around and leaving his place for the second time that night, your apartment key in hand.

Dazai would start hiding things in there too. He tosses a pen your way before heading out on a mission, one where he knows you can’t bring a bag along, just to watch as you stuff it in between your breasts. You’d sigh resignedly, used to his actions by this point and having long given up arguing or telling him off.

When on said mission, he’d find any and every reason that one might need a pen and turn to you expectantly, waiting for you to pull it out and hold it out for him. It’s always so warm after, heated up from its time nestled between where he’d like to be stashed away.

You’d complain after he asks for the pen for the nth time, telling him if he needs to use it so often he can get one himself! Those words were meant to tell him to bring/carry his own pen, but he’d grinned before taking that as meaning he could jam his hand down your shirt to reach for it himself.

“What? You told me to grab it myself…”

#🦌anon #🦌request #bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #bsd x reader #bsd x gender neutral reader #bsd imagines #bsd scenarios #bsd fanfic #bungou stray dogs fanfic #bungo stray dogs fanfic #dazai osamu x reader #dazai osamu #dazai x reader #osamu dazai x reader #dazai bsd #dazai imagines #dazai fluff #bsd fluff #nikolai gogol #nikolai x reader #nikolai gogol x reader #nikolai bsd #nikolai fluff #nikolai imagines

[haikyuuhoo]

painfully obvious

pairing: gojo x reader

wc: 1k

warnings: none, just some mutual pining between two blind high school love birds

a/n: I will always be soft for this man. He deserves the whole world.

“Hey, buddy!”

Satoru pauses in his descent to his seat, holding his food inches above the table where you all eat lunch together. Normally, Satoru would relish the sound of your voice, would bask in that tone that sounds so excited to see him, but not today. No, today he can’t think about any of that because he’s hung up on that word, that nickname that sounds so absurd that he can’t help but let out an incredulous “Huh?” before he’s even finished sitting down.

Suguru chuckles at his best friend, and now it’s your turn to pause, finally noticing the way Satoru’s staring at you, eyes wide behind his sunglasses and eyebrows raised up so high they nearly disappear into his hairline.

“What?” you ask, eyes darting around the table at your friends. Shoko’s smirking beside you, looking at where Satoru’s finally sitting down and shaking her head.

Satoru presses his lips together, picking up his chopsticks and waving a dismissive hand. “Nothing, it’s whatever,” he huffs, beginning to eat his lunch with a dramatic pout on his face.

You turn in your seat to face Shoko, registering the way she tilts her head so her hair falls in a way to hide that she’s laughing. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing, nothing.” You can hear the grin in her tone as she stands up. “I’m gonna go for a smoke. Wanna join?” She gestures the pack toward Suguru and he wordlessly stands up, but you can still see the corners of his lips curving upward. “Be back in a few!” Shoko calls over her shoulder, and the two of them begin to walk away, leaving you and Satoru alone at the table.

You frown, turning your attention back to Satoru and his pout that has somehow gotten even more pronounced. “Did I do something wrong?”

He looks up at you, face a mask of seriousness before he loudly blurts, “You called me buddy!”

You reel back, eyebrows pinching together in confusion. “Okay, and? You’re my friend, did you want me to say ‘hey, asshole’ instead?”

Satoru groans, tipping his head back. “No, but I’ve been spending weeks hanging out with you and listening to the music you like and watching every show you mention and just fucking trying to show you that I like you and you just called me buddy! And that just proves that you don't like me, because you would never call someone you like buddy!”

You blink at him, frozen in shock and cheeks tingling with heat. “You like me?” The words barely come out as a whisper.

Satoru looks down at you over the tops of his glasses with another pout, this one much smaller and—honestly—much cuter than the one he was wearing earlier. “I thought it was pretty obvious,” he admits, and the low tone of his voice makes your stomach flip.

You play with your fingers nervously under the table. “I, uh— I guess I’ve just been so stressed out lately, you know, since we're going on missions practically every other day…” you trail off, waving your hand above your head. “I haven’t been sleeping well and I can barely focus anymore and… I guess I just didn’t notice,” you murmur.

He looks away. “It’s fine, I just— yeah. It’s not a big deal.” Satoru props his elbow on the table and puts his chin in his hand, doing his best to school his features into a mask of nonchalance. “I’ll get over it. Ya know, the whole being in the friendzone thing. Because that’s what we are—we’re friends! And it doesn’t need to be weird now, because we are friends, and we've always been friends, and I’ll just… yeah.” Silence falls between you two, and Satoru clears his throat self-consciously to cut through it.

And you push past your nerves, reaching across the table to gently tug on the edge of his sleeve so you can put your hand on top of his. “You don’t have to.”

His gaze cuts back toward you, letting you pull his hand down to rest on the table. “Huh?”

You close your eyes, and before the anxiety can overwhelm you, you say, “You don’t have to… ‘just yeah.’ We, um… We can be more than friends. I… I would really like that, actually. I just know you’re really friendly with everybody and I didn’t want to get my hopes up about anything so I didn’t say anything because I really like spending time with you and I didn’t wanna make it weird and make you want to stop hanging out with me because I miss you when we aren't on missions together and because I…” You swallow past the lump in your throat, doing your best to get the rest of the words out before your voice fails you.  “Because I like you. I really, really like you.”

Satoru’s eyes are wide by the time you’re done rambling, and he lifts his hand out from under yours so he can cup your face. “Can I…?”

And you open your eyes, shocked by how close he is to you, but you don’t pull away. Instead, you nod, and when you feel Satoru press his lips gently against yours, warmth floods your body. He’s gone nearly as quickly as he came, but now there’s a lovesick smile on his face as he looks at you, and the two of you barely notice your friends sitting back down, not until Suguru slaps his hand on Satoru’s back with a “Hey, buddy!” that makes you two pull apart.

Satoru scowls at him, shoving Suguru's shoulder so hard as he sits down that he nearly falls out of his seat, but Suguru's just laughing loudly at the way Satoru immediately begins whisper-shouting at him, things like "don't call me that!" and "nearly gave me a heart attack, you dick!"

Shoko knocks her shoulder against yours as she retakes her seat, a knowing smile on her face. “You know, both of you were so painfully obvious.”

#gojo x reader #gojo x reader fluff #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader fluff #gojo fluff #jjk fluff #jjk #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk x reader fluff #jujutsu kaisen

[topguncortez]

All My Heart & All My Being | Jake x Shy!Wifey

opposites attract masterlist | main masterlist

synopsis: Jake & Y/N are given devastating news on what was supposed to be a routine midwife visit. Jake navigates how to tell his kids about the circle of life.

word count: 2.8k

warnings: miscarriage, tears, fear of doctors, cursing, talks of death, canon character death, mentions of depression, mentions of stillbirths

note: miscarriages happen in 1 out of 4 pregnancies. Most miscarriages are spontaneous, meaning that you did nothing to cause it. miscarriages are never your fault, and it doesn't make you any less of a parent. Angel baby parents are still parents.

Jake couldn’t hide his excitement. It was Y/N’s second ultrasound since she had discovered she was pregnant. It was the appointment where they were finally going to hear their baby’s heartbeat. Even though they had been here twice before, the same butterflies and nervous feelings still arose in their bellies. Jake was trying his best to not crush Y/N’s hand with his strong grip as they waited for the doctor to come in. 

Jake was halfway out of the chair he was sitting in, at eye level with Y/N’s bare belly. His eyes were wide as he was retelling the story of his last dogfight with Rooster and Coyote. Y/N couldn’t help the smile on her face as she ran her hand through his soft blonde hair. 

“And then, I broke right, turning right into the sun with Rooster still hot on my tail, but the ol’ man still hasn’t learned any new tricks,” Jake laughed, “He lost me in the sun, and I was able to turn quickly and get behind him to get missile lock on him.” 

“Going to turn this one into an aviator before they’re even born,” Y/N giggled. Jake looked up at her with pure admiration and love in his green eyes. 

“They’ve got a handful of uncles and aunts who will turn them into an aviator if I don’t,” Jake said as there was a soft knock on the door. Y/N sat up on her elbows and told whoever it was to come in, but Jake’s eyebrows furrowed at the young nurse who walked through the door, “Where’s Doctor Carpenter?” 

The nurse smiled at him as she walked to the ultrasound machine, “She’s with another mother right now, but she’ll be here soon.” Y/N nodded and laid back down on the exam table, “My name is Margaret, and I’ll be doing the initial look, taking a few pictures and then Doctor Carpenter will be in.” 

“Okay,” Y/N nodded, feeling the grip of nerves in her throat. Jake could feel the anxiety rolling off his wife in waves and squeezed his wife’s hand. Y/N looked over at him, as Jake raised their conjoined hands to his lips and placed a kiss on the back of her hand. 

“How have you been feeling, Mrs. Seresin?” Margaret asked. 

“Oh please, call me Y/N,” Y/N said softly, “I’ve been feeling more tired than usual with this one. It’s our third baby,” Jake gave her hand a squeeze, “But lately, my back has been hurting, I’ve had these weird dizzy spells, just overall felt like crap.” 

Margaret nodded as she put some of the cool gel on Y/N’s belly. Y/N let out a shaky breath as Margaret pressed the transducer to Y/N’s lower belly. She always hated this part of the exam, feeling like her bladder was going to explode from the pressure. 

Jake sucked in a breath as he watched Y/N stare up at the ceiling. She was uncomfortable and Jake hated that. “Did you hear about Dragon’s wedding present for Rooster?” Y/N looked at her husband and shook her head, “Well apparently, it was a fancy little picture book. Rooster was actually speechless, and you know that man is nev-” 

“How far along are you?” Margaret asked, interrupting Jake. He looked up at her, noticing the pinched look on her face. 

“12 weeks,” Y/N nodded, “But isn’t that on my chart?” 

Margaret nodded and plastered a fake smile on her face, “Y-yeah, yes, it’s just that-” 

Jake’s shoulders squared as he stood up from his seat, “That what? What’s wrong?” 

Margaret set the transducer down and turned to face both of them, “I’m not seeing anything on the ultrasound.” 

“What?” Y/N looked from the nurse to Jake and back at the nurse. She felt her heart start to race as she pushed herself up on her elbows, “There’s. . .there’s no baby? I lost the-” 

“I don’t know,” Margaret said, “I-I’m not really authorized to read-” 

“How about you go find someone who is?” Jake said sternly, crossing his arms over his chest. Margaret nodded rapidly and scurried out of the room with her head down. Jake scoffed and ran his hand through his hair, his jaw clenched shut, “What a fucking joke. Can you-” He looked down at his wife to find tears running down her cheeks, “Hey, sweets, what’s wrong?” 

“There’s no baby,” Y/N cried, and Jake wrapped her in his strong embrace. 

“We don’t know that,” Jake said, his voice strong and steady, “The nurse even said she’s not authorized to read it.” He pulled Y/N away from his chest and held her face in his hands. She looked up into his green eyes, “You hear me? We can’t jump to conclusions yet.” Y/N closed her eyes and nodded her head, not really believing a word Jake said. And to be honest, he wasn’t even sure if he believed what he said either. 

Jake gently shifted Y/N’s body so he could sit on the edge of the small exam table and hold his wife. They waited in painful silence for the doctor to come in. The only sound was the occasional sniffle from Y/N, which was followed by Jake pressing his lips to the top of her head. A small knock pulled them out of their quiet embrace as their usual doctor walked into the room. Jake felt some relief in his body, but the look on the doctor’s face didn’t help ease much of it. 

“I’m sorry for the wait,” Doctor Carpenter said, giving them both a sad smile, “Let’s see what’s going on.” She quickly went to the ultrasound machine. Jake moved off the exam table and stood by her side, holding her hand in both of his. 

Doctor Carpenter did the same thing as the nurse had done previously, putting the cold gel on Y/N’s belly and spreading it around her lower abdomen. Y/N looked up at the ceiling as Jake’s eyes were on the black-and-white screen in front of him. Doctor Carpenter worked in silence as she moved the transducer around, freezing on a spot, and taking a picture, before moving to another spot. The silence stretched for about ten minutes before Doctor Carpenter sighed, and placed the transducer down.  

