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#fic: unexpected
kikokus · 1 year
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So I have...finally finished that Sanji/Kaku fic that I started back in 2015...
It ended up being 30k words long and I’m actually pretty happy with how it turned out!
Here.
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ky-landfill · 4 months
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erenthology · 6 months
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Drabble but I had to make it pretty :3
Eren is pretty nosy. When he visited your dorm for the first time, he went through everything in your room, shamelessly. You were lying half naked waiting for him, meanwhile this dude was smelling your perfumes.
“‘Hmm, what’s this? ‘Who’s this in the picture with you?”
“His name is Dave, he was my prom date.” you tell him, growing irritated.
“He’s ugly.” He puts the photo facing down and joins you on bed but sits down instead of pushing your head into the mattress fucking you raw. “are your sheets linen? Is that what you prefer?”
You stare wordlessly, this was not how you expected the infamous collage star to to act when invited into your dorm. You usually meet at his place because he insists to always pick you up and have you spend the night at his. So when you asked him if he wanted to come to your place you instead, you could swear you saw his eyes sparkle.
You put your feet on each side of his shoulders which gets him to glance down in between your legs. “Wow, you want to fuck me so bad.” he tilts his head to the side as if to get a better look.
He’s on his knees, hovering over you as you’re lying down with your legs open “Keep talking like that and I’ll find somebody else to fuck me.”
He raises an eyebrow, “keep saying stuff like that and you’re gonna get punished.”
“By who?” you clench your thighs.
His eyes track the dirty motion of your hips and licks his lips as if to taste you. “only me. why, is there someone else on your mind?”
“I mean, dave did hit me up recently. he’s grown quite attractive.” you like being petty.
Not even a crack of a smile. “You know, when you say stuff like that, it makes me want to fuck you silly.” he delicately strokes your cheek.
Huffing out a breath, you’re about to tell him to go ahead but get interrupted by him tracing your lips with his fingers. “Your lips turn down at the edge,” he smiles, “you have the perfect pout.”
Your breath hitches in your throat, not really used to being treated like this. Eren keeps surprising you and yet you find ways to ignore it. But you have a feeling that he’s fully aware of your antics and is being patient with you.
“So?” you dart out your tongue around his finger. “want to see it wrapped around something other than your finger?”
He adjusts his boner and pushes your legs down around his waist. Gazing into your eyes, he calmly speaks. “you have no idea how much I crave you. every second of every day.”
Swallowing hard, you feel the tension in the room about to snap. He lowers his body and pushes your legs up, folding you in half with his body weight.
Face to face, Eren looks at your searchingly. He’s waiting for you to kiss him, he wants you to show him you want him. So your hands reach for his face, and you brush your lips against his. He sighs a breath of relief, as if he’s been holding it it this whole time, and kisses you back.
Feeling content, he draws back and watches as you’re unable to open your eyes for a few moments afterwards. Eren smiles and releases your legs, then viciously hugs you and starts rocking you back and forth.
“You’re so cute.” he squishes you.
“stop, I’ll cut your teddy bear the next time I’m over Eren I swear.” you threathen harmlessly. He gasps, “first of all, Eldy is not a teddybear he’s my son.” he jokes back. Laughing at his antics, you realize you’ve gotten further involved with him than you might’ve realized.
The inside jokes, he kissing and unnecessary cuddling. As if noticing you’re drifting away, he puts you on his lap and grabs your laptop. “Let’s watch a something.” he strokes your thighs.
“Dibs” you both say on the same time. Turning to face him, you yell “supernatural” again, at the same time.
He stares intensely, “oh baby, you were so made for me.” he draws out enthusiastically. “Yeah yeah, just put it on.” you turn your face back to hide your blush.
Your bodies are tangled together, he holds you as if you complete him. Legs in between yours, arm around your torso, you’re surrounded by him. “Eren, did something happen?”
You can tell this makes him happy. “you care about me.” he smiles cheekily and kisses your cheek. So that’s the reasons he just wants to hold you.
“So, what’s wrong?” you forcefully let out. It feels a bit uncomfortable but you can tell he’s not uncomfortable at all. “Don’t worry about it, just let me hold you.”
“Fine.” you don’t know why you make it sound like you’re irritated, you’re not. But Eren doesn’t say anything, you have a feeling he’s learning how you work and actually understands you. Either way, you let him hold you.
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ereardon · 3 months
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Before I Knew [Jake Seresin x Reader] Chapter One
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A Jake Seresin unexpected pregnancy fic
Overview: On your first night after moving to San Diego to spend more time with your brother Bob, you unknowingly have a one night stand with his teammate Jake Seresin. For the first time in his whole life, Bob has a closely knit friend group and you’re desperate not to rock the boat. But an unexpected and unplanned pregnancy upends your world, forcing you and Jake closer together, against Bob’s wishes. What will happen when you find yourself actually falling for the father of your unborn child? 
Pairing: Jake Seresin x Reader; Bob Floyd x Sister!Reader 
Warnings: Pregnancy, cursing, eventual smut, alcohol
Chapter summary: Y/N meets Bob's squadron, and encounters someone she thought she'd never see again; the Daggers celebrate Jake's birthday where he and Y/N have their first conversation after the one night stand
Masterlist here
You were late. Bob was going to kill you. Your brother was a stickler when it came to being on time. It came as no surprise to anyone in your family that he had gone into the military.
You rushed through the door, purse strap getting caught on the handle and you tugged it free, chest rising as you spun around, searching for Bob. He stood in the corner of the coffee shop, pristine in a khaki uniform, eyes wide behind his wire glasses. 
