#he’s like..Ezra are you fucking kidding me..

[momowritings]

Love Bites pt. 10

No luck needed.

Baker Fem Reader x Toji Fushiguro

word ct: 15.1k, 11 Chapters

Preview: Toji ruffles Megumi's hair. His son gave him the confidence boost that he needs. “Tonight. I’m doing it tonight. Wish me luck?”

“She’s gonna say yes either way. Good luck,” he mumbles, the sleep pulling him back under. Toji leans down to kiss the top of his head and walks back to the living room where you were waiting for him... 

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Chapter Ten: Yes

Toji watches in the corner as you talk to your brother the whole evening. You try to beckon him over, calling him to sit next to you but he told you that he’s fine where he’s at. Your eyes would dim, just for a second, but your brother and Megumi would pull you back into the conversation so you wouldn’t stay sad for long. The ring box felt like a brick in his pocket. He has no idea when would be the proper time to give it to you, and it didn’t help that his son glares at him whenever you aren’t looking. 

You are just so beautiful. He didn’t want to interrupt anything that you were doing, no matter how insignificant the task may seem… but that means he has been sitting on this ring for weeks now.

Toji first tried to subtly bring up the idea of marrying you to Sukuna first. First mistake was talking about it to Sukuna. The other man bore a shit eating grin that made Toji want to shove his face into the window while he was driving them back home from a mission.

“I knew it. I fucking knew it! This is good, man. You’re finally ready to settle down and be the perfect househusband I always knew you could be. Did you already get a ring? If so, Gojo owes me $200.”

“Why the fuck would Gojo owe you $200?”

“I said that you would buy a ring and propose by Christmas. Gojo said that you’re slow as hell and it would happen next year,” Sukuna boasted. 

“So y’all bet on me instead of doing your work?” Toji shot a glance at the other man but Sukuna just waved him off. 

“Oh come on. Your eyes grow huge around her and you follow her around like a goddamn puppy. Not that it’s a bad thing, but any idiot could tell that you were gonna marry her.”

Toji shook his head. “It hasn’t happened yet. She hasn’t said yes.”

“There’s no way she wouldn’t say yes. She’s just as in love as you are. And I better be your best man.” 

The same sentiments were shared by others in the group. Nanami wanted to be the one to help Toji with his suit and the others, and had a few bridal boutiques in mind for you. Gojo wanted to help choose the venue. Suguru and Choso gladly volunteered to help with any and all other wedding details. Nobody seemed surprised when Toji said that he had plans on making you his wife. In fact, in most cases, they were telling him to hurry up. They have already accepted you and the kids love you just as much. You are family in their eyes. 

So why couldn’t Toji just pop the question? Well he thought that maybe it was because he didn’t have any of your folks to ask. Toji figures that it was customary, even though he usually doesn’t give a shit about tradition. Even then, it was like the universe gave him a big flashing sign to get on with it because the third time he visited Ezra on his own he woke up and gave his blessing. It couldn’t have been more obvious. 

So Toji sits and waits. And waits, and waits, and waits as you reunite with your brother and play with Megumi until he falls asleep in a heap on the couch. He gathers Megumi up, the little kid flailing around like noodles in his arms while he takes him to bed. You try to take Megumi yourself but Toji tells you not to worry about it, instead telling you to get your shoes and jacket ready when he comes back. You give him a surprised look but agree, and on your behind you Ezra gives Toji an enthusiastic thumbs up. 

When Toji places Megumi in bed he feels an arm tugging him back before he leaves.

“Have you asked her yet?” The boy is hardly awake. His eyes aren’t open yet his eyebrows are scrunched together. Toji sighs and rubs his face down. 

“I’m working on it.”

“Stop being a scaredy-cat.“

“That’s real easy for you to say, kid,” Toji chuckles. 

“She likes you. A lot. And I like her too.” 

“I know.” 

“…I accidentally called her mom and she smiled,” Megumi confesses. “A few days ago. I think she liked it.” 

“You want her to be your mom?” Of course Megumi sees you like his mom. You’ve been there for him since you came into their lives, and you fret over Megumi even when he’s not around. Caring for Megumi came to you easily, from helping him with homework to packing his lunch, or taking him with you when you had errands to do. That tender love also extends to Yuji and Nobara, who flourish under your care. Everyone did. 

“Yeah. I think she'd be a pretty cool mom to have.”

Toji ruffles Megumi's hair. His son gave him the confidence boost that he needs. “Tonight. I’m doing it tonight. Wish me luck?”

“She’s gonna say yes either way. Good luck,” he mumbles, the sleep pulling him back under. Toji leans down to kiss the top of his head and walks back to the living room where you were waiting for him. 

“Ezra, do you think you can watch Megumi for a little while? I still have a present to give her,” Toji asks Ezra and he nods vigorously.

“Go ahead. I’ll be fine here.”

“Really? Are you sure?” You ask. You are all bundled up with the same scarf and gloves Toji gifted you on your birthday all those months ago and fixing the laces on your boots.

“I’ll be fine. I’m sure you’ll be back soon,” Ezra grins. 

“Okay. Thanks,” you say, grabbing Toji's outstretched hand and walking back outside. You had no idea what your gift could be, or why it had to be outside. You hadn’t even noticed that you technically weren’t given a gift by him yet merely for the fact that you felt like you have been given so many by everyone else. Spending this holiday with so many people is a million times better than last year. Ezra wasn’t in a coma yet, but he wasn’t around either. He had his own busy life on the other side of the world and coming back home after your parents’ untimely death was too much to bear. You didn’t blame him, but you couldn’t deny the fact that it was very lonely. Now you had a belly filled with a loving meal, belting out to Christmas carols with the radio while Toji drove you to wherever he was driving, even getting him to sing along with you. 

You notice that the road he took is the same road that your bakery stays. You haven’t been there the whole week, one part because it’s Christmas, other parts because Toji asked you to take the entire week off. Usually you only did three, Christmas Eve, Christmas, and the day right after, but he wanted more time with you and you couldn’t say no. Not when he was looking up at you from laying on your chest and his eyebrows tilted up like he was pouting. You were sure that your customers would understand. 

“Watch your step,” Toji says, holding open your door and taking your hand again. He did take you to the bakery, and it only added to your confusion. He ushers you inside to get out of the freezing cold before you could say anything and you stand in the dark of one of your favorite places in the world, second to only wherever Toji was. 

When Toji turns on the light it becomes apparent why he brought you to your store. The place was completely renovated to the layout of your dreams. You always complained how tight the space felt despite having the space to be better, it’s just that you didn’t have the money to fix it. You look back at Toji who nods at you to keep exploring. 

It wasn’t the type of modernization that sucks the life out of the space it’s in with a grey and white color palette. Your store still has character, accents of red and black dancing on the walls and tiles on the floor, now wavy counters, a deep walnut with their rough edges smoothed out but still bumpy to the touch, giving it a unique texture. The two tables you had in the front near the windows were the same. You didn’t notice when you first walked in but even the wording on the windows had changed. It matched the curled logo you have printed out on your boxes finally on the windows. 

You turn to Toji with tears in your eyes and your hands over your mouth. Emotions swirl in your chest. You didn’t know if you wanted to jump into his arms or break down crying. 

“Wh-when did you… how did you—“

“You’ve talked about all the changes you wanted to make since I met you. All I had to do was listen,” he says, gently holding your shoulder to pull you closer. 

“This is insane, Toji. I mean it was only a week.”

“We’re lucky that Christmas lands on a Saturday this year,” he shrugs. You look up at him in awe and let out a breathy laugh. 

“I still can’t believe it.” 

“You wanted this, right? There’s still some things they said need to be cleaned up but it’s safe for you to be here. Do you want to change anything?”

“No! No, this is perfect. I mean, I can’t believe that you did all this for me. I was fully expecting to hold out for a couple more years to save up or try to find a new store. This is… Thank you, Toji.”

You stand on your tiptoes to place a soft kiss on his lips. His eyes flutter close and his arm tightens around your body. You pull away and his eyes are still closed, his lashes fan over his cheeks and you hold his face in your hands. “I love you. This is the best Christmas I have ever had. Not just because of the bakery but because I have you and Megumi and everybody else to share it with.” Tears prick your eyes again and Toji finally opens his eyes again. 

“Can I make it better?” He asks in a low voice, cautiously. A bewildered expression sweeps over your face. How could he possibly top a renovated shop? You give a slow nod since he looks nervous and he kisses the round of your nose, laces his fingers in your hand, then kisses the pads of your fingertips. You giggle in response, still unsure on what “better” could be until he puts his other hand in his pocket and slips out a golden ring. Your eyes bounce back and forth from the ring to Toji’s face, blood rushing in your ears and your heart pounding. 

“I would do anything for you,” he starts, holding the ring up between the both of you. “I’ll spend the rest of my life proving that.” 

You begin to cry. It was long overdue. You’ve  been holding your tears back since you walked in but they could no longer be kept at bay. Toji gathers a heavy drop on your lash line and cups your face. “You don’t have to prove anything,” you choke out. “I want you with me. Forever.”

“Forever?” He smiles. You nod vigorously, whispering yes a thousand times over, and he slips the ring on your finger. The blood red jewel glistens in the new bright lights and more sobs escape your mouth. You smash your lips on his again, throwing yourself on his body and he welcomed it. He grins into your kiss and returns your enthusiasm, lifting you off of the floor as you get lost in each other’s affection. 

“I’ve been wanting to marry you for a while now,” Toji says when he finally puts you back on the ground. Your head spins with giddiness. He kisses you again, and again, and one more time for good luck only for you to drag him back down to deepen it. 

“I would’ve said yes,” you laugh. “Definitely would’ve said yes.”

“Megumi was right,” Toji shakes his head. 

“I can’t believe we’re going to get married. I’m going to be your wife !” You squeal and shake your hand in the air.

Toji couldn’t believe there was ever a doubt in his mind that you would say no. You have always been open and honest with him, and accepted him and everything that he was. It was hard to believe that you came to love him and Megumi as easily as you did. There were only a few vibrant moments before he met you, and there is a clear difference in his time line where you existed versus when you didn’t. He wanted to hold onto that vibrance, that warmth that you brought with you everywhere you went and never let go. He kissed you again, slowly and deep, relishing the feeling of your lips, your body touching his and then rested his forehead on yours. 

“I love you.”

“I’m going to cry again.” 

“My little crybaby.”

“Is my husband making fun of me?” You gasp dramatically, but your arms wrap around the back of his neck and you giggle into his neck. 

“Your husband still has to finish the tour. The kitchen is updated too. No more dented ovens.” 

You grasp Toji’s hand with your newly decorated hand into the back of the bakery laughing. 

<<<Chapter One

<<<Chapter Two

<<<Chapter Three

<<<Chapter Four

<<<Chapter Five

<<<Chapter Six

<<<Chapter Seven

<<<Chapter Eight

<<<Chapter Nine

Chapter Eleven>>>

#minimoe #momowritings #toji fushiguro #jjk fanfic #jjk #toji x reader #jjk toji #x black reader #toji fushiguro x reader #toji fluff #dilf toji #toji is a good dad #marriage proposal #ryoumen sukuna #kid megumi

[daddy-dins-girl]

Pedro Boys as Tops and Bottoms

Explanations under the cut but you know, don't come at me, this is just for fun :P

related posts: Pedro Boys "Every Friend Group Has..." Pedro Boys "During a Fire Emergency" Pedro Boys "Nice Argument. Unfortunately," Pedro Boys "Don't Fuck This Up" Pedro Boys "Dad(dy) Matrix" Pedro Boys & Stabbing Pedro Boys "Lawful/Neutral/Chaotic" Pedro Boys "Feral/Sad/Angelic" Pedro Boys Respond to "I love you." Pedro Boys "Character Tropes" Pedro Boys "Gay/Depressed/Horny on Main" Pedro Boys "Dad/THOT/Bastard" Pedro Boys "bring some Coke to the party" Pedro Boys "Zombie Apocalypse Team" Pedro Boys "I Want a Baby" Pedro Boys "As Babysitters" Pedro Boys "As McDonald's Dads" Pedro Boys "in a horror movie" Pedro Boys "Cinnamon Rolls" Pedro Boys "5 Kids, 3 Chairs" Pedro Boys "Playing Monopoly"

TOP: Dave, Javi and Oberyn. Big time "Alpha Male" energy here.They need to be in charge. Oberyn could maybe be switch if he was in the mood? But even if he was on the bottom he'd be "topping from the bottom" for sure.

BOTTOM: Silva is just facts. Maxwell... come on. Dieter is just too lazy/drunk/high to top. Just do what you want to him, he'll enjoy it.

BOTTOM THAT THINKS THEY’RE A TOP: Ezra, Whiskey, Joel. These three have "top energy" but they'd fold for a bigger Alpha personality. Or they're just so used to taking care of everyone else, sometimes its just nice to be taken care of instead, for a change of pace. Joel's biggest dirty secret is that he likes being Tess' little spoon.

SWITCH: Frankie, Din, Marcus P. I think these guys just wanna please. They'll do whatever you want, happily. WAIT, ARE WE NOT TALKING ABOUT BUNKBEDS?: Javi G and Eddie, my sweet, innocent baby angels ❤️. Never change.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal cinematic universe #pedro pascal characters #joel miller #dave york #dieter bravo #maxwell lord #frankie morales #agent whiskey #javier peña #javi gutierrez #din djarin #marcus pike #silva #oberyn martell #ezra prospect #eddie buffy the vampire slayer

[xdaddysprincessxx]

Pieces of Him

Cult leader Joel Miller x f!reader

Warnings: Dead Dove! Horror! 18+ only! Ritualistic cannibalism, angst, death, blood, cameo from Ezra, made up religion, betrayal, infidelity, p in v, non/dub con (heavier on the non but added dub just to cover my bases), oral (f receiving), squirting, pregnancy/breeding (they literally just had sex so no actual fetus, Joel is just delulu) reader can be picked up, and oh yea Joel is out of his damn mind, pretty sure that’s it. Not beta’d, lightly edited, all mistakes are my own! Moodboard made by me(:

Joel was a young man when he married the love of his life. High school sweethearts. They were only twenty one when Laura got pregnant. Joel immediately got down on one knee and asked her to be his wife. The two had a cozy little house on a few acres, about an hour outside of town. When Laura went into labor, Joel about fainted. He was terrified of becoming a dad, he wanted his girl to have better than he ever did. Unfortunately right after Laura pushed little Sarah out into the world, things took a turn for the worst. She lost a lot of blood and kept losing blood. The doctors took Sarah and pushed Joel out of the room trying to save her. He’ll never forget how cold that hospital waiting room was when the drs finally came out and told him Laura had passed. The loss of his wife took a toll on Joel. Not only did he lose his best friend and wife, he had to raise a newborn on his own. Thankfully he had his brother, Tommy, who helped out a ton with Sarah. But life was not kind to Joel Miller. Twelve years. He got twelve years with his Sarah before the day his sweet girl got struck by a drunk driver and killed. He became a shell of a man, void of all emotion and life. That was until he met a very charming man one day.

Ezra was a gypsy of sorts. Never staying in one place, always on the move. And spreading this gospel about this amazing creator and all the good things he does and can do for you if you please him. Joel met him when Ezra was walking past his house. He happened to be outside when Ezra spotted him. Joel didn’t even notice him until he was already standing next to him as Joel looked out over his big yard, depressed because there should be kids out there playing. Sarah should be out there, running around, while him and Laura cook dinner on the grill. When Joel did notice the stranger standing next to him, he tried telling him he didn’t want whatever he was trying to sell. Joels efforts to shake the man went unnoticed as Ezra rambled on and on. Not too long into the conversation, Ezra told Joel about The Children of Ares. Not like any religion Joel’s ever heard of, he was intrigued. Ezra promised eternal life, salvation. A guarantee Joel will be reunited with Sarah and Laura. There was a small group in town who also followed the same practice. Not long after meeting Ezra, Joel went to a meeting in town and soon found himself deeply immersed in this religion.

Fast forward ten years, Joel is now a high priest in The Children of Ares. It’s grown a lot since he’s joined. And even more so since he’s taken this position of power.

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Strolling down the main street on a Friday night, you, your boyfriend and your three friends are all laughing and joking enjoying the brisk fall night. Halloween decorations line the store shop windows, there’s orange and black fairy lights strung up along the sidewalk, going from post to post. On the corner in front of you is the towns crack head spewing his usual nonsense about “the masked freaks who eat people out in the woods”. You’ve never paid him any mind but for some reason his words have you on edge.

“Hey Steve why don’t you go hit the crack pipe again and shut the fuck up!” Your boyfriend, Liam, yells to the man.

Steve narrows his beady eyes at your group, “You’ll regret that boy. The big man is coming. He’s gonna get you and there wont be a lick of you remaining.”

The unease of his words pours over your body and you don’t notice the man standing there, waiting to cross the street when you bump into him.

“Oh oh I’m sorry! I didn’t see you there! Are you okay?” You quickly say as you bounce off of the man you bumped into. Not only is he tall, he’s practically a human wall. The man turns and looks at you, at first with a scowl on his face. But once he gets an eye full of who bumped into him, he quickly replaces the scowl with a smile.

“Oh it’s no problem honey, shit happens,” he says with a chuckle, “I bump into things all the time. Joel. Joel Miller” He says to you with a smile on his face and a twinkle in his eye as he reaches out his hand for you to shake.

Smiling, you shake his hand and tell him your name. You can’t help but notice how handsome he is. The salt and pepper hair, scruffy facial hair, that smile and those eyes! Not to mention his body! For an older man, he is jacked. You can just tell through his jacket he’s got thick biceps and these meaty thighs. You envision a soft tummy under those clothes. You can’t help but get lost in thought as you stare at the older man.

Joel notices you just staring and let’s out a little chuckle, “Well hey I’m apart of this little group. We’re having a bonfire tonight if you and your friends wanna swing by. There’ll be drinks, food, the works. Here have my card, I can text you the address if you want.”

“Oh yea for sure! That sounds fun!” You say over enthusiastically as you take the card from him and pull your phone out of your jacket pocket to type his number in and send a text. Right after you hit send, his phone dings

“That’s me! Just text the address and we’ll be there!” You give him a big smile as he smiles back at you before nodding his head and giving you a little wave.

Your friends were a little ahead of you, waiting for you to catch up.

