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myhaikyuuacademia · 2 days

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Totally Fake | Ant Vaughn x reader (Heartbreak High) ||

This is officially a series haha, trying to make it slowburn-ish but let's see if i can hold myself back

Fake dating, fem!reader

@foxxyhun

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Thankfully you had managed to get Ant’s number by Friday, not so thankfully you spent all day chatting with him about stupid, irrelevant stuff and Not about what your gameplan was going to be. And if, IF, you were actually going to the party later this evening, he’d probably be too wasted to talk about it anyway. Which means SLUTS was the last chance you had with him still sober and not hungover. Except you had no idea how to go about it, especially without drawing the attention of your friends who had been watching you like hawks all week. You were the first one in the classroom, anxiously ripping your notebook paper into tiny shreds while thinking about all the logistics. You didn’t get very far when you sensed someone sitting down next to you. “What did the poor paper do to deserve that?” Ant asked amusedly. “Wrong place, wrong time.” You grimaced and shrugged, immediately stopping and throwing all the paper shreds into your pencil case. “Oh no, don’t stop because of me, I’m sure it deserved it.” He joked before settling in his seat. “You don’t wanna sit next to your friends?” You asked, with a nod to the table they usually sat at. “Nah, I’d rather sit with my girlfriend.” He said casually. You didn’t feel very casual as you choked on your spit. God how embarrassing. It took you a minute to calm down, Ant worriedly asking if you were okay, and offering you some of his water, which you declined with a hand gesture as you were starting to calm down. “Sorry, sorry, I’m fine.” You coughed out. “Actually, that’s what I’ve been wanting to talk to you about.” He looked at you, almost disappointed, “You’re backing out?” He assumed. “What? No!” You hurried to say. “I wanted to talk about lining up our stories and everything, ground rules and stuff, you know?” Relief flooded his face, “Ah, okay gotcha!” He seemed much happier. The class was slowly filling up and you were dreading the moment your friends would enter. “Well I already told pretty much everyone that you’re my girlfriend.” He added, catching you completely offguard as you watched the doorway waiting for the inevitable arrival of your friends. “Oh.” Surprised you turned your head to look at him. “Okay.” You added after a second. “What about your mom?”

“Nah, not her yet. But like, Spider and Dusty.” He clarified. Your face felt warm. “Did you tell them it was fake too?” You leaned in closer to whisper it, now that the class was almost full. “No.” He grinned at you conspiringly. You grinned back at him, his answer, and the way he looked at you, making your whole body tingle. “Oh. My. God.” Darrens dramatic voice came from opposite the table. “You two totally ARE together.” Amerie beside them looked satisfied with herself, while Quinni stimmed excitedly, jumping up and down and clapping her hands. They sat down at your table while Ant put an arm around your shoulder, “Yeah, so what?” He asked. Your face was burning, as was the parts where his arm touched you. Darrens mouth wide agape, while Quinni looked just as excited as before. “Oh my god, y/n, that’s so cute!! Congrats!” She said, happily, but after a second she looked a little less happy and a little more confused. Disappointed, even. “But why didn’t you tell us?” She asked. “Thrill of a secret relationship I bet.” Amerie added, feeling much cooler than she actually was. “But really, him?” Darren pointed at Ant. Wow rude. Your brows furrowed and you leaned into the boy next to you a little more without noticing. “What do you mean? You don’t think he's cute?” Trying to paddle back Darren stuttered out something a long the lines of, “No, that’s not what I mean, I just, I didn’t think he was your type is all.” “well, to be fair, we never knew what her type was.” Quinni added. “She never told us who she was crushing on, or what she liked in a guy, or girl.” You nodded, she was telling the truth, you usually kept things like that to yourself. “Well, I for one, am happy for you two, though I totally didn’t get any vibes when I was asking for a slap band earlier this week.” Amerie said, crossing her arms. She sounded accusing, like she was about to interrogate the two of you, when thankfully Miss Obah asked everyone to pay attention and started class. Ant didn’t take his arm off your shoulder the whole time.