Y/N closed her eyes as she felt Doctor Carpenter’s eyes on her. She couldn’t hear the words that came out of the doctor’s mouth but felt Jake squeeze her hand. 

“I’m sorry, Y/N and Jake, but there isn’t a viable fetus present,” Doctor Carpenter said, “I’m afraid Y/N has had what we call a spontaneous miscarriage. It doesn’t present like a normal. . .” 

It was all a blur after that. 

She could hear the door to the exam room shut. She could feel Jake move to lean over her and run a hand through her hair. She could faintly make out the sound of his voice as he spoke to her. She could feel him hold her in his arms, rubbing her back and pressing a kiss to the top of her head. She could hear him sniffle and wipe away the tears from under his eyes. 

The car ride home was quiet, as Y/N leaned her head against the window, looking at the familiar landscape pass her by. Jake would occasionally glance over at her, noticing the hand that sat protectively on her belly. He shifted in his seat and looked at his wife again. 

Jake cleared his throat, “Are you in pain?” 

“Not physically,” Y/N answered, “It’s just. . . when you think about a miscarriage or losing a baby, you imagine blood and pain, not. . .” Y/N fought back tears, her mind trying to come up with the right words to say. Jake reached his hand across the center console and grabbed hers. Neither of them said another word as they drove the rest of the way home. 

When they arrived home, Jake noticed Amelia Benjamin’s bike by the front door. She usually babysat the kids after school while Jake & Y/N were at work. It was supposed to be a happy night, while Jake and Y/N shared pictures of their unborn child, and listen as Alex and Ella argued about whether it was going to be a boy or a girl. Now, all Y/N felt was dread of having to face her children and her parents. 

“Why don’t you go into the house from the garage and up the back steps,” Jake said, looking at his wife, “And I’ll go corral the kids to the backyard.” Y/N nodded her head in agreement, “I’ll be up soon and draw you a bath-” 

“I just want to lay in bed,” Y/N said, looking at Jake, “I’m okay. . . or I will be anyway.” 

Jake gave her a smile. Y/N was one of the toughest women he knew. She had to be tough when being married to an aviator. Nothing in Jake’s life was ever promised and Y/N had known that first hand. She had watched as partners of fellow aviators had been given folded flags instead of getting to hug their loved ones again. She always feared losing Jake, never one of her own babies. 

“I’m going to go in now,” Y/N said and Jake nodded. 

“Y/N,” Jake called her name as he stepped out of the truck. She looked up at him, “I love you, with all my heart and all my being.” 

Y/N smiled, “I love you too, with all my heart and all my being.” 

Jake took a moment, trying to gather his thoughts as he watched Y/N walk into the house. He turned the truck off and gathered his duffle bag from the back seat, before making his way to the backyard where he could hear the loud laughter of his kids. 

The second that Jake opened the gate to the backyard, Alex and Ella ran right to him. He greeted them with his usual bright smile and kiss on the cheek. He thanked Amelia for watching them and paid her. Then he stood on the front porch with Alex and Ella as Amelia rode her bike the two blocks it took to get to her house. 

“C’mon, let’s go get a snack,” Jake said, leading his kids inside the house. Alex climbed up on the stool at the kitchen island, while Jake sat Ella down on hers. He cut them up an apple, splitting it between the two of them, and giving them each a big dollop of peanut butter to go with. 

“Where’s Mommy?” Alex asked, looking around the kitchen for the usual bright ball of sunshine that was Y/N Seresin. 

“She’s uh,” Jake cleared his throat, “She’s not feeling well. She’s laying down right now.” 

“What wrong wit Mommy?” Ella asked, looking up at Jake with those big green eyes. Jake knew that at some point in time, they needed to talk to the kids about what happened, but he was hoping that he would have some time to gather his thoughts before telling them. If it was up to Jake, he would wait to talk to them, but he also knew that Y/N hated keeping things from them. 

“Your mommy,” Jake shook his head, “We found out today that. . . we lost the baby.” The room was silent for a moment as the five and two-and-a-half-year-old were trying to come to terms with what their father just said. How does one even explain the circle of life to kids? 

“How?” Ella asked. 

“I’m not really sure, Elles,” Jake said, running his hand over her blonde hair, “Sometimes, it just happens. There’s no explanation. There’s no reason. Sometimes, God decides he needs the baby a bit more than we do.” 

Alex blinked a couple of times, staring at the bottom wrung of the chair that Steve had chewed up, “Is that Baby with Uncle Bradley’s mom and dad?” 

Jake nodded, “Yeah. The baby is with Uncle Bradley’s mom and Dad, and Grandpa Seresin, and the dog your mommy had as a child, and Aunt Dragon’s babies.” 

“I don’t wike that,” Ella pouted, as the tears slowly started to roll down her cheeks. Jake cooed and walked over to her, picking her up in his arms, and holding her head against his chest as she cried. 

“I know, baby girl, I know,” Jake sniffled, “No one does. It’s hard to lose the people you love,” He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, “All we can do now, is show mama some love, give her some extra cuddles. She’s going to be sad for a while.” 

“I wanna go to Mommy,” Ella mumbled and Jake nodded. He carried Ella in his arms and walked up the stairs toward their shared room. Alex stayed in his spot, still staring at that beat-up wrung of the stool. 

Jake knocked softly on the bedroom door, waiting for the invite from Y/N to let him in. He knew not to overcrowd her and make her feel uncomfortable. Sometimes Y/N reminded him of a scared, feral dog that had been kicked one too many times. But her quiet, soft voice granted him permission to come in, and Jake gently pushed the door open. 

Y/N was facing the door and looked up to see her baby girl with tears rolling down her cheeks. Y/N gave Jake a sad smile and shifted a bit in bed to make room for Ella. Silently, Jake stepped across the threshold and brought Ella to Y/N. 

“My baby girl, what are the tears for?” Y/N asked Ella, as Jake pulled back the covers and gently placed her next to her mom. 

“I don’t want you to be sad,” Ella mumbled, tears welling up in her eyes. 

“I know,” Y/N said softly, “I’ll only be sad for a little while, I promise.” She pulled Ella in close to her chest and rubbed her back. Ella was like Jake in so many ways, that the small gesture was a sure way to make them both fall asleep. 

Jake smiled at his girls before returning downstairs to make Y/N some tea. Alex was still in the same spot as he was when Jake went upstairs. He eyed his child as he filled and set the kettle on the stove. Jake always felt like he had a hard time connecting with Alex. Y/N was already four months pregnant with him when Jake came home from a mission. And Jake had to leave when he was only three months old for another mission. Alex was also the complete opposite of his father and Jake struggled to find things they had in common. 

“What’re you thinking about, Lex?” Jake asked, leaning against the counter. 

“Do you know where I can get white roses?” Alex said, looking up at his dad. Jake’s eyebrows furrowed, “Uncle Rooster always gets Aunt Dragon white roses on Ida’s birthday. He says they are for membrance.” 

“Remembrance,” Jake said, “And I think I know a place where we can get some.” 

— — — 

Three days later, Jake and Alex were in the middle of Y/N’s garden, while she sat in a chair with Ella. Doctor Carpenter told her to take the next couple of days easy while her body and mind processed the news of the miscarriage. The kids had been a great help, keeping Y/N’s mind off the loss and giving her the extra cuddles that she didn’t know she needed. 

“White Roses love the sun,” Y/N said, as Alex finished digging the whole, “You picked a perfect spot, Alex.” 

The little boy wiped the sweat from his brow as Jake brought over the poted plant, “Thanks, momma.” 

“Alright Ella, you want to come help with this?” Jake asked, and the little girl happily obliged. She wiggled out of her moms lap and walked over to where the two boys were standing. 

Jake gently pulled the rose bush from the bucket it sat in, remembering all the critiques Y/N gave him while he helped her plant to other flowers in the garden. Ella and Alex cupped the bottom of the plant as they gently eased it into the hole. Y/N stood up from her chair and walked over to her family, watching as the kids covered the base of the rose bush with fresh soil. She felt the sting of tears in her eyes as Jake put his arm around her, pulling her flush against his side. 

“There!” Alex said, clapping the dirt off of his hands, “Do you like it?!” 

“We love it, baby,” Jake smiled, “Now come here! Family hug!” Y/N giggled as the kids ran right towards their legs, hugging them tightly, “I love you guys, with all my heart, and all my being.”

taglist: @damrlova @shanimallina87 @phoenix1388 @mygyn @cherrycola27 @yanna-banana @seitmai @topgun-imagines @bradleybeachbabe @na-ta-sh-aa @startrekfangirl2233 @xoxabs88xox @atarmychick007 @lunamoonbby @sophiaslastbraincell @bradswolfe @fandom-princess-forevermore @dempy @lovelywiseprincess @krismdavis @eternallyvenus @dakotakazansky @pono-pura-vida @callsignharper @callsignartemis @starberryhorse @daggersquadphantom @gspenc @poppyalice2001 @els-marvelvsp @nyx2021 @t0kyoreveng3rs @frazie99 @spencvrr @kmc1989 @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @toobouquet @malindacath @justenoughmadness @sagittarius-flowerchild

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#top gun #top gun imagine #top gun fan fic #top gun fan fiction #top gun angst #top gun maverick #top gun maverick fan fic #top gun maverick fan fiction #top gun maverick angst #Jake seresin #Jake seresin fan fic #Jake seresin fan fiction #Jake seresin imagine #Jake seresin x reader #Jake seresin x y/n #Jake seresin angst #jake seresin x shy!wifey #Jake hangman seresin #hangman seresin #hangman #hangman fan fic #hangman fan fiction #hangman imagine #hangman x reader #hangman x y/n #hangman angst

[channieandhisgoonsquad]

As much as I love Han Jisung's whole "babygirl" persona, I feel like it's exagerated a lot on tv. He seems a soft boy, but the energy he shows in stage, his mannerisms, his expressions, and some stuff he does when the cameras aren't focusing on him, I feel like he's actually a lot more dominant that most people assume. Fans paint him as this cute, shy boy that blushes easily, but I have a strong feeling that he's actually a cocky little shit when he wants to and is the one to make you blush with his antics.

You expect to meet an awkward, soft boy the fans describe, but instead you face a flirting machine with a infuriating atractive cocky smile and a deep english voice he knows how to use.

He's the type to solve fights with angry sex because he doesn't know how to handle strong emotions, so he lets his body do the talk. He'll leave you breathless, unable to walk and seeing the gates of heaven by how far he pushed you. I feel he has a lot of pent up frustrations and is desesperate for a way to let them out, to break this "babygirl" image he has..

I have many MANY thoughts on this topic😍

Warnings:🩻 Sexual content further down

For starters, it also frustrates me that he is given this Sub label constantly. I’m not saying that he won’t, because I definitely think he could be a pillow princess if he’s just so needy for any sigh of affection. But man is he in love with having things his way.

He told us himself that when he was younger he used to think he was the hottest person around (which I agree with this as a current fact) but that he has mellowed out. But I think he’s just grown up and mental health has become more prominent in his adult life as it does for some. His anxiety makes him seem weak to outsiders, which doesn’t help him with the baby girl persona.

I think people will always be drawn to that idea. Baby girl Jisung. But it’s just because he is such a fun, lovable dork that isn’t afraid to be silly and weird! I can totally understand where people interpret him that way, but he’s not. He is 100% a man that loves to be a geek and show off how excited he is. And I commend him for it.

I don’t think it helps that he’s compared to the other guys and people just don’t realize that they ALL do that same silly shit. Like come on. They are Kpop Idols That Are suppose touphold this sweet and innocent image; so of course his cuteness is perceived as baby girl.

But listen up… because I got a secret.

Here comes the 18+ stuff

Han Jisung is aware of the effects he has on YOU. His one and only. His love. The lady (in this scenario I’m making up) of his dreams. And THAT is what really matters to him.