“Hi Ducky,” he said as you tossed yourself into his arms, breathing in his familiar scent. He felt like home, even though it had been years since you and Bob had lived under the same roof. You had been barely a teen when Bob left for the Naval Academy, and his stints on land were far and few between after. His assignment to Top Gun was the first time he had settled somewhere on a more permanent basis. It’s why you decided to move to San Diego after college. All of your friends had scattered around the country – grad school in New York, policy analysts in Washington, even one friend had taken an internship with an art dealer in Miami. But you had packed up and left Tennessee with one goal. Be closer to your brother. 
“Bobby,” you grinned, stepping back to admire him. Every time you saw him it was months apart and so much had changed, but also so little. He was the same Bob who had thrown you over his shoulder to win the family flag football game on Thanksgiving. The same Bob who had carried your book bag for you when you were in elementary school and he was a middle schooler and went a mile out of his way every morning to make sure you got to your homeroom class safe and sound. The Bob who always picked up, day or night, when you called. The Bob who listened to you weep about your college boyfriend who broke your heart. The Bob who took care of you when you were seven and had the flu and your mom was working a double shift at the hospital and couldn’t stay home with you. 
“Ducky,” he said, dropping your hands. The familiar nickname on his tongue brought forward a flood of memories: spring weekends flying kites in the nearby park, sitting on the back of a tandem bike with Bob on a trip to Florida to visit your grandparents, the fort the two of you made the one time it snowed two feet in Tennessee in under a day in March. “This is my squad. Guys, meet my sister, Y/N.” 
You tore your gaze from Bob, looking over at the table he was gesturing to, a smile plastered on your face. A beautiful brunette with pearly white teeth and a tight bun was on the far left. That was Phoenix. You had received a handful of letters from Bob talking about her. Next to Phoenix was a handsome, bulky man with a mustache in a plain blue t-shirt. Wow, he was gorgeous. 
Your eyes shifted over one more, breath halting in your throat as your gaze slowly crept up. First you spotted the dog tags. Eerily familiar, but then again, a lot of military guys wore dog tags, right? 
Then the chin. Ridiculously cut jaw, slight bifurcated butt chin that you had found weirdly adorable two nights before. Plump, pink lips, puckered up in a grin. You felt your heart sink. There was only one thing left. You raised your eyes to his. Clear, seafoam green. An ocean in two small orbs. He smiled as you screamed internally. 
Bob’s voice drew you out of your coma. “That’s Bradley.” The mustache man waved a hand. “And Jake Seresin. Hangman.” 
Jake. Your stomach did a somersault. 
Last time you had seen him, you had been teetering on the edge of drunk, standing outside of the bar with one hand on the railing, the salty ocean wind licking at the sweat on your collarbone, flicking the ends of your hair up against your chin.
The next moment, his tongue was on your throat, in your mouth, fingers in your hair, pressing your body against the railing of the deck as you whimpered into his lips. 
You had crept out of bed before he woke up. Just a gorgeous, tan, muscular back sticking out beneath crisp white sheets as you tugged on your short dress and called an Uber. You had expected to never see him again. 
And here he was, smirking at you as your brother’s gaze narrowed. 
You had fucked up. Correction. You had fucked Jake Seresin. And that was a major fuck up. 
***
Bob had never been the type to have a huge friend group, or any close friends really. So the first time he called from Top Gun, giddy with excitement, you had been elated for him. Your brother deserved a tightly knit friend group.
Before you had moved to San Diego, Bob had filled you in on the group’s antics. Their flights, their wild nights out, the dynamics. But he had centered mostly on Phoenix and Rooster. 
Jake had conveniently been left out of the majority of the conversation. 
“Well?” Bob asked as the two of you headed back to his house in your rental car. “What do you think of the group?” 
“They’re nice,” you said. 
“That’s it? Nice?” 
You sighed. “I’m really happy for you, Bobby. You have a good group of friends. I know that’s what you always wanted.” 
Bob leaned back against the seat. You were the one person that Bob confided in. He was an open book and you could read him with one glance. Looking over, you spotted his furrowed brow, the tense way he was squeezing his knuckles together. 
“Are you OK?” you asked, turning your eyes back toward the road, slowing down to take a right turn. 
“Tell me you didn’t move here for me.” 
“Then I’d be lying.” 
“Y/N,” Bob said. His voice had taken on Big Brother™ mode. “You shouldn’t have done that.”
“Don’t you want me around?” you whispered. 
“Of course I do,” Bob replied. “I just don’t want you to waste your life following me.” 
“Living in California a waste?” you asked. “No way.” 
“What’s the plan, Duck?” 
“Not everyone was born potty trained and with a plan, Bobby.” 
“You’re twenty-three,” he countered. “It’s time to be an adult and figure out what you’re doing with your life.” 
“You sound like mom.” 
“And we both know she’s never wrong.” 
You sighed. “Just because you got your life together at seven doesn’t mean I have to.” 
“Duck—” 
You cut him off. “Bobby, please. It’s been a week. Give me a little time and I promise, I'll figure out what I’m doing. Just be my brother, OK, instead of acting like my dad.” 
That silenced him. Bob had taken your father’s disappearance harder than you had. He put on a brave face. He stepped up. He became the man of the house. But that meant that he had taken it upon himself to be your brother and your dad. So even at twenty three he still saw you as a child. 
The two of you drove the rest of the way back to Bob’s house in silence. Inside, you were just about to close the door to your guest bedroom when Bob’s voice floated down the hall. 
“By the way,” he said, “I told the squad we’d go out for drinks with them tonight. It’s Jake’s birthday.” 
You grimaced. “Sounds good.” 
“Leave at nine?” 