When he finally did, after class ended, you couldn’t suppress your pout. Logically, you understood it was so both of you could pack your things, but this whole thing didn’t feel very logical, no matter how hard you tried. So instead, once both of you had finished, you grabbed his hand and threaded your fingers with his. Still slightly pouting. He looked down at you and laughed, “What now?” “I think she’s upset you took your arm off of her.” Darren, eagle-eyed gossip lover they are, supplied. “Oh, really?” Ant seemed surprised and looked at you for confirmation. “Yeah, kinda.” You mumbled embarrassed, avoiding his gaze. He chuckled before leaning in close and whispering in your ear. “I’ll touch you all you want at the party later.” Your face was beet red. “Ant!” You whisper shouted, scandalized and wide-eyed. He just tugged you along with him, towards the school exit. “They’re so cute together.” You overheard Quinni say to Amerie and Darren behind you. “Something’s fishy.” Both of them replied in unison. You ignored it, keeping going with Ant. “What now?” You asked once outside the school gate, still holding his hand. Refusing to be the one to let go, actually. “Well, I have some time before the party starts, which, you totally are going to right?” He asked in such a way that you felt a no would break his heart, so you just nodded. How come you are immune to peer-pressure when it was your friends but not when it was the guy you’ve been fake-dating for less than a week. “Great! Well, wanna hang out until then?” You smiled. “Sure!! Oh, we can talk about the logistics of it all, like when did we even start dating and what church do I go to? Or is that even something that’s important to your mother?” You dragged him along, totally rambling at this point about all the different things you had to decide on for the story to be foolproof. When you turned to look at him, waiting for him to say something, you noticed the way he was smiling at you. “Oh, what? Am I overthinking?” You questioned out loud. “No, no, it’s fine. I just don’t think I’ve ever heard you talk that much.” He still looked at you in a way you had trouble deciphering. “Oh. Well, I guess I don’t talk a lot. Usually. But also we haven’t really spoken before this week so…” You trailed off. “Hmmh, yeah, but we’ve been in the same year for a while now.” He said, before turning back to look at the way ahead. “You usually only talk when spoken to.” Oh. He had noticed that? He had noticed you? Before you ever talked to him? “Oh, um. I guess that’s right.” You squeezed his hand subconsciously. “I like hearing you talk.” He squeezed your hand back. “Plus, you’re so smart, I wouldn’t have thought about half of the things you mentioned. Maybe we should write it all down.” You nodded. “Yeah, good idea.”

“Woah, your room is awesome.” Ant was currently walking through your room looking at all the little trinkets that were… everywhere frankly. Picking them up and putting them down again. “Haha, thanks.” You sat on the edge of your bed, not knowing what to do with yourself as you watched him. “Woah, you like Marvel?” He seemed genuinely surprised. “Uh yeah, I love it.” You laughed. He put the action figure down and turned around, very serious all of a sudden. “This calls for a movie night.” He explained. You grinned. “Sure, I’m always up for a movie.. But let’s talk business first.” You scooched to the side and patted the spot next to you. He groaned dramatically and walked over before sitting down. “Why does this feel like homework all of a sudden.” Your face scrunched up at that. “Sorry. But this is just so our story doesn’t fall apart.” He turned to look at you, head hanging to the side. “You really think it’s necessary?” “Well. Yeah.” You reply. “What if your mom asks us how we met, our what our first date was, and we say different things. Better to be prepared.” He pouts playfully, “Well, fine I guess.” In the end you agree on simple things, you met at school, duh, and worked a project together, after which you became friends, before Ant asked you on a date to the diner, and then a second date to the movies, before asking you to be his girlfriend. Easy enough. He said it was okay not to go to church as long as you were still acting Christian enough in front of his mom. Whatever that means. The reason he was only introducing you now was because you could disprove what was written on the map. You were scared of meeting his parents, so it had taken you a while to gather the courage, and he wanted to be sure before bringing a girlfriend home. Easy. Plausible. Good story. Boring, but believable. In the end you wrote it all down, twice, one copy for you and one for him, just in case you needed it. “Can we finally watch a movie?” He whined as you gave him his paper. “I don’t know, the party is soon, and I don’t know about you, but I definitely have to get ready. You think we can manage to squeeze a movie in?” He nodded, completely convinced. “How long can it take to get ready.” Not believing this was an issue. “Oh buddy…If only you knew.” You patted his shoulder before getting your remote and turning on the tv. It was difficult, at first, to concentrate on the movie, when he was so close and warm, shoulder against shoulder, and legs touching. Your body felt on fire. After a while he wrapped his arm around you too, pulling you ever so slightly closer, if that was even possible.