He doesn’t care how Stay view him. He knows he has their love and support and he loves them, but whether they call him Baby Girl or not doesn’t matter.

Because YOU call him everything. He’s you’re man, you’re hun, he’s your king, he’s you’re handsome quokka, and during some of his favorite moments he’s you SIR. ♥️

You both are equals. You are both huge dorks and act silly around each other. Making each other laugh to tears. You pay for everything equally, despite Jisung making quite a bit more. He shows up to everything when he can. But to top it off, neither of you care about gender roles. Especially in the bedroom.

He loves to be in charge. But that’s not a man thing. It’s a Dom thing. He spends all his time at work being an equal, so you give him this in bed. Reminding him how much power he holds and how strong he is. He fucking loves it, and so do you.

He’s so hot while he’s pounding into you. He had you on all fours, but he’s going so harshly that your face is smashed into the pillow and you are to fucked out to get a hold of yourself.

Han would still be slamming into you with so much force that you’ve already came twice. Tell you how good you are doing, but he’s got more in him.

He smacks your ass again to make sure you’re still conscious and you only moan at the contact. So he pulls out and flips you back over and hovers over you. You’re blissed out face holds eye contact with him. He’s so close, but you have to grab the back of his neck to confirm you really are okay. You just can’t seem to form the words to make him feel better right now.

He pulls back after a heavy few minutes of making out to look at you. You whisper “I love you”

He smiles fully, but the concern in his eyes is still there. “I’m glad, but do you need me to stop? You seem sleepy, babe.”

You shake your head furiously and your eyes open so wide at the notion. “No, sir, I’m fine! I was just so in the moment… And you really made me cum so hard that I was still coming back from that.” You finished your answer shyly and it made him see stars.

He had felt it, but he still needed to make sure you were still good to go. “Okay, baby, but you need to speak up if you need me to slow down! You know I love you no matter what.”

You nodded and he took the opportunity to fold your legs into yourself and lined himself with your messy cunt. You were back to being fully aware of how hot your man is as he slowly inched his thick cock back into you.

You whined, “God Hannie, you fill me up so much. How have you not split me in half yet?”

He grunted as he met your pelvis with his own. “Your pussy just wants me to keep ruining you. I’ve trained your cunt so well. Made just for me.”

He was back to slamming into you. And you immediately started moaning into his mouth. Your lips hovering and touching slightly as you both panted into each other. But this wasn’t enough so he angled himself to hit that sweet spot and get you going again.

You grabbed onto his back as you felt yourself getting closer. The claws and scratches you were making egged him on more. You tightened around him too and he let out a high pitch groan in surprise.

He gripped the sides of your throat and asked simply, “Who do you belong to?”

The addition of pressure to your neck sent you closer. You were nearly screaming at the crest “You! H-h-hannie i am yours fully!”

And you both flew over your peaks as he painted your insides. Your moans were a beautiful harmony and you felt so relieved to have felt that together.

NEEDLESS TO SAY.

Han Jisung is a soft Dom and will fuck you up. But also remind you how perfect you are the entire time.

Spooky Pookies: @lyramundana @2chopsticks2eyes @moonlightndaydreams @sweetracha @linlinaert

#hannie is my soulmate #stray kids #skz #han jisung #i love him #loml #hannie #stray kids smut #stray kids imagine #stray kids thoughts #han jisung x y/n #han jisung scenarios #han jisung imagines #han jisung x reader #han jisung gifs #han jisung cute #han jisung smut #han jisung x you

[inkelea]

cherry flavored problems! ✭

pairing: idol!yang jeongin x nonidol!gn!reader

synopsis: it’s hard to be affectionate with your boyfriend in public, as there is always the doubt of being observed.

genre: fluff, some angst. drabble.

warnings: self conscious thoughts, kissing.

word count: 0.5k

a/n: jeongin has been serving so hard this cb i couldn’t keep myself from writing for him. this is basically a copy-pasted scene from nevertheless (pls tell me you’ve watched it), hope you enjoy<3

hiding was something you did very well, however, you didn’t think you would end up needing to hide your relationship with your boyfriend.

dating an idol is… complicated at best. with time, it has become easier to cover the nature of your relationship, the mentality of hiding easily infiltrating your brain. and that’s why you are asking yourself what the hell is yang jeongin doing talking to you in the middle of campus.

he had caught you going down the stairs, which were very unconventionally situated in a very visible place, so why was he here?

“what are you doing? do you want to die from your manager’s wrath?”

he laughs, a dimple appears on his cheek and his hand runs through his hair. you can’t help but smile too. the lollipop on his other hand is hanging right to his leg, which makes you afraid that it’s going to stain the surely very expensive jeans your boyfriend is wearing.

“what flavor is that?”

his eyes lock with yours, not caring slightly about the possibility of paparazzis being around. after licking the lollipop one more time, his hand rests on the railing behind you. before you know it his lips are on yours and you can feel the candy flavor on them. is it cherry or strawberry? without giving yourself much more time to discover it, you push him back by his chest and turn completely to the other side, hand covering your mouth.

when you turn again, he is already looking at you, a small smile on and head getting closer to you.

“did you get the flavor?”

his thumb goes over your lower lip, where sugar from the candy was left. feeling suddenly shy, you look down, feeling too embarrassed for no reason.

doubs cloud your mind and anxiety takes over your body. at the end of the day, you are only an university student. he could have chosen anyone he wanted, any other idol who had their fans at their feet from how pretty they look on stage. you are just a random person, and he is the boy named maknae on top. why was he even risking it all for you?

“anyone can see us innie.”

your voice is laced with sadness, regret even. he sighs and places his hand on your shoulder, shaking it slowly.

“i don’t care, i just want to be able to kiss you in public without feeling the guilt eating me up.”

swallowing down all your second thoughts, you hug him. his body is tense for a few seconds until you start playing with his hair, making him hum calmly.

smiling playfully, he kisses you once again. when you identify the cherry flavor in his lips, you smile into the kiss. his hand travels from your jaw to your neck, making circles on the surface. its weird, but honestly comforting. with your hand holding his arm, he feels at ease, the most carefree he has been in a very long time.

“fuck dating rumours.”

you laugh and leave a kiss on his hand. “fuck dating rumours indeed.”

@mochamvgz

© inkelea on tumblr | don't copy, repost or plagiarize my work.

#skz x reader #stray kids x reader #skz fluff #stray kids fluff #yang jeongin x reader #yang jeongin fluff #i.n x reader #i.n fluff #skz drabbles #stray kids drabbles

[meshlasolus]

Your Beauty Never Ever Scared Me

Dbf!Joel Miller x College!Reader

A/n: Listen… I don’t have any excuse for ditching my other three active series except for tiktok made me do it… That, and the CLM series by @macfrog has ascended me to a new level of crazy and I just needed an outlet for it somewhere. Another shoutout to @theatrelove3000 who keeps putting up with my dbf joel shenanigans, they are indeed insane.

Warnings: girl this whole concept should be a warning but anyways… age gap, some fluff, light smut, uncomfortable situations with readers father… probably some editing mistakes bc ya girl is tired ok its 2am

Please be kind to this chapter, I actually like it, despite the horrors.

Decided on the song ‘Mary On A Cross‘ by Ghost for this one bc it fits ig.

MASTERLIST

Age gap is approximately 15 years or so, reader is over 21 and joel is about 37

"I think I'd probably only slow'ya down," you chuckled, looking to Sarah who seemed to read the displeasure off your face from your dad's offer. "I'm studyin' to be an archeologist, dad. I don't know nothin' about framin' and all that house buildin'..."

Maybe it had been your dad's idea, but he wasn't the one who planted it into his own head. Joel subtly turned to you and cooly uttered a response.

"You could work on interior stuff with me."

It had been almost three days.

You looked out the window to the front of your house repeatedly to try and remember it clearly. The drive home, the kiss, and how abruptly it ended with a promise to see each other around. You thought about it so often you almost wondered if it happened the way you perceived it, if any details had been skewed in your mind simply because you wanted to keep it there, fresh, untouched. Maybe he thought of it differently... but maybe he didn't.

"Did you bring home the stuff I asked ya?" Your dad came into the kitchen with a smile, embracing you with a side hug and turning to help you unpack the groceries.

"Course' I did, Pa," you handed him the bag with the six-pack of bud and the other one full of snacks.

It was the first Rangers game night, and as per tradition, that meant the company of the next-door neighbors. It had been a while since you'd been around to enjoy it, but now that you were back, there were quite a few more reasons why you were on edge to now participate. It would look weird if you came up with an excuse not to be there, and you knew that. You also knrw that you'd gotten into a rather complicated entanglement with your father's closest friend, and weren't sure what the outcome really was.

Had that driveway light not spooked you both apart, and had that little black stray cat not made an appearance, how far would it have gone? Things were pretty heated, but even still. Would he have said something? Maybe along the lines of 'I've known you since you were sixteen, and this isn't appropriate at all.'

You didn't have time to think about it, you were set to work on helping your dad cook dinner for the soon-arriving neighbors. Dinner and a baseball game, once a relaxing and enjoyable time to bond with your dad, now turned into an anxiety fest where you were convinced you'd have to walk on pins and needles around every topic.

"So," your dad piped up from his silence at the stove, stirring the pot of chili he'd been prepping. "Joel told me he gave you a ride 'few nights back."

You knew it was harmless, and that he wasn't asking for any reason, other than that he was probably curious. You hadn't seen Joel in a while, not since two Christmases ago. Your dad had driven up to Dallas to spend both Thanksgiving and Christmas with you last year, and you didn't come home for summer break given an internship opportunity. You must have seemed different to the man in some way. All grown up.

"Yeah, gave me a ride n' saved me at the bar," you chuckled, trying to seem playful and unsuspicious about the encounter.

He seemed to be confused, his brows furrowed and a funny look on his face.

"Whad'ya mean he saved ya?" he of course was continuing to speak all the while dumping his favorite spices into the pot of chili, looking across here and now to keep engaged.

"Just scared off some weirdo who couldn't take no for an answer," you let a sweet and genuine smile fall across your features, but didn't let it get out of hand. Your relationship with your father was airtight, and he could read you pretty damn well. You weren't going to give anything away, not with what was potentially on the line.

"Glad he was there," he replied with a chuckle, sending you a soft glance. "Never thought you'd have grown up so fast, now I gotta carry a shotgun whenever we go places. Fend off the wild beasts."

His jokes were only so funny now, because in this situation, you knew he wouldn't hesitate to shoot Joel if he found out what had happened. All in the nature of protecting you, but it made you sad to think of the situation that way. Joel wasn't just another weirdo following you around at a bar.

"It's only because I'm so pretty," you did your best to respond lightheartedly, making a quip that would soothe the silence. "And I believe that's yours and Mama's fault, givin' me the genes and what not."

You'd finished chopping a nice garden salad by the time the doorbell rang. You ran upstairs to change your shirt to the Jersey your dad bought you for your birthday, claiming it was good luck for the team. Truth be told, you didn't wanna be downstairs when Joel and Sarah got here.

Sarah was here, too. Her, you could easily handle. You were almost hoping that she would be in a rather talkative mood, that way the attention could be swayed to her inconspicuously. You doubted Joel would even try to talk to you, anyway.

"Lovebug, come on down, Millers are here!" Your dad shouted up, even though he saw you run upstairs right when the doorbell rang to change your shirt.

"I'm comin', hold on," you replied sassily while heading for the staircase.

You got to the bottom and had to take a breath before turning the corner into the entryway. Joel stood there with a sweet smile to you, and you tried your best to hold back the one you wore. It was too bright, too happy to see him. All despite your nerves.

You were quickly embraced by Sarah, whom you paid immediate attention to.

"My lordy, girl," you held up your hand by your shoulder to show the height difference, "last time I saw you, you must've been this tall."

"Dad tells me I'm growing like a weed," she tossed a finger over her shoulder to where he was standing, and you gave him a small glance and a smile.