“Ooohh someone’s gotta crush!” Your friend Aaliyah said in a singsong voice. The twins, Salem and Violet, standing next to her giggling, covering their laughs behind their hands.

“Oh shut up I bumped into him and he invited us to a bonfire. Besides I already have my handsome, wonderful boyfriend right here.” You say as you look at Liam, sliding your arm around him, looking up at him with hearts in your eyes. Liam snuggles up to your side but keeps his eyes trained on Aaliyah with a shit eating grin on his face.

Scrunching your face up in confusion you look where he’s looking and the unease gets worse. You stand there watching the two have this little flirty stare off.

“Come on guys let’s go check this thing out. It’ll be fun.” You say to break up the tension you now feel between your boyfriend and friend.

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You, Liam, Aaliyah, and the twins all piled into Liam’s truck as you made your way to the bonfire. Joel lives out in the middle of nowhere. After driving for awhile with nothing but corn fields and woods as far as the eye can see, you notice a bright orange flame off in the distance. That must be the bonfire.

Soon you pulled up and turned onto crunchy gravel driveway after traveling on a dirt road for a good portion of the trip. Joel has a nice one story house with a huge yard. The bonfire is behind the house, off a good distance, closer to the tree line but not close enough to accidentally set the woods on fire. There are several cars in the driveway, Liam parked his truck in the grass beside the driveway. As you and your friends got out of the truck, you stood there looking up at the night sky. You could see all the stars and the moon. It was very peaceful, a nice reprieve from the horrible gut feeling you’ve had.

“Hey! You guys just get here?” Some guy yells at you as he walks towards you from the bonfire.

“Yea! We were invited by Joel!” You yelled back

“Well come on back new friends of Joel’s.” He says back with a smile.

You smile back as you walk around the truck to join your boyfriend and go to grab his hand. Except he pulls his hand away without looking at you and follows the guy to the bonfire. Your group walks in silence, music fills the air. You end up in the back of the group, following in silence, feeling left out like everyone is in on this inside joke and they’re all laughing at you but you don’t know why.

Just as your passing the deck attached to the back of the house, you feel a hand grab your arm making you jump, forcing you from your thoughts.

“Hey darlin. It’s good to see ya came.” Joel says in a low baritone voice. Seeing the older man’s face and hearing his voice is already lifting your spirits. And awakening something else within you, between your thighs.

“I’m glad I came too. It’s good to see you again.” You get out breathlessly with a giggle. You literally sound like a love stricken school girl. You have got to get a grip on yourself.

“If ya want something to drink or anything, my door is open darlin. Help yourself to whatever alright?”

Nodding your head yes, a comfortable silence between you two as you share a smile before heading towards the fire.

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Sitting around the bonfire, you laughed and joked with all the others that are there. Joel almost hardly ever left your side, even going as far as putting his arm around you. In a friendly way of course, but your pussy didn’t see it that way. Whenever his big, meaty hands touched you, your body would heat up almost as if he lit a fire on whatever part of your body he touched. Your friends keeping more to themselves, acting stuck up almost. It makes you feel bad you dragged them out there. You didn’t want them to ruin your newly made friends’ night. At one point you looked over and saw Liam and Aaliyah sneak off toward the trees. That bad gut feeling rearing it’s ugly head, as strong as ever. Joel had gone somewhere, so you got up from your seat and followed them as unsuspiciously as you could. Just before you reached the tree line you could see your boyfriend and friend standing there, kissing. Nausea hit you like a truck, the world around you spinning. Your heart dropped out of your ass. You couldn’t believe what your seeing. How could they? But also this is making everything make sense. No wonder Aaliyah always seemed jealous of your relationship. No wonder Liam’s been acting more distant lately. Tears slipped out of your eyes as you turn around and walk all the way back to Joel’s house.

Walking in through his back door, your head hanging down you don’t notice the scowling old man standing on the other side of the sliding door until your shoulder bumps into him.

“Oh! Oh Joel I-I’m so sorry, I-I didn’t m-me. . “

“Darlin don’t you say sorry again. You ain’t do nothing wrong,” he says as his hand reaches out to cup your face, “I saw what happened honey. If anyone’s sorry it’s those two. You don’t deserve that. Not one bit.” His thumb slowly caressing your check as he swipes away a stray tear. You reach up and grab onto his wrist of the hand holding your face. Joel moves closer to you as you look deep into his eyes. Slowly you inch closer to his face, looking at him with heavy lidded eyes before bridging the gap and bringing your lips to his. His lips press back against yours, feeling plush and warm. Lighting up every nerve in your body. You feel him breathe in deep through his nose as he begins to kiss you back harder. You break the kiss just to press your lips back against his, repeating the action several times. The two of you just kissing each other before you pull back and stare up at him with wide eyes,

“J-Joel I- I don’t know what came over me. I’m so sorry, you don’t want me I-“

“What did I tell you, darlin? Stop saying sorry. And don’t you dare say I don’t want you. I’ve been dying to have a taste of those pretty lips since we first ran into each other.” Joel’s hand that’s still cupping your face slides down to your chin as he grips your face between his thumb and fore finger and brings your face back to his. His lips bruise yours as he kisses you deeply, parting your lips with his tongue as he begins to slowly lick into your mouth. You gladly open up and let him in, softly moaning into the kiss, and you enter your tongue into his mouth. Your tongues twirling around each other before you suck his tongue, causing him to growl. His other hand grabs the back of your head, smashing your face even more into his. His aquiline nose smashed into the side of your nose as you continued to passionately kiss Joel. Your hands wrapped around his thick torso, holding him tightly to you, your hands gripping his flannel. Joel bends at the knee as his hands grip the backs of your thighs and hoists you up. You quickly wrap your legs around his waist as he carries you further into his home. You bury your face in his neck and start to lightly suck on his neck causing him to let out this deep growl as his grip tightens. Soon he’s tossing you like a rag doll and your back hits a soft bed. Wasting no time Joel leans over you and begins to take your pants off. You lift your hips to help him and begin to pull your shirt off, tossing it to the side. Now only clad in your bra and panties, Joel just stares at you with dark eyes as he looks you up and down. Devouring every curve of you with his eyes alone.

“Tell me you want this darlin. I gotta hear those words. I gotta hear you say you want this before we go any further.” Joel says as he goes to grab your chin and pull you towards him.

“I want this. I want you Joel. Please.” You beg. Eyes blown wide open as you drink in the sight of this beautiful man in front of you.

Joel wastes no more time and begins to pull his shirt up over his head before unbuckling his pants and quickly getting rid of them. He crawls up the bed, hovering over you before lowering himself. His plush lips meet yours as he kisses you deeply. Your hands raise up to cup his face as he wraps an arm around your shoulders as his other arm reaches down and pulls your leg up on his hip. The two of slowly grinding your bodies into each other, tongues conversing with one another. The heat from his body lighting your body up like the Fourth of July. The hand on your leg moves in between your bodies as Joel finds your sweet wet haven and rubs your slit up and down causing your slick to leave an even bigger damp spot on your panties. Every touch, kiss, grind has you so wound tight. He pushes your panties aside and dips a finger in, gathering your wetness before trailing up to your clit, going in soft circles.

His light touch has you gasping into his mouth. Joel just smiles as he kisses you one more time before moving down to your neck. Wet, open mouthed kisses leaving a trail down your neck, to your collarbone, in between your breasts. He makes his way slowly kissing down your stomach, Joel looks up and sees you staring back at him. Those gorgeous brown eyes staring back at you, you swear he can see your soul. His hands tug on your panties and begin to peel them off of you. Once removed, Joel’s big hands land on your inner thighs as he spreads you even wider as he admires your body.

“So fucking pretty baby. This for me?” He asked as he dips a thick finger in your entrance. Moaning and shaking your head yes, just barely hanging on.

Chuckling, “This sweet little slice of heaven belongs to me now honey,” he says before dipping his head down and giving your clit a couple kitten licks. His hand travels up your body and cups your breast, squeezing, before he pinch’s your nipple, rolling it between his fingers.

“It’s yours Joel. I’m yours oh god I’m yours” your head thrown back as you babble incoherently. Joel smiles into your pussy before his tongue is back, licking wide stripes up your cunt before finding your clit and giving her a few sweet kisses before he closes his lips around the button and sucks. His hand still on your breast rotating between squeezing and rolling your nipple while his other hand has snaked its way to your cunt. Two thick fingers curled up in you have you gasping for air. His mouth and hands alone have already brought you close to the brink of tears. Never feeling ecstasy as good as this before. His fingers find rhythm curling up, hitting that sweet spongy spot inside of you. His sweet mouth never letting up on its assault on your clit.

“R-rrright there!! Oh god right there don’t stop oh fuck please don’t stop j-Joel oh Joel!!!” You start to scream his name as he brings you to the ultimate euphoria. Your cunt spasming as you squirt all over his beautiful face. You grab onto his curls and try to move his head as he continues to lick and suck on you. Barely able to even catch your breath, your cunt starting to hurt from the overstimulation from his mouth. Unable to move his head, you just grip his curls and hang on for dear life already on the brink of a second orgasm. His tongue and fingers are relentless never once letting up. Before you can even register what’s happening, your coming again. Squirt just dribbling out this time rather than shooting out at Joel. Your whole body shaking, boneless as he looks up at you. His face wet as he gives you this shit eating smile,

“That’s it baby give me every drop of your sweet essence.” He says as he admires your sore cunt before running his tongue through your folds one more time.

Joel sits back on his haunches as he grabs your hips and flips you over on your stomach, pulling your butt up slightly as he notched himself at your entrance.

“I think your sweet little pussy is ready for me now darlin. Whatcha think baby? Think she can handle me?” He says with a dark chuckle as he starts to feed you his cock inch by inch. You feel yourself stretch to accommodate his girthy length. Every little bit of his cock sliding along your walls has you quivering. The pace he’s going feels like forever before he hits home and buried his entire length inside you. His cock punches all the air from your lungs, all you can do is fist the sheets beneath you as your mouth drops opens in a quiet scream.

“Fuck she’s squeezing me so tight already honey. Poor baby hasn’t been fucked right, has she? Awe I don’t think she has. Needs daddy’s big cock to stretch her out how she likes huh? Yea she does.” You can hear the smirk in his voice. Your face smashed into the bed, all you can do is nod your head. His filthy mouth has you ready to beg for more. Ready to beg him to fuck you hard. Too see you so pliant and ready to take whatever he gives you has Joel’s eyes rolling back as he pulls out until the tip is left before pushing back in with a quick thrust. He finds his pace with ease, giving you hard, unrelenting thrusts that push you up on the bed as you try your hardest to push back, wanting to fuck yourself back on his cock. But all you can do is lay there and take him. Joel leans down, his chest covering your back as he bites down on your shoulder. You moan loudly as your head lifts off the bed, tilting back. His hands find yours, his fingers interlocking with yours as you continue to grip the sheets. His pace slowed ever so slightly so you feel every thrust, every vein, every inch go in and back out. You swear you might black out from how delicious his cock feels deep inside you. Feeling fuller than you ever have,

“Jj- joooeeeeelllll nngh I-I’m gonna - oh. I-I’m gonna cum daddy fuuuckk oh please don’t stop!” You manage to get out as you move your head to the side, managing a whisper in his ear. Joel moves his face from your shoulder to your face and does his best to kiss you. It’s rather sloppy as you both go to lick into each others mouth, only to barely make it in, getting the sides of each others mouths more.

“Oh good baby good. Give daddy what he wants. Let me feel this sweet fuckin cunt cum all over me. That’s it, that’s fucking it sweet girl oh fuck I can feel her baby I can feel her coming nngh oh.” He moans into your ear as you hit your third orgasm of the night. Your whole body seizes up and you begin to come, your cunt milking his cock for all its worth. Judging by the grunts coming from Joel he’s close too. His thrusts become sloppy before you feel him thrust all the way in and begin pulsing. His thick load coating your walls, you swear you feel him in your womb. He stays inside you for awhile after, resting his head on your back as you both catch your breath and come down from your highs.

He pulls out and moves to lay next to you, helping you to roll on your side. He wraps you up in his blanket before holding you tight to his chest. You bury your face in his chest, taking a deep breath in. His woodsy, musk scent filling your nostrils. Your so spent, sleep finds it’s way to you with ease. The both of you holding onto each other, you eyes finally shut as you drift off to sleep.

💀♥️💀♥️💀♥️💀♥️💀♥️💀♥️💀♥️💀♥️💀♥️

You roll over, trying to find warmth as you start to open your eyes. All too soon it hits you, you slept with the older man you had just met. Joel. You’re still in his bed but he’s gone. Your friends!! The bonfire! You sit up quickly before the memories of what you saw flood back into your consciousness. Fuck Liam and Aaliyah. How dare they betray you like that? You climb out of Joel’s bed and grab a red flannel off the ground and pull it on. The shirt covering what you need it to cover as you button it up a little bit, leaving the top four buttons undone. You decide to go out and find Joel, bring him back to bed. As you walk into the kitchen, you look out the window above the sink and make out the bonfire is still going strong. The clock on the wall reads 3am on the dot. Curious you open the sliding patio door and step outside, wrapping your arms around yourself for warmth. You keep on walking towards the bonfire. As you get closer, it seems like everyone’s gone. Suddenly you notice a robe swishing behind a tree, you decide to follow. Walking into the woods, it doesn’t take long before you find everyone. The sight makes you stop in your tracks. Everyone’s backs are to you, all dressed in white robes with these masks covering the top half of their faces. The bonfire still close enough to give you enough light to notice red. The sleeves and bottoms of the white robes are covered in red and they’re all eating? What looks like red, raw meat in their hands, feasting as if they were animals. You move to go back to the house when your foot hits something and you look down and notice a severed arm. You gasp loudly, putting your hand over your mouth. Jumping back in fright, you hit a solid wall. Turning around, you find Joel.

“What are you doing out here darlin? You aren’t meant to see this. Not right now. Not good for the baby.”

Terrified and absolutely confused by what he meant by that you start to back up.

“I-I Joel please. I-I’m sorry I didn’t know I-“ swinging your head around, everyone has now stopped and are looking your way. An endless sea of blank white masks staring at you. You can see the pile of bodies they were circled around. You make out Liam’s head laying next to a pile of intestines. Human flesh hanging in their hands as they’ve all come to a stop. Your eyes wide in horror as you realize those were your friends. Their bodies laying on the cold hard ground, filleted wide open. Severed body parts scattered about. They were eating them. Actually eating their lifeless bodies.

You turn back to Joel before you trip and fall on your ass. You start to slowly crawl backwards, away from him.

Slowly getting down on his knees before getting into a crawl position, “Now don’t do something stupid honey. It’s okay. I built this community for us. For you. I’ve been waiting for the day my queen came home to me. This is our kingdom to rule.” He says in a low, gravelly voice as he begins to crawl towards you. A terrifying predator coming for his prey. You do your best to crawl backwards while still facing him but he reaches out and grabs your ankle, pulling you toward him.

Thrashing your leg, trying to get out of his hold, your heart beating wildly in your chest.

“Joel please! Let me go! I won’t tell anyone just let me go!” You try to beg, hoping he’ll take mercy on you as you grab onto the leg he has a hold off and try your hardest to yank back out of his grasp.

Joel just smirks at you as he climbs on top of you. His hands grab both of yours and holds them together, pinned to the ground.

“Don’t you see? I did all of this for you baby. I gave you a beautiful home, a community of people who love you. Why can’t you see that? Those others only hurt you, betrayed you. I love you darlin. Always have. I need ya to calm down now honey this is for your own good.” He tells you as you continue to struggle to get out of his grip. He manages to grip both of your hands in one of his as he brings his hand to his mouth. He bites into the fatty part of his hand, drawling blood. He shoves the bleeding hand into your open mouth. The metallic taste hitting your tongue, making you gag.

“Stop it! Stop moving dammit! This is for your own good! You need me! You need my life essence baby! The baby needs it! Take it!” He shouts at you as he continues to shove his hand into your mouth. Unable to get out of his grip or close your mouth, you finally give in and stop moving, letting his blood flood your mouth. Tears stream down your face as you realize you aren’t getting away from this. From him. He’s convinced you’re with child even though it’s only been hours since you’ve had sex. It’s literally impossible for that. Yet he sure thinks so. And on top of that, he’s convinced you belong to him and you need his blood and then there’s the fucking human eating monsters behind you. You aren’t getting out of this alive. Playing along is the only option you have.

“That’s it baby there’s my good girl. I love you darlin. Don’t you love me?” He asks as he removes his hand.

“I love you Joel. I’m so sorry.” You whimper out, only audible enough for him to hear. Joel leans down and captures your bloody lips with his. Kissing you deeply, shoving his tongue inside your mouth. You kiss back, not really having any other choice but to kiss him back.

Joel’s free hand moves down to your cunt, dipping a bloody finger in between your folds, giving you a couple quick rubs on your clit before removing his hand to pull himself out of his pants. His leg nudges your leg to open more as he swipes his cock through your used pussy. After a few swipes, Joel starts to push into you. You’re just wet enough for it to not hurt too bad but it feels so much more intense than last time. The stretch really burns as he continues to push into you. Pinned down on the ground, all you can do is take him. Having been completely occupied by Joel, you had temporarily forgotten about your audience. That’s when you notice a low hum of voices surrounding you. You break the kiss and look to the side and see masked people surrounding you two chanting something in a language you’ve never heard before. Next thing you know, they all get down on their knees, arms extended in front of them, bowing towards you and Joel.

“Eyes on me darlin. It’s okay, you’ll know soon enough what’s happening. It’s a good thing baby. Ffuck oh honey I love you so much. My sweet girl. M-my beautiful Queen, that’s it, take daddy’s cock nngh” Joel tells you as he grunts, bottoming out inside of you again and again.

You can’t help but to grunt as he continues to thrust deep in you. You’re barely able to comprehend anything that’s happened nor the fact you have an audience who also happen to be bowing down and chanting. You are well and throughly screwed.

~Fin~

A/n: I’ve had this idea for awhile, wrote some of it, had a creative slump and had a visit from the horny monster today and wa- la! I hope y’all enjoy this! I love you all and appreciate all the feedback!♥️♥️

Tagging some moots(: - @bonezone44 @multiversed-daydreamer @toxicanonymity @lumoverheaven @wannab-urs @neverwheremoonchild @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @beefrobeefcal @josephquinnswhore @juletheghoul let me know if you want me to untag you!