“Oh! I love this part.” He pointed towards the screen with the hand not resting on your hip. “What? No way, that’s my favorite part.” You looked up at him excitedly. “No way!” He turned to look at you too. You nodded emphatically. “You’re so cool.” He gave you a squeeze. He turned back towards the screen, and you did too, after staring at him for a little while longer. In the end, he ended up staying, watching you get ready, since there was no time for him to go home before Dusty’s band performed. “Whoa, wait, what is that?” You were about to put on your fake lashes, putting glue on the strip when Ant’s head popped up next to you, dangerously close to poking your lash with his finger. “My fake lashes.” You explained. “Your lashes are fake?” He turned to you, staring intensely into your eyes, inspecting your lashes. “No, well yes, sometimes. I have real lashes. The one you’re looking at right now.” You laughed. “But sometimes I put on fake lashes, which looks kinda-“ You leaned towards the mirror to put your lashes on. “like this.” You said, leaning back to show him. “Oh my god that’s crazy.” He breathed out, totally stunned, which made you laugh even harder. After that he stayed next to you, watching you apply your makeup closely. “Hmmm..” You pursed your lips as you put the last thing in place. “I think that’s it.” You concluded. Before you could even turn to the side to face him, his voice piped up as he asked: “Can you put some on me?” The request came unexpectedly, but you happily obliged. You opted for some chrome glimmery dark blue green ish, you didn’t really know how to describe it, glitter shadow to put on top of his eyelids. Dabbing it in softly, he leaned in closely and you could feel his breath on your skin. “Okay, try opening your eyes.” You requested softly, holding his chin in your hand and looking at him intensely, assessing your work. He opened his eyes hesitantly. Chewing on your lip you came to the conclusion that this look needed some black liner, so you added a line underneath his eyes on his waterline, dragging it out into a straight “wing”. A difficult job, with this being a sensitive area and Ant not used to having stuff put this close to his eyes. He kept squirming and blinking, but eventually you got the job done to your satisfaction. “This looks sick.” You say as you remove your hands from his face and lean back. Giving him time to admire himself in your mirror, you put away your brushes and powders and liners. “You want to do something to your hair too?” He turned to look at you at that. “Kinda.” You look on your phone to check the time, before grimacing. “Sorry, I don’t think we have time. Actually we really need to go if we wanna make it in time.” You stand up and hold your hand out to him, pulling him up from where he was sitting. Your friends were definitely going to give you shit about barely reaching out to them later.

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eff4freddie · 2 days

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Touch | Part Five

You struggle to re-establish a purpose in Jackson. But the Miller brothers will always keep you on your toes.

Words: 5.2k

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four

Warnings: smutty smut smut, oral (m receiving), kind of subby Joel maybe?, like shades of subby, whimpers and groans, carpentry

Minors DNI

You envied people who didn’t remember their dreams. Yours lingered with you, so much accumulated horror for your brain to draw upon. The crunching of dried-out fungus under boot. The squelch of blood running over clenched fist. The screams of your sister, reverberating with the screams of your dad, of your mum, of yourself. Formless and vacant of hope, a belligerent and unrelenting slideshow.

You woke with a start in your own bed, alone and trying to piece together how you got there. After Joel had taken care of you on the coffee table you had slumped towards him, head on his shoulder, and took in all the air your lungs could get. The exhaustion was overwhelming and you had felt yourself go limp in his arms, dimly aware of him lifting you, carrying you up the stairs. You’d had enough presence of mind to worry he was going to hurt his shoulder before he had you wrapped up in your blanket. You didn’t hear him leave.

You supposed you should be happy, but you had long started to suspect that it wasn’t really an emotion you were capable of. Even before outbreak day you’d had too much to worry about. You had already come to terms with the fact that happiness just wasn’t something your mind could do. Terror, though. That was your speciality.

At the bottom of the stairs, you peered through the front window at the rest of Jackson going about their day. Ordinarily, you would have been setting up for your first client, but you’d already cancelled them. You couldn’t bring yourself to look into the treatment room, hadn’t been in there since your table collapsed. The excitement of Maria delivering, the thrill of being somewhat useful, had allowed you to forget for a second that your vocation, the one thing that had got you into Jackson and probably saved your life in the process, was over. Without the table you were limited to straddling grumpy men in your kitchen, and that was a whole different job.

You glanced in at the living room, eyeing the coffee table suspiciously. You were running out of safe rooms in your house.

—

You kept your eyes down at the mess hall, only glancing up once or twice to ensure that the coast was clear. You weren’t surprised to see that Ray wasn’t there, assuming that he was manning the radio with Simon trying to scout any danger for Marla and the crew. The expedition was expected to take several days, longer if the weather turned. There was no cause for alarm, no reason to assume anything was amiss. But you knew Ray, and that that wouldn’t stop him.