"Us daughters do have a tendency to grow up," you laughed, slinging an arm around Sarah and pulling her along to the kitchen as your dad and Joel did the same behind you.

Why had you been so anxious? Joel is happy to see you. He makes causal conversation with your dad, but he catches your eye every chance he gets. His expression doesn't change, except for the tug of his lips in a smile that's barely there. Joel doesn't smile too often, except apparently when you and Sarah are around.

It doesn't take long for everyone to get situated with their food at the table, playful banter between Joel and your father filling the air as you made less rambunctious chatter with Sarah.

She's doing pretty well since last you saw her. She was always a bright girl, but as she grew it became more apparent that she would probably excel further than anyone in her graduating class. You were sitting across from a future valedictorian, you were sure.

You'd tried to ask her about her out of school interests before your dad interrupted with a question.

"How about you, lovebug?" He watched your eyes flick over to him with a turn of your head. He added context, given you hadn't been listening to them earlier. "Are you gonna look for a summer job?"

You really should, if you're being honest. There's not much work in your aspiring profession located here, but you weren't as lucrative as you used to be, given your educational expenses.

"I've thought about it," you tilted your head back and forth, and your dad seemed to need more from your answer. "I need to earn some cash before I get back to Dallas, but I'm not really sure where to apply."

Sarah seemed to know where this was going before you did. She'd been around the last time your dad was begging Joel to find some help for the contracting team they worked with. But surely your dad doesn't expect you to build houses, does he? Your dream job is to dig holes in the ground, not fill them in and put homes on top.

"We got some spaces to fill, you should come work with us 'few months. The pay's good and you don't have to stay on long, probably just till the end of July."

You gave him a look, and he instantly knew you weren't interested, but you figured you'd try and justify your reasoning. It was an argument either way.

"I think I'd probably only slow'ya down," you chuckled, looking to Sarah who seemed to read the displeasure off your face from your dad's offer. "I'm studyin' to be an archeologist, dad. I don't know nothin' about framin' and all that house buildin'..."

Maybe it had been your dad's idea, but he wasn't the one who planted it into his own head. Joel subtly turned to you and cooly uttered a response.

"You could work on interior stuff with me."

Did he just-?

"S'not much more fun than what your dad's been doin,' but at least it's out of the sun, and easier to learn."

You were almost dumbfounded. Your dad offering you a job that potentially could give you heat stroke with your lack of experience seemed like the worst idea in the world... but working on interior projects? With Joel of all people? Well, that didn't sound so bad.

You didn't want your dad to catch on, of course. Being so protestant of his suggestion, but then falling right into it as soon as Joel was the one to offer would be a dead giveaway to some sort of favoritism to his best buddy. It simply wouldn't look right.

"What kinda interior stuff?"

He smirked. The motherfucker was smirking. He knew you'd changed your mind, but couldn't exactly just come out with it. He understood, but it was still slightly amusing to him.

"Flooring, cabinets, countertops... 's things like that," he explained, knowing you really didn't care what all it entailed. He was still happy to play along. "S'not as fun as archeology, but it pays alright."

You nodded, acting as though you were turning the thoughts over in your head.

"Well, if you're sure I won't mess it up, I'd be happy to try it out," was your final response. You figured it left some leeway in case your father became suspicious, but gave a good enough answer to end the conversation on.

"That's my girl," your dad clapped a hand on your shoulder in excitement. Truth be told he would very much enjoy your presence on a work site. "I'll go ahead and call Eddie in the morning, let 'im know I found someone to replace Charlie for interiors."

It was said more to Joel, you figured, because you didn't really know who either of those people were. He'd nodded to your dad, taking a sip of his beer and then looking back to you. You smiled sweetly, nobody catching it but the one it was meant for.

"Game's gonna start soon," Joel spoke aloud, drawing everyone's eye to the clock over the stove.

Sarah cleared her throat before jumping in on the conversation.

"About that," she looked to her dad with the same puppy dog eyes she used to use against you. He was just as poor at saying no to her when she pulled those bad boys out. "Sammy texted me to ask if it's okay to stay over at her place tonight?"

Joel sighed. He knew that no matter the attempts he made for her to like baseball, it wasn't her thing. It was summer vacation, and he had no reason to say no, so he didn't.

"Is she coming to pick you up?" He began, fishing his keys out of his pocket to drive her if need be. The girl lived five minutes away, he'd be back only a few minutes after the game started, but he didn't really want to leave.

"I can ask her," she pulled her phone back out of her jeans, opened her screen, and checked her messages.

"No need, I can take you," your voice rang out, standing from the table and taking your bowl to the sink. It was a genuine offer, but it was also to get out of the house and process what just happened with the job situation.

Joel was the first one to stand up with you.

"You don't have to-"

"It's fine," you cut him off, leaving no room for discussion. It was lucky he liked you, otherwise, Joel Miller might have put up quite the argument for such a small dilemma. As was his way, of course. He huffed, but accepted he had been overruled.

"Thanks, then." It was mumbled, but there was gratitude in it.

"We gotta hop over to ours real quick and grab my stuff," Sarah told you, waiting for you to return from the kitchen before beginning to head out through the front door. You'd grabbed your keys off where they hung on the wall before going behind her.

"I'll be back soon," you called over your shoulder into the house, and got a chirped 'alright' reply from your dad.

You walked out passed your driveway, seeing the light flicker on as you both went passed the censor on the ground.

"Y'know, I didn't think you'd have caved so fast on that job thing." She had piped up once you were almost to her porch. You found it only slightly funny that she chose the exact topic which had been swirling in your mind since it happened.

"Not sure I really wanna do it, but your dad made it sound better than every time my dad's talked about it, guess he just convinced me," you chuckled, playing it off in a way that she absolutely was about to use against you.

"That's another thing," she turned to you as she backed into the house through the door, only turning once she was inside. "Since when are you friends with my dad?"

She said it in a joking tone, but having known a few things she didn't about interactions that occurred between you and her father, you felt constricted to answer seriously. Probably with a lie if need be.

"I've always gotten along with your dad," you gave her a confused look, accompanied after by a playful smile.

She grabbed her backpack and opened it, checking to make sure she'd taken all the school stuff out before starting to shove things in, her charger, headphones, etc.

"Yeah but... you're just all young and cool and stuff," she shrugged, turning around to walk towards the staircase. "My dad is all old and boring and only talks about baseball."

"Thirty-seven isn't old, babe. My dad is two years from fifty, and I don't even think he's old, yet. Boring? Maybe..." you reasoned, hearing her laugh before she sprinted up the stairs, giving you time to think of some answers before she asked any more questions. Had she really caught onto you that fast? You didn't think you'd acted noticeably. If Sarah was able to see it, then maybe your dad did, too. You needed to be more careful, in that case.

Sarah returned a few minutes later, her backpack now stuffed and her pillow under her arm. You nodded out the door and headed back to your driveway to open the door for her, seeing as though her hands were full.

-

The drive after Sarah had been dropped off felt so much longer. Maybe it was just your thoughts, or maybe you consciously drove slower to avoid getting home too quickly. Your dad was waiting, but above that, Joel was there, too. Probably sitting back on the leather couch, relaxing with his feet kicked out on the floor. He usually leaned onto the armrest with his elbow, and held his face against the hand it supported. You'd noticed it years ago. He only ever spoke up when your dad did, usually in reply to him.

He was content simply watching the game in the presence of a friend. It was endearing.

When you pulled into the driveway, you had come up with an excuse to not remain downstairs for the duration of the game. It was too risky, and you weren't apparently as good with self-control as you'd thought you were.

You went inside and hung up your keys on the hook, immediately passing the living room on the way to the stairs.

"Hey, lovebug, you missed the top of the first," your dad called. He knew you liked baseball, so if you were to lie and say you didn't want to watch, he'd know something was up.

"Y'know, pa, I think I'm just gonna watch it upstairs, I forgot I still got some stuff to unpack," you peaked your head into the room to respond, and saw that Joel, just as you had pictured, was sitting in his most usual position on the couch, feet out on the floor, arm up with a hand holding the side of his face.

"Can't you do it later?" Your dad pleaded, but you knew, seeing as how your father occupied the recliner, you would have no where else to sit but on the floor or next to Joel. You didn't trust yourself with that.

"I could, but I might fall asleep if I wait too long."

He sighed, throwing an arm in your direction and shooing you away. He wasn't annoyed, but he'd admit he missed watching these games with you. It had been like a tradition, but if Sarah wasn't here either, he wasn't gonna make you stick around.

"Sure you don't wanna stick around? We could use your lucky jersey down here," Joel piped up, lifting his face from his hand and giving you a pair of soft eyes. That was exactly the reason you would not be staying. He didn't even realize how much he affected you, but you'd make sure he did at some point. Maybe you could just tease him a little.

"You're right, it would be a shame to take the lucky jersey with me."

You walked behind your dad's chair, out of his sight, and tauntingly stripped the jersey over your head, revealing the tight black tank top beneath it, just like that night at the bar. Joel's jaw clenched and his eyes turned darker, even under the bright light of the flatscreen in the living room. You never took your eyes away from his as you slung him the jersey.

"Hey pa, can I get you anything from the kitchen before I go upstairs?" You leaned over the back of his recliner, looking at him upside down. He chuckled and shook his head, trying to move your hair from obstructing his vision.

"We're all good, lovebug," he spoke in addition to his physical response, his laughter dying down as you stood back up. "Come on down if you change your mind."

"I'll probably be down later," you spewed a half-lie. You weren't sure if you would be or not, especially if Joel was still lurking in the living room.

You gave those brown eyes one last look before heading straight upstairs.

You grabbed your remote and flicked on the TV. It was already on the right channel, so you tossed the remote aside onto your bed and flopped back into it. You didn’t actually have anything left to unpack, but they would never have known.

Your phone buzzed beside you, and you lifted the screen to your face to see a text from an unsaved number:

Missin you down here…

You’d never put Joel in your contacts, because in highschool, your friends thought it was weird to even text or call him regularly, but you had his number for years, always just as a backup. You’d known it by heart, now, and nearly had it memorized back then, too, for the times you needed his help.

I’d come back if there was an open seat.

A bit sassy of a response, maybe, but you were hoping he’d understand the hidden meaning behind it… Although, Joel didn’t usually pick up on those things very easily.

Open seat right next to me

Yeah, that’s why I’m up here…

You huffed, realizing it wouldn’t be that easy. The three little dots indicating his next response was on the way slightly nerved you. Maybe he took the last text you sent the wrong way. You didn’t mean it to sound badly.

What’s that supposed to mean?

Means that I can’t keep my hands to myself.

You quickly rectified the situation, although you might have gone too far. He was taking far too long to answer, now. The little dots that before nerved you would now be your saving grace if it meant he would just fucking respond, already. You dropped the phone on your chest, raising up and down in a scattered rhythm while you wiped your hands over your face. Your phone vibrated over your shirt and you immediately opened it.

I can’t either. Stay up there.

You breathed out a sigh of relief. He was thinking the same things you were, and likely was under more stress for it, given he sat right across from your dad, responding to his comments about the game here and there. Your dad had no idea what was happening right under his nose.

Wasn’t thinking about leavin.

This little back and forth went on, the majority of the game, in fact. It was more-so about the plays then on, because you didn’t have anyone to talk to up here.

Joel thought it a bit funny, your dad would say something oddly specific about one of the players, and then you’d text him right after saying the exact same thing. You’d been a product of watching baseball with your old man for just about ever.

“I’m thinking about gettin’ some tickets over the summer for a game or two. They’re always cheaper in them group packages, you n’ Sarah should come along,” your dad was barely paying any attention to the words he spoke, but they came flowing out anyway, clear and cool. “Could be fun.”

Joel knew that there was only so much group interaction he could handle with you, and you with him. It stands to why you’re upstairs, an he’s down here, fist wrapped tightly around your lucky jersey. All out of your father’s sight, of course.

“It could be. Don’t think Sarah’s much for baseball anymore, though.”