“Sure.” You closed the door, plopping down on the bed face first. You had moved to San Diego to figure your life out. And of course the first thing you had done was have a one night stand with one of Bob’s teammates. If he had been anyone else in the world you would have been able to avoid him. 
What do you get someone for their birthday when you hoped you’d never see them again? 
***
“Floyd!” 
You turned at the same time as Bob. Bradley grinned. “Oh this is going to get confusing.” 
“Here.” Natasha pointed to the bar stool next to her. “Have a seat. Boys will get you a drink. Bradshaw?” 
Bradley tipped his head. “On it, ma’am.” 
She rolled her eyes as you settled into the seat, crossing your legs beneath the short skirt. “So, Y/N. Bob’s told me all about his little sister. But he left out that you were coming to live here.” 
“I’m not much of a planner.” 
Phoenix laughed. “The anti-Bob. I like you already.” 
“He’s told me a lot about you,” you replied. “And Bradley.” 
“And nothing about Jake I’m guessing?” You nodded and Phoenix took a sip of her beer. “Trust me when I say, you don’t want to even go there.” 
“Are you speaking from experience?” 
Phoenix craned her neck around, making sure the two of you were out of earshot before nodding. “Just steer clear of him. That’s my suggestion. Hangman is fun for a night. But things get messy quick. And he and Bob have a little bit of a history.” 
You frowned. “What kind of history?” 
Just as Phoenix opened her mouth to respond, Bradley pressed a beer into your open hand. “Ducky.” 
You grimaced. “Bobby, you didn’t!” 
He shrugged. “Sorry.” 
You rolled your eyes. “I’m so going to eat your last Pop-Tart tomorrow just to get you back for that.” 
“Fill us in, will you?” Phoenix asked. 
“When she was four, Y/N became obsessed with those little yellow rubber ducks that you put in your bath.” You groaned as your brother recounted the full story. How you had thrown a fit when your mother had tried to take you out of the bath and the only thing to calm you had been to fill your bed with the rubber ducks. And how the next morning that continued, one rubber duck gripped firmly in your chubby hand as you ate breakfast, went to the park, tagged along to the grocery store, went to daycare. This continued for weeks. 
You didn’t want to admit to the team that you still had a rubber duck stuffed inside your suitcase back at Bob’s house. It was a safety net of sorts. 
“Sorry, Duck,” Bob said, squeezing your shoulders and placing a small peck on the top of your head. 
You looked up at him. His cheeks were flushed, he had a massive grin on his face. He was happy. All you had wanted in as long as you could remember was for Bob to be happy. He took your happiness more seriously than his own. It was time you returned the favor. 
“Am I interrupting?” All eyes turned to Jake. He had on a tight black t-shirt and a pair of jeans with cowboy boots peeking out the bottom. He shot a grin your way and you did your best to avoid his eye contact. 
“Happy birthday, Hangman.” There was a chill in Bob’s voice, or perhaps you were reading into it because of what Phoenix had said earlier. 
Jake nodded. “Thanks, man. Anyone up for a game of darts?” 
Bob dropped his hand from your shoulder, following Phoenix and Jake back toward the darts board on one end of the bar. You sat back in your seat, tipping the beer down your throat, watching as they played. There was an easy banter with all of them. 
You finished your beer, the darts game still ongoing. Quietly, you slipped around the edge of the room, out the door that led to the back deck. 
It was quiet outside, just the sound of the waves crashing against the hard sand and the soft hum of the music as it seeped through under the door and from behind the old windows. You laid your fingertips on the wooden railing, tipping your head back toward the moon that was slung low in the sky, feeling the cool breeze dry the sweat that had started to form on the base of your neck. 
“Mind if I join?” 
You turned. Jake stepped out onto the deck, a beer in one hand. He approached the railing, putting the green bottle down and smirking over at you. This time you were far less drunk. You shrugged. “It’s your birthday. Who am I to say what you can or can’t do?” 
He frowned. “Don’t be like that.” 
“Just because you’ve seen me naked doesn’t mean you know me.” 
He looked bristled. “Y/N. I had no idea you were Bob’s sister when we met the other night. If I had known, I—”
“Wouldn’t have fucked me?” 
He grimaced. “You’re the one that left without saying anything.” 
You folded your arms over your chest. “It’s not like you were falling over yourself to drive me home. It was better that way and we both know it.” You allowed yourself to look up. God, he was stunning. Green, wide eyes. Tanned skin, the way his forearm flexed as he gripped the railing. You could remember the way his touch felt as he dragged his fingertips over your skin. You tried to shake the memory from your mind. “Just do me one favor.” 
“Sure.” 
“Don’t tell Bob,” you whispered. “Let’s just forget the other night ever happened.” 
Jake’s gaze lingered. “If that’s what you want.” 
You pushed up off of the railing. “It’ll be better, trust me.” You headed for the door, turning around at the last moment. Jake was still leaning against the railing, watching the waves in the dark. “Jake?” 
He turned, green eyes wide. There was something almost sad about him, you thought. It was a fleeting glimpse, but you saw it. 
“Happy birthday.” 
He smiled. You turned, peering through the glass on the wood door. Bob had his head thrown back in a laugh as Bradley pounded against the piano keys and Phoenix danced. You smiled. Your brother was happy. 
You weren’t going to ruin his perfectly crafted life by saying you had slept with one of his friends. It would be easier for everyone if you and Jake Seresin pretended you had never met before. 
How would they ever catch you in your lie? 