Halfway through your porridge a tray dropped onto the table in front of you, and you startled, snapping your head up. You felt your stomach flip, the rolled oats no longer sitting comfortably beside the acid and bile in your stomach.

‘Mind if I sit?’ Ellie asked, already settling into the chair. You shook your head, swallowing heavily.

‘No, course,’ you said.

‘You looked lonely, you always look lonely.’

‘You’re very observant,’ you said, not sure if this was truly a compliment.

‘We just got back to Jackson,’ Ellie said, undeterred.

‘So I hear.’

‘I think we’re staying for a while,’ she went on largely without you. Her eyes had drifted to the middle distance, and you could see that she was thinking.

‘And how do you feel about that?’ you prompted. Her gaze shifted back to you, and she shook her head as if the thoughts were clinging to her clothes.

‘I’ve seen you around,’ she said, and you got the feeling she was starting the conversation over again, to see if she could improve it a second time. You let her.

‘Yup,’ you said.

‘You touch people,’ she said simply, and you blinked, had no idea what to make of it.

‘Umm…’ you started, and she interrupted you.

‘Dina says it helps people feel good,’ Ellie continued, as did your concerns.

‘What exactly did she day I do?’ you desperately tried to clarify.

‘You rub people and they feel good.’

Nope. Not better.

‘Massage,’ you spat out abruptly, ‘it’s a kind of therapy, physical therapy…but not like, it’s not…it’s good for your muscles, for your spine.’

‘Right,’ Ellie said, as if this was obvious, and you were very relieved to have got that sorted out at least.

‘You massaged Joel,’ she went on, and you wondered how hard it would be to jam your butter knife into your eye socket and remove yourself from the conversation, if not the planet, completely. ‘He told me it helped. Well he didn’t tell me, but he was all angry and sore…more than normal…then Tommy made him see you and he was better after that. He was his normal grumpy self, not his sore grumpy self.’

‘I’m happy to have helped,’ you said. You had given up trying to predict where the conversation was going, and now you were just tagging along behind her.

‘You did help,’ she said, leaning forward on her chair, up on her elbows on the table. ‘I want to help, too.’

‘You…do?’

‘Yeah I thought I could…I thought I was going to but, it didn’t…’ She looked around the room, flustered, and dipped her head lower to murmur underneath the sounds of the other tables. ‘I thought that I could help people one way, but it didn’t work out, and I just want to see if there’s another…fuck it actually, this is stupid.’

‘No, it’s not stupid,’ you said, and you reached out to put your hand on her arm, but she pulled it back like you had burned her.

‘You probably think I’m too young,’ she said, rolling her eyes but also really seeming to mean it.

‘I was your age who I started learning,’ you said, and watched as her eyes lit up, finally rising back to meet yours.

‘You were?’ she asked, and you nodded, grinning at her.

‘I think so, yeah. I mean, how old are you, Ellie?’

Like a shot her smile dropped, and she slunk backwards and away from you, receding into the chair and appearing to you to deflate to half her size. ‘What, what did I…’ and then you realised, cursed yourself and your remaining three brain cells. She hadn’t told you her name.

‘Who’s been talking about me?’ she asked, so quietly you only just heard. You swallowed. You remembered what it was like to be a teenager, to be relentlessly comparing yourself to your peers, to the women in magazines and on tv, to be relentlessly self-conscious, to be convinced everyone is talking about you and also worse, that no one is.

‘I asked Maria who you both were who you arrived,’ you said, deciding it was safer to talk about Maria then it was to talk about Joel. ‘I saw how Tommy reacted to Joel, and to you, and I didn’t understand what was happening so I asked.’

Ellie nodded, considering this, and you could see she had already worked out that it wasn’t the whole truth, but you hoped it was enough truth that she didn’t disappear on you.

‘What did she say?’ she asked, and you thought very hard and very fast to think of a good answer. You would have preferred a minefield.

‘Just that you were Joel’s kind of adopted daughter and that you’d been out of town for a while…and that she was super happy to have you back.’ You prayed the last part would ring true in some way, that it would be enough to reassure her. ‘Maria cares about you a lot.’

‘Maria doesn’t know me,’ Ellie replied. I don’t trust that he’s not keeping her in the dark.

‘She doesn’t need to, she just cares anyway,’ you said, and you meant it.