#cult leader Joel #Joel Miller #pedro pascal #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #joel miller fic #pedro pascal characters #dark fic #dead dove do not eat #tlou fanfiction #joel tlou #the last of us #spooky fic

[erodasfishtacos]

Okay hear me out mama tacos, Mlbrry is so tired and worn out after practice and when he comes back home late at night, Y/N is still up, waiting for him and in the mood and he's like not today, sweetheart, I'm so tired. And thens she's like okay then let's cuddle and he lays on top of her, hugging her, laying his head above her heart and she kisses the top of his head a few times and pecks him on the lips and then he kisses her back and it turns to a steamy make out sesh and they end up having sex and she's like, remind me again, who did not want to have sex and teasing him. I can't think of anything else im gone for him 😭😭😭

Keep This Moment

prompt: ^^^

warnings: smut, language, 18+ minors dni

if you liked please reblog, recommended, like, and come talk to me about it! (this is what motivates me to continue writing)!

i write for FREE - I am also trying to steer away from paetron so everyone can have access my stories - so if you would like to support my work, you can donate here.

*This pic for reference *

-

YN had been in the mood all day, Harry had to be in the city early for a meeting with team over sponsorship and what not before he had to go play a home game.

The kids were all well behaved today, Easton and Cash had baseball practice, and earlier in the afternoon Ezra and Briar had at-home swim lessons.

They all went to bed easy, exhausted from a long day of fun activities, ending with watching a few minutes of the game on their television to see their dad before tucking in for the night.

YN isn’t all that tired, especially because all the kids were in bed by eight.

She took her time taking a hot lavender bubble bath, shaving, and moisturizing her body before laying ontop of their duvet to scroll through her phone in the dim light from a floor lamp in one of her husband’s shirts and underwear.

When she opens up Instagram, on the popular page, paparazzi pictures pop up from today and YN clicks on a slideshow.

She snorts out a laugh at his mismatched outfit and noticed that the floral tote he had on his shoulder was totally hers.

However, she pinches the picture to zoom in on his legs - they just look so pretty, lean and muscular, looking like they’re carved from marble.

He’s so fucking attractive and she notices 750,000 likes on the image from other people who think the same just gives her a sick satisfaction that’s her husband.

She rarely gets time to sit on her phone so time gets away from her, until the man who the internet is fangirling over is standing in the doorway.

His messy curls are damp like he showered right after the game and left before barely drying off, he is already shucking off his hoodie and shirt, revealing his rippling stomach and the vee teasing into the front of his shorts.

“Hi mama,” Harry rasps lowly, closing their door and trailing over to lean down to give her a kiss which she’s already tilted her head up for, “Missed you and the babies.”

“Missed you more,” She replies, her hand wasting not time traveling from where she had cupped his jaw down his pecs and abdomen before dipping into his shorts.

Harry sighs against her mouth, his hand coming to wrap around her wrist and bring it back up to kiss the ring on her finger then her palm.

“Mama,” He rumbles in that slow drawl, like he has all the time in the world, tiredness seeping into his tone, “M’so exhausted, love. Don’t think I could get it up if I tried. I’ll give it to you in the morning, yeah?”

And even though YN felt a swoop of disappointment in being turned down because she was feeling so aroused and energetic, she understood and she never wanted her husband to feel bad for saying no when he didn’t want it.

“Sounds like a plan, come give me a cuddle then,” YN redirects, letting out an omph! of breath when he settles ontop of her, a heavy weight as his tummy moves slowly against her pelvis, his head tucked right against her breasts, “How was everything today?”

Harry rustles around until he’s comfortable, trying to displace his weight so it’s not overwhelming - moaning in pleasure when YN’s hands come up to scratch his scalp lightly.

“Mm, did I mention I missed you terribly?” Harry hums before he adds, “The sponsorship meeting was pretty cool. Gatorade offered me 3.2 million dollars to post three pictures on my Instagram of me drinking their new protein shakes during my workouts. Jeff told them to round it up to four and they had a deal. And they did.”

“It’s crazy how not that long ago we were sat in your frat, trying to figure out how we were going to afford the move to New York and our little baby. Now you’re just having millions thrown at you daily,” YN replies as she continues to scratch.

~~

“H, I just-“ YN shutters through a sob, trying to catch her breathe as she feels an anxiety attack coming on quick.

“Whoa, baby. Don’t cry, please,” Harry replies, startled by the onslaught of tears as he moves her from where she was sitting on his lap at his small desk to his bed, noise coming from all levels of the frat house.

“I don’t know how we’re going to do this. I don’t know how we’ll manage to move and support the baby,” YN wipes her eyes, anxious from them looking in his laptop at apartments in the city.

“I will always, always make sure the baby is supported,” Harry says firmly, his hand coming to cradle her blossoming bump.

“We twenty and twenty-one, picking up our whole lives, and adding a child to it,” She shakes her head, “What if we’re not good parents? We’re young and broke.”

“And we love each other,” Harry cuts in, “We love each other and we are going to love our baby more than anything else on this planet. Our age doesn’t define us as parents.”

“I’m scared,” YN whispers as he kisses her face with soft pecks, his hand massage the now taut skin of her bump.

“Never let anything bad happen to you or the baby,” Harry tells her, “I’m scared too but I know, for a fact, that you’re going to be an incredible mama. Let me worry about the rest.”

-

“We did it, baby. You’re now a rich housewife, all this money is ours,” Harry chuckles jokingly but pauses when YN tilts his chin up.

“I would love if you made a million dollars a day. I would love you if you make 10 dollars a day. I’m not proud because of money. I’m proud of your hard work for our family,” YN says sincerely and with an edge of firmness as she leans down to kiss his forehead.

“I-“ Harry chokes off because he doesn’t know what to say to sum up everything he’s feeling, “I love you and our babies, so fucking much. Would do whatever I needed to do to support you.”

“I know, baby,” YN agrees with a smile against his skin, he tilts his head up further until their lips meet once again - soft and unhurried.

It starts off quite romantic and innocent, short pecks before pulling back, only to be magnetically drawn together again.

Harry readjusts until he’s propped up a bit more, a hand coming to cup her jaw as they share short, delicate kisses.

It feels like it’s goes on forever, which is a good thing in this case scenario, the constant quiet smacking over their lips and shallow pants for air.

YN tries to keep it nonsexual but it’s really difficult when he’s keeps bringing her back in for more and more kisses - his lips raspberry red and puffy from their movements.

She feels it through his thin shorts when he hardens up, quickly and stone solid, perking up against her - he tries to ignore it but after YN tests the waters by licking at his tongue, he groans and grinds down into her center - only covered by flimsy cotton.

His skin is hot, like a space heater as he doesn’t let her up for air, his tongue pushing its way into her mouth - wriggling down until his cock is fitting right into her plush folds through the fabric, his head bumping at her clit.

There’s no deadline, no hurry as they grinds together, YN spreading open more and allow Harry’s lips to travel down her neck as he keeps a steady rhythm of grinding against her.

She doesn’t know what makes it so sexy but it just is when he bites at her nipples through her tee shirt, pulling them between his teeth before sucking the shirt material damp.

It made her want, crave his mouth on her nipples, feel the smooth laps of his tongue or harsh nips, anything.

“You’re everything I want,” Harry murmurs against her belly, rucking the shirt up to lick and suck at the plush she had, “Just want to be on you, every second of the day.”

“You’re teasing,” YN whines softly, eyes twinkling down at her husband who is thumbing at a line of stretch marks near her navel.

“M’not,” Harry dismisses with a shake of his head, his mouth slowly moves up her belly - goosebumps in their wake as he begins to lay kisses on the underside of her breasts.

She felt so wet that she had to be dripping onto the sheets, her chest was pounding, and her blood pressure was rising from the arousal of it all.

“Please, H,” YN finally gasps after his lips and tongue ghost their way around her cleavage, breath tickling over her nipples, his teeth grazing against the risen tender skin of her areola.

“Whassit?” He mumbles, mouth not moving from her skin, lost in whatever his exploration was of her body like he owned it - he did.

“Just need your mouth on ‘em,” She huffs, squirming her hips a little bit to get the point across to her husband.

“Sure baby,” Harry agrees distractedly, his lips moving to finally wrap around her peak and his hand coming up to roll and pinch the other one.

And he fucking tortures her with it.

She’s stuck between a figurative heaven and hell.

Heaven is the fact that he’s been showing attention to her chest for the last twenty minutes but hell because his hand doesn’t even move to touch her cunt.

When she tries to sneak her own hand down into the front of her panties, Harry frowns at her, and guides her hand back up, “S’not time for that. Just let me touch you, love on you.”

She could tell how tired he was by how lazy and unrushed his movements were but yet somehow focused at the same time.

Her tits were scattered with lovebites by the time he was done, her nipples sore with achingly good pleasure, and her core was a wet mess.

Harry during this whole time would intermittently rut his hips against her, to relieve a bit of friction before settling back down.

She needed more.

She was too wired to let him continue onslaught of teasing which she knew he would, especially when his hand finally moved fo her cunt to roll her clit through her underwear with no urgency.

“Wet f’me,” Harry rasps as he moves down to pet at her core through the fabric, bumping against her like he’s trying to get his fingers in, “Gonna let me tease this pretty cunt?”

That’s all she needs to her before she was knocking him off her and onto his back, his went easily because he was surprised by the sudden movement and let out a low, pleased laugh.

This was euphoric.

She has to return the teasing just a bit, she shimmies off his shorts and briefs, and he’s so hard it look painful, fuck he was big.

She ducks down, purposefully avoiding his cock as she sucks mean, harsh hickeys into his sensitive thighs which make him mewl in pained pleasure.

YN knew his hands were aching to wrap in her hair and guide her warm mouth to him but he resisted, clenching his fists in the sheets.

“Give me more, mama. Come on, be a good girl,” He goads instead in his most alluring, gravely tone - hips twitching impatiently.

“More?” YN smirks a bit wickedly, she moves to his balls, lapping gently at where they’re swollen and snug at his base but makes him audibly moan when she ducks down to trace her tongue down the sensitive skin and back to his hole.

“Fuckin’ Christ, how are you so fuckin’ hot? How’d I land you, baby,” Harry babbles, lifting his hips a bit so that YN can have better access to him and he’s now so so wired.

“M’gonna, doll. You’re gonna make me come, just please. M’gonna come for you,” Harry pants out desperately and she takes pity, wrap a hand around him and giving a few hard pumps before he comes, ropes decorating his stomach, “You’re perfect. Make me feel s’fucking good.”

“H,” YN whines as she sits back up, ready for her own release now.

“Of course, shush up. Know m’gonna get you off, sweet thing,” He titters, still out of breathe when he pushes her back and tugs off her underwear.

“Fuckin’ hell, look at her,” Harry breathes out in awe when he sees how wet her folds are with arousal, how pretty she spreads open like a flower, “S’pretty, darling.”

She was so sensitive, so puffy that it only takes a few directed licks to her clit and she was bearing down, moaning through her climax.

When Harry pops back up afterwards, a sleepy smile on his face, he swipes the hair off her forehead, and murmurs, “Baby, I’m actually so fuckin’ tired now. Will you wipe me down? Love of my life, y’know that?”

YN giggles, kissing his nose before shimmying off the bed, and padding to the bathroom to warm up a rag to wash off his belly.

By the time she washes herself off and brings the cloth out, he’s splayed out like a starfish, stark naked, and snoring.

YN grabs a clean pair of briefs and shimmies them onto his body which makes him grumble and whine as she disturbs his slumber after she wiped him clean.

Days like this. She wishes she could save and keep in a box for when they’re older, being so in love and so happy and young.

#mlbrry #mlb!harry blurbs #mlb!verse #mlb!harry masterlist #erodasfishtacos masterlist #harry styles writing #harry styles #update #harry styles masterlist #harry styles fic rec #harry styles x reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles smut #dad harry styles #dad!harry #husband!harry #harry styles husband #harry styles writing request #fic recommendation #harry styles imagine #harry styles drabble #love on tour #harry’s house #hslot!harry #harry styles love on tour #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #erodasfishtacos

[afictionaladventure16]

Reader being Pedro’s co-star (maybe along Bella in TLOU or if not in another show/film) and him basically taking her in after finding out she’s not being well taken care of in her home, so he becomes her surrogate dad

It's Gonna Be Okay (Pedro Pascal x Teen!Reader)

Pedro Pascal Masterlist

Word Count: 5,091

A/N: I may have took this request and ran with it.... but uhhhh I hope this is somewhat what you least expected... enjoy!

Warnings: mentions of neglect and abuse.

If it were up to you, you wouldn’t have taken up acting when you were younger. You were forced into it at a young age, it was so you could help pay bills because your father was on disability and your mother didn’t want to give up her position as a housewife. You eventually fell in love with acting, being able to just escape your life and family and just be someone completely different. 

You’d had been getting bigger roles now that you were older. At only age fourteen, you had gotten many roles in shows and movies. You were proud of yourself. Someone had to be. You were currently working on another film after just finished working on the Prospect, which starred Pedro Pascal as Ezra. You played Cee, a girl who is traveling planets with her father. This film you were starring in now was a small indie film, which had been something different than what you usually worked on. That didn’t mean that you didn’t like it, you liked the challenge. 

You walked into your trailer after shooting a couple of scenes. Your mom was on the phone with god only knows who. For the longest, you wished your relationship with your parents was better. You wished they could be proud of you and that maybe they did this because they wanted a better life for you. But that wasn’t the case, they were only thinking for themselves. 

Your mom hung up the phone, “your father and I were thinking about buying a new house.” 

“We just bought a house,” you stated as you began to undress from your wardrobe for your character and into some regular clothes. 

“Well, I think we could use something new. Plus with the money you made from your previous role, we can afford it?” 

You let out a deep sigh, “but that’s my money, shouldn’t I have a say?” 

“Your money? Sweetie, it’s our money.” 

“I was the one who did all the work, my name is on the checks!” 

“Don’t raise your voice at me, you know the money goes to an account that has me and your father as the trustees.” You couldn’t take it anymore. You’ve taken it for years and years, them using you to get money and you knew eventually you would be left with nothing. 

“It’s my money, that money is supposed to be left untouched.” 

Your mom let out a deep breath, “Well, it’s the least you could do for all we do for you.” 

“All you do for me? What? Sit around and not do anything!?”

She began to rub her temples, “sometimes I wish I never had you,” she spat. 

“If you hate me so much then why did you ever have me?” You asked, tears beginning to well up in your eyes.

“We had you because we thought you could fix us!” 

“So what I’m just some kid you have when your marriage is falling apart? So if that doesn’t work you can blame the kid? You were better off getting a dog!” 

“Maybe we were better getting a dog! At least the dog would listen and be more appreciative! And you know what? You shouldn’t even be talking to me like that, I am your mother!” 

“Barely! I only see you when it’s convenient! All I am to you is an ATM!” 

“You are so ungrateful, you have no idea what we do so you could be some superstar!” 

“You didn’t do shit! I did this! I walked myself to auditions! I took the bus to film locations! I did it!” You yelled, allowing yourself to finally yell out everything you had been holding back. 

“Fuck this,” she said as she walked away to grab her bag. 

“I’m not going home,” you said. 

“Ni te quiero ahi de todos modos,” (I don’t want you there anyway) she hissed as she walked out of the trailer. You didn’t know where you could go if you couldn’t go home. If you could even call that place home. 

You felt the warm tears make their way down your cheeks, and you were quick to wipe them away, “I don’t need them,” you said to yourself. You grabbed your backpack of essentials, you usually carried it around because it was stuff you needed for before and after shoots and now it was convenient because you couldn’t go home. 

When you walked out of your trailer, almost everyone had gone home for the night. Most of the shooting took place in Los Angeles which was where more than half the cast and crew lived. The others rented places to live in until the end of the shoot. 

You didn’t know where to go, but your feet seemed to lead you the way to the bus stop. It was almost like you were on autopilot to the only place you knew you’d welcomed. 

Once you had gotten on the bus, you noticed dark clouds beginning to cover the sunset sky. Usually, you would be happy to see that it was about to rain, but since you were stuck in a bus and would eventually have to walk the rest of the way to your destination, you were feeling the opposite to see the clouds. 

You had ridden the bus for a good twenty minutes, this was one of the routes you got to know over the past couple of months since filming. You’d ride the bus for twenty minutes and then walk the rest of the way, which was another twenty minutes. 

It only sprinkled during the walk to your destination. But it didn’t bother you as much as you thought it would. The whole walk to the neighborhood, you couldn’t help but wonder what life could have been if maybe your parents actually cared. What will life become if this continued? You couldn’t handle the way they treated you as if you were just an employee, you yearned for that feeling of being loved by your parents. 

You couldn’t quite remember when exactly it started, you thought it could’ve been when your dad got injured at work, but even then you felt it was before that. You admit, that the words your mother said hurt. You were only created to fix their marriage and even that couldn’t fix it because it was obvious to everyone that it was falling apart day by day. 

Once you had gotten to the neighborhood, you were glad that they didn’t live in a gated community or else this walk would’ve been for nothing. You ran the rest of the way to the house, running up the steps, and knocking on the door. 

You stood in silence for a few seconds until the door opened, “Y/N? What are you doing here?” Pedro asked in shock, “Mija, you’re all soaked, get in.” Pedro pulled you into the house, before running off to grab you a towel. 

“I’m sorry, I should’ve called,” you began to say. 

He chuckled, “Yeah, I could’ve gotten you a ride.” 

That was true, but part of you just wanted to be left alone. “Sorry,” you said again. 

Pedro wrapped the towel around you, “Take your shoes off, make yourself at home.” You never understood that phrase, maybe because you never knew what a home should feel like. You cleared your throat as you took your shoes off, placing them by the door. You followed Pedro into the living room, “You came just in time, I was gonna start a movie marathon…” Pedro looked over at you standing by the couch. “Pues, mija sit down.” 

“I don’t want to ruin the couch,” you gestured to your wet clothes. Pedro could care less if you got his couch a little wet, but he probably thought you felt uncomfortable in wet clothes. 

“Hold on,” he said as he ran up to one of the rooms. He came down a few minutes later, “I remembered one of my little cousins left some of their clothes here the last time they came to visit. These pajama pants should fit and I have one of my old Fleetwood mac tees here.” He handed you the clothes, giving you a grin. 

“Thanks,” you said with a smile. 