He’d hoped that your dad would drop it. Halfway through his third beer, he hoped the man was a little more than tipsy, and maybe didn’t even mean the words he was saying.

“Doesn’t mean you can’t still tag along,” your dad was definitely still sober enough to keep it up, although the way he spoke became slower. Maybe he was getting sleepy.

“I’ll think about it.”

His response was followed by a hum, then a lull of silence that endured the rest of the game. He sat all the while and thought about his predicament a bit more.

He couldn’t stop thinking about you. It was insane… like you’d leeched yourself to the inner workings of his mind and he wouldn’t be able to pull you off without hurting himself, too. You were just upstairs, and had been texting him. You were within his vicinity, and yet… so unreachable.

He’d wished for you to be down here, or for him to be up there with you. Obviously, that wouldn’t go too well with the man sitting next to him, but he’d be asleep soon. If he could just touch you again, just kiss you one more time, maybe his cravings would be satisfied and he could go about his days… but what would happen if he kept feeling the addictive urge to do more? What if he was never satiated enough to quit you?

The game was called, and you’d texted him a small ‘victory’ at seeing the Rangers had won.

It was wrong, and the presence of his friend beside him was a constant reminder that you were his kid, and he would have a final say. Even though you were an adult, he understood this was completely taboo, and you should be off with guys your own age... but he’s made up his mind about the thoughts spinning in his head.

He didn’t respond, though. Your dad stood up out of his chair, his arms stretching outwards with a loud yawn as he took a few steps forwards, clapping his hand down on Joel’s shoulder.

“I hate to kick you out…” your father joked, a low and tired chuckle under his words.

“It’s alright, I got some stuff to sort out anyway.”

They started making their way towards the door when light but fast footsteps could be heard coming down the stairs.

Joel turned quickly, a smile on his lips and in his eyes when he saw you trying to catch your breath after sprinting down here.

“Leavin’ already?”

They both laughed heartily. As if Joel hadn’t been here almost three hours, most of which you spent upstairs. Your heart was beating far too fast for your liking, but there didn’t seem to be a way to stop it. Now that you were present again, in the room with him, you didn’t know what else to do.

“Your dad’s half asleep as it is, if I stay any longer I’ll send ‘im into hibernation,” Joel’s response made you giggle softly, although you withheld most of the laughter, because in all honestly, it wasn’t that funny, and you needed to learn to control yourself.

“He’ll be over next week, we’ll talk about gettin’ you into that job.”

You nodded, turning back to Joel as your dad opened the front door. What were you supposed to do? You couldn’t hug him, could you? That’s too much… maybe just wave, or maybe-

He held his hand out… for you to shake it. A hand-shake. Yeah, sure, fine.

You shook it, but he pulled you in half way, tapping your back once and then letting go.

He just bro hugged you. This man just-

He turned and did the same to your dad, giving you one last glimpse as he stepped out the door. Your dad closed it behind him and you were almost clean out of words to say. That had to have been the strangest interaction you’ve had.

“I’m beat, love-bug. I’m gonna head to bed,” he slung an arm around your neck and kissed the top of your head before turning and going down the hall to the stairs. “Don’t be up too late.”

“I won’t, just got a few things to do.”

You waited approximately ten more seconds before running to the garage door, going as quickly and as quietly as you could through to your front yard. Joel was still on his porch when you got out there, but was about to go inside.

You ran out to the sidewalk in font of his house and called out to him, all the while still barefoot.

“Hey Miller,” you crossed your arms, watching him turn around and lean in one direction. “Did you just bro-hug me? Or did I imagine that?”

He stepped closer to the edge of the porch, leaning against one of the wooden beams closest to him.

You slowly walked up to him, tilting your head to side as you observed his stance. he looked rather good. Hair tousled, body adorning a black t-shirt and some dark jeans. He was a sight, even in the dark light of the neighborhood.

“I reckon I oughta’ try again?”

"Seems like the fair thing to do."

“You’re takin’ your sweet time, baby,” he irked, grabbing gently under your elbow and pulling you up onto to porch once you were close enough.

You smiled to him, and wrapped your arms round his neck, over his broad shoulders. He pulled you close, tucking a head into your shoulder. The anxiousness you felt before fell apart, the rapid beating of your heart slowed, because you were comfortable. You felt immense peace in his arms like you’ve never felt before.

He backed away too soon, but still kept you relatively close to him.

“Was that better?”

“Yeah, I’d say so.”

There was a moment of silence, of contemplation, but it wasn’t stiff, and it wasn’t awkward. It was just there, a nice and pleasant quiet, and you standing still with Joel Miller on his porch.

“You wanna come inside a while?”

Sarah wasn’t home, and wouldn’t be till morning. Your dad was probably passed out in bed by now, leaving the opportunity completely open. You had nothing to lose, no risk to be had.

“Yeah, I think I will.”

He didn’t let you go, he just walked you both backwards until he was able to reach the door, reaching with one hand to open it before stepping slightly to the side to allow you entrance first.

“Ever the gentlemen,” you smiled, walking inside before he followed you in.

“Gotta make up for all that nonsense earlier,” he closed the door, taking your hand and walking to the kitchen. He pulled out a stool at his counter and let your hand fall to your side as he made his way to the fridge.

He pulled out two beers and uncapped them with the tool hanging on the side of his fridge. You think you remember your dad buying it for his birthday one year. You can remember sitting in this exact seat many times before, actually. Never alone, though. Never just you and Joel, and nobody else near.

He slid you one beer an you smiled at him in thanks, taking a sip.

“Last time you had one of these, I didn’t know if you liked it or not,” he gestured to his own bottle, drinking some and setting it down on the counter.

“I don’t know, I think it’s growing on me.”

He looked straight to you, leaning both hands on the edge of the counter. You leaned forward, mimicking his more stern face of features before he said anything else.

“I didn’t wanna say so with your dad around, but you look awful pretty tonight,” he spoke the compliment smoothly, but he had to drop his head after he said it. Seemed that giving you compliments alone in the night was something of a struggle for him, since he was blushing still even when he looked back to you.

“I seem to be feelin’ a lot prettier as of late whenever I’m around you. Think you’re just good for my self esteem,” you paused, leaning back onto the stool to take a drink of your beer. “That, or it's just nice to be complimented by a handsome guy like yourself.”

He didn’t seem to believe you. His scoff was loud and heard immediately after your compliment returned to him.

“You think I’m handsome?”

He’d always thought he was average. Maybe even slightly below. As he got older, that notion grew until he felt that maybe he was beyond trying for a woman on behalf of his looks. Perhaps there were women from time to time that would agree to a date, but there were none since Sarah’s mom who actually stuck around, not until you… but you were different as far as relationships go, because technically, you shouldn’t even be considering one with him.

“Absolutely, I do. Why wouldn’t I?” You were curious, because he was clearly attractive. Maybe you’d spent too much time around the more traditionally preferred young men in dallas, but something about Joel intrigued you that never did with anyone else. Maybe it was the forbidden aspect of what you two were doing, but before that, it was something else. He was rough and rugged, and good looking in a mature way that the boys your age couldn’t mimic if they tried. Those dark brown eyes with little crows feet at the edges every time he smiled were a dead give away to his age, but it was so appealing somehow.

“Don’t know. Guess I’m just old,” he spoke, trying to hide the insecurities that phrasing brought about. He was too old for you, he shouldn’t be sitting here with you you alone and calling you pretty, and yet…

“Maybe that’s a good thing. Too many boys my age are still very immature these days.” And it was very much true. Too young, too immature, and too stupid to see what’s in front of them and really appreciate it. Older men have a tendency to take care of the things they have, because they know that with time they can lose them.

“That so?”

“Mhm.”

“They don’t even realize what their missin’ out on, do they?”

You shook your head in reply. Nope. Not a single one of the younger guys you’ve dated has treated you with the care you know he could. He’s always treated you with care, before… why would that change now?

“They probably figure there’s a million girls linin’ up after me that they can take a shot at,” you raised your eyebrows and drank some more. Maybe it was just a thought of some past experiences, but this beer was tasting better and better to you.

“I pity them,” he said nonchalantly, without really thinking about it.

“Who, the girls? I mean, I kinda feel bad, but other times, I think we all know what we’re getting ourselves into n’ we just try to ignore the red flags.”

It was meant as a joke, but he was being genuinely serious.

“No, the guys. I pity ‘em.”

“Oh, do you?”

“I do,” he nodded, thinking of the right words to say. “They lost you, didn’t they? Biggest mistake of their lives and they didn’t even know. Pity ‘em just for that.”

You didn’t know what to say. You figured the wide smile you wore was doing a fine enough job, but he wasn’t looking like he had anything else to voice yet.

“You think I’m somethin’ special, Joel Miller?”

He set his bottle down on the counter and walked around it to stand right in front of your barstool. He took both your hands and pulled them to his chest, just holding them there and looking to you with the sweetest expression you’ve ever seen from him. He’s so different than what you remember in your earlier years. He used to be so stoic and serious. Sometimes even a little grumpy. Guess time changes things.

“I wouldn’t be gettin’ myself into sum’ this crazy if I thought anything else,” he mumbled it almost, but he definitely meant it. His words rang true in every aspect of the implications they made. This was crazy, it was very unlikely in the first place, but even still, it was happening. Neither of you backed down, neither of you said no.

“If it helps, I happen to think you’re pretty damn special, too.”

He didn’t respond, just leaned closer towards you, nudging his nose against yours, before letting your lips meet in a kiss. it washed rushed and hazy like the last time. It wasn’t forceful or fast or anything of that sort. It was gentle, and it was meaningful. All the years he’d known you, but never like this. You knew this attraction was new, but it was still real. You wondered how many women pined after him over the years, only for you to now gage his attention when clearly no one else did. The man’s been single since Sarah’s mom left, and otherwise, you didn’t know him to be much of a ‘dating around’ kinda guy. Standing here with him, now, you felt such excitement in knowing he’d pursue you, the off limits woman, over anyone else. It was a true victory, or at least you thought so, sitting on a stool in his kitchen while he kissed you softly, his thumbs going over the backs of your hands that still lingered in his.

When the kiss broke, you inhaled deeply, the scent of him so close to you, surrounding you. He was like a warm blanket you just pulled out of the dryer. He was comforting, and soft, and his skin was currently hot to the touch. You could only hope that you had something to do with that.

“Baby,” he breathed, hands letting go of yours and finding a new home at your waist. You left your hands on his chest, feeling his heart rate fluctuating. “Gotta know something before this goes any further…”

You hummed in response, still trying to even your breath intake. He backed away a few inches to be able to look you in the eyes correctly. He’d spent enough time with you in the past to know if you were telling the truth, and he was going to use it just this once to his advantage.

“What we’re doin’, you sure you’re okay with it?” He knew better than to jump into this without clarification. “Don’t want you feelin’ pressured if you’re not.”

“I want this,” you spoke softly, just loud enough that he could hear. “Promise.”

You had thought you’d been the instigator to this, if memory serves you correctly. Even still, you know now that whatever happens, he won’t take it somewhere you don’t want it to go. This show of good faith was something you could put trust in him over. He’s a good one, you always knew that.

And again his lips were on yours, differently this time. It was a bit more hasty and fervent like the first time, but there was still something different from then that you couldn’t quite decipher.

You absent-mindedly opened your legs and he instantly came between them, letting your bodies become flush with one another. His hands ran up and down your sides, every once and a while dipping to your hips and somewhere below on your thighs.

There was a heat between them that you didn’t realize was there until he came so close to touching it. He never actually did, though, and you were both endeared by and upset about it. He was the one making that heat spread, he can’t just leave it there… but he’s testing his limits, and you think it’s respectful that he is.

He doesn’t want to cross any lines… as if this entire entanglement has not already done that. This situation in every sense of the definition, has crossed the line. Him hugging you that tightly on his porch, him inviting you in after dark when it’s only you and him alone, having a beer with some very personal conversation, and now making out with you in his kitchen. They all crossed the line of what should happen between a man and his best friend’s daughter.