A loud group of teenagers, slightly older than Ellie if you had to guess, pushed into the mess hall and you watched as she pulled away from you even further, taking up residence about three centimetres back from her own skin. Her eyes were hard, vacant. You had seen the same look on Joel, and you knew then that she was a quick learner.

‘Ellie-‘ you started, but she was pushing her chair back.

‘Never mind,’ she said over her shoulder as she hurried away.

—

The mood in the town shifted over the next few days. Neither Marla nor any of the other crew had radioed in since reaching the third checkpoint, and there had been heavy, low-hanging clouds threatening the mountains. You had wondered about going in to see Ray, but you weren’t sure what you could say that would be any consolation. You worried, perhaps unfairly but also perhaps not, that you would say the wrong thing, that in your haphazard if well-intentioned way you would lose him, too. Instead, you stayed away.

You also avoided Joel. You felt the urge to keep a respectful distance, to try and pretend like it had never happened, like you hadn’t grasped his shoulders and come harder than you had in literal decades. You weren’t sure if you remembered ever having felt the way he had made you feel in an embarrassingly short period of time, but also you weren’t sure what it meant, if anything. If this was just something that Joel did, how he kept himself busy at the end of the world. You didn’t want to be his distraction, and you didn’t want him to distract you, especially when you had so much to pointlessly worry about.

You’d had boyfriends, one before outbreak day and two and a half in the years after. A lot of the time it was convenience, sometimes protection, but never passion. You’d read that during times of national crisis birth rates skyrocket and you’d never been able to understand why. Nothing about a brain-obliterating fungus was all that attractive to you. You wondered if what had happened with Joel was just about you finally feeling safe. If it was less Joel and more Jackson. You felt better about things, if that were true. You hoped it was.

You took the short walk to Maria’s, a tray of lasagne in your hands that you’d begged and borrowed at the mess to be able to make. There wasn’t any oregano or basil, so you just got generous with the salt and hoped for the best. You thought about your mum’s cooking, which wasn’t really all that great either. Her method was throwing Italian herb mix in to any pasta sauce in the hope that it would make it taste better than the sum of its parts. It rarely worked, but you couldn’t blame a girl for trying.

You stood on Maria’s porch, not sure if you should knock. You were worried about waking the baby, or waking Maria, or that the wrong Miller brother would be home. You worried that you wouldn’t be welcome, that you’d done too much at the birth, that you had overstepped in some way that you weren’t aware of but that would make it impossible for Maria to now be your friend.

Just as you were about to leave the lasagne on the front porch and make a break for it, the door swung open, and you were met with Tommy’s surprised face.

‘Umm, hi,’ you said, taking a step away from the doorstep without even noting. Tommy looked down at your hands, took the lasagne from you and put it gently on the console inside the door, then wrapped his arms tight around you and pushed all the air out of your lungs. You couldn’t even gasp in surprise.

‘You…’ he said, and he trailed off, and you felt the warmth and the comfort of his arms, and you suddenly thought you might cry. You pulled away, fast.

‘How are they?’ you asked, and Tommy beamed. Looking at him now, you realised he was absolutely exhausted, dark circles under his eyes.

‘Come see,’ he said, pulling you in and shutting the door behind you. You could hear humming, contented gurgling, and followed it into the lounge room. Maria was sitting up on the couch, son at her breast. She smiled when she saw you, and you looked down at the baby in her arms, and felt love physically enter your body.

‘Oh Maria,’ you whispered, and she grinned back at you.

‘I am so fucking tired,’ she stage-whispered, and you had to try hard not to laugh too loud. His little fist was balled up and resting on her chest, and you could see the tiny thumbnail, purple and deep red, and it was too small and too precious for the world around it.

‘I have to go…run an errand,’ Tommy said quietly from the doorway. ‘Will you two be OK?’

Maria waved him off.

‘I ran off the other night before I asked you his name,’ you said, coming to sit beside Maria so that she didn’t have to turn her head to talk to you. She leant into your shoulder, and it was peaceful and warm and the kind of thing you do with a good friend, and you wondered if she’d object to adopting you.

‘We were going to go with Joel Junior,’ she said, and you wrinkled your nose.

‘Too alliterative,’ you said, and she nodded.

‘Also still not convinced about him,’ she said, and you felt something shift in your belly.

‘He was good the other night, with Tommy.’

‘He saw a lot of me I never intended him to,’ Maria said, and your heart sank. Should you have got rid of him? He was there for Tommy, you realised, not Maria. Should you have objected, said something? Had Maria been trying to telepathically tell you to do something, and you missed it? ‘It’s OK,’ Maria said, sensing the way your body had tensed. ‘I wasn’t really paying much attention to him, in fairness.’