“You know where the bathroom is,” he gestured towards the hallway. This wasn’t your first time in Pedro’s house, in fact, you came over to his house pretty often. Since being in the Prospect together, you have developed a strong bond with Pedro. You still hung out with him whenever he was in town and you even went to visit him in New York a few times. This house has become like a home to you, a true home. One in which you could actually be yourself, when you came here you never wanted to go to the one where your parents were. Maybe that’s why he wasn’t as surprised to see you, just more surprised you didn’t call him. You quickly changed in the bathroom, and when you walked back out to the living room, Pedro had microwaved some popcorn. He pats the spot next to him for you to sit down. 

You rolled your eyes and sat down beside him, “What are we watching?” 

“I’ll tell you if you tell me what’s going on,” he asked in a serious tone. 

You sighed, “don’t want to talk about it.” 

“Do your parents know you're here?” 

“All they know is that I’m not home and they’re happy with that,” you picked up some popcorn and began eating. 

“Now why would you say that?” At this point he turned the T.V. off, giving you his full attention. 

“My mom and I got into this big argument,” you said, hoping he would drop it and you could just go back to ignoring the situation. 

“About?” But part of you knew he wasn’t going to just drop it. Pedro was a good listener and for some reason, he had done more for you in the little time he has known you, than your parents ever have. 

“Money,” you began, not even trying to hold it in anymore, maybe he could help you do something about it. “They’ve been spending everything I’ve earned like it’s no tomorrow and now I’m scared that that’s all they care about.” 

“What?” Pedro sat up, “They can’t do that, it’s your money,” he couldn’t believe what he was hearing, he knew he had to be somewhat illegal. 

“I know,” You sighed, “but they're my parents” 

“Mija, they signed a contract. Only a certain percentage of that money goes to an account that they could spend for you, the rest has to go to a savings account for you.” 

“It’s all in one account,” you responded. “I don’t know what to do, I’m too young to get emancipated, and even then… I have no other family I can stay with.” 

Pedro got up, he knew he had to talk to someone about this, maybe one of the directors or even your manager. He just knew this wasn’t right. He grabbed his phone from the counter, Pedro hesitated for a second, what was he doing? The choices he made right now could change your life either for the better or for the worse. 

He went into his contacts, tapping on his phone a few times before pressing it to his ear, “Pedro?” You called out, walking in the direction he went. “What are you doing?” You asked as soon as you saw him. 

Before he could respond to you, someone had picked up, “Hello?” 

“Chris,” he began, your eyes widen, you couldn’t believe he had called your manager, you had forgotten that they had been good friends. “It’s Pedro.” 

“Pedro, what are you doing?” 

Pedro didn’t respond to you again, “Pedro, what’s up?” 

“Any chance you can come by my place? Y/N is here and we have something to talk to you about.” 

“Um, yeah, I can be there in like thirty minutes, sound good?” 

“Yeah, see you then,” Pedro hung up the phone, looking over at you, “It’s  gonna be okay.” 

“How do you know that?” 

He sighed, “because I’ll be there to help you, okay? You’re not alone, Y/N. Do you trust me?” You didn’t trust a lot of people, but Pedro was one of the few you did trust. He had shown you that you could trust him time and time again. You gave him a small nod. He smiled softly at you, “you hungry?” 

“I don’t think I can eat at a time like this,” you said nervously. Pedro understood he didn’t think he could eat either, but he knew it was rude to not offer. 

When Chris arrived, Pedro did most of the talking. You sat on the couch, nodding every once in a while or talking when things needed more clarity. But for the most part, Pedro was your advocate and you were content that you didn’t have to deal with it. Chris was overwhelmed with the information he was given, but he knew what to do in these kinds of situations. 

“I can get you a lawyer,” he began, “but I’m letting you know now, it’s gonna get messy. We’ll have to find a family for you to stay with-” 

“I have no other family,” you confessed. 

“Well, they might have you-” 

“She can stay with me,” Pedro blurted out. “If she’s able to.” 

“It’s possible. We’d just have to provide evidence that temporary guardianship is needed in this case,” Chris stated. 

“I have evidence,” you began, “just do whatever is needed and I can provide the evidence.” 

Chris sighed, “alright. I’ll keep in touch and It’s probably best if Y/N goes home tonight.” 

“My mom told me not to come home.” 

Chris glanced at Pedro before looking at you, he didn’t know what to say, “then I guess you’ll stay with Pedro for the night.” He didn’t say anything else before leaving. 

“You think it’ll work?” you asked Pedro, he had sat down next to you once Chris had left. 

“I like to think it will,” he gave you a reassuring smile before pulling you to his side. 

“Did you really mean it?” you asked, receiving a confused look from Pedro. “When you said I could stay with you.” 

“Of course I meant it,” he said. “You’re like a daughter I’ve never had, in just a few months we’ve known each other you have brought me so much joy and I have to admit, seeing you shoot your scenes, makes me feel so proud.” 

You felt tears begin to well up in your eyes. Someone who didn’t even know you for your whole life was proud of you, more than your parents ever could be. “What’s wrong?” Pedro asked as he wiped away a tear off your cheek that had managed to escape. You shook your head, “Something has to be bothering you, muñeca, what is it?” 

You let out a shaky breath, “it’s just… I wish my parents could say that they’re proud of me. I wish they could at least act like they loved me.” 

“Oh, mija,” he cooed. 

“You know what my mom said to me today?” you sniffled, “she said that they only had me because they thought I would help make their marriage work. What kind of person says that to their own kid?” You let out a soft sob, “Do I even matter to them? To anyone?” 

Pedro held you tight, “you matter to me.” He placed a small kiss on your temple, “they may say all these awful things but you are here for a reason.” 

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, “Sure.” 

“I’m serious, Y/N. You’re like a daughter to me and I believe you were brought onto this earth to shine some joy into my life,” he gave you a reassuring smile. “Okay?” You gave him a nod, “Now let’s watch our movie marathon, we’ll worry about everything else tomorrow.” 

You laid your head on Pedro’s lap, watching as the opening credits began to play on the screen, but you couldn’t help but wonder if everything was going to be okay. When you woke up that morning you didn’t imagine this was how you were going to end your day, but then again, no one ever really imagines how they would really end their day. 

You wondered if you’d need to move out and if so, how would everyone take it? Did that really matter? No, it didn’t. You know Pedro said he’d take you in, but would he be true to his word? You couldn’t help but think about all these intrusive thoughts, all you wanted to do was watch the damn movie, but your mind was so loud. 

The next day came and no word from Chris. You went back onto the set, your mother was there too. You played your best role yet, the obedient daughter. You sat and listened to your mother as she lectured you for not coming home last night, even though she had told you not to. 

Days went by and only one call from Chris, he was working on it. That’s all he said. You visited Pedro a few times before he went back to New York. 

Then weeks went by and eventually you finished filming. You hated when you weren’t filming, it meant you had to go home and spend most of your time there. 

It wasn’t until a month after the whole talk with Chris was when your parents received the knock at the door. You were at the kitchen table when your mother answered the door, you could hear the shock in her voice when the gentleman said the four magical words, “You have been served.” 

Your head the door shut, and the smile on your face only lasted a few seconds before it was met with anxiety. You heard the sounds of the envelope being torn apart and then complete silence. You were beginning to regret everything that had just happened, maybe it was just all a big mistake. Suing your parents was a big deal, accusing them of stealing was another big deal. 

You heard footsteps inching closer to where you sat. Then silence. You looked up at your mother standing at the doorway, It was at that moment you knew that it was probably best that she was served the papers when you weren’t there. Because up until that moment, you had thought that all your mother would do was mentally and verbally abuse you, or steal from you. 

“You bitch,” she spat as she threw the papers onto the table, “after everything we did for you!” She smacked her hand across your face, your hand instantly touching the spot she had slapped. “This is how you repay us!?” 

You felt tears well up in your eyes, you got up from your seat to leave but your mother quickly blocked your way, “move.” 

“This is how you repay us?” She asked again. You remained silent, not daring to look at her. It was all quick, her hand on your throat pushing you against the wall, “I’m asking you a question!” Her grip was strong, you scratched at her hand, hoping that it would pain her enough to let go. 

It felt like you were against the wall for minutes. Her phone began to ring, allowing you to break free. You fell to your knees as you attempted to catch your breath. “Leave,” she began. “No te quiero ver en esta casa nunca mas, no me importa donde vas.” ( I don’t want to see you in this house anymore, I don’t care where you go) You remained silent as you got up from the floor, “Me oiste?” You didn’t say anything again as you grabbed your phone from the kitchen table. “I asked you a question!” 

“Yes! I fucking heard you!” You yelled. 

Your reflexes weren’t quick, maybe it was because you were still trying to recover from being choked, or maybe it was because your nerves were everywhere. You weren’t quick enough to dodge your mother's fist, and you stumbled back. Quickly covering your eye, you groaned as you felt it throbbing. 

Your mother shook her hand, “Leave before I do something I’ll regret.” 

“You’re fourteen years too late for that,” you muttered. 

“Eres una disgracia, no eres mi hija. Quiero que todos que sepan que no tengo hija.” (You’re a disgace, not a daughter. I want everyone to know I don’t have a daughter) she muttered as you walked out of the room. You walked into your bedroom, and quickly looked at the damage to your eye, it didn’t look too bad but you knew it would bruise, not to mention the red marks on your neck. You couldn’t worry about it right now, you had to pack what was important and the essentials. As looked around your room, you couldn’t think of anything you wanted to take, just things you needed. 

As you began to pack things, you decided to call Pedro, it had only rang a few times before he answered, “Hey, Y/N! I was just about to call you,” He began to say. “I was gonna surprise you, but I might as well just tell you, I’m in LA! I have an interview tonight an-” he had rambled on, but you had to interrupt, or else he wouldn’t have stopped. 

“I need you to pick me up,” you cut him off. 

Pedro went silent for a moment, “Everything okay?” 

“My mom just got served, Pedro.” 

“Shit,” he mumbled, “I was hoping they’d tell me before they did anything, that way…” Pedro hesitated, he didn’t want to think about what could have happened. “are you okay?” he asks instead. 

“Can you please pick me up?” You asked shakingly. 

“Of course, Mija, I’ll be there right away, okay?” He said. 

“Don’t hang up,” you pleaded. 

Pedro’s heart sank, he could hear how torn you were, “okay, I won’t hang up.” You could hear car keys jingling on the other side of the phone, “I’m gonna connect the Bluetooth to my car, okay?” 

“Okay,” you had zipped up the last of your stuff into one of your suitcases. 

Pedro stayed silent for a few seconds, “are you still there?” 

“I’m here,” you said. You began to make your way out of your room, and you spotted your mother still in the kitchen, phone pressed against her ear. You walked out of the house, without saying another word to her. You didn’t know how your father would react and you didn’t want to know. “I’m outside,” you said into the phone. 

“I’m only a few minutes away.” 

It felt more than a few minutes, it felt like hours. You stood at the driveway, anxious that you wouldn’t leave in time, you wanted to make sure you weren’t home when your father got there. 

“I’m down the street,” Pedro announced. 

You quickly spotted his car and you ended the call once he was close enough. Pedro parked at the curb, quickly getting out to help you put your stuff in the car. Before you could get in, he grabbed your arm, placing a hand on your face, “Mija,” he began as he noticed the marking on your neck and the swelling of your eye. “Did they do this to you?” 

“Let’s go,” you pleaded. He sighed, he knew you were anxious to get out of there. He glanced over at the house you had come out of as you got in the car, he closed the door for you before getting in the car. 

The car ride was silent, which was different. Usually, the car rides with Pedro were filled with music and laughter, but this time there was no music and no laughter. You stared out of the window for most of the ride. Once you got to the house, Pedro took your bags and you followed him inside. 

“I need to make a phone call,” He informed you as he walked into his office. 

You walked over to the window, looking out at the scenic view. Were you making a big mistake? Was he beginning to realize it? 

You did the right thing, right? 

You took charge of your life and you did the right thing, right? Even if it feels completely wrong and you feel so much guilt. Is it wrong to feel a little relief? Usually, relief meant a good thing, so did this mean it was a good thing?

You felt something on your shoulder, you jolted a bit at the sudden touch. 

“Sorry,” Pedro apologized. You calmed down when you realized it was him, “I was on the phone with Chris and the lawyer.” 

“What they say?” 

“Well, I told them what happened and the lawyer is attempting to get an emergency temporary custody agreement from the judge so you could stay with me. He said he’ll be coming over to take pictures for evidence, but for now…” He sighed, “are you okay?” you shook your head. You didn’t need to say anymore, Pedro pulled you in for an embrace and you allowed yourself to feel everything. 

For once you felt like you were able to feel everything without feeling guilty for doing so or even wrong to think such horrible things. But now that the truth has come to light, you were able to feel. 

In most cases, this process would have taken days, but somehow the lawyers your manager hired made the process go by fast. Within a couple of hours, Pedro received the call that he was able to get temporary custody, but that’s all it was. Temporary. Eventually, you would have to go to court and maybe end up in foster care, but you didn’t want to think about that now. 

“Let me see,” Pedro said softly as he joined you on the couch once again, he had been making some phone calls for the past twenty minutes. “Fuck,” he said softly, “They really hit you pretty well.” 

“It hurts,” you groaned. 

“I know,” he had a frozen pack of peas in his other hand, along with a small towel. He wrapped the bag of peas in the towel before gently placing it on your eye, “leave this on for twenty minutes, then rest it.” You gave him a nod as you took a hold of the bag of peas. “You want to talk about it?” 

You shook your head, “not really.” 

“That’s fine,” he said, trying not to push you into talking. 

But that’s the thing, you wanted to talk about it. You wanted to cry it out, you just didn’t want to feel like a burden, especially not to him. Not after all he has done for you so far. 

Tears began to well up in your eyes, Pedro quickly took notice, pulling you back into an embrace. “I thought that I would be happier,” you cried. “They’ve always treated me so terribly and now that they’re no longer a part of my life… I don’t get it.” Pedro rubbed your back, “Why does it hurt so much? Why does it feel like-” 

“Like you’ve lost your parents?” you nodded. 

“Even if they never acted like parents.” 

“I don’t know, grief is funny like that,” he said softly. “Some people don’t deserve to be parents, Y/N.” 

You took in a deep breath, “you know what she said when I left?” he hummed in response, “Quiero que todos se sepan que no tengo una hija.” Every girl needs a mother, you needed a mother, and you had one. You just didn’t have the one that was portrayed in movies or the ones that your friends had. And you were always envious of that. You wished you had a mother that truly loved you and took pride in being your mother. Maybe you didn’t understand, what it was like to be a mother, but you think you could. 

Because if you ever had a daughter, you knew you would love that person unconditionally without hesitation. So, why couldn’t she? 

Pedro couldn’t understand it because like you if he had a daughter or even a son. He would love them unconditionally, just like he had tried to do with you. Like he was doing with you. Right now there was a hurting child in his arms and all he could think to do was comfort them even if he was fighting everything inside him to go punch your parents. He knew what he had to do at that moment, he had to comfort you because you needed him. 

He kissed your temple, “She doesn’t deserve such a beautiful, intelligent, talented daughter like you and it hurts that she can’t see what I see.” He leaned back from the embrace, holding your head in his hands. “Just because someone shares your DNA doesn’t mean that they are family. If there is anything you have shown me in the time I’ve known you, it’s how to be a father to someone who isn’t even my own kid.” 

You gave him a small smile as he wiped away a tear from your cheek with his thumb, “from here on out, we’re in this together, mija, okay?” you nodded.

Yeah, you really couldn’t understand it, but you didn’t have to because DNA didn’t mean they were truly your family. If there was anyone who actually knew you like the back of your hand, it was the man that was sitting beside you. The man who took time to be there for you when they couldn’t. 

The man who knew what to say on your bad days and what not to say, who knew your favorite foods and knew your pet peeves, just like a father would. He knew what time you should go to bed for you to be not grumpy in the morning and he knew what subjects in school you needed help in the most. 

And he mostly knew all of this in a short period of time. He spent time with you and not because he needed to, but because he wanted to. It didn’t take him long to create a bond with you and it didn’t take you long to consider him like a father. 

“Okay,” you said softly. The pain would only be temporary, you knew that and you allowed yourself to feel it. You were still nervous about the outcome of the future, but you knew you had a small support system and that was all you needed.

Pedro Pascal Taglist: @Sophieelizabeth01  @tracysnook  @cilliansangel  @change-the-world-someday  @graciegoeskrazy @oggystine93 @t-stark35 @twkobii @picklehat3r

To be added CLICK HERE

#pedro pascal x daughter!reader #pedro pascal x daughter #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x teen!reader platonic #pedro pascal x teen platonic #pedro pascal x teen reader #pedro pascal x teen #pedro pascal x teen!reader #pedro pascal angst #pedro pascal fluff #pedro pascal platonic #pedro pascal platonic fic #pedro pascal x Platonic!reader #pedro pascal x platonic reader #pedro pascal x platonic

[visforvengeance]

944 miles

Requested by: no one<3

Notes: Hi! So sorry I took so long to post this lmao. Um this will be a series. I haven't worked out how many chapters there will be but I do know how I want at least the next two chapters to be. If you've seen my last post where I posted a snippet of it, then you know I had an OC named Rue Winston. That will be changed and the only thing that will remain is the last name and no character description will be involved but do know I had black!reader in mind. Thanks for reading <3

Pairing: Carmen Berzatto x Reader

Warnings: cursing? she/her pronouns. i think that's it. it's only the first chapter so nothing too crazy going on.

masterpost

Fatima rushed to the Berzatto Family Salon door with her young daughter by her side. Fatima wouldn’t have been late if it weren’t for her babysitter canceling at the last minute. The poor child was just too young to care for herself. 

As Fatima frantically searched around the building for Donna, her hairstylist, Y/N sat idly by. She played with the toys her mother had gotten her for her 5th birthday, which was just a few months before. When Fatima’s eyes landed on Donna’s, they reflected a range of emotions. 

Donna felt bad for the young mother, having three kids of her own, she knew what Fatima was suffering. Donna’s eyes traveled to the playing toddler on her floor, not a care for the outside world. She reminded her of her own child, Carmen, the youngest. 

“Donna! I’m so sorry I’m late. My babysitter bailed last minute and I had no one else to watch her,” Fatima was on the verge of tears. This wasn’t the future she imagined when she found out she was with child. 