Please follow my library page @ereardonlibrary as that will largely serve as my tag list. Anyone I previous promised to tag is here:
@bobfloydsbabe @blue-aconite @wkndwlff @mamachasesmayhem @mandylove1000 @djs8891 @clancycucumber230 @rosiahills22 @buckysteveloki-me  @kmc1989 @gigisimsonmars @eloquentdreamer @mjisbby @shanimallina87 @seresinslady @seresinhangmanjake @blackwidownat2814 @yanna-banana @bbyvanessaa  @mrsjobarnes @midnightmagpiemama @ingoaliesitrust @rockbottomphilosophies-blog @iangiemae @joaquinwhorres @boiolay @sometimesanalice @spinning-away
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barzysunflower · 2 months
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unexpected with baby’s first all star game? 🥹
loving the baby myla requests!! I have another one coming soon!!!
wc: 1.1k
cw: mentions of sex, lowkey hating on Justin Bieber (sorry not sorry), babies
part of the unexpected series
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"How much do you want to bet Mat is going to change his wallpaper from Myla to that picture of him and Justin hugging?," Liana asked you as you walked back to your hotel after the NHL All Star Draft. Mat got elected to play for team Matthews, which Justin Bieber was the coach for. And Mat was a big fan of his. He hadn't shut up about him being there for days and contemplated for weeks about what he'd say to him if he met him.
"He better not," you replied, kissing your daughter's head who was fast asleep in her carrier. "$50."
She laughed and accepted the bet. At the hotel, you put Myla to bed, who would be spending the night with her grandparents while you, Liana, and Mat spent the night at the after party.
"There he is." Mat's eyes lit up in excitement when he saw you and threw his arms around you, kissing your cheek with a lot of force.
"I'm on his fucking team," Mat yelled over the loud music, his arms still tight around your middle as he lifted you in the air. You shook your head with laughter and embraced the kiss he pressed to your lips.
The night consisted of some good music, some fun people, and you and Mat enjoying a rare night out. And Mat showed how much he loved that time with you, as he never let go of you. Not once did his hand leave your back, your hand, your shoulder, whichever body part he was holding on to, not to go get a drink, to chat with his friends, and definitely not when he pulled you into a dance. That high continued throughout the night and into the very early morning. You couldn't waste those precious moments the two of you had alone and in a fancy hotel room like this one the NHL had set you up in, oh things got spicy.
But as much as you had loved spending the night enjoying jut each others company, you were both over the moon when you picked Myla up from her grandparents' room the next morning and brought her back to your bed for a slow morning before Mat had to get back hockey.
"Hi, baby girl." Mat's morning voice was deep and raspy and made you want to bring your baby right back to her grandparents to slip back under the covers with him. But cuddling with your baby under the sheets was a different kind of satisfaction that you loved just as much.
Mat pressed kissed to her cheeks that had gotten a lot chubbier when she started eating solid food a couple of months ago, making her laugh uncontrollably. She loved to eat. Anything you cooked her she'd eat. And tons of it. Just like her dad. But you were also still breastfeeding her, a sweet bonding moment for the two of you.
The room service Mat had ordered while you were off getting Myla came soon after while you were feeding her, so Mat set up the trays for you in bed. Though eating breakfast in bed with an 8 months old turned out to be more of a hassle than the slow morning you'd envisioned. She was crawling all over the huge bed, trying to throw herself off the mattress every couple of minutes or getting her little fingers in your food, dirtying the sheets. But you live and you learn and you definitely learned that what had once been your favorite way to spend the morning may have to be delayed until she was older.
"Here, do you want some avocado?" You handed your daughter a slice of avocado which you picked from your toast, when Mat finally pulled her into his lap. She accepted gladly, shoving it into her mouth. As you continued eating, you watched Mat interact with Myla, who was making silly faces and noises to make her laugh. But he was the one to laugh when she held up that chewed up piece of avocado to his lips. He made a disgusted face, but he could resist her offer of sharing and bit off a piece of the slice, swallowing quickly.
The rest of the morning was over a lot sooner than you wanted and before you knew it Mat was back at the rink and you barely saw him for the rest of the day. You cheered him on during the skills competition for as long as you could before Myla was over it and you took her back to the hotel room.
The next day was basically a repeat of the previous day, only really seeing Mat when he got back from the game. He slipped under the sheets with you, gladly letting you congratulate him for the amazing weekend he had.
When you were cuddling watching TV a bit later and Mat reached for his phone, something caught your eye. "Mathew." You practically ripped his phone out of his hands and locked it to inspect his lock screen. Your jaw dropped in disbelief and you jumped to your knees. "Mathew!"
"What?," he asked confused then yelped when you lightly slapped his naked chest. He threw his arms up in confusion, so you turned the phone around to face him to show him his lock screen. You could not believe it. You couldn't believe that he had actually changed his wallpaper from a sweet picture of baby Myla to one of him and Justin Bieber.
"What?," he asked again, but this time grinning. "So cool, right?"
"No! You abandoned your daughter for him?" Needless to say you weren't Justin's biggest fan. His music was alright but as a person you weren't a fan of him.
"I did not abandon her! You're so dramatic." He rolled his eyes laughing at you and took his phone back. "It's just a picture and I'll change it back in a few days."
"You better pay me those $50," you said pointing at him, before laying back down beside him.
"What $50?"
"Liana bet me $50 that that is exactly what you would do. That you'd change your wallpaper to that picture. But I had faith in you!" Mat laughed beside you, then pressed a kiss to your cheek.
"You're so dramatic," he chuckled. "I'll change it back."
Once you felt like he'd kissed and sweet talked you enough to make up for it, you grabbed your phone to tamed Liana.
You: I owe you $50
Liana: HAHAHAHAHA
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canisalbus · 20 days
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Your anons are always so different. You either get funny anon (like the 'pantaloons' one, I'm still thinking about that) or existential dread and misery anon.