‘You were kind of busy,’ you agreed. You listened to the baby suckling quietly, little contented grunts coming from his throat. ‘So, it’s not Joel Junior,’ you prompted.

‘Robin,’ Maria said. ‘There are so many here in Spring, and I love their little songs.’

You reached a hand out to cup his head in your palm. ‘That’s perfect,’ you said. For a long moment you just watched him, the peace of him, so wrapped up and warm and safe in the arms of his mother. You ached for your own for a second, before you pushed the thought away, told yourself this wasn’t the time.

‘It feels different out there,’ Maria said. ‘I can even tell, and I haven’t left the house in days.’

‘Vibes aren’t great,’ you agreed.

‘Tommy’s worried, but he won’t tell me.’

‘The expedition is just taking longer than it should,’ you said. ‘If there was anything to tell I’m sure he would.’

Maria regarded you for a long moment, and you realised she wanted more answers, but you had none to give her.

‘He’s like Joel, like his big brother,’ Maria said eventually, and you felt heat up the back of your spine. ‘Protective,’ she added. ‘To the point of locking you out in the cold to save you from the monster under the bed.’

—

You kind of wished Maria would stop dropping truth bombs on you, then leave you to work through the rubble on your own. You walked the long way back to your place, down behind the hall and past the lake, just to see if you could push her words out of your body through your feet.

It meant that you arrived back on your front step just as the sun was setting, and you were surprised to see the lights in your house on. You were sure you wouldn’t have left them on in the daylight. You pushed the door open, trying to remember if you’d locked it. No one did in Jackson, but you liked to when you were going to bed, partly to believe that you could do anything that might prevent some kind of harm.

‘Hello?’ you called down your hallway, thereby alerting any potential attackers to your exact whereabouts. You rolled your eyes at yourself. Jackson had definitely made you soft.

There were no weapons in your entry way. You considered whether taking your boots off and throwing them would cause enough of a head injury to get away, but it would be harder in your socks. In Chicago you’d kept a baseball bat beside the door, and used it only once.

‘That you?’ you heard a voice call, and you paused. Were you ‘you’?

‘Maybe?’ you called back, and you heard two sets of laughs. One deep and huffy. You’d recognise it anywhere. Your feet moved all by themselves.

Joel and Tommy were standing in your treatment room. The broken table was gone, and in its place a brand new, clearly custom made, massage table stood. Thin enough so that you didn’t need to climb on top of it to rearrange the towels, and just the right shape to give a body a warm and safe place to rest.

Your hand flew to your mouth, and you felt tears pushing hot onto your cheeks. Tommy grinned at you while Joel watched, careful and reserved. You didn’t have words, could barely wrap your head around what you were seeing.

‘You helped so well with Maria, kept her going when anyone else would have quit,’ Tommy said, while you were trying hard to breathe. ‘You did so good, so we wanted to say thank you.’

You let out a gasping, gulping, tearful laugh, nodding your head at him. ‘That’s OK, you’re welcome,’ you said, but you were laughing and crying simultaneously, so it was hard to know if you’d made any sense.

‘It was Joel’s idea,’ Tommy said, smiling at his older brother, who promptly blushed and looked ready to murder him. ‘Come look,’ Tommy said, extending a hand towards you and pulling you by the arm further into the room.

The massage table had built-in padding under a leather cover, that was attached to the wood with studs along the edges. The leather had clearly been something else in a past life, the stitching haphazard and criss-crossing over the base, but you would cover it with towels anyway. You pushed a hand out and pressed down on it, finding it delightfully spongey, and soft. You wanted to lean down and put your nose to it, inhale the leather, the warm sunshine on swatches of yellow and green fields. Inhale a different life, an older one long passed.

‘And here, this is the headrest,’ Tommy said, continuing his tour. ‘It sits in its own little track carved in here, see? So you can remove it or slot it back into place. Maria said that’s what the proper tables used to have, so you could lie face down.’

You nodded, confirming that this was indeed true. You reached out and put your hands on it, let your fingers reach underneath to feel the joins in the wood. They were smooth, carefully crafted. You knew they were Joel’s, carried his strong but gentle touch, his precision, his care.

You gazed at him, completely blindsided by the craftmanship and the generosity. The moment hung in the air, the two of you watching each other. You wanted to tuck your head under his chin and cry into his chest, wanted to rip his shirt off him and shred it with your teeth so he could never wear anything ever again, wanted to hold his face in your hands and keep it, not let the moment pass, let your hands on his skin secure the warmth there, hold the look on his face, for eternity.