Her husband, Ezra, had walked out on his family when their daughter was 2 years old. He had claimed he never wanted a child in the first place. 

“Ok ok ok, Hun. Just take a deep breath, it’s fine. I have a son who’s around the same age as her. He’s here with me today, they could play together!”

She rushed through the door, ignoring everyone except for Carmen. He sat on his bed watching his best friend bounce around in his bedroom. 

“It’s here! It’s here! It’s here!” She squealed while clutching the unopened envelope to her chest. 

Carmen was dreading the day when they received their acceptance letters. He hadn’t told her that his college of choice was in New York. He knew that she’d d be attending college in Chicago, but fucking Carmen. He always had to strive for the best. 

He felt like shit, but the pure excitement on her face was infectious. He couldn’t help his smile as they switched envelopes, now holding each other’s futures in their hands. 

“I’ll go first, you ready?” He watched as she bit at her nails anxiously, she nodded. 

Carmen opened the letter, he spared one glance at her before he began reading. 

“Dear Ms. Winston, I am pleased to inform you that you have been accepted as an official student of the English Literature and Arts Department…” Rue’s hearing had faded as she allowed the words to process. 

When it finally hit her, she rushed into Carmen’s arms. Her tears soaked into the cotton of his shirt but he didn’t let that deter him from telling her just how proud he was of her. When they pulled away, he held her face in his hands as she took deep breaths to calm herself down. He looked into her eyes, silently asking if she was okay. She nodded, looking back into his blue ones. 

Y/N carefully tore into the letter, her eyes scanning over the paper. The Institute of Culinary Education, 225 Liberty Street, 3rd Floor, New York, NY 10281. New York? No, this can’t be. He’d tell her if he was going to New York, right?

She cleared her throat and began reading, “Dear Mr. Berzatto, we are very pleased to offer you admission into The Institute of Culinary Arts.” Her throat ran dry as she read. What the fuck?

“Why didn’t you tell me you applied for New York?”

“You’re the one who told me not to tell you,” he huffed, suddenly feeling defensive at his lack of mentioning. 

“It’s fucking New York, Carmen! I meant don’t fucking tell me if it was in the goddamn state. I thought that was obvious. Why there, anyway?”

He felt strings tugging at his heart as her voice cracked. Why did he choose New York? A 944-mile drive away from his home? His family? From the girl he loved? When making his decision, She was the last thing on his mind at the time. Mikey not allowing him to work at the family restaurant fucked with Carmen’s nerves. 

Lack of communication led to him believing that his brother thought he wasn’t good enough. So, Carmen figured “Maybe if I go to this prestigious school and become the world’s greatest chef, he’ll think I’m good enough then.” 15-year-old Carmen had made up his mind, everything else be damned. But, nothing would prepare him for the moment it came time to tell his best friend that he was leaving her. 

“It’s the best culinary school in the state,” her eyes began to water. She felt fucking elated that Carmen was getting into the school of his dreams, but it being 14 hours away was breaking her heart. She didn’t want to make him feel bad or ruin this moment, but the way she could feel herself start to sweat was overwhelming. 

She decided to drop it. She didn’t want Carmen to feel bad about his decision. Willing her tears to dry, she quickly smiled. “I’m so proud of you,” She was genuinely so proud of Carmen. She wanted nothing more than for him to succeed. If his succeeding meant she had to cheer him on from Chicago, she’d do it proudly. 

Carmen could feel the sadness radiating off of her. He knew what she was doing. The switch from being on the verge of tears to smiling brightly was a reaction he’d seen far more than he liked. Being the reason wasn’t something he liked too much, either. But, when she said that she was proud of him, he believed her. He always believed her. 

The last few days of school had been so tiring with graduation and Carmen leaving for NYC soon. She and Carmen spent as much time with each other as they could. Fatima worked a lot and Donna always had something that needed her attention. Everyone was busy. Summertime was approaching which meant Mikey had to prepare. He’s still not letting Carmen help, though. 

She sighed as she felt her back hit the mattress beneath her. She hadn’t had time to relax and take a deep breath until now. She was home alone, with no plans and a severe and excruciating lack of Carmen. She saw less of him after the pair read their acceptance letters together. She didn’t know whether it was because of the news he shared or he was just extremely busy. 

Regardless of whether they were fighting or not, Carmen never avoided her. There was no reason for him to be mad at her and she wasn’t particularly mad at him, but there was a dark cloud that hung over them. An unwavering force that bullied its way between them, you could practically see it. 

She wanted to be happy for him, but the negative feelings always crawled their way back up. Was she overreacting? This wasn’t the end of them. They could always call, visit each other, or text. It wasn’t like he was moving to another country. 

He was leaving her today. She began to panic at the thought but forced herself through it. She gathered all of the items she wanted to give to him before he left. His favorite shirt that he’s always searching for (she stole it), the matching bracelet that he’d leave on her dresser so he wouldn’t lose it, and a painting that she made for them. The painting was of them together. She spent the entire school year working on it, she made it for him after he practically begged her to do a painting for him. 

After she was done, she made her way next door. The constant ruckus could be heard outside of the door. Donna is yelling for Mikey to help his brother, Sugar and Richie are fighting over god knows what. She pushed herself through the door. It was warm inside, and it smelled like apple pie and cinnamon. It always smelled like something delicious at the Berzatto house. 

Donna noticed her first, rushing to her while calling for Mikey to come and grab the (not heavy) box from her. Donna pulled the younger girl into her warm embrace, bombarding her with questions as she always did. It never bothered her as she knew what Donna was like and loved her dearly. Donna always treated her as if she was her child, she’d look after her when Fatima was busy with work. She’d invite her on family trips, she was an unofficial family member like Richie. 

“How are you, sweetheart? You hungry? We made a little something for Bear before it’s time for him to go,” Donna held her face in her hands as she spoke. Her heart warmed at Donna’s actions. Despite her doing things like this since the moment they met, it always made her smile. She politely declined, though. She wanted to be alone with Carmen for a while. 

“I’m not hungry at the moment, Mama D, but I promise I’ll eat before I go,” Donna nodded and gave her cheeks a small pat. They spoke a little bit more before Donna left her to continue doing what she was doing. She had a habit of minimizing her emotions when something big happened. She kept a straight as she walked up the stairs to Carmen’s room, but her mind was racing. She didn’t want to think about the bad things that could happen while she and Carmen were apart. 

She pushed the door open, standing in the doorway as she watched the two brothers talk. “Dude, you’re doing it the wrong way-“

“I think I know how to properly tape up a box, Carmen.”

“You’re literally doing it wrong.”

She couldn't hold in her laughter as they bickered back and forth. Their heads snapped toward her, startled by her presence. “Jesus, fuck, bunny. You scared the shit out of me!” Mikey set down the box he was holding to rush over and hug her. She hugged him back, squeezing him a bit as she did so. “Sorry, Mikey. I wanted to see who’d get hit first,” Mikey chuckled. 

She and Mikey had a special kind of bond. She had a unique bond with each Berzatto child. But, the two of them were like siblings. Mikey was like the big brother she never had, always to her rescue if needed. When Carmen couldn’t be bothered, she had Mikey and Sugar. 

Before he could respond, Carmen cleared his throat. Mikey looked between the two, gears turning in his head. You see, Michael knew of his feelings for the girl. He was constantly trying to get Carmen to step up and admit his feelings for the girl but Carmy was always too nervous to do so, afraid he’d lose her. He couldn’t risk that. 

Mikey nodded, raising his arms in defense and he backed off, “I’ll leave you two to talk.” She sat on Carmen’s bed, looking around his room. It looked nearly empty, aside from the furniture. “Did you get a chance to look at the things I brought?” Carmen looked over everything except for the painting. He’d seen her art before, he knew how talented she was. But he feared that if he looked at it now, his heart would break all over again. 

“Yeah, everything except for the painting.” She felt her body twitch as their eyes locked. His expression was unreadable as she wondered why he hadn’t taken a glance. “Promise you’ll take a peek when you get to your dorm?” She thought she sounded fucking pathetic. ‘Please look at this painting that means so fucking much to me, it’s the least you could do.’ She wanted to throw up. 

In reality, Carmen didn’t want to look. Not because he feared he’d hate it, but because then he’d be forced back to reality. The reality that he’s in love with his best friend whom he’s about to leave for four fucking years. The reality is that he’s loved her since middle school and now it’s too late because he’s a coward. “Promise.”

She and Carmen had spent their last few hours together in his bed. The sun had fallen, and everything was packed up and ready to go. Carmen said his goodbyes to everyone, except her. She lingered somewhere nearby, watching as he hugged and kissed his family. They were both trying to prolong their last few moments together. “I’m gonna miss you,” she could hardly speak. God, did she not want to cry right now. 

“I’m gonna miss you too.” Carmen’s facade was starting to crack. He allowed it to, he only allowed himself to feel in front of her. “And don’t forget about me, either.” Her tears were streaming down her face, heavy drops landing on her shirt. Carmen couldn’t handle it anymore as he pulled her into a tight hug. Their tears soaked into the other’s shirt as they cried together. They stayed like that for what felt like hours until Mikey called for Carmen. She watched as her best friend drove away. She’d never believe you if you told her that she wouldn’t hear from him for 2 years.

#carmen berzatto imagine #carmen berzatto smut #carmen berzatto angst #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto #the bear #the bear fx

[simpingcowboy]

Pedro boys and why I'm swiping left on their tinders

This is all to be silly!! I love them all very much <3

Frankie Morales

His name there says Frankie (Catfish)....with his main profile picture being him holding you guessed it...a catfish. He doesn't have many other photos on there, with the exception of a few older military photos that are so blurry you can hardly tell which one he's meant to be.

The rest of his page is pretty empty aside from the music section, where you actually get the first real glimpse at what this man is about. While his music selection is very respectable, it does not overshadow the glaring issues with his profile.

In short, Frankie's profile makes you think "Am I dating the man? The fish? Or a catfish?" Swiping left fs.

Marcus Moreno

This one isn't his fault! His profile is perfect. No really. All the women at The Heroics made sure to help him with it! His photos are cute and show off all his best assets. The bio is a little cheesy in an endearing "yeah he's definitely a dad" way. The problem then? It's Marcus fucking Moreno!!! Leader of the Heroics!!!!!! On Tinder???? There's no way anyone is going to believe it's really him. I believe there's a verification option on Tinder now, but really...even then Idk. Unless he fully comes out on an interview or something to super casually mention he's on Tinder, it just ain't working. No one likes a catfish! (Sorry Frankie!)

Jack Daniels

Mr. "Tinder What?" himself!!!! Let's say he manages to figure out how to set up a profile and all that. It's gonna be inTERESTING to say the least. His photos are actually pretty solid. An intriguing mix of photos of him on the ranch and photos of him in the Statesmen HQ looking very well put together. Opening line is definitely "Save a Horse! Ride a Cowboy! 🤠♥️" Very on brand for him. Followed by something very pro-american about the flag or serving his country and honestly... that's where I'm gone 😅. We get to see a bit of Jack's political mind in Kingsman and let's just say i don't wanna know the rest of it.

I'm grateful this is Tinder and not Bumble. Because if Jack used the audio prompt and I heard that smooth Kentucky accent...forget EVERYTHING I just said. I would be taking a chance on him. Sorry 😔 I can't fix him, but I will have fun trying!!

Joel Miller

For namesake, we're gonna set this pre-outbreak. There's no time for swiping in the apocalypse. Profile isn't bad just very empty. He's not really trying and it's kinda obvious. His bio reads something along the lines of "Single dad of a spoiled teen" with mostly photos of himself and Sarah on his profile. A few photos of him and Tommy out camping or on a work site.

And as handsome as he is, the profile feels like something his kid forced him to make as a way of getting him off her back. I wanna sympathize and help her out, but I don't know I have the heart to attempt to win over this very clearly emotionally unavailable DILF. So for that reason, I'm swiping left.

Pero Tovar

If for some ungodly reason Pero was given Internet access and had a dating profile... it'd be a disaster. His bio reads something along the lines of "I don't open this app. If you wish to see me meet me at this pub" with approximate days and times he's there.

The first picture on his profile is a way too far away blurry shot of him training. If I was feeling brave enough to continue scrolling through his photos...the rest would certainly be borderline explicit highly suggestive photos of his torso and groin. And whilst I might think about it for approximately .25 seconds any remaining sense of dignity would kick in before I actually did anything about it. It'll sting momentarily, but I will be swiping left.

Ezra

Another man on this list who should absolutely NOT be given internet access. His photos are beautiful but uninformative...the only shots of him are blurred and artistically obscure. He pads the rest of his profile with photos of books he's reading and grainy shoots of the forest.

The bio...if there's a word limit best believe that Ezra has hit it. He used every given character at his disposal and managed to say very little with all of it. Something about a wandering spirit longing for companionship and a couple sexual innuendos for good measure.

While visually and verbally not the worst profile on this list, his pretension is so utterly palpable through the screen I actually don't think I'd be able to make it through the end of his bio without cringing...also his music selection is all just banjo instrumental???

#am writes #pedro pascal #pedro boys #ezra prospect #pero tovar #joel miller #jack Daniels #marcus moreno #frankie morales #pedro pascal characters

[thelegendofmik]

Stop Defending Ableists Challenge (Level: Impossible)

So the other day I made a post listing all the ableist things Jacob Richmond has included in Legoland and Ride the Cyclone.

And the response was abysmal - the amount of "well actually..." kind of responses I got was disgusting and I took down the post because I find it counterproductive to argue with teenagers on the internet. However, I stand by the belief that if you think you are old enough to post publicly on the internet, you are old enough to be held accountable for what you post.

But I think what I had to say was quite important, so I am going to reword it here.

TW here for the discussion of ableism and ableist slurs (they are all censored)

There is ZERO (0) justification for the use of THREE (3) ableist slurs across both works. I don't fucking care if it was the 2000's. The ADA predates both shows and disability activism had existed for decades before that (as yannick very kindly reminded me). So no, it was not ok for Richmond to use those slurs in his works, regardless of the time period. Because there is nothing "correct" (politically, or otherwise) about ableism.

And before you say "Oh, but it was the character who said it, not the writer..."

CHARACTERS ARE NOT SENTIENT BEINGS! They are not created in a vacuum. Their thoughts and actions are often a reflection of the author's own beliefs and morals.

It was not Ocean who decided to use the word cr*pple. It was Jacob Richmond who decided to use it. Same with the r word and sp*z in Legoland. It wasn't Penny and Ezra who decided to use those words, it was Jacob Richmond. Because each character's actions are dictated by the decisions that the author makes for that character. And in this case, the author decided to be an ableist asshole.

Yes, characters can be assholes. They can be complex and nuanced beings. But there are better ways to portray such experiences than being violently ableist (i.e.: without using slurs). And why does the ableist character get complexity and nuance, but the disabled character is simply the sad, disabled kid, with not much else in his personality until he magically becomes abled bodied. Like we deserve nuance and complexity as well, people!

In a 2022 interview with Curtain Call Bway (here), when asked who his favourite character to write was, Richmond responds with the following:

Ocean is definitely my favorite character to write because it’s based on certain people I’ve met and certain aspects of myself too.

Like he literally admits it himself, that his decisions when writing an ableist character were based off aspects of his own personality.

The reality is, disability has never been more than a comedic plot point to Richmond. He has never cared about portraying a realistic disabled experience. He has never cared about disabled people.

And the cherry on top is that his response to yannick-robin being hate-crimed was to rewrite Ricky so that he could be played by an abled and therefore production teams wouldn't have to give a shit about ensuring their spaces are safe and accessible for disabled performers. If he actually cared about disabled people and properly representing our experiences, he would have worked with a disability consultant and fixed the issues within the show. Instead, he doubles down and causes even more harm.

To add insult to injury, he then licensed that script to Sarah Rasmussen and her team of ableist cronies for the DC production. Because him choosing to continue working with Rasmussen and her team just shows that he shares the same ableist values as the McCarter/Arena team.

So by saying that "its the character, not the author", you are defending Richmond and his violent ableism. You are attempting to justify the harm he has done and CONTINUES TO DO to disabled people. YOU. ARE. A. PART. OF. THE. PROBLEM.

Ride the Cyclone and Legoland (in ALL its forms and versions) contains so much ableist violence. This violence has traumatised REAL PEOPLE, but yannick, myself, and other people speaking out are the ones ruining the vibe by calling it out? Be fucking for real people.

Now if only my university papers were this thorough...

#ride the cyclone is ableist idk why y'all still worship it lol #stop defending ableism #if this shitshow goes to bway that will be my 13th reason lmao #ride the cyclone #constance rtc #jane rtc #mischa rtc #noel rtc #ocean rtc #penny lamb #rtc musical #disability #fuck ableism #ricky potts #jane doe rtc #noel gruber #rtc fanart #rtc #mischa bachinski #ride the cyclone edit #ride the cyclone fanfiction #ride the cyclone fanart #jane doe ride the cyclone #jane doe #monique gibeau #station theater #trinity theatre rtc #trinity theatre ride the cyclone #constance blackwood

[antianakin]

It doesn't happen as much, but some people said that Taron Malicos (that crazy ex-Jedi from Fallen Order) was right about the Jedi's decline, forgetting that Malicos is mentally-deranged and fallen to the Dark Side. Not exactly the most reliable authority on Jedi history and culture, if you ask me.

Yeah, the Cal Kestis games sit in that sort-of "soft anti-Jedi"/"Jedi critical" space where they have moments that are absolutely telling the audience that the Jedi were weak, or at fault for what happened or old-fashioned/behind the times, but that they were still GOOD PEOPLE and Cal is absolutely still identifying as a Jedi whole-heartedly and doing Jedi stuff etc etc. The entire storyline of Fallen Order is that Cal and Cere are trying to find the list of Force sensitive kids so they can try to rebuild the Jedi Order and it's sad when they have to make the choice to let that dream go in order to protect the kids from the Empire. Cal getting Knighted by Cere is a happy, triumphant moment. The whole flashback to Order 66 being included and being SO SO SAD is a major element of the game. Cal and Merrin literally bond over being survivors of the devastating tragedy that is the total loss of their people. (It comes up even less in Survivor, the one place it shows up is within his romance with Merrin.)

So the message getting sent is that sure, MAYBE the Jedi weren't always perfect, but it also DOESN'T MATTER because nothing they did warranted what happened to them and it's still a good thing to be a Jedi. So Taron Malicos might be "right" in the sense that the narrative doesn't really specify one way or another (but sort-of implies that he might be), but being "right" doesn't justify being a selfish asshole and hurting other people. So it stops mattering at all if he's "right" or not anyway.