“Tell me to stop,” he mumbled against your mouth, almost as if reading your mind. His hand on your thigh drifted between your legs, just barely caressing the heated pool sitting there, waiting for him. It was still very reserved, and you had to buck against his hand for more friction, but at least it was something.

The taste of him somehow made it worse, the feeling growing inside you without an end in sight. The arousal was evident, but you weren’t sure he would be able to do anything about it, yet. You could tell it was weighing on his mind, what was okay for him to do, and what wasn’t. You would beg him if you had to, you just needed more.

He had an idea, one that could allow both of you to explore this dynamic easier, and one that could potentially keep him from overstepping like he was afraid to.

He removed his hands only for a minute, bringing yours up and over his shoulders before he settled his back down below your ass.

“Hold on,” he told you, lifting you from the seat and walking until he got to the living room. From there, he let the space guide him until the back of his knees hit the edge of the couch. He sat almost abruptly, and when you relaxed your weight onto him, you felt the stirring between his legs as well. You moaned into his mouth at the mere size and feeling of it, beginning to slowly grind down onto him. He encouraged your movements, and used his hands to guide your hips as you went, back and forth, getting into a rhythm.

“That’s it, baby,” he praised, tearing himself away for a moment to expel his breath from his lungs at the new feeling. Your head fell against his, and suddenly it was the movement of your lower half taking you over.

He let his hands move over your body a bit more freely, now, but still careful not to make any harsh movements, or grab in places he felt he shouldn’t linger too long. He knew you wanted this, but something inside him questioned how comfortable you really felt… that was until you started doing the same, roaming his body with your delicate touch, making him feel like the most important man in the world. You could have sworn you marked the exact moment he snapped, rolling his hips upwards into yours shamelessly. It was so deliciously addicting, the feeling of his body pleasing yours, and vice versa. His rough and sturdy hands, though still gentle, ravished any part of you available to him.

The air between you was hot and thick, and you could swear that by breathing it in, you were drawing even more arousal into your body.

The motions kept going until there was a quickening of pace brought on by you both simultaneously. You couldn’t mark a distinction of when it increased, you just knew that the speed you were going wasn’t where you started. All you could think of was that your spend was fast approaching, and you wondered if his was, too.

“Gettin’ close,” you murmured, barely able to get the words out for the moans that slipped passed your lips. “M’gonna…”

He heard you, and understood. Truth be told, he’d started getting hard since that moment on the porch, so this was just nothing but sweet relief to him. He kept on, trying to meet you at your finish.

“Let go , baby.”

You had no qualms about being told twice when it came to him. You gave it up easily, the muscles in your body contracting when you felt the wash of utter ease through every inch of you. He tensed beneath you, but relaxed with a groan of relief right after, and you could feel his length twitch in his jeans.

You just dry-humped Joel Miller on his couch. Like a horny teenager. What the fuck.

The dawn of realization was cut short by his hand softly coercing the back of your neck, bring your lips back for him to claim as he did earlier. Soft, and gentle, no rush, no heat. Just that feeling between you both that started this mess.… and it was indeed a mess.

“You wanna stay over?”

-

Tags (open):

@justanothersadperson93 @moonchild-warrior @hopplessilse @brittmd115 @michilandcof @untamedheart81 @just-someone-broken @joelalorian @xybil @yvonneeeee

If i tagged you wrong, or you want to be taken off at any time, just lmk!!

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel x reader #joel the last of us #dbf!joel miller x reader #dbf! joel miller #joel miller age gap #pedro pascal fluff #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal

[prodigaldaughteralice]

So I’m fascinated by the coffee, because I don’t think it affected Aziraphale’s decision in any way.

And I don’t think it affected his decision because his decision was completely in line with his character! I’ve seen the whole cyanide theory thing and it doesn’t make sense to me; he didn’t seem high or compromised in any chemical way. And his decision, as much as it hurts, makes sense with who he is and his (toxic) relationship with Heaven.

So why is the coffee so weird?

Maybe I’m just focusing on it because I was a barista for a long while, but I’m so confused.

First of all it’s slightly inconsistent. When the Metatron orders it (ha ha I’m so predictable my autocorrect tried to turn that into Mettaton), he orders it with ‘a dash’ of almond syrup, and when he hands it over to Aziraphale he describes it as having a ‘hefty jigger’ of almond. What?

Secondly, the Metatron is weirdly pushy about it. He comes up rather close, puts it in Aziraphale’s hands, there’s a bit of odd business where he watches him drink it.

Thirdly, oat milk. Why oat milk?

(I admit to being slightly and entirely irrationally biased against oat milk bc the people who wanted other milk substitutes we didn’t have were generally polite about being redirected to our three options, while the oat milk people were very “HOW can you NOT have OAT MILK” and then the chain replaced coconut, imo the best of the ones we had, with oat. But that’s not the point here.)

Point being why a milk substitute at all? Side-stepping the argument about whether veganism is actually good for the planet or for animals, it doesn’t really make sense for it to be an Angel Thing— they’re not interested in preserving the planet, they want to end it, and it’s not going to be out of respect for the fauna, because the whole “the stars are just there to look at” along with Job’s innocent goats make it pretty clear that this theology falls on the “the animals/everything else is there for the humans’ use/appreciation” side.

Fourth point, why coffee at all? Correct me if I’ve missed one, but I can’t recall a single point in the book or either season when Aziraphale drinks coffee. Alcohol, tea, cocoa, but not coffee. Even when he goes to Nina’s shop earlier in the season, all he gets is a plate of Eccles cakes nobody eats. Him asking if six shots of espresso will calm Crowley down also kind of suggests he’s not very familiar with coffee, haha.

So it’s been nagging at me a lot, and what it seems like to me is… the coffee doesn’t mean anything in universe. But it means something to us. It’s Doylist, not Watsonian. It’s weird. It’s just weird. The Metatron’s description of the coffee is a little inconsistent because he doesn’t give that much of a shit about minor truths. He’s pushy about Aziraphale drinking it because it’s a gift and he needs Aziraphale to accept it and feel grateful, it’s a signifier of the hierarchical dynamic between them. It’s an oat milk latte because that’s trendy and available across the street, and because the Metatron doesn’t actually care what Aziraphale is specifically fond of or interested in— it’s one of those human ingestables he likes, after all.

I think what the coffee’s there for is exactly what it did to me— it makes everything really uncomfortable, even before we really know why the Metatron’s there. It’s the first pang of anxiety as things turn from lovely resolution into everything going to shit. It feels weird and wrong because it’s weird and wrong.

I thought it might be anticlimactic for it not to mean anything in-universe, but… I actually don’t feel that way. What it’s there for is incredibly important, even if it’s just to illustrate where we’re going.

#good omens #good omens season 2 #good omens s2 #good omens season two #gos2 #go2 #go meta #pd alice talks

[tinykonig]

König x Reader Headcanons

this is my first post!!!! im so excited!! i have had an extremely annoying day and just wanted to write these down to cheer me up a bit- hope you guys like them as well :) some of these are self indulgent so forgive me. im writing my könig fic but its taking a while since finals are upon me :/ Warnings: NSFW at the bottom, I put an indicator before :)

He is an extremely active listener. If he’s standing and you are talking to him, he has his feet pointed towards you and his head ducked down a bit so he can hear you better since he’s so tall. Nods along to whatever you say and generally has attentive body language

Remembers the smallest details from any conversation. You tell him a story about your childhood pet and months later he will casually say the pet’s name in another conversation. It always takes you off guard a little

When he realizes he likes you, he panics. Writes frantically in his journal for about 3 hours about it.

You catch on to his little crush pretty quickly, given how he lingers near you more than anyone else and gets shy at the smallest interactions

When you finally confess to him that you feel similarly he is so incredibly happy but flustered. Had to take a cold shower that night to calm himself down

Gives you little gifts all the time (one of his love languages for sure). A drawing he did, a flower he saw on the side of the road, some candy he brought from home, etc

Also collects anything you may gift him. Hoards them and protects them like they are living and breathing

Goes through them on nights when you two have to be apart. He can be extremely sentimental

If you are an artist in anyway, he is your HYPE MAN. Hangs up your drawings/poems/photographs, whatever it may be, in his little dorm room

He melts if you cook/bake him something homemade. Like seriously might get choked up. He loves the smell of baked goods, it always makes him feel right at home. You always try to bake him something on his birthday and he is over the moon about it

Protective but knows you can handle yourself most of the time. Despite his introverted nature he will defend you loudly and aggressively if he senses that it’s necessary

He loves any little weird quirks you may have. You love the smell of clean laundry? He thought it was so cute when you would sniff the shirts coming out of the dryer

OH OH OH LOVES THE THING WHERE YOU HAVE ONE HEADPHONE AND HE HAS THE OTHER AND YOU LISTEN TO THE SAME MUSIC AND JUST HANG OUT. oh man

Accidentally bumps into/knocks you with his hands or arms soooo often. He’s a big boy who doesnt quite have spatial awareness sometimes

He feels so bad everytime it happens and just cradles your face in his hands and apologizing so rapidly (it never really hurts but you like the attention so)

If you dont know german he will give you a “german word of the day” and will say it to you the entire day in context until you guess what it means

Is so excited when you guess right

Not gonna be into PDA it’s too much for him. He’s just constantly your shadow 24/7 in public. The most is having a hand on your back or shoulder so you don’t get lost in a crowd

In private however. Clingiest boy alive (his other love language is physical touch)

Lives for you laying your head on his lap. Plays with your hair or traces your features while he talks to you about his day or a book he started reading

Has the most expressive eyes in the world

I headcannon him as ginger, his hair slightly shaggy (haircuts give him anxiety so he does it himself when it starts to get in his eyes) and wavy

light freckles on his cheeks and across his nose!!!

With his blue eyes he is truly such a picture of beauty

He isn’t super weird about showing his face to you. When you start hanging out outside of work duties he doesn’t wear it, and appreciates that you dont bring attention to it

Sometimes you make a little comment about him being pretty and his face is on FIRE but he just quietly says thank you and has a little smile on his face

Compliments you shyly but often, will not make eye contact with you when he says it

Writes you super heartfelt notes that he will leave you to find because he can better express himself that way

Don’t get me wrong though he has his moments where he can be very very cocky!!

For example: right after a successful mission when he is still riding the adrenaline rush, he is much touchier with you even in front of others

If you need him to reach something he loves that and gets a little power trip. Teases you and makes you jump to get it from him a bit

If he notices that he made YOU blush, wooo boy he loves to tease you. “Did you like that, hmm?”, with a sickly sweet smile

NSFW BELOW

The first time was extremely soft and slow and sweet. He was very eager but very unsure of himself. Didn’t know where to put his hands. You had to guide him and reassure him and he didn’t last very long but it was sweet

He whimpered the entire time

After that, he slowly gains confidence and learns what works for you two

Still likes for you to be in control mostly, with rare soft dom moments

Will try almost anything once!!

Loves praise. Too insecure for degradation and absolutely can’t degrade you either

Loves to eat pussy sooooo much… You have a bad day? He’s on his knees in the shower with one of you thighs on his shoulder. Its your birthday? He got you like 9 presents but the finale is cumming on his tongue 4 times

He fucking growls sometimes when he’s overstimulated and its the greatest thing to grace your ears

Says “I love you” like a chant when he’s cumming in you

Wants to see your face the whole time

Ironically he is great at making eye contact in the bedroom

He has the sexiest thighs in the world

#konig #konig x reader #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare 2 #send me YOUR hcs i would love to hear #könig #könig x reader

[junkdrawerfics]

Swan Sisters (Part 1)

Jasper Whitlock X Reader

Bella Swan and Sister!Reader focus

Request:  Hello :D, I did like to make a request where Jasper's mate is Bella's older sister that lived with Charlie instead of going with her mother, so she was turned into a vampire even before Bella comes back so when she moves to Forks the reader avoids Bella for some time.

Note: I have attempted, though it definitely ran away from me! Part 2 coming soon, because I felt like it was getting too long. I really loved this request, and I hope I'm doing it justice.