‘I should head back,’ Tommy said, and you pivoted immediately towards him and threw your arms around his neck. He laughed, wrapping his arms around you. ‘Now we’re square,’ he said, and you gurgled your acceptance.

After he left, you worried Joel would go, too. Worried that all of this had been obligation, had been at Tommy’s insistence, had been a way of winning Maria over. Worried at how badly you wanted him to stay, worried that it wasn’t just Jackson but that it was him, that it was always going to be him, and that right now every nerve ending was on fucking fire just because he was looking at you. You waited for him to grunt or nod at you and turn his back, but he stayed standing, his brows knitted together, one hand on his hip.

‘It’s beautiful,’ you said, because the tension was starting to mount now that Tommy had gone, and if he kept looking at you like that you were going to combust. Your voice wobbled, and you swallowed glue and razor blades to try and steady it. ‘Where did you get the leather?’

‘Found an old couch lying around, no bother,’ he said. His voice was low, like he thought you were going to run from the room, but in that moment you didn’t trust your legs. You nodded your head because words were failing you, but then suddenly you had too many of them, and they were all going to come out right now, all at once.

‘Its just that the massage table, I know it’s silly…but it was what I used to do before outbreak day, and it was kind of who I am or maybe I just think of it as that, but I just worry that if I don’t have anything to offer no one will keep me.’

Jackson. You’d meant to say you were worried they wouldn’t let you stay in Jackson. But that wasn’t at all what you’d said.

Joel took two steps forward, grabbing your face and rubbing at the tracks of tears on your cheek with one hand, the other snaking behind you to hold your back. You gasped, staring up into his brown eyes, the salt and pepper of his beard, the lower lip you wanted to nip with your teeth. You waited for him to say something, anything, but holding you was also enough. Under his patient gaze your breath slowed, you stopped feeling your heart thundering in your chest, felt your shoulders drop.

‘Joel…’ you whispered, and he was on you then, head dipping down to bite at the skin behind your ear, hand roaming over your hips to cup your bottom, grind you into him, where you felt him hard and heavy against your core.

‘Let me-‘ he started, but you stopped him, gripping him by the shoulder and pulling away.

‘No, let me,’ you said, suddenly bold under his wanting touch. ‘Table’s fixed now, so there’s no excuses.’

He cocked and eyebrow, blinking at you. ‘You want me on that?’

‘What’s the matter, don’t trust your craftmanship?’

‘Baby, a massage isn’t exactly what I-‘

‘Down to your boxers and face in the hole,’ you said, grabbing a towel from a nearby stack and putting it down on the leather.

‘You could at least help,’ he said, grumpy again, and you grinned happily at him.

‘I’ll step out and let you get ready,’ you said, in full-blown professional mode, just to fuck with him. He sighed, but he did as he was told, and you really fucking liked it, actually.

Once he was on the table you draped him, making sure he was comfortable. You rubbed your hands together to make them warm, then poured some cooking oil – the best substitute you’d found so far even if it did make the residents of Jackson smell like fried chicken – into your hands.

‘This might be cold, I’m sorry,’ you warned, and Joel grunted. You were glad he was face down so you didn’t have to see the expression on his face.

You started with his left leg, draping the towel over his hip and tucking it between his thighs. Straight away you could feel the tension there, the tightness of the calf, the hamstring ready to snap. You ran your hands in a vee-shape, thumbs tucked one over the other, up the back of his leg, stopping just below his glute, which you briefly considered leaning over and sinking your teeth into.

Joel’s skin was soft, and unbelievably hot to the touch, and you had to try hard to focus on what your hands were doing so that you could ignore the little whimpers, the little gasps, as you found and massaged away a knot. You ran your hands up the outside of his thighs, felt the muscles jump and tremor under you, dug your fingers into his hip flexors and heard him exhale, an almost sigh, as they released.

You got into trouble when you got to his back. You were aware of the fact that you were soaking your panties, worried that he would smell your arousal, worried that if he kept making noises like that you were going to drown yourself. You worked hard to keep your breath steady, remembered your lessons and imagined dousing yourself in freezing cold water, jumping from your back porch into the frozen lake below Jackson, hoping that might give you some relief.