Rebels does similar stuff, quite honestly. This idea that the Jedi might've made mistakes in places, but that ultimately their loss is still SAD and Kanan is fucked up by it and both he and Ezra learn to be better people as they learn to commit to being true Jedi. It's a GOOD thing for both of them to become Jedi.

They both sit in this middle ground of saying that being a Jedi is a good thing and the loss of the Jedi is still a tragedy, but the current Jedi are going to learn from the mistakes of their predecessors who fucked up enough that it might've led them to their own doom. It's kinda sad that some of the better Jedi centric content we've gotten recently comes with this need to criticize the Jedi for shit they didn't even do, but it's VERY common. Even High Republic has elements of this in it from the few of the novels I've read.

But I will say that, as much as it's annoying to me personally to have to deal with that, it's better than something like, say, I don't know, the Ahsoka show which has the darksider characters NOT come across as evil selfish assholes and none of the main "Jedi" characters ever seem to actually identify (or even WANT to identify) as Jedi and implies that being a Jedi might be a lesser or inferior way to identify just in general and that there's nothing truly sad about the loss of the Jedi themselves. At least there's a lot of other generally positive Jedi stuff in Rebels and the Cal Kestis games to enjoy. Ahsoka didn't give a single Jedi positive moment in the entire fucking show.

#star wars #jedi fallen order #jedi survivor #cal kestis #jfo #taron malicos #rebels #star wars rebels #jedi #pro jedi #anti ahsoka show

[insomniamamma]

Threefold: Ezra x F!reader w/Cee

A/N: I am still working on my kiss prompts for @yearofcreation2023. Yeah yeah. I know we are well into 2024. But I am determined to finish these prompts. The prompt for this fic is "Kiss as a lie." This does not connect to any of my other Prospect fics, even though some terms may overlap. Enemies to reluctant allies. Reader is disabled and relies on body mods to assist her breathing. This one really got away from me. like 6K away from me.

Warnings: Graphic descriptions of injuries and medical procedures. Alcohol and drug consumption. Vomiting. Smut but nothing super graphic. Mentions of bodily fluids. This is not my usual Ezra. He is a shit in this one.

 “Give me one good reason I shouldn’t splatter your brains all over this bar.” You jam your thrower into the curls at Ezra’s nape. You watch him in the bleared bar mirror, watch the color drain from his face even as he smiles, starts to turn his head and you dig the barrel of the thrower in deeper, feel your finger tightening involuntarily, your need for vengeance vying with your need for satisfaction, for some sort of answer for what he did, finger curls slightly and releases again, Kevva knows you never expected to see him again, Kevva knows—something cold jams beneath the angle of your jaw and you snap back into the present. The bar mirror shows a slight girl with a halo of pale hair and thundercloud eyes, a small, freckled wisp.  “Put it down,” her voice is soft and steady, “I don’t want to hurt you but I will.”   “Well if this isn’t quite the predicament,” says Ezra, “How but you ease up on the trigger and we talk this out like civilized folk.”  “Your time for talk ended five stands ago,” Your eyes flick towards the bleary girl in the bar-back mirror, “I don’t know what he promised you, kid, but he’ll fuck you over the second it makes sense. You’re what, fifteen stands? When he ditches you on some no-name moon what’re you gonna do?” The barrel digs deeper into the flesh at your neck. Ezra says your name, not darlin or kitten or sweetheart or any of the slew of names he gave you down on The Green, but the one you told him, the one he murmured against the sweaty column of your throat while you arched beneath him, quivered around him, felt like a blessing from his lips as he spilled fever hot inside you.  “I did you wrong,” says Ezra, “You weren’t the first and you certainly weren’t the last, and, if I’m being honest, I did not think on you overmuch—“ The little girl in the warped mirror shakes her head--  “Ez--“ You feel the gun held against your throat tremble.  “But these past stands have not been kind,” says Ezra, “To either of us, I imagine.” His eyes flick up towards your reflection and you know exactly what he sees, and how could he not? Paired auto-breathers clipped to your collarbones, metal and plastic welded to meat in an a scarred seal, ports that can be used for a filter-hookup with the right adapters.  “So what? That’s the Fringe, isn’t it? That’s what you told me then—“  “How, exactly, do you imagine this plays out?” says Ezra, “You kill me, she kills you. Both of us dead here on the deck-plating and what’s the point of it? Revenge? Satisfaction?” You dig the barrel of your thrower into the meat at the nape of his neck, even as his girl shoves her weapon tighter against the angle of your jaw.  “Or let’s say I kill you,” Ezra purrs, and you become aware of a buzzing, like a neglected data pad with incoming message against your inner thigh, but that doesn’t make sense, data pad’s in your left breast pocket and he grins in the mirror, flick your eyes down and damned if he doesn’t have a laser scalpel pressed into the meat of your leg, blood corona already spreading, “Think you can make the shot before I clip your femoral artery? You didn’t crawl out of Bakhroma’s well to bleed out in this dive, did you?”  “Damn you, Ezra. You owe me. You left me to die down there.”  “I did indeed, and if you ease off the trigger for a tick, I can offer your recompense.You think it’s an accident? You and me nested into the same ring? Show her, Cee.”  “Ez, I don’t think-“  “Show her. And I’ll get us some drinks. I think a toast may be in order.”

“You know what we need to do, when we meet up with the others, right?” You cling to him despite the sticky heat of the tent, air thick and heady with the smell of sex, his come smeared between your bellies as you lay half atop him, head on his chest, his arm curled around your shoulder.  “I stay on one,” you say, yawning, drifting as he traces aimless patterns up and down your arm, “You switch to two. Give them the talk. You fake a comms error and go for your channel box. You take the big one and I pick off the leader. The one with the red. Then we get,  we get out of here.” He squeezes you tight as sleep takes you, his heart slow and steady beneath your ear.

 Cee sighs, rolls her eyes, pulls her thrower off your throat.  “Fine,” she says, and reaches for a bag slung at her side. 

 Ezra hails his crew, and hiss of static on your ear when he switches to two, your thrower in hand, trained on the leader, brilliant red plast pauldron over his exosuit, waiting for the signal, for Ezra to go for his channel box, what is he waiting for? He looks animated, smiling through the fog of his helmet, this is wrong, you think, and he turns, thrower in hand and shoots and the world whites out for a tick, your leg collapses under you and when you lift your head there’s Ezra, tucking his thrower back into his holster, the press of his boot against your shoulder rolling you on your back from where you curled around yourself, broken nerves screeching around the path of cooked flesh just above your knee. You know what’s happened, but part of you can’t believe it—  “Help me!” You say, met by the hiss of an open channel, he grabs your trophy case and tosses it to his friend, the big man with the railer he was supposed to kill, leans in and reaches for you and for a moment you think this is all some mistake, something that can be made right and he wrenches your filter out of it’s clip, cuts the hose so it’s you and the dust laden atmosphere.  “Why?” You ask and know he won’t answer, makes a big pantomime of tapping his helmet and shaking his head. Your eyes scrim over with tears, the cooked nerves in your leg screaming a wordless anthem, “Please.” Ezra bows his head but still smiles, presses his gloved fingers to his helmet and  blows you a kiss , that’s the fringe, girl, even with comms cut you can make out the words, and then he turns away, walking off into the brush with his crew. 

 “Carom-burned pearl,” you say, mouth taking over while your brain runs wild, this gem is trash, sure, but the size— “So what?” You drop your thrower back to your hip without even thinking on it. Impossible to tell the quality with the membrane half-burned into the surface, but still—  “Don’t play stupid.” says Cee, “You were on The Green. You know what you’re lookin at.”  “I know that I am looking at a botched pull,” you say, “I’m also looking at a little girl who thinks she’s found a friend way out here in the ass-end of the Great Arm. Did he give this to you, spring-sprite? Spin you a tale of buried treasure? He promise you an even split—“  “60/40. My way. 16th per point garnishment to clear his debt,” she says, “Ezra works for me.”  You laugh, a real one deep from your belly and the intake fans, your intake fans whir faster to make up for the perceived oxygen debt, vibrations through your bones that you can’t seem to get used to even after all these stands,   “Oh, honey, I was gonna kill him, but now I don’t think I will. Think I’ll let you reap the consequences here. Me and Ez? We’re done.”  “It’s the Queen’s Lair,” says Ezra, and you stop cold, half-way up off of your stool, seep back down like your legs have forgotten themselves. “I know. I know you’ll never believe me, but we were there.”  “You just happened on it right? Just happened to drop right down in the place that every fool and their brother went hunting for on that Kevva-forsaken rock.”  “Not me,” says Ezra, “Cee’s father.”  “So why isn’t it him making the pitch?”  “He didn’t make it,” says Cee. And you nod. Spacer’s phrase for a constellation  of mishaps. A blown hull. A dust infection. An altercation in some shit station bar over points or pussy or any number of things. An invitation to not ask. “It wasn’t even really him that found it—“  “Cee—“  “My father was contracted to harvest for Karoclan. Group of mercs found the Lair by accident. Probably digging a shit-pit. We landed bad. By the time we made it to the site it was just me and Ezra, and things got complicated.”  “Complicated.”  “We had to fight our way out. We barely made the sling.”  “You couldn’t do the job,” you say, “And you know I can.”  “That’s not-“  “She never learned the trick and I was trying to cut the blisters weak-handed,” says Ezra, “That’s why we need you.”  “You went back there. Even after all you took from me. You could’ve gone somewhere better with your cut but you didn’t. You got addicted to the rush.”  ��I did,” says Ezra.  “Me and Ezra and now you are the only people that know the Queen’s Lair is even real,” says Cee, “We go there, we get a good pull and we can live off it for years. Now that the line’s dead the value’s just gonna go up. We get the pearls and trickle them into the market—“  “How’re we gonna get there with the line dead? No one makes the BG sling anymore. They just route everything around Ikhar and—“  “Got a hot-jumper willing to take us for a cut.” Says Ezra, “We ride the line till just after the Ikhar sling and then unclip and burn. Gets us in orbit in 6 stand months.”  “Risky,” you say, tapping you index and middle fingers against your right breather, vibration passing from metal into bone, a nervous habit born out of a rerouted urge to scratch at the healing skin.  “Yeah. But if we do it right, if we play it smart, none of us will have to drop down some Kevva-shunned well for a hand of points ever again. We can have the lives that sharp-toothed bitch moon took from us.”  “Like you didn’t have a part in it—“ Ezra reaches across the sticky bar and folds your hand in his—

 He grabs you under the arms, woah there girlie, this is bad ground, yanks you back, so focused on the pull that you didn’t feel the ground shifting beneath you, grab your gear and hold it to your chest even as you’re pulled back from the rapidly forming sink-hole in the loamy dirt, draw your thrower and whirl on the stranger, your gear scattered all around your feet. Don’t fuckin touch me.  Is that anyway to talk to someone who just saved your life? What’re you doing out here all alone anyway?   who says I’m alone?  You got crew? Raise ‘em on coms. Yeah that’s what I thought. Gonna get killed out here all alone.

 “I had every part in it,” says Ezra. “The breath of your lungs, Cee’s only living kin, and the arm from my own body. All victim to my greed and stupidity and short-sightedness. I used you and I duped you and robbed you and left you to die and Kevva rightly and thoroughly kicked my ass for it. If not for Cee I would have breathed my last in that forsaken jungle-“ You yank your hand away as if burned.  “You do not touch me,” you say, “We are not friends, we are not lovers. That part is over. Forever. We clear?”  “Clear,” says Ezra, that infuriating little half-smile crawling up his cheek, “That mean you’re in?”  “Maybe.”

 Didn’t realize how loud those fans were gonna be.  Maybe you’d like me to suffocate about it.     Does she ever turn that player off?  Do you ever turn your breathers off?  Not the same.  To her it is.

 What’s with you and her? You aren’t kin. You said you cost her only kin. In that pretty speech you gave me so I wouldn’t shoot you.  That is a complicated and lengthy tale.  We’ve got time.

 “Ezra? I don’t like this.” Cee eyes the blue gel pack in her hand.  “Once the bolts release Jada’s gonna burn hard,” says Ezra, “She’s got mods to deal with the pain and sickness, but we don’t. If we don’t dope down, we’re gonna be in a world of hurt.”  “People’ve died,” you say, and Ezra shoots you a dark look that you give right back, “They go into shock sometimes. Don’t wanna risk that right?”  “It’s not addictive, if that’s what you’re worried about,” says Ezra, “We’ve got a sixteenth to take it and have it work. You go past that and it’s your choice, Little Bird.” Cee’s eyes flick from your face to his, and you wonder how you’ve slipped into caring for this girl, this orphan of Ezra’s making, how you became someone she’d look to in a place of indecision.   “I’ve never hot-jumped myself, but I was crew with a man who was on a prison transport that did,” you say, hoping the grain of truth in the story will be enough to get Cee to chomp down on that gel pack when the time comes. You heard the story second hand on over drinks on Leylan bench, but Cee doesn’t need to know that. “They didn’t bother doping down the prisoners. Guess they didn’t want to spend the points. Aggie said him and most of the others exploded from both ends. It wasn’t nice. Hallucinated on top of that if I remember right. Hot jump fucks with people.”  “Heard some of those tales myself,” says Ezra. “Jada’s a professional. She’s so modded up she can’t handle a drop down a well anymore. She wants her cut we’ve got to be her hands. It’s not in her interest to lead us wrong.”  “We got a sixteenth?”  “Yeah, but how bout we get ourselves secure and do it all together?”   “Okay,” says Cee. The three of your wordlessly prep, following the instructions Jada gave you on boarding. Wear something soft. No jewelry, nothing rigid. These, Jada had flicked a finger against Cee’s music player, are a no-go. The crash beds have plenty of give but I’ve seen people come out the other side with holes in em from fancy buttons on their pants. These gonna be a problem?  Jada eyed your breathers and poked at one with a questing finger. How long’ve you had em? Bout five stands. Should be fine then. Bone’s had time to remodel and deal with the extra mass. You’ll be sore though. You remove the ring your mother gave you before you left the well, remove the studs from your ears, don the softest clothes you have. Cee wears an over sized shirt with Puzo in his space suit, long, coltish legs and bare feet sticking out. Her toenails are painted an alarming sparkly green, and your heart squeezes a little. She may have shoved a thrower into your neck but she is still very much a little girl.   “We ready?”  “This is gonna taste bad isn’t it?”  “Most likely,” says Ezra, “We bite down on a three count, yeah?” Cee scrunches her face, tucks the gel pack into her cheek and you and Ezra do the same.  “Ready? One, two, three-“  “Oh that is nasty-“ says Cee. You crunch down and swallow the drug in a convulsive gulp, bitter medicinal taste beneath something that is supposed to taste like bananas. Not that you’ve ever seen or eaten one.  “That is just—wrong.” You feel sleep sucking at your bones, and you can hear the sound of the hot-jumper’s engine’s spooling up, a bright spike of anxiety tries to lodge itself in your chest, familiar whir of your breathers kicking up as your heart rate rises and then the drugs take you down. 

 Come to with a raging headache,  Ezra and Cee are already awake and at the controls.   “Here,” says Cee and tosses you a pack of stim-chews, “Just do one. It’ll kill the headache.” You crunch one, sickly fruit and bitter and you feel a little more alert, but not in a pleasant way, like remembering the last bits of a long and unpleasant dream, not sure exactly what happened, but there was blood and horror and pressure.  “Something happened—“  “That’s the drugs,” says Ezra, “Telemetry’s good. We’re right down the line. Five by. Took you a little longer to come out of it, that’s all.” You try to sit yourself up, and your pectoral muscles scream, your clavicles ache where the breathers are clipped to them. You must make some sound, because Ezra turns to look at you, those dark eyes locked on you and you want to slap that concerned face right off his skull—  “You okay?”  “Yeah. Gimme a minute. Jada said it would hurt.”   “Should’ve said something, Kitten, I would’ve gotten you a patch—“  “I’m not your kitten, and it’s not your business.”  “You’re right,” says Ezra, “it’s not my business. But we go hot in a sixteenth and I’ll need you sharp. You know what you need to do?”  “Do you?”  “How bout both of you shut up and focus on the drop,” says Cee, “You can fight it out once we’re clipped back in and bench-bound.”  “Fair enough, Little Bird,” says Ezra, “You take the conn, Cee. Your controls.”  “My controls,” echoes Cee.   “Where’s the pain?”   “Clavicles. Achy around the breathers. I don’t think anything’s fractured-“  “Here,” says Ezra. He hands you two pain patches. “Peel these and I’ll stick em.”   “Fine.” You open one patch and then the other, stick them to your fingertips and hold up your hand for Ezra to take them. Scoop your hair out of the way and Ezra smooths the gel-patch on to the join of your neck and shoulder.  “There you go. Let’s get the other side.” His hand lingers, brief and warm and before you can tell him not to touch you he withdraws. “That should keep you creamy until we’re dirt-side. Don’t be shy about takin what you need from the kit. Need you steady downworld, we clear?”  “Clear.”