Word Count: 3962

Warnings: None that I can think of! Maybe a bit jumpy, also does not really follow the book timeline, so apologies to any hardcore fans out there! There's gonna be discrepancies.

---

“Bella’s gonna come live with us for a while.”

“What?”

Your head shoots up, eyes impossibly wide as you stare at Charlie, your father.

“Yup. Your mom’s hitting the road with Bill, so Bells is going to come stay here,” Charlie explains as if it’s the simplest thing in the world.

“His name is Phil, dad,” you snort, though you still can’t wrap your mind around the news.

“Close enough,” he grumbles as he goes back to his paper.

You let out a heavy sigh, an old habit, and wring your fingers together.

This is really not good. Really really not good. 

You haven’t seen your younger sister since you were turned. It’s hard enough being around Charlie, you had to go on a month long “roadtrip” to adjust, which was actually just a month at the Cullen’s Alaskan home with Jasper. It’s easier when you’re with him, since he helps keep you in control. Everything is easier with Jasper by your side.

But you can’t have him at your side all the time here, in your home. Charlie wouldn’t like that. You cope for the most part, since you just graduated and work from home. Billy and Jake are the only ones who visit, and they don’t exactly smell all that great. Besides them, it’s still a struggle to be around other humans, and the thought that you might hurt Bella? It makes your chest hurt.

“I’m going for a run,” you mumble, throat tight, and you can’t tell if it’s thirst or anxiety. Either way, the buzzing under your skin is only getting worse the longer you do nothing.

“Take some mace with you, there’s been some weird animal activity in the woods recently,” Charlie calls as you head for the door.

“Sure thing.”

You tuck the canister of mace into your pocket despite knowing how pointless it is. You could handle anything in the woods with your bare hands, but if it helps Charlie feel at ease, you might as well.

You get a few paces from the house before you take off like a bullet. The forest whips by, blurry and focused all at once. Every deer, every squirrel, every spider, you can feel it, hear it as clearly as you can hear your feet pounding against the ground. And you can hear voices ahead of you as you near the glassy house tucked deep in the forest.

Alice must have seen you coming, because Jasper is waiting on the doorsteps, dark eyebrows set in concern, jaw tense. You come to a stuttering stop in front of him, practically falling into his arms when he opens them for you. The moment they wrap around you, all the anxiety, the worry, the fear, dims into a low hum, replaced with something warm and comforting and so Jasper.

His question rests heavily in the silent moment you take to compose yourself, to just breathe in his scent. Old books and gunpowder. He hasn’t touched a gun in ages, but somehow it lingers, and you love it. It reminds you that everything turns out for the better, just like you and him.

“Bella’s coming to stay with us,” you confide into his neck, fingers curling in his sweatshirt.

Jasper’s arms tighten just a fraction around you. “You’re scared.”

“More like terrified,” you breathe and pull back to look into his eyes, golden just like yours, like the sun. If you didn’t feel so much like crying, you’d bask in it, but you can’t do either now, and all that comes out is your voice, broken and shaky, “I don’t want to hurt her, Jas. She’s my little sister. I can’t hurt her.”

“You won’t,” Jasper insists softly, hands coming up to hold your face, fingers cool and smooth against your cheeks.

“How can you be sure?” 

“Because, darlin’, you care too much. Under this fear, you’re all…stubbornness.” The corners of his lips quirk up. “But if you’d like, we could take another trip, jus’ you and me. I hear Brazil’s nice this time of year.”

You shake your head, “As much as I love the sound of that, cowboy, I don’t think my dad will be such a fan of me disappearing again.”

“That’s a shame, I sure wouldn’t mind seein’ you-”

“Jas.” You narrow your eyes, and the vampire smirks.

“Yes, darlin’?”

“Let’s stay on topic, shall we?” You chirp, resisting your own urge to smile.

“My apologies, ma’am.” Jasper gives you a mock bow and takes your hand to press a kiss to your knuckles, eyes dancing with mirth as he looks up at you.

This does get you to smile, “You are ridiculous, mister.”

“And you’ve calmed down.”

You pause, check in with yourself. Jasper always seems to be more aware of your feelings than you are thanks to his ability. And he’s right, you do feel calmer. Your mind is clearer and the urge to run has dimmed. The worry is still there though.

You can’t let her figure out what you’ve become, or what the Cullens are. You don’t want to leave Forks, after all, and you can’t leave Charlie behind. So you’ll just have to make sure she doesn’t figure it out. Shouldn’t be that hard, right?

---

The moment Bella steps into the house, you realize just how wrong you are.

The scent of fresh blood hits you like a truck, or perhaps something worse considering you could handle a truck now. A werewolf maybe. It makes you falter, chest completely freezing as you stop breathing all together.

You were very, very wrong.

“Hey, Tinkerbell,” you greet her, forcing every bit of warmth into your voice despite the pain creeping up your throat.

Bella rolls her eyes, but a smile pulls at her lips as she sets her suitcase down, “I told you to stop calling me that.”

“Sorry, but it’s a forever thing, hun,” you chirp and move to give her a quick hug. She accepts it far too awkwardly, which you’d tease her for any other day, but you’re more focused on putting some distance between you. “So, how was the trip?”

Your sister looks at you for a moment, something unreadable in her eyes, which makes you shuffle your feet out of habit. Did she notice the cold skin thing? You’d put on several layers though, and you’ve both always run cold. Maybe your eyes? No, no you’re wearing the contacts. 

“You look different.”

Crap.

You feign innocence, casting her a confused glance, “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know…”

“Your sister’s on a big health kick, she’s looked different since she started.”

Thank God for Charlie.

“Health kick?” Bella raises an eyebrow at you, far too smug for your liking.

“All you’re nagging finally paid off,” you huff, secretly relieved.

“Not on me,” Charlie points out, almost proudly.

This takes most of the attention off of you thankfully, as Bella turns to chastise your father and they fall into an all too familiar debate. She’s still the same Bella, and Charlie is still Charlie. You’re the only one who’s changed.

Something twinges in your long-still heart.

You don’t regret your decision, you could never regret choosing Jasper, but looking at your family, you can’t help but realize how temporary this will all be. While you will end up disappearing with some elaborate story, they’ll keep living, keep aging. They’re human and you’re not anymore.

Another breeze catches Bella’s scent, the fire in your throat flaring back to the front of your mind. You swallow dryly.

Focus, (Y/n), focus.

Without a sound, you busy yourself grabbing Bella’s bags and taking them to her room. It’s all you can do to stop the hunger from taking you away. It’s like you didn’t just feed a few hours ago, like you haven’t fed in weeks. You haven’t felt this bad since you first turned.

If only Jasper was here. It’d be so much easier if you could just tuck yourself into his chest, forget the world for even a moment. But then he’d be struggling just as much as you are. You could never ask that of him.

So you tuck yourself into your room, shouting down the stairs that you have some work to do. Even when Billy and Jacob drive up in the truck Charlie bought for Bella, you merely perch at the window and watch on. Billy must feel your gaze because he glances up to you, his lips pinching into a thin line when your eyes meet.

Is it even possible for someone to look more disapproving? You can’t imagine it, looking down at Billy right now. To think, the man used to be like a second father to you. And then you turned, and suddenly you were on opposite sides of a longstanding war.

You miss him, and Jacob. So much.

All that’s left of that relationship is a curt nod, a small sign of respect, before Billy turns back to Charlie as if nothing happened. At least you know he won’t say anything. That would hurt Charlie more than you.

With a soft sigh, you watch as Bella hops into her truck. She leans forward, obviously looking for something in the house. You lift a hand, catching her attention. Bella sends you a relieved smile, waving back, before she shifts into gear and backs out of the driveway. Off to school, you guess.

You take a deep breath, letting the clean smell of your room fill your senses. It helps sooth the pain in your throat, enough that you can think a little clearer.

You need to stay as far away from Bella as possible. At least, for the time being, until you get used to her scent. She’ll probably notice, your sister has always been more perspective than you give her credit for. After all, it’s no diet that’s changed the way you look. 

You’ll just have to be even more careful.

---

“What?”

You blink owlishly, glancing between Jasper and the rest of the coven to Edward, who looks more nervous than you’ve ever seen him look. In fact, you don’t think you’ve ever seen him look nervous.

“She’s his singer,” Alice explains softly.

“Bella?”

“Yes.”

“My sister?”

“...Yes.”

An indescribable feeling burns in your chest as you cast another glare towards Edward.

I’m going to kill him.

“I didn’t do anything!” He exclaims, holding his hands up defensively.

“She’s my sister, Edward,” You growl, temper simpering.

“It’s not like I have a choice in the matter,” he snaps back.

You lunge for the man, only stopping when a pair of arms circle around your waist like iron bars. You snarl, struggling against the bonds, clinging to the anger burning in your chest when a flood of calm water rushes in to wipe it away.

“Let me go, Jasper,” you bite out, but his grip only tightens.

“Calm down.” His voice is firm, his ability cloaking you further with calm calm calm.

You grit your teeth, eyes clenching as you shake your head, as if that can rid you of his powers. You don’t want to be calm. You want to tear Edward limb from limb. Every morsel of your being is screaming at you to protect your sister, protect your family, even though you know Edward would never hurt someone.

It’s impossible to hold out long against Jasper’s ability though. You’re one of the few that actually can resist, if only for a short time. But eventually, you have to give in. You slump back into Jasper’s hold. The last strands of your fury melt away, soothed when your mate presses a kiss to your temple with a low hum.

With one final deep breath, you turn back to Edward, “So, what are you going to do?”

“I can’t stay here,” he murmurs, voice tight, “Not with what Alice has seen. I’ll go to the Denari, stay with them for a while.”

“For how long?”

“However long it takes.”

You purse your lips and nod, “Be safe. And don’t be long okay? I may want to kill you now, but I’ll miss you.”

Edward flashes a snarky grin your way before nodding to the rest of his family and disappearing to go tell Carlisle. The others disperse as well, probably wanting to occupy themselves after such a crazy day. You huff softly. 

It must be difficult for all of them to be separated from him, since they’ve been together for so long. Even after just a few years, you’ve come to love Edward like the brother you never had, which makes you feel all the more conflicted about all of this.

Instead of facing it, you turn to Jasper and wrap your arms around his waist, chin propping against his chest as you gaze up at him,“How did you feel today? Everything okay?”

“Besides the constant concern from my siblings?” He sighs, and you brush your fingers comfortingly along his jaw. Jasper leans into your touch, kind of like a content cat. “I find myself still struggling with certain…urges.”

You hum softly, “I hope you’re not ashamed of that.”

Jasper perks a brow at you.

“I just mean that you should keep in mind how hard you’re working,” you elaborate, “Give yourself credit for that, Jas. You may have to work twice as hard as them, but you’re doing so well. I mean, look at us. You knew me for years as a human, and I know how hard that was for you, but you never, ever hurt me.”

The blond purses his lips, glancing between your eyes for a silent moment. It’s only when he feels your sincerity, a feeling akin to a warm blanket on a cold day, that the tension drips from his shoulders.

“You really are something, darlin’,” he murmurs, lips pulling into a slanted grin as he ducks down to press a kiss to your lips, “Worryin’ about me when you’re facin’ your own problems.”

“Well, I can always just come here when Bella’s home, you’re stuck in that school. I’m sure she’ll notice me avoiding her, but that’s better than her ending up dead, right?” The words send a pang through your chest.

“Based on today, I’d say your need to protect her far outweighs your thirst, sweetheart,” Jasper drawls, a touch of humor in his tone, “You looked this close to killing, Edward.”

“Oh, I would have. If he even touches her, I still might.” Jasper grins amusedly down at you, despite how serious you are trying to be. You set your lips into a stubborn frown to hide your own smile. “Seriously! I need you to keep an eye on him at the school when he comes back, okay?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good.” You huff and stretch onto your toes to press a kiss to his curled lips. Jasper chases after you as you pull away, but you cover his mouth before he can draw you into anything more. A giggle breaks past your facade when his brows steeple, eyes narrowing at you. “Sorry! But I need to go home, mister. I may have to keep my distance, but goodness knows Charlie can’t cook, and we don’t have food to make anything, so I need to make sure that girl gets something good to eat.”