.
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delulluart · 7 months
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Cowboy Copia for @ramblingoak - go and read her fics!
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kay-jaye · 2 months
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aziraphale is pretty sure attempting to sneak a demon into heaven is a bad idea.
forget the fact that he’s the supreme archangel. forget the fact that the second coming is not going at all according to plan—his plan…the ineffable plan? forget the fact that he and crowley haven’t had a moment alone that wasn’t interrupted by muriel or maggie or nina or a legion of demons or the end of the world.
forget the fact that crowley hasn’t taken those wretched sunglasses off since…
it’s definitely a bad idea.
crowley is wearing a cream-colored suit over one of those turtlenecks with a gold version of his usual scarf, saying something about heavenly bees, but whatever joke he’s trying to make falls flat because all aziraphale can think is, i could appoint you to be an angel, you could come back to heaven, and isn’t that the pinnacle of cruel irony?
he understands why the disguise is necessary; it’s the not-so-subtle rub-in-the-face from a bitter demon squeezing his heart into a fist. it’s the prick of unease in the back of his mind that something isn’t quite right, the floor is at an odd angle, that book belongs on a different shelf. at the same time, it’s the you’re gorgeous he’s longed to return since before the beginning, sitting behind clenched teeth every day for 6,000 years. and it’s the realization that this was not what he imagined at all.
“this the one?” crowley asks, flipping through a file laid out on michael’s desk. “supreme archangel, and they’re still keeping secrets from you, huh?”
aziraphale would appreciate it if crowley would refrain from certain reminders. “yes, that’s it.” he looks around the pillar he’s taken to leaning against, waiting for the inevitable repercussion of being caught in the act. his suit is newer, sharper, grayer, but at this rate, all the worrying his thumbs have been doing to the fabric of the jacket is bound to have him looking his normal self. he supposes crowley sees something similarly foreign whenever he looks at him.
“wait, these are—”
“i know.”
crowley’s frown deepens as he rummages through the papers and documents and photos that aziraphale spent so long staring at, debating if coming back to beg crowley for help was worth the knife wounding his pride, and whether crowley would simply twist it instead and tell him to fuck off.
(he did, at first.)
too many things on the tip of his tongue—another apology, a frustrated yell, the heavy memory of crowley.
“you were right,” he settles with a sigh.
the demon pauses, considers him, then closes the vanilla folder, dragging the projected holograms back into the file. aziraphale braces for an “i told you so” or the self-deprecating laughter that’s made an increased appearance in wake of his leaving. the damn sunglasses render his expression unreadable, a book aziraphale regarded himself as an expert on, but now he isn’t so sure he’d ever gotten the words right to begin with.
then crowley is smiling at him. no sneer, no malice. crowley’s smile is small, two parts sad and muted expectations, and aziraphale feels like he’s being offered something important, more than a title, more than a job, more than the opportunity to fix the unfixable, though he certainly tried, and he’ll be damned before he lets it go. it’s still angry, but it’s so much realer than anything aziraphale has felt up here for months, and aziraphale knows. he knows they need to talk, and even if they’re just as irreparable as heaven and the whole system, he knows which one he’ll be devoted to mending.
“can i get that in dance form?”
and suddenly aziraphale knows what it is to soar without wings.
he doesn’t get the chance to respond before michael’s approaching voice sends him into a panic. aziraphale hopes the click of heels on white porcelain tile will drown out the sound of their own shuffling as he lunges for crowley, who just manages to grab the file they came for, and pulls him around the pillar.
there aren’t many good hiding places in heaven. why would there be? it’s supposed to reflect truth and dispel lies. the good thing about being an archangel, however, is the ability to alter heaven’s layout, although minutely. you want a desk? there. you want to lengthen the hallway from uriel’s office to yours? done. you want a slightly darker corridor leading into the wall a few feet to the left of michael’s desk? aziraphale does.
he almost shushes crowley’s quiet yelp of surprise when he frantically presses the demon into the alcove out of sight, and aziraphale feels the punched-out exhale more than he actually hears it.
it’s deja vu. they’re back in tadfield manor except crowley’s holding a folder containing plans for judgment day trapped between them, and aziraphale’s the one with his hands clutching lapels like they might leave with another stinging don’t bother. the moment is dangerously loaded because fuck, aziraphale has no idea where crowley’s sunglasses got thrown in his haste, and crowley’s looking at him, really looking at him, without dark lenses to hide the way his eyes flicker down or the split-second fear that flashes across them.
aziraphale is crushing their chests together, and crowley is caving under him, and jesus isn’t here yet, but there wouldn’t have been room for him anyway.
“angel,” crowley breathes, and aziraphale knows it’s a slip of the tongue because crowley hasn’t called him that since they last parted ways.
aziraphale’s mind is a constant loop of yellow, yellow, yellow, and it takes every ounce of remaining self-control in his body not to lean forward and do what he should’ve done months ago. he doesn’t have quite enough left to pull back though, so he’s stuck on the verge of never knowing how to ask for what he wants, always too good at backtracking for their own safety, afraid to do it now because he really thought last time was the last time, and he doesn’t know if crowley can take another rejection.
aziraphale doesn’t know if he can either.
any sound of michael has disappeared.
aziraphale reckons this is the part where he’s supposed to say something like, “i’m not nice. nice is a four-letter word.” aziraphale reckons crowley might even agree with him. he doesn’t feel nice; all these millennia of you go too fast for me, crowley, and i don’t even like you.
their noses bump as crowley shifts his head. “aziraphale,” he says. it makes the angel want to cry. “‘s alright.”
so crowley’s catching the bullet this time, and that’s all it takes for aziraphale’s grip to loosen. he steps back—all too familiar a motion—and watches the demon smooth himself out.