 This feels nothing like a normal drop, not the warning alarm and dull thump of bolts retracting. Going hot means a hand of solid fuel boosters will push you screaming towards the Green Moon, igniting as soon as the clips let go, push you away from the hot-jumper without slowing, vibration shaking the dropper in a sick two part resonance that hurts your ears and churns your stomach—  “Oi! chute status” Lock your eyes on the jittering screens.  “Bolts are go. Drogues are go. We’re go.” You flip up the toggle guards and hold your fingers above the switches. The thrusters fire and the dropper rocks, flipping itself so the engines face down, watch the numbers on your screen go green and listen for the callouts—  “Heat shield sep!—“  “Tracking?”  “We’re clear! Go for drogue deploy on your mark—“ The switches vibrate beneath your fingers, you feel the vibrations in your skull, in your bones, strange resonance in your ears that churns your stomach, crush your eyes shut so you don’t have to see the way the screens jitter in and out of focus.   “That’s atmo—“ says Cee.  “Blow the drogues in 3..2…1…mark—“ You flip the toggles and lurch forward hard into your harness, and then back into your crash-couch as the landing burn starts. “Where we at—?”  “Transonic,” you say, numbers blearing green on the scope, “we’re green.”  Hook a bag from where its stickied to your seat and wretch into it, smell of fake chocolate half-digested Bitz-Bars and jump drugs. Grav and spin enough to fuck your inner ears, and the engines burn hard,   “Landing gear deploy—“ calls Cee. There’s a hard thump and you’re down and stable but your roiled stomach and pounding skull and tight neck betray you and you dry heave while the others gear up.  “Gimme a minute,” you say, pressing your eyes closed, trying to get some sort of control over yourself, “Haven’t done much well-work since— since—,” heave helplessly over the bag but nothing comes up, there’s nothing too come up. Ezra rests his hand your arm.   “Hey. Look at me—“ You try to lift your head, and the world starts spinning again, too much time station-side, too much time in the gentle, predictable spin of bench-rings, your body’s forgotten the suck of the world on your bones, on your blood on your lungs  “Can’t,” you crush your eyes shut, welcome dark nulling out some of your screaming nerves.   “Okay,” says Ezra in the roiling dark, “Okay, Baby, I need you to breathe real deep through your nose for me.”  “Not your baby—“  “I know,” he says, “Deep breath. Through your nose. One, two, three--“  You breathe in, left over bitz bar chunks making their presence known, irritation followed by something numbing and cool and slightly spicy, you stomach calms but sweat breaks out all over your body--  “Is this even gonna work?” Cee glares, hands on hips, mostly suited.  “Finish kitting up and start scouting the perimeter,” says Ezra, “Stay on two unless I tell you different. We’ll be out shortly.” Cee narrows her eyes, but does what she’s told, seals her helmet and clips her filter and steps through the hatch, brief breeze of equalizing pressure, scrubbers kicking up to deal with the dust as do the fans clipped into you. When the seals cycle Ezra hands you a styrette.   “This’ll kill the nausea. Also you won’t be able to shit for a half-hand or so. It’s intramuscular”  “I’ve given myself hot-shots before,” you slide your pants down and jab the styrette into the meat of your thigh. Ezra’s eyes flick away.  “Cee’s funny about chemical help,” says Ezra, “Her father was an addict you see. He’d dope down and then stim awake and it scares her so-“

 “Let’s just suit up and do the job,” you say, baring your back to Ezra so you can don the compression garments that go under your suit. The suit’s a custom-job to accommodate your breathers, filter clipped into a hose split and spliced three ways, clean air for your breathers to pass on to your dust-scarred lungs, and another than clips in to your helmet. Settle your mic-rig over your ear.  “Channel two how read?”  “Channel two clear,” says Cee.  “Two clear,” says Ezra, odd doubling of his voice through your rig and through your helmet. And then the channel goes dead. Hollow thump of Ezra’s fishbowl pressed against yours.   “Can we do a suit check right quick?” His voice muffled by his helmet and yours, “I think i’ve got it, but I’d like—“  “Turn around.”  “Cee usually—“   “I’ve got it.” He turns his back to you and you lift the loose fabric off the back seal, two twist catches with hook and loop for the outer seal. You tighten the right side catch and smooth everything else into place.  “Thank you,” he says, “You need checks?”  “No, I’m green.”  “They’re still here—“ Cee’s voice loud and overdriven through your rig and Ezra bolts for the hatch. You shove yourself into the nacreous light, Bakhroma hanging above, it’s curve spanning the sky like a diseased rainbow, pulsing through thick clouds and the endless fall of dust.   “They’re dead, Birdie! Look! They’re just bones in suits. They can’t hurt us, okay?” You turn your back on them. Cee’s breath loud and ragged on two.  “Okay,” says Cee, “M’okay—I just”  “What the Kevva be-cursed fuck?” A plast box rises out of the tall grass, curled around in flowering vines inside and out, a skeleton inside seated on a small bench, glints of gold and bones stained a livid, unnatural pink.  “He got back in the box,” says Cee, “Why would he do that? He let us go and then he got back in the box.”  “Karoclan,” says Ezra, “An oblation I suppose.” Your neck prickles.   “Those folk are fuckin crazy,” You press the back of your hand to your helm and push away, palm out, a gesture to dispel bad luck, can’t rightly remember where you picked it up.  “Look,” says Cee,” standing in a bare, cracked circle of dirt, “This is where we boosted from. Must’ve baked out the soil.”  “Hey. Let’s get the pull. We can get all nostalgic once we boost.” Ezra gives you a dark look, but Cee, bounds past and into the trench.   “Ezra,” she says, her voice flat, even over coms. You and Ezra catch up to where she’s frozen, stone still, “He’s still here. Why is he still here? Why are they still here? It’s been almost a stand.” You push past Ezra and examine the sprawled and sagging suit, nudge the boxy helm with you boot, rotted breather hoses crumbling, dust floating up.  “Are you gonna get your shit together or not?” Cee flinches. Glares at you through her fishbowl. Ezra scowls.  “I hardly think—“  “I’m here to harvest,” you say, “And I will harvest, but I am not doing it alone unless you alter the split.”  “You’re out of line, Kitten,” says Ezra, “You seem to have forgotten who’s hired you on for this venture—“  “It’s okay,” says Cee, “I’m okay. Third time pays for all, right?”  “Third time pays for all,” says Ezra, “Clear.”  “So lets dig,” says Cee, “Fuck these guys, right?”  “Fuck ‘em.” you say, “We’re gonna get rich while these fellas feed the bugs for the next stand and change.”

 The kips that came before you exposed the leading edge of the deposit, oxidized crusts shimmering in Bakhroma’s murky light.   “They didn’t prime any of this?”  “They didn’t know to do so,” says Ezra. “That one over there—“ Ezra jerks his head towards a blood colored suit with faux gold adornments glimmering through a twisted clutch of creeper-vines, “Got himself acid burned for his troubles.”  “Dry breach.”  “Something like.” 

 This is no hurried dig, this is no quick pull and boost, Jada has her heart set on atmo-skimming around the outer moons before hooking back up. Trying to break some record. Ezra hovers at first, flitting around the perimeter you’ve established, light poles stabbed into the boggy ground, and then gets drawn in to the excitement of the pull, peering over your shoulders as you and Cee work. Cee is a quick study, follows your instructions to the letter, and between her hands and yours? The size and clarity is like nothing you’ve seen.  “This makes what we got last time around look like pea gravel,” you say.   “We’re going to have a weight issue,” says Ezra.  “Do we stop?” asks Cee.  “Absolutely not,” says Ezra, “We keep pulling and take the highest grade with us. And then we chem-burn what ever we leave behind.”  “That’s crazy!” says Cee.  “Think on it,” says Ezra, “We burn it behind us and no one else can get ahold of these gems ever again. Not at the size and quality we’re pulling.” You split the fibrous outer husk and Cee squeezes in the diffuser without being asked, and you feel yourself smile.  “The scarcity sets the price,” you say, “We’re the only folk who know about this deposit. No one will ever know we scorched it.”  “But all these pearls—“   “No one knows about them,” says Ezra, “Only us and Jada and she can’t ever drop down here herself. And some hot jumper hits a bench blatting about buried treasure on a world they can’t touch? Only ads to the mystique and rarity, and the points in our accounts.”  “Enough to get me into the Academy? You’re laughing,” she frowns at you, “why’re you laughing?”  “Because this is fuck you money,” you say, “We play this right you can probably buy yourself a station-ring or five somewhere in Central. This is do whatever we want forever kind of money if we keep our heads.”  “She’s right,” says Ezra, “We play the long game and there’ll be precious little we can’t do.”  “Still want to go to the Academy” says Cee, peeling the outer husk away just like you showed her and backing off so you can cut the carom blisters, but there is a tub full of the biggest pearls you’ve ever laid eyes on hardening in the fazer.  “And so you shall,” says Ezra.  “You do this one.”  “You sure?”  “You’ve been watching me excise blisters all cycle. Give it a go.” Cee turns the pinkish mass one way and then another, jaw clenched in fraught concentration, trying to grip without touching the blister, the trick is to slide the blade under and cut it free from beneath, go in at the wrong angle and the cillia react, defensive mechanism.   “What’re you gonna study at the academy?” You ask, and her face loosens up some, her hands do the work they’ve been trained in, pulls the inner husk tight and slides the blade under the blister.  “I’m thinking a botany/anthropology double major,” she says, flicks the blister into the weeds like she’s done it a million times before.  “Huh,” you say.  “Interesting combination, Birdie,” says Ezra. “What ties the two together?” Cee slices another blister and flicks it away, brief curl of steam where it sizzles in the grass.  “What doesn’t?” says Cee, “Why do people bring certain plants from one world to the next? You remember the orchard we saw on Verres? Someone planted those trees there. Don’t you wanna know who and why?”  “Guess so,” says Ezra, “It was a bit creepy seeing all those trees in lines. Verres being classed unihabited and all.”  “I’ve seen stuff like that too. Folks’ve been screwing around in The Great Arm for a long time-“  “Hey! Fazer!” Cee barks and you squeeze the fluid into the cut, watch the husk curl and shrink away.   “There she is,” says Ezra and the three of you look at Cee’s prize, held aloft in the murky daylight, Bakhroma’s ruddy arc taking up most of the sky.  “Not the best one we’ve pulled—“  “This one’s mine,” says Cee, snatches the squeeze and coats the pearl before tucking it into her suit pocket, slow smile creeping up her face, “This is my fuck you pearl. We make it out of here and I’ll use it as a paperweight if I get into the Academy.”

 “When you get into the Academy,” says Ezra, and Cee rolls her eyes, and you feel yourself smile a little. You like Cee.   “You should do one, Ezra,” says Cee, “You peel it down and I’ll hold it for you.”  “I don’t think—“  “Give it a go,” you say,  “Get yourself a fuck you pearl.”

 Ezra eyes the exposed deposit, an irregular honeycomb of aurelac pores, dirt darkened to mud, sprayed water from the onboard tanks to rinse away the caustic slime.   “In for a penny in for a pound,” he says, just loud enough for the mic rig to pick up and shoves his arm inside. His breath comes ragged over two.  “Ezra?”  “I’ve got it, birdie. It’s a big one,” he says, and Cee slices through the dirt flecked umbilicus. Ezra cradles his prize like a kitten then sets it on the tray. Cee gives it a good rinse like she’s been trained to, pinches the outer husk and rolls it between her gloved fingers, loosening it up from the inner husk so Ezra can cut.   “It’s thick,” says Cee, “You got wiggle room. We got time. It’s not like before.” Ezra’s breath steadies and he cuts, splitting the fibrous husk, slow, careful movements, beads of sweat popping out on his brow.  Cee peels the husk away, like taking off a sock and you douse everything with the diffuser. Ezra primes the blade, waits for it hit the right setting and then freezes, sharp edge glinting in the ugly light as his hand shakes. Cee wraps her hand around his wrist.   “You’ve got this.”  “Okie. Yeah. Let’s give her a go. Third time pays for all, right?”  “Third time pays for all.”

 One half-stand later…

 Pain is the first thing, deep, sprained ache in your chest, thirst is second, thirst and taste in your mouth and nose like burnt rubber, third is a warm hand holding yours. Squeeze your fingers around a warm palm, around a plastic handle with a button on top that you press and then there’s no more ache, no more thirst, no more light shining blood ugly through your closed lids.

 Later. You come back to yourself. The pain is less and the thirst is more. Slit your eyes and cram them shut, dark blob leaning over you haloed in screaming light, the hand holding yours lets go.  oh, shit, let me douse the lights.  And the bloodshine through your eyelids stops. Blink the tears out, and Ezra’s face resolves out of the dark his face pinched with worry.  “Oh Kevva, I’m dead.” His eyes go big and then he brays laughter.   “Fraid not, Kitten. Might not feel like it right now but the head nurse assured me that you’re healing well.”  You close your eyes, and press the button that will kill the pain.   “Why’re you here?”  “Cee was worried. She keeps tabs on both of us. She couldn’t make it herself, she’s up to her eyeballs in her new school, she tested in and—“ Sleep is calling, the ache in your chest dying to a low hum.  Why’re you really here? not sure if you say it or think it, and the drugs call you down before you can figure it out.

 thirsty.  “Can you sit? I’ve got you.” His arm curls warm around your back and tilts you up, plastic straw pressed against your lip and you drink deep, frigid water against your raw throat.  “Slow sips,” says Ezra, “Don’t want to shock your stomach.” One arm holds you up, a hand offers you a cool drink. You blink your eyes open, confusion  and cool water against your dry  tongue wake you some, close your lips around the straw and drink deep before Ezra snatches it back, plastic bottle gripped in an intricately articulated prosthetic hand, burnished metal plating like the scales on a snake's belly, telltales and indicators winking, etched over with decorative grooves, circles and curves. Looks a bit like a nav map.   “Slow,” he says. You narrow your eyes at him and swish the water around your mouth, trying to wash the dryness, the foul taste away before swallowing.   “You didn’t go for a regrow?” Your voice sounds lower than usual, ratchety. Ezra shakes his head.  “Too much nerve damage for that,” he says, “Scarring and time passed.” You reach for the bottle and he puts it in your hand  “Slow,”  you say before he can, “I know. Ezra, why are you here? You got your new arm, I got my breathers out and Cee’s got her schooling. We got the agreement set. Third time pays for all, so why are you here?”   “Cause I did you dirtier than that cache of pearls could ever pay for,” says Ezra, “And you shouldn’t be all on your own right now.”   You want to say something back, but you’re so tired, even the act of speaking has made you tired right down to your bones, chest and throat screaming in protest, and your eyes scrim over with tears. One escapes and Ezra strokes it aside with the pad of his thumb.    “I pushed the call button, Kitten, they’ll be here soon.”  “Not your fuckin Kitten,” you say as Ezra folds your hand warm in his, “Not your friend.”  “I know.”  i know.     

#year of kisses #year of themes 2023 #yeah yeah it's 2024 #what am i supposed to do time travel about it? #ezra x f!reader with cee #prospect 2018 #prospect fanfic

[erodasfishtacos]

Okay but imagine mlbrry completely oblivious to the fact that YN wants to jump his bones. Inspired by these shorts and my mind running when I saw them.

-

The three boys were at Anne’s for the weekend, she had wanted to take them to some sort of summer fesitival near her house.

It gave Harry, YN, and Briar some time to themselves for two whole days - their daughter just around nine months at this point.

The thing is…Harry isn’t even trying to do it on purpose like he sometimes does - he’s not even trying to be sexy.

But as he does domestic things around the house like fold laundry, fix a loose shelf in the pantry, and assemble a new big boy bed for Ezra - YN can’t focus on anything.

He’s in these shorts, the tiniest pair of shorts to exist that don’t even cover an inch of his tiger tattoo, they’re that short.

It’s not a secret that Harry is well endowed and so the bulge is something that’s hard to miss when he is in certain positions.

When he asks her to bring him a screwdriver while he’s laying underneath the frame of the bed - stomach going in and out as he breathes steadily, which makes his six pack literally twitch.

YN’s body automatically responds, feeling herself get wetter as she watches his biceps flex and the hard cut of his muscles as he moves around - he’s in such good fucking shape, he looks like Adonis.

She has to get distracted by something or she was going to lose her mind, giving one last glance over the light dusting of hair that leads from his bellybutton into his shorts .

It doesn’t help that it had been such a busy week with his games and the kids that they hadn’t gotten any time to themselves.

YN decides to step away, letting Briar hang out with her father, to the kitchen to organize the pantry, check to make sure nothing has expired but it doesn’t last long because then she sees a sight that no doubtly speaks to her.

Harry padding through the kitchen with a sleepy baby on his hip, he’s giving the baby little kisses all over her face to make Briar belly laugh.

It’s just…he is such a good dad and those are her babies, he gave her them, and it’s something instinctual, primal that’s makes her flush at the sight.

“I think s’about nap time for her. Do you want to try to feed her first or should I give her a bottle?” Harry asks, bouncing the now grumbling baby as she smacks her lips hungrily.

“I’ll feed her,” YN replies easily, stepping over to one of the kitchen stools and sitting down - literal goosebumps start to decorate her skin when her husband’s hand brushes her breast when he’s helping pull up her shirt.

Once again, he was oblivious to how on edge YN was as he hands over Briar before trailing over the fridge to grab a protein shake.

YN watches him as he takes a swig, neck elongated and Adam’s apple bobbing - his other hand absentmindedly scratching at his stomach - making his shorts dip for a half a minute.

God, what was wrong with her.

She’s been with this man for years, literally has him trying to get in her pants at least once on a slow day and right now, she drooling like a teenager.

Harry just makes it worse, not even on purpose, by this point he’s eating an apple and asks casually after he chews, “How bad does this bruise look? He had to hit me at least 75 miles per hour. I’m glad he got fined.”

Then he’s pushing down the side of his shorts to reveal where his hip and thigh meet, there’s a gnarly purpling bruise that takes almost of his side.

YN is more focused on the sculpted curve of his bum, the flash of his pubic bone where she can she his neatly trimmed hair, knowing it get thicker the close it gets to the base of his…

“Mama?” Harry shakes her from her daydream with a frown, “Are you tired? Want to go nap for a little bit, baby?”

Oblivious.

“No, I’m good. Sorry,” YN mumbles, her fingers dancing across Briar’s baby-soft locks as she finishes up her meal, “Yeah, that bruise does like rough still.”

Harry gives her a weird side glance before shrugging and tossing away the apple before coming to collect Briar to burp her and put her down for nap in her nursery.

“Why don’t you go lay down. I could go for a nap, want you t’join me. I’ll meet you in our room, ‘kay?” He murmurs, giving her a kiss before heading towards the stairs.

“Sounds good, thank you,” YN sighs as she tugs her top back down and finishes a few more dishes before going up to their room.

As she enters the room, it’s nearly impossible to ignore the ache between her thighs especially because the room is drenched in his warm, dark cologne scent that sticks to their sheets in the most delicious way.

YN doesn’t know why but this shorts have just made her feral today and they actually have time as Briar’s naps have been at least two to three hours.

She doesn’t look the tiniest bit sexy right now but she knows her husband could care less because he’s wanted her when she’s looked way worse - hell, he watched four babies come out of her.

It’s only a few minutes before Harry is stepping into the room, his shoulder a bit red where YN assumes Briar has been trying out her new baby tooth on her father’s skin.

YN’s sitting on the edge of the bed and her husband trails right up in front of her, about to say something sweet and encourage her budge up so they can cuddle as they sleep.