“You can get there in seconds,” Jasper grumbles through your fingers, grip tightening around your waist as he pulls you even closer.

“Yes, but we both know that I won’t be leaving anytime soon if you start something,” you point out, a teasing smile on your lips, “And it’s not like I’ll be gone long. I’ll come back tonight, okay?”

That’s when the sad puppy look comes out. For being the strong, southern hero type, Jasper is secretly a sucker for some soft attention, and he’s figured out exactly how to get it. He quickly mastered the puppy-eyes once he realized how they weaken your resolve. The little, conniving devil knows exactly how to get to you.

“Don’t give me that look,” you groan, squeezing your eyes shut, “Please, Jaz? I promise I’ll come back.”

“...fine.” Jasper relents, you can feel his grin under your fingers. “I’ll be waitin’ for you, darlin’.”

“I love you, Jazzy.”

His laughter fills you with a warmth you no longer have. You’d be a blushing mess if you could, especially when he kisses your palm, all gentle and soft, eyes alight with mischief.

“You’re going to be the death of me.”

“I already was.”

“I swear-”

---

The next week goes by miraculously, somehow, between you avoiding Bella and Edward being gone. You get away with a few lies whenever Bella tries to talk to you.

Oh, I have some work I need to finish tonight.

My boss is about to call, can we talk later?

Sorry Bells, work is just killing me this week.

Each time, when you have to watch her face fall, guilt claws viciously at your chest. It’s not like you want to avoid her. If anything, you wish you could just sit down, spend hours talking, about school, about boys, about everything. But everytime she gets close, the familiar burning feeling comes back. Weaker and weaker each time, thank the heavens, but you still can’t bring yourself to linger.

Bella doesn’t seem too keen on being patient though, as she corners you one evening while you’re cooking dinner.

“Do you know the Cullens?”

Every muscle in your body goes still, but only for a millisecond, before you force yourself to keep moving, breathing, blinking.

“Kind of! As well as most people, at least.” Not exactly a lie. “I knew of them while I was in school.”

“How about Edward?”

Ah. You recognize that tone. The slight interest, a touch of curiosity. 

It’s exactly how you felt when you first learned about the Cullens, when you met Jasper.

“What, are you into him?” You cast her a glance, eyebrow raised teasingly.

“What? No!” Oh, she’s blushing. Now you really have to keep an eye on Edward. “He’s a total weirdo anyways.”

You snort, “Yah?”

“I have biology with him, and he just…I don’t know. He was so weird, and then I caught him trying to change classes after school. I think he hates me, but I don’t know why.” She looks so put out by the idea, an all too familiar pout on her lips.

“I doubt that’s the case, Bells,” you chime, “Edward’s not that kind of guy.”

“I thought you said you barely know him?”

Whoops.

You smile down at your soup nervously, “I don’t, I just meant that he doesn’t seem like that kind of guy. The Cullens are weird, but Dr. Cullen is a kind man. Dad likes him.”

Plus, you know exactly why Edward acted that way, not that you can tell her. It’s far from hatred, you think bemusedly.

“So you don’t think it’s a coincidence? Him asking to leave the class the day I start? Or that he hasn’t come back to school since?” Bella crosses her arms, staring you down with the stubbornness of a bull. She really is Charlie’s daughter.

“I don’t know what to tell you, Tinker Bell. Maybe he just got sick?” You force a smile, despite the pit opening in your stomach from the lie. “Boys are weird, take it from me.”

“Does that mean you have a boyfriend?”

“And dinner’s ready!” You squeak, dancing right past that question, “Could you go tell dad?”

“Sure.” Bella gives you a look that says this conversation definitely isn’t over, but does as you asked anyways.

You breathe a sigh of relief once she’s out of the room.

Of all the things to start talking about, of course she would pick the Cullens. You can’t blame her, you really can’t. When they first showed up in Forks, everyone was inexplicably drawn to the vampires. Not so inexplicably, you guess. You were drawn to Jasper the moment you laid eyes on him. His quiet, almost shy demeanor did you in, and the accent. To this day, you still swoon over that deep, southern drawl.

And now it’s like you’re watching it all from the start. The disappearing. The self-doubt. The intrigue. Except it’s Bella and Edward instead of you and Jasper. 

“So, what’s for dinner, (Y/n)?” Charlie rubs his hands together as he shuffles into the kitchen.

“Tortellini soup, old man. Low sodium, but plenty of chicken, just for you,” You tease as you put a bowl in front of him.

“Dad, does (Y/n) have a boyfriend?” Bella follows close behind, and you can’t help but quawk at her.

“Bella!”

“She sure does,” Charlie snorts as he blows on his soup, “That Cullen boy.”

Bella shoots you a look, something between a glare and something smug. You cringe away, busying yourself with cleaning up. You’re screwed, you’re so screwed.

“Which Cullen boy?” She presses.

“The blond one. Not too bad, that kid.” And Charlie is completely oblivious! He’s supposed to be on your side here!

“I thought you said you barely know them?” Bella prompts, brow raised in accusation.

Think quick, (Y/n).

“They’re a private family, Bells, and you don’t understand how people are here.” You dig into old emotions, one’s you’ve long since buried. Hopefully it’ll make her uncomfortable enough to stop. “When it came out in school that Jasper and I were dating, people were horrible to me. I don’t like talking about it.”

It brings back every pain seeded in your heart. You faced it all. Jealousy, hateful notes shoved into your locker, obscene rumors whispered as you walked down the halls. Everyone you grew up with, everyone you loved, turned on you, just like that. You had no one except the Cullens and Charlie after that.

“I have work to do,” you mutter, grabbing a bowl of soup to pour down your sink later. “Enjoy the food.”

“(Y/n)-”

“I’m sure he’ll come back soon, Bells. Give him the benefit of the doubt when he does.” You give her a gentle, sad smile. “He is a good guy.”

And with that, you disappear upstairs, every step like a heavy weight, pulling you underwater.

It’s not supposed to be this hard. You’re supposed to be able to tell her everything. That’s how it’s always been. Even when your parents divorced, even when they moved to Arizona, you and Bella never drifted apart. You told her every tiny detail of your life.

Until high school.

When it all happened, you were just so…embarrassed. You’re the older sister, you were supposed to be strong, set a good example, show her that she could do anything. But you just ended up drowning, with Jasper as your only source of air.

So you’ll do anything for him, for the Cullens, even if that means lying to your sister. And it’s protecting her too, you remind yourself as you settle down at your desk. The less she and Charlie know, the safer they are from the Volturi.

You can do that, at least. Protect them. Both the Cullens and your family. No matter how many lies you have to tell, or creative answers you have to whip up for Bella’s sure to be unending number of questions, you will protect them.

And who knows! You perk up, trying your hardest to be positive. Maybe this won’t be exactly like you and Jasper. Maybe this is just a passing curiosity that will let up once Edward comes home, and you can forget it all in a week. Eventually you’ll be able to talk to her about Jasper, just without all the bloody details.

Yah. Once she’s safe, from you and the looming threat that comes with this truth, everything will go back to normal. Hopefully.

---

I'm struggling a bit with this one but I'm really enjoying the concept! There's just so many ideas to go with, and I want to write them all! Who knows how far it'll go haha.

Part 2

#reader insert #x reader #reader #twilight saga #twilight #jasper whitlock #jasper hale #jasper x reader #jasper hale x reader #jasper whitlock x reader #vampire reader #swan reader

[m1ssunderstanding]

Get Back Rewatch 55 Years On: Day 15

The beautiful mess that would’ve been The Beatles plus Yoko Ono plus Billy Preston plus Bob Dylan plus whoever else. Although I guess that is sort of what George went on to do. He really did just want a group of friends that cared more about each other than the product, and that’s what he created for himself. 

John: And the dream I had was you. The camera: zooms in on Paul’s wounded puppy eyes. John: *staring at Paul* d’you get my meaning? Imagine doing that to literally any other human being. I would not be that intimate with my best friend, my husband, my sister . . . anyone. Let alone my ex, (not literally, you all get what I mean) in front of my current SO and multiple cameras. This kind of thing really makes me wonder what kind of insane shit he must’ve said/done when they were alone, especially in happier times. 

George painted his own psychedelic guitar, and it looks gorg. Who painted Paul’s. Anyone know?

How can I Not assume “Stand By Me” is *meaningful* if, firstly, this is the second time you’ve sung it at each other during this project, and secondly, if you look at each other like This while singing it? Then again, when are they not uncomfortably intense when singing together?

“Oh, help me, Daddy. I don’t even know how this thing works.”  He says about the instrument he plays in the most successful band of all time. Paul can play whatever he needs to to get what he wants out of someone, and that includes dumb.

John’s little “Ookaay.” At Paul’s weird carrying-on about his insecurities with his bass playing. It just screams, “You’re delusional and I’m not getting into this right now.” Which is 1000% valid. Imagine being Paul McCartney and second-guessing your bass skills. Reminds me of that quote where John’s like, “He’s an egomaniac about everything else, but he’s coy about his bass playing. Which is stupid because he’s one of the most innovative bass players . . .”

John and Paul nail the harmony on “HoooooohOoOoOme.” And the LOOKs, you guys.

But also the nonverbal vocal communication! It’s one of my favorite parts about them, really. One of the things that reminds me of how special their relationship is. John makes a face. Paul goes, “brroop”. John replies with a beaming, “Yeah!” To which Paul adds another “brrrrip” as they simultaneously continue the song. It’s just unreal. Nobody does that. They are magical and they were right to think they had special telecommunicative powers. 

The lunch orders today are everything you need to know about the Beatles. John: Sparrow on toast. Paul: Boiled testicle. George: Uh, Mal? So, we’ll have whatever the vegetables are, and if they’ve got any cheese sauce for the cauliflower. Ringo: Mashed potato. That’s it. That’s them.

“Then there’s another one,” says Paul, doing a shit job of pretending he hasn’t rehearsed this to sound like some accidental discovery. “Don’t let me down. Oh, darling,” sung suddenly, and forcefully, directly at John, “I’ll never let you down.”

John, beaming like the star quarterback just told him he looked pretty, tucks his hair behind his ears and says, barely hovering in the safety of a joking tone, “Yeah, it’s like you and me are lovers.”

John has of course taken Paul’s game of gay chicken an arm’s reach farther than Paul’s comfortable with, at least in front of cameras, so he can only nod, and brush his own hair back. Stiff, expressionless. "Yeah."

(Of course, Peter Jackson cuts out what eventually evolves into John and Paul singing “we’re a couple of queers” and talking about wearing skirts for the performance) 

Am I the only one getting the vibe that John genuinely dislikes Teddy Boy? Not because he thinks it sucks or anything but because he doesn’t like the obvious similarities to his relationship with Julia? Personally, I love it. It was my anxiety song a few years back.

The original lyric to “fancy me chances” was Not “frock” I absolutely guarantee. 

Love Paul checking on Billy. Love that they're all, even with everything they've got going, making sure he's set up and taken care of.

Sorry not sorry that I’m so thirsty over literally every woman in this show, but. Hello, Pattie! She just walks in, ignores everyone else, kisses him Like That, whispers something, and gets out to go live her own life. Queen. Gorgeous. Obsessed.

George Martin praising his children for "working so well together." I love that he refused to produce them after the white album, not because they were being disrespectful to him or anything, but because they weren't getting along. And that, although he's not producing, technically, he can't stop himself coming in to make sure they're okay. He's such a good dad, literally.

John over here being emo af by himself, playing “I Feel Fine,” because he definitely does Not feel fine and he’s just as nostalgic as Paul, which is way too fucking nostalgic. Poor baby. 

#paul mccartney #the beatles #john lennon #mclennon #ringo starr #george harrison #get back