“crowley, i—”
“nah,” he interrupts, waving the file in his hands. “talk later, remember?”
aziraphale relaxes, wonders what miracle gave him this and who performed it, wonders which stars aligned and whether crowley knew about them. the angel nods.
neither speaks again until the elevator doors are closing and the angel disguise has fallen away.
crowley, in all of his too-tight pants and infinite patience, doesn’t even look at aziraphale when he says, “dance later, too.”
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writeouswriter · 1 year
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I love commenting on so called “older” fics because personally I have no actual semblance of the passage of time, if you commented on my fic from 2017, I’d be thrilled because in my mind, I wrote that baby last week, that’s nothing
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footballshowrot · 11 months
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having a normal one👍
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kikokus · 1 year
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So back in 2015 I was...encouraged by some friends to write this Sanji/Kaku fic and I decided to keep going with it ~7 years later so because I know some people here were reading it back then I figured I’d drop the link to the new chapter which is here on AO3
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dekusleftsock · 5 months
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Mha fandom when you say that Izuku’s biggest fic mischaracterization isn’t making him twinky:
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WHEN DID BEING A TWINK BECOME A BAD THING CAN I JUST ASK THAT
Like yes, twinkifying one male character in a ship can be annoying—it can perpetuate heterosexual roles onto same sex relationships (“who’s the woman in the relationship/who wears the pants in the relationship?”), BUT LET US BE CLEAR:
TWINKS ARE A PART OF THE QUEER COMMUNITY. THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH BEING A TWINK, MAKING A CHARACTER A TWINK, OR SEEING A CHARACTER AS A TWINK.
WHEN in the ever loving FUCK did that somehow translate into “the twink has to be the stereotypically aggressive one so it doesn’t abide by queer stereotypes”. HOW DID WE GET HERE.
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atinylittlepain · 11 months
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Love the Unexpected Universe. Dad!Joel is life, could I please request a sweet fluff piece of just Joel on a day out with baby Miller? Just exploring, carrying baby on his shoulders and being an absolute girl dad. I just need this man to have a day filled with peace and love!
first of all, i am so sorry for my tardy response to your request, sweet anon, i hope some fluffy dad!joel can make up for it <3
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Unexpected Circumstances
dad!joel x f!reader
joel miller masterlist
warnings | 18+ mostly for some angst, but overall this is very sweet
a/n | obviously, this takes place in my Expectings universe :)
..........................
“You sure you’ll be ok? I can ask someone to cover my shift.”
“We’re gonna be fine, mama. I’ve got her.”
“Alright, um, well, I’ll be home before dinner, and Ellie can help out after school–” He ducks down to silence her with a smacking kiss, leaving her with an easy smile as he hoists Libby on his hip.
“I’ve got it, ok? All you need to worry about is coming home safe to us.” Though she still looks hesitant, she nods, leaning in to press a kiss to Libby’s cheek before quietly murmuring to her.
“Hi, baby, mama’s gotta go for a little while, but I’ll be back so, so soon. And daddy’s gonna be here with you all day, does that sound good?” Their girl’s brow crumples at that, somewhere between confusion and despair. She is only two after all, but she’s whip-smart enough to understand that her mama is leaving for the day.
“You gotta be good for daddy, Libby, alright? I love you so much, baby. Gonna be back so soon you won’t even know I was gone.” Fat chance of that. Joel holds that comment back, rocking their girl lightly as the first cries start to break in her tiny lungs.
“Darlin, you ain’t ever gonna get out the door at this rate. Go, and just, be safe, please.” She looks completely torn, eyes glancing between him and Libby’s pinched face, though she does finally go, stealing a quick kiss from him and laying one on the top of their girl’s head before she slips out the front door. And the instant the door clicks shut, Libby lets out a dizzying scream of what sounds like the word mama, her tiny fists beating against Joel’s chest. If he didn’t have hearing loss before, he certainly will now.
It’s not that he hasn’t had sole Libby duty before, it’s just that it’s a bit rare. They had worked out a decent childcare rotation, and now that Libby’s two, they’ve also started taking her to the community daycare. But a perfect storm of unexpected circumstances has left Joel as the only person able to look after her today. While his woman has a patrol shift, daycare has been shut down until further notice due to a stomach bug traveling around in little bodies, and Tommy and Maria are both busy with town council work. And Joel, well, he happens to have the day off.
He’s got this. Hell, he did it everyday with Sarah. But she had been a daddy’s girl, through and through. And judging by the way Libby’s wailing in his ear right now, this girl is at least a little more partial to her mama. 
“Easy, easy, baby girl. You and me are gonna have a good day, huh? Don’t cry, baby, please? How about we go see the horses? You love the horses.” At that, she calms herself down just enough to let out a shuddering “h-h-horses?” Joel can’t help but smile as she looks up at him, watery eyes and a wobbly lip, her hand fisted in the collar of his flannel.
“Yeah, baby, let’s get some food in you and then we’ll go see them.” 
With most of a bowl of oatmeal in her stomach (and some drying on his shirt) he manages to get his girl out the door, her hand engulfed in his much larger one as he lets her lead the way. He’s going to have a crook in his neck with the way he has to hunch over to let her walk alongside him with her hand in his, but she had been rather insistent on doing it herself, and if there’s one thing he’s certain of, it’s that she’s just as stubborn as her mama. 