Instead, her fingers go straight to the waistband of his shorts, and her mouth goes the little strip of hair near his belly button to start smattering kisses as she begins to pull them down.

Harry’s stomach sucks in, ribs popping against his skin for a moment, as he moans a bit too loudly in surprise whenhe’s revealed - soft but still thick and big but already plumping up for his wife.

“Baby, are you-“ He tries to choke out but YN is wrapping her lips around his length and bringing him to full hardness in her mouth, “Fuckin’ hell, you’re so fucking sexy.”

Harry’s hands weave into her messy hair, chin tilted down as he watches her work on him - sloppy and wet just like he loves it.

Her hands gripping the pudge at his hips that despite how lean he is, has never disappeared and bringing him until the crown of his cock hits the back of her throat.

He gently but firmly holds her hair, keeping her head steady as he begins to shallowly buck his hips forward to use her mouth.

His words that follow are filthy.

“Look at those lips, meant to have m’cock in between them, yeah?”

“Sucha a desperate girl, give it to you all the time and it’s still not enough for you, hm? Must fuck you that good.”

“Can’t even ask, you’re so horny, you turn into a greedy slut but it’s just for your husband, right?”

“Already know this is your cock to take, right sweetheart? Don’t ever have to ask.”

He smelled so good, his skin a mixture of clean soap and sandalwood, her nose nestle in those curls she lusted after earlier when she took him all the way down.

“S’good, sweetheart. You know it’s yours to take, this cock is yours baby - know s’yours, can have it whenever you want,” He babbles with a deep, aroused rasp as his hips start to become a bit more erratic.

However, he gets a little too carried away and forgets how big he is - when he fucks in a little too much and cause YN to sputter and push at his hips to catch her breath, eyes watering instantly.

“Sorry, m’sorry,” Harry coos lovingly, becoming a bit more aware and out of his lust filled state as she coughs, thumbing the spit off her lips and leaning down to kiss her swollen ones, “Let me make it up to you, mama.”

With that, he’s pushing her onto her back and bringing her bum to the very edge of the bed as he takes off her bottoms to reveal where she’s sticky and drenched.

“Jesus Christ,” He huffs in disbelief, dragging his thumb through her folds before popping it into his mouth, “How the fuck did I land you, huh?”

Harry wastes no more time in tugging her legs up around his waist to prevent her from falling with her still on her back and slides right it to pure heaven.

“Yes, fuck,” YN mewls happily when he fucks in until their hips are nestled together before he’s pulling fully out and thrusting right back in, in a harsh rhythm.

He’s not going to last long after having her mouth on him and he has to get her there too, his thumb tucking back between her folds and rubbing at her clit with firm, direct circles - relentlessly and perfect.

“C’mon, need you to come,” Harry grits out, feeling his release building at the base of his spine, speeding up his ministrations on her bud as he pounds in her with abandon.

“S’coming,” YN moans with her eyes squeezed shut as her orgasm wracks through her body, back arching and hips moving with his.

“Good girl, give it to me so fuckin’ well,” He growls as his movements become erratic and uncoordinated, “You’re gonna make me come. How’s your cunt this perfect?”

And when they’re coming down, Harry pulls out and flops right on top of her with his full weight, sprinkling kisses all over her face.

“What brought that on? Not that I’d ever complain,” Harry ask curiously, pecking at her lips and nuzzling into her.

“Those shorts,” YN giggles because that was really it at the end of the day.

“My shorts? Just showing a little bit of leg gets your pussy soaked?” Harry hums crudely, his fingers dripping down to tuck back up into for round two.

—

It’s fair to say Harry buys multiple more pairs of those shorts and wears them any chance he gets in front of his wife.

-

🥵

#mlb!verse #mlbrry #mlb!harry blurbs #mlb!harry masterlist #mlb!harry #mlb harry #harry styles writing #harry styles #harry styles masterlist #harry styles fic rec #harry styles x reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles smut #harry styles writing request

[softtcurse]

The kids missed you

the harlow kids waiting for their dad’s return

My pet peeve is a camera in my face

Have you ever heard of personal space?

I walk around town in a hoodie and some shades

But now they starting to recognize the shades

Even if you hate me, you would trade

You would live this life too 'cause I got it made

I like my bed made, soon enough, I'll have a maid

When I buy a house, every surface gon' be suede

“Daddy when you coming home?” Mila asks as she holds your phone in her hands. Her hair was up in a small pink towel, her damp curls towel drying before you did her hair for the night. Ezra in his little mover walking around, chunky legs kicking in excitement when you walked in with a pacifier to keep him preoccupied before it was his turn to talk to this father.

“Soon baby, why? You miss your old man?” Jack asks with a grin as he watched his mini me look at him, her big eyes staring back into his soul.

“Your not old daddy!” Mila laughed and threw her head back. “Did you buy me somefing?”

“Mila, you know daddy is working. Not going out to get you all the toys to fill up your closet twice” You playfully scolded her and shook your head. You knew Jack would be back with toys for both of the kids. Even Ezra who has just barely started to stand up on his own.

“Hmmm I don’t know, have you been good for momma?”

“I have! Right momma? I help you wif Ezzie and clean up my toys?”

“She’s a very good helper baby, I’d be a shame on you if you didn’t bring her anything back”

“And i even ate all my dinner today” Mila held her head up high and smiled proudly. She had developed a habit of wanting to eat nothing but grilled cheese or a pb&j and refusing to eat anything else. But you took your time to introduce her to other new foods she might like. Which in return ended up with a clean plate that had been previously cut up with her dinner; marinated pork chops, with homemade Mac and cheese and some roasted veggies.

“Even the broccoli and carrots?” Jack eyes her threw the phone.

“Yes! I promise!”

“Okay then, if you’ve been good then I guesss I’ll buy you something I saw at the mall last night”

Your little girl couldn’t contain her excitement and she bounced on the bed with her knees.

“Go get your brush baby, so I can finish doing your hair before daddy has to go, and Ezzie can talk to him too”

Mila nods and hands you the phone, running off with her pajamas crinkled to one side.

“You ready to see your son?” You laugh and lift the camera so he could see you more clearly. You looked tired and you knew you did. But you were also a mom and that’s what it took. Your day consisted of waking up at 7 am since that’s when Mila usually woke up, and with that came Ezra deciding he was ready for the day. Running errands with two kids and then coming back in time to make lunch and get dinner prepped. You had no time to yourself and although it was very exhausting, it was all worth it to see your babies growing up right in front of your eyes. You knew many mothers didn’t have the luxury you did to stay at home with their kids. You felt very fortunate.

“Yeah but first I wanna talk to you, what you wearing underneath that shirt hmm?” Jack asked you, you see him start playing with his beard and a stupid grin on his face that you loved so much. It was one of the many reasons why you ended up pregnant twice.

“Nothing, because my boobs are leaking and it’s getting so annoying and I have carrot and peas gerbert all over my other shirt” You explained and smiled at Ezra who looked up at you with a giggle and a toothless smile.

“Damn, that’s so fucking sexy. Got me bricked up right now”

“You’re an ass” You laughed and shook your head. Tears nearly in your eyes on his much you laughed. He was a charmer at all means necessary.

“Mamamamama” You looked away from the phone to see Ezra. His head tilted to the side to try and see you better like the momma’s boy he was.

Flipping the camera you let Jack look at him.

“Definitely takes after his dad”

“You making sure mom’s not texting other motherfuck-“

“Jackman! No!”

“Damn full name, who hurt you?”

You rolled your eyes and smiled. Kneeling down next to Ezra and turning the camera back to the front view.

“Who’s that Ezzie? Are you so excited?” You asked your soon who started bouncing on his mover. Ezra shared the same smile as Jack it was almost scary. 9 months of having him inside you and he was like a copied imagine of Jack, more than Mila is. Ezra had a patch of curls already growing.

“My mannnnn, daddy misses you!” You see Jack’s eyes light up again at the sight of his other baby. He’d missed Ezra standing up and you remember how it had broken him to miss a milestone.

“Say ‘I ate all my dinner dada, and I was so good for momma during bathtime’ , tell me Ezzie” You grabbed Ezra’s chubby hand and moved it a little bit. Your son’s lips suckled on a pacifier and he brought up another hand and started reaching to the camera.

“Did you!?”

You watched as Mila ran back into the room, sitting next to Ezra’s moved on the floor to talk to Jack as much as she could before it was time for her.

You loved your family so much, and you knew it was milking Jack to be away from the both of them. You too, of course.

///

But for now, I got a concierge downstairs

All my neighbors are gray-haired

They don't recognize me and I don't think they care

But my Postmates can't believe that I stay here (fuck)

I wanna go back to Kentucky and shut down the state fair

Visit my old teachers and tell 'em to take care

I might take a whip instead of paying the plane fare

I still remember the way there (way there)

Ain't a girl in my hometown I can't have now

Buy a building in cash, ain't putting half down

The hate used to get to me, I just laugh now (laugh now)

Yeah, they fucking with Jack now

Look how they act now

Look how they act now

Look how they act now

Look how they act now

They fucking with Jack now, they fucking with-

“Is daddy going to call tonight momma?” You looked down at Mila. Her eyes filled with tears and you saw a few tears rolled down her plump cheeks. Her tiny fingers playing with the string of her blanket. You looked at your phone and saw the time 8:30, 30 minutes later than he said he would call. You sighed softly as you heard Ezra start fussing through the baby monitor. Bedtime was at 8, and Mila herself was getting cranky from her sleeping schedule being interrupted. That, with Jack not calling yet was making her very upset.

“He’ll call baby, you know daddy’s very busy right?” You asked her, softly stroking her hair as she looked up at you with her big teary eyes. Your heart tinged a little, you hated seeing her so upset.

“I sad mommy”

“I know my love, I know” You kisses her head softly. Her stare at your phone never ceased. Soft hands gripping her stuffy as if she almost let sleep win and defeat her from waiting for Jack’s call.

You were almost near saying your goodnight to her when your phone immediately started ringing.

Mila shoots up and gives you and excited look. Which you couldn’t help to laugh at. Her droopy eyes held their happiness as she waited for you to answer the call. Once you did, a very visibly tired Jack look at the camera. His curls were damp and you could tell he had recently gotten dressed from a long shower and was laying in his hotel bed.

“Daddy! I though you wasn’t gonna call!”

“I can never forget my favorite girl? Are you crazy!?” Mila giggled and tossed her head back.

You noticed Ezra settled down too through the baby monitor. Little did you know it was because he heard Jack’s voice through the baby monitor. You spaced out a little bit, smiling big ear to ear as you heard Mila recap her entire day to her favorite person in the world.

///

Baby, I'm coming home, I know the kids miss me

I need some time with my friends to sip whiskey

I spent the last 12 months locked in

But tonight, I'm content with existing

2015, we was on that Pen Griffey

I wanted what he had, but the shoes didn't fit me

Now the city with me and I got the kids listening

And I'm a smooth operator by instinct

Dinner on the stove. The sweet smell of a braised brisket filling your kitchen. A soft song playing from Jack’s new album. State fair.

You had fresh rolls in the oven too. A glass of red wine sitting on your counter top. It felt so real. It felt so right. You heard Mila sing along to some TV show song she was watching before dinner. Ezra sitting in his playpen messing around with some toys he had been given. You let out a soft sigh. Cleaning your hands with a white kitchen cloth. 2 days. 2 days before the love of your life would be back home. Two days before your kids could see their dad again. Two days before you could feel like a complete family again. You were over the moon, and a little bit annoyed. Two days seemed so far away yet so close.

You talked to Jack every night after the kids said goodnight to him. The conversations you both had were some you would never forget. He was a sweet talker at heart. Two kids later and he had you feeling like a teenager. Sitting on your bed with your feet kicked up.

“You ready for dinner Mila?” You asked. Walking into the living room. Mila was no where to be found. “Mila!?” You asked. Your chest felt heavy. It was a big house, and of course just like a true mom all the worst thoughts in the world ran through your head. Ezra was in his play pen. Giggling up at you and rattling a toy.

You picked up Ezra and walked around the house. Opening the pantry, the closet in the hallway, the laundry room. She was no where to be found.

That was until you heard some rumbling coming from upstairs, possibly her bedroom.

You ran up the steps as safely and as fast as you could holding a 8 month old.

You yanked opened Mila’s bedroom door open. A sigh of relief leaving your lips as you watched her clean up around her room in a haste.

“What are you doing baby? You scared me half to death!”

“I’m cleaning momma!” Sure, Mila was very organized. A lady, you liked to call her. However you had never seen her so excited to clean.

“That’s good that you want to be clean but you have to tell momma, you can’t just leave” You leaned down and kissed her forehead. Ezra babbling to his sister and reaching for her. It was no secret he loved her so much. Mila placed a kiss on Ezra’s chubby cheek.

“I have’ta clean before daddy gets home momma! When he come in at nigh’ he don’t fall” Mila explained to you, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

You let out a soft laugh and nodded. “Makes sense, don’t want him hurting his tushy huh?”

“Nope! I don’ wan’ daddy’s tushy to hurt like last time” Mila let out a soft giggle.

///

A soft breeze flew right there the window. It was a nice cool Kentucky night. It seemed as if the whole world had gone to sleep. Except for the few murmuring voices from your neighbors on their late night walk. They were an older couple but they were very sweet, and they absolutely adored Mila and Ezra.

Your eyes flickered down from your soft day dream. Your nightgown pulled down the side. Your hands held Ezra’s body. Your other hand holding his head up as he ate his late dinner. His long eyelashes brushing up his eyebrows, and whenever he would look down for a moment you saw them cascade down his chunky cheeks. His tiny hand resting on top of your breast. Equally small nails grazing over your skin. His eyes that reminded you so much of Jack’s looked up at you. Filled with wonder and love. He was so small but you knew he saw you as his world.

You were his provider, his protector since the day he was conceived. You felt like he knew that too. The love radiating from your body was no secret. Ezra’s soft pout suckled his food. It seemed for a few minutes the only sound that echoed in the room other than the wind was the soft suckling sound of your son eating.

“Are you a hungry boy tonight?” You whispered to him. Running a finger down his forehead. His eyes shutting softly. You grinned and placed a kiss to his forehead.

The sound of a car, and a few voices filled your ears.

He was home.

3 long months.

You stayed in your position.

5 minutes, 6 minutes. The door opened and shut.

7 minutes, 8 minutes Mila’s bedroom door opened. You heard him speak soft words to her, that was between the two of them. Unspoken words between him and his daughter. He could be telling her the secrets of the universe for all you knew, and still you would let them have their moment.

12 minutes, 15 minutes.

You heard your bedroom door open. Your hair was tucked away in a bun. Your legs covered with the soft duvet.

Jack’s eyes landed on Ezra first. Quietly wheeling his bags behind him. He shifted his eyes to you. You could see the shine of his chain from the moonlight pouring from the window. His blue jumpsuit too.

“Hi”

“Hey”

You waved.

“We can do better than a wave mama”

You giggled and watched him walk over to you. Pressing a heavy kiss to your lips. His lips tasted like mint. You hummed and nodded towards you son who was looking up at him now.

“They missed you so much”

“I know the kids missed me, did Mrs. Harlow miss me?”

You gave him a wondering look, as if you were debating if you missed him or not.

“Stop playin with me”

You snickered and placed a soft kiss to his jaw. “Of course I missed you”

#jack harlow fic #jack harlow imagine #jack harlow #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow fanfic

[daddy-dins-girl]

Pedro Boys "Feral/Sad/Angelic"

Thanks to everyone who provided their input on this one! I loved reading what everyone thought :)

Headcanons under the cut!

related posts: Pedro Boys "During a Fire Emergency" Pedro Boys "Nice Argument. Unfortunately," Pedro Boys "Don't Fuck This Up" Pedro Boys "Dad(dy) Matrix" Pedro Boys & Stabbing Pedro Boys "Lawful/Neutral/Chaotic" Pedro Boys Respond to "I love you." Pedro Boys "Character Tropes" Pedro Boys "Gay/Depressed/Horny on Main" Pedro Boys "Dad/THOT/Bastard" Pedro Boys "bring some Coke to the party" Pedro Boys "Zombie Apocalypse Team" Pedro Boys "I Want a Baby" Pedro Boys "As Babysitters" Pedro Boys "As McDonald's Dads" Pedro Boys "in a horror movie" Pedro Boys "Cinnamon Rolls" Pedro Boys "5 Kids, 3 Chairs"

Feral Disaster - Ezra. At the end of the day, there was only one person who could fit here. I originally had Max Lord here, but Ezra had to win out. This man is a walking one-armed dumpster fire and god do we love him for it.

Feral Himbo - Dieter Bravo. I don't think I even need to defend this spot for our belovedly unhinged himbo Dieter.

Feral Smartass - Max Phillips. IF Max was going to be on this board, he was always going to be in this spot. If you had to sum up Max Phillips in two words, these are the words you'd use, before "vampire" even came to mind.

Sad Disaster - Frankie Morales. There were a few suggestions to where Frankie should be (shoutout to @criticalarchitecture who said he'd either be an angel or a disaster, "depending on how recently he killed someone" - literally had me ROLLING). At the end of the day, our boy Frankie is a mess and we just want to wrap our arms around him and run our fingers through those curls, amirite?

Sad Himbo - Jack Daniels. Jack is... well, god bless him but this man is a himbo. "Tinder what now?". And he's sad because... well, we don't talk about that. Our poor cowboy :(

Sad Smartass - Javi P. Suggested by a few people and I couldn't disagree. Oh how we love that smart mouth of his... He's also a sad boy because, well, I mean, it's Javi. Poor guy needs a break. And maybe a nicotine patch.

Angelic Disaster - Marcus Pike. Look, I love my sweet baby boy Marcus but he's also proposing to someone after like 3 weeks who ends up breaking his heart so he's a bit of a disaster. Let me take your pain away Marcus... I'll treat you right ;)

Angelic Himbo - Javi G. Oh sweet, sweet Javi. Nobody can ever take this square from you, don't you worry babygirl.

Angelic Smartass - Oberyn Martell. Ok, Oberyn being an angel is certainly debatable, HOWEVER, in the realm of GoT, he's basically an angel. He only kills people who hurt him or his loved ones. Otherwise he just wants to bring pleasure to everyone ;)

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal cinematic universe #pedro pascal characters #dieter bravo #max phillips #agent whiskey #frankie morales #oberyn martell #javi gutierrez #javier peña #ezra prospect #marcus pike