She’s all smiles now, pointing at things they pass, naming what she can, always looking up to him for confirmation that he’s happy to give with a nod and a grin. Something like pride swells big and warm in his chest when they pass other people, his girl giving them waves and greetings that they reciprocate in kind, offering a smile to Joel as well. To be a part of this pure goodness is a privilege he didn’t think he’d ever get again, and he finds himself smiling back at folks, an easy “g’morning” offered to their own greetings. 
The spring colts are out in the pen when they get to the stables, and Libby’s eyes go wide, tugging on his arm to hurry them along toward the fence. He hoists her up onto his hip so she can get a better look over the pen, a shriek of a giggle leaving her when one of the horses throws its head back in a whinny. 
“You wanna get a little closer, baby girl?” He swears the look she gives him should be coming from a teenager, the pinch of her brow a total uh, yes, duh expression that he has to chuckle at. 
Before he takes her into the pen, he grabs a pail of feed, setting Libby down and guiding her over to the gate with a hand on her back. There’s three horses in the pen, and none of them pay them much mind as they step inside, too busy soaking up the morning sun and stretching their legs in a lazy waltz. But when one of the colts takes notice of them, and the pail Joel is holding in one hand, it starts to nose closer to where they’re standing. And the closer it gets, the tighter Libby’s grip on his hand becomes until she shuffles behind his legs with a disconcerted whimper, pressing her face into his jeans and wrapping her arms around his thigh. 
“There’s nothing to be scared of, baby. They’re just hungry, that's all. Here, watch.” He gently untangles her from his pant leg, kneeling down next to her with a reassuring palm on her back as he takes a handful of grain from the pail and holds it out to the young horse. The colt takes another step forward, hoovering the grain up from Joel’s palm in no time flat. 
“Oh, daddy, I try?” He grins at her eager question and wide eyes, letting her step in front him to grab a handful of grain.
“That’s it, baby girl. Now hold your hand out flat like this.” He guides her hand out with his own, keeping his other hand on her shoulder. Though she takes a nervous step back into him when the horse comes closer, he holds her steady, murmuring that it’s alright, that he won’t let anything bad happen to her. And the giggle she lets out when the horse does snuffle at her palm might be the best sound he’s ever heard. 
He catches flickers of Sarah in her, in laughs, or particularly sassy looks, and it’s the sweetest pain he’s ever felt, love that grows not in spite of, but because of the memories. His girls, all three of them, and the way they run laps around his heart.
She’s not sure what she was expecting to find when she returned home that evening, but this certainly wasn’t it. Coming through the backdoor and into the kitchen, she sees veggies and other ingredients prepped and ready on the counter for dinner, an admitted relief and surprise knowing that it was Joel “chef boyardee doesn’t expire” Miller who most likely did it. But it’s when she steps into the living room that any weariness is replaced by a thrumming warmth in her chest at the sight she finds. Joel is out cold on the couch, head resting on one armrest and ankles propped up on the other, a light snore coming from his parted lips. And laying on his chest, his arms wrapped firm around her, is Libby, as equally conked out as her dad, cheek smushed against his shoulder.
As quietly as she can, she pads over to the couch, kneeling down and bringing a light palm to brush Libby’s hair out of her face, her girl stirring a bit before her eyes squint open. 
“Mama?” It’s so quiet, so small that she’d like to tuck the sound of that word somewhere between her ribs, something sweet to hold onto forever.
“Hi, baby, told you I’d be back in no time. Did you have a good day with daddy?” Not answering, Libby simply starts to squirm in Joel’s hold, though he still doesn’t stir. But when she presses her little palms into his chest to push herself up, kneeing him in the stomach along the way, Joel wakes with a start and a hard oof, his head whipping around to figure out what the hell is going on. With Libby already scrambling into her lap, she offers him a smile, bringing her hand to rub circles over his chest where she knows his heart is probably racing right now.
“Hey, darlin, you’re back.” The tired rasp of his voice has her smile broadening into a grin, one hand rubbing up and down Libby’s back where she’s clung to her torso, and the other seeking out Joel’s hand, tangling their fingers together with a squeeze.
“Looks like you two wore yourselves out today.” 
“I seed horses, mama.” Libby’s face peeks out from where she had been hiding in her neck, eyes wide and cheeks rounded by her grin.
“You saw the horses? That’s awesome, Libs.” 
“She fed them too. This one was extra brave, weren’t you, baby?” Joel sits up with a groan, swinging his legs off the couch and leaning his elbows on his thighs as he speaks. To her surprise, and just a touch to her chagrin, Libby starts squirreling in her lap, craning around and reaching out for Joel who’s more than happy to take her up into his arms, sitting her down on his thigh. 
“Brave, daddy.” Joel grins at their girl, pressing a quick kiss to her cheek that sets her giggling. She can’t help musing to herself that Libby might have found a new favorite. 
“Did Ellie help out?”
“Nah, I told her she could go hang out with Dina. We had it under control, right, my girl?” Libby nods her head rather seriously at Joel’s words, making them both chuckle at her quick agreement. 
“Hmm, looks like it. How about I get started on dinner then since you guys already got it all set up?” With that, Libby climbs up Joel to stand on his thigh, another oof drawing out of him as she jumps down off his leg and into her lap, just a tad too big for it to not knock the wind out of her as she wraps her arms around her neck.
“I help-ded, mama.” She glances over the top of Libby’s head at Joel, who just smiles and nods.
“Libs supervised, I chopped.” Libby nods, her hand reaching out to rest on Joel’s knee.
“Super eyes, daddy?” 
“Something like that, baby. Why don’t you go get cleaned up with your mama? I’ll get dinner started.”
“I have to admit, I’m impressed.” 
“Well don’t sound so surprised, darlin.” She grins at him around her toothbrush, eyes meeting his in the bathroom mirror. While he had handled Libby well on his own, they certainly make a better team of taking care of their girl, dinner free of tears or tantrums, easily passing her between each other in the midst of stirred pots and chopped vegetables, Ellie coming home somewhere in the middle of it and taking Libby out in the backyard to play before they ate. It’s not that they’ve made a point of it, sitting down together every night for a meal, but they certainly try to, and it happens to be his favorite part of the day. They’re all safe, they’re all fed, and they’re all home, a relief and a reassurance that he knows matters as much to her as it does to him. 
“So I did good, huh?” He can’t help himself, his grin going crooked as he leans against the bathroom counter to look at her. 
“She still has all her limbs, no blunt force head trauma, and she passed out the minute I put her down for the night. Yeah, I’d say you did good.” She swallows his laugh with a kiss, stepping closer and resting her palms on his chest. 
“Thank you, Joel. You know it’s not that I’m worried about you. I just– well, I just–” 
“Worry about her. I know, I do too. But our girl is pretty fucking amazing, don’t you think?” 
“She is, she really is. But don’t go turning her into a daddy’s girl now. Horses, Joel, really? That’s just playing to the crowd.” Her easy smile tells him that she’s only a little serious about what she says, head tilted at him. 
“Oh please, you would’ve done the same if you had her wailing in your ear. Wouldn’t stop crying when you left, darlin.” 
“Is it bad that hearing that makes me feel a little better?” Instead of answering her question, he steals another kiss from her, his hands cupping her face, feeling the arc of her cheeks as she grins into it.
“If our girl is gonna have a favorite, I don’t mind it being you.”
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ereardon · 3 months
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Before I Knew [Masterlist] — Full Length Series
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A Jake Seresin unexpected pregnancy fic
Overview: On your first night after moving to San Diego to spend more time with your brother Bob, you unknowingly have a one night stand with his teammate Jake Seresin. For the first time in his whole life, Bob has a closely knit friend group and you’re desperate not to rock the boat. But an unexpected and unplanned pregnancy upends your world, forcing you and Jake closer together, against Bob’s wishes. What will happen when you find yourself actually falling for the father of your unborn child? 
Pairing: Jake Seresin x Reader; Bob Floyd x Sister!Reader 
Overview:
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
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barzysunflower · 2 months
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WE NEED MYLA AT FAMILY SKATE FOR STADIUM SERIE ASAP!!!!!!!!!!!
pausing the rather spicy fic I was writing to quickly write this 👀
also this video is definitely mat with baby my!!
unexpected series
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“Myla, look at Mama.” Trying to get an 8 month old to smile for a picture, let alone look at the camera, was quite a challenging task. Especially when so much was happening around her. Kids screaming and laughing, the sounds of skates on the ice, the hockey sticks handling the all the pucks. So she was definitely more interested in watching than looking at you for another picture. It’s not like you hadn’t taken about a million of her already today. But she looked so cute in her snow suit and fluffy hat sitting in a carrier strapped to Mat’s chest.
“She’s probably overwhelmed. No clue what’s going on, poor girl usually watches hockey from higher up.” You laughed at her wide eyed face, but as long as she wasn’t actually panicking, you didn’t panic either.
“Maybe she’ll love it when I start skating.” And off Mat went, skating around the outdoor rink. He didn’t go too fast, thankfully, but definitely enjoyed goofing around with the other guys and kids that were out on the ice. You immersed in conversation with the other girls, but still kept an eye on Mat and Myla, who seemed a more chill now, of course capturing lots of pictures and videos.
Mat eventually came back over to you, now his stick in hand, to show off some skills but also teach you some stuff. When you first started dating, he’d given you plenty of skating lessons that eventually evolved into hockey, or more so stick handling, lessons. But outside of events like these you never really got to practice, even though you loved it. You were even able to maneuver the puck between your legs and gracefully get it back in front of you.
“Wow, you still got it.” Mat grinned proud when you perfectly executed that between the legs move and wiggled Myla’s arms in the air for show of celebration. It had been a while since you’d actually handled a puck so you were impressed too.
“Had a good teacher.” He winked, his grin never leaving his face. You skated around a bit more, moving over to the net where you practiced your shots a bit. And if there hadn’t been a goalie in the net, you actually would have gotten them in. Next time.
“It’s a kid! I wasn’t about to score all of my shots on a kid,” you defended yourself, when you saw Mat trying to contain his giggles and you were out of earshot of said kid.
“Mhm,” was all he managed to say before wrapping an arm around you and pressing a kiss to your temple.
Throughout the whole family skate, Myla barely made a noise, she was just chilling in her carrier being such a good baby. But that’s who she was, a very chill baby. And you were more than grateful for that.
One of the girls then managed to take a picture of the three of you, for which Myla showed off her toothless smile as you were able to make her laugh now standing right beside her. The pictures turned out great. The three of you in your matching outfits. Mat smiling proudly, looking at you and keeping one hand wrapped in Myla’s tiny one. You with an equally big smile, making your daughter laugh. And baby Myla drooling all over herself laughing at the silly faces you were making while trying to shove her dad’s hand in her mouth.
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I was gonna write myself a birthday one shot but the world is against me today so have the teaser version I put in the discord chat instead.
Season 4 AU time travel fic where Steve gets thrown back to the moment in family video when Dustin and Max show up demanding the phones. Previously he was 5 years into a grueling apocalypse.
Steve immediately just bolts to the phone in Keith's office and rats Eddie's location out to the police. If the police throw him in a cell and THEN Fred dies, they won't have much to hold Eddie on.
He'll let Vecna kill Patrick, too, if it clears Eddie's name.
I'll write and post eventually but that day is not today.
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