The wide planes of his skin were marred by scars, by shadows of pain and hurt and memory. He carried a scar, an old one, on his right side, a graze that looked like a bullet, that you decided to ignore. As you pushed hard along his spine he grunted, the muscle seizing under your touch, and you worked against it, kneading at them like dough, lifting the fascia and breaking it down, working the adhesions, until it was buttery and smooth. You focused on Joel’s breath, saw the way his chest expanded as he inhaled, felt the enormous man, so scary and so gruff, so mean and so soft on the inside, gradually give in to you. You felt him relax, the tension leaving his shoulders as you worked them, careful to release the deltoid, to ease off the trapezius now that you could finally get at it properly.

You were tempted to leave him there, relaxed for maybe the first time in years, but you roused him, rolled him onto his back, put a folded-up towel under his head and another over his eyes to protect them from the light. With his face covered you could take your inventory of him. The scar on his right side, jagged and angry and new, the reason he’d been favouring it finally clear to you. The soft smattering of chest hair leading down to a light trail on his pelvis. The towel covering him, but not enough to hide the fact that he was hard, that he had tried to tuck his cock into the waistband of his underwear but that it was too thick, too long to stay fully hidden.

You moved up to his head, to his salt and pepper hair, and carded your hands through it, lifting his head and holding it in your fingertips. You watched as his eyebrows knitted together again, unsure, but then releasing, his mouth dropping open, as you heard his breath, ragged, escaping through his teeth.

‘Let me take care of you, baby,’ you whispered to him, right above his ear, mimicking what he had said to you on the coffee table, what had made you instantly wet and aching. You gazed down his body at the way his cock jumped. ‘Let me take care of this body.’

You let your fingers dig in a little to his scalp, a quiet little moan escaping him, the covering over his eyes giving him a sense of privacy as you unravelled him. You wanted to lean down and suck his bottom lip into yours, wanted to climb on top of him and sink your pussy onto his Roman nose. Wanted to come on his face and his fingers, wanted him to splash his come onto your chest.

‘This body that protects us,’ you whispered, leaning down and placing a kiss on his forehead, on his cheek beneath the towel. Putting his head back down and moving to massage his left arm, lifting it by the wrist and rubbing your hands over his bicep and onto his chest. He glistened, the oil mixing with his sweat under the overhead light, and you couldn’t stop yourself, then, couldn’t help but to bend and place a kiss on his clavicle, licking up to nip at his neck. You felt him shiver, a soft whimper escaping with his breath. You moved your hand from his wrist to his palm, held his hand with yours.

‘This body that serves us all so well,’ you said. ‘Let me take care of this body.’

He gasped when you kissed his belly button, licking and nipping down his happy trail to where his cock was now straining hard against the towel. You pushed it away, taking his cock out of his underwear and pulling them down on his hips, so that you got your first proper look at him.

As you expected he was thick, the veins on the underside pulsing, straining against his want for you. The head was so red it was almost purple, and you wondered how long it had been since a woman touched him like this, since he’d been touched at all. His hand grasped yours, the other fisting the towel underneath him.

When you slipped him into your mouth, inviting him into you, he groaned, grunted obscenities flowing from him. His cock was hot on your tongue, salty as he dripped pre-come into your throat. You kept your eyes on his face, his still covered, as his stomach rippled and his body tremored underneath you. With your other hand you steadied him, reaching up and holding the shaft while you bobbed, sucking hard on the head. You took a second to breathe, leaving little kitten licks on his frenulum, feeling his free hand let go of the towel and grip you by the hair.

‘Fuck, baby’ he grunted, his hips thrusting, pumping up into the air.

‘So strong, Joel,’ you said, before reattaching your mouth to him. He threw his head back, and you considered the irony of him breaking the brand-new table he’d built just for you by coming so hard he splintered the wood beneath him. His body was quaking, his hips bucking up into your wet, warm mouth and it was everything you had dared imagine it would be, right down to his gasping encouragement, down to his needy little whimpers that turned into moans of outright pleasure, of the feeling hot and electric right down to his toes.

‘Jesus, you’re gonna make me…’ he gasped, and you looked up at him, the towel having fallen from his eyes and him staring down at you between his legs, his hand on the back of your neck gentle and guiding, supporting the muscles as you worked him. You kept your eyes on his and your mouth on his cock as he shook, hips rolling, rutting against your pumping hand.

You slipped him from your mouth. ‘Just let go, baby. I got you,’ you said, covering him again as he did just that, shooting ropes of hot salt and desire across your tongue, holding your hand, groaning at the relief of it, at the release, and in that moment you had him, in that moment he was yours, gasping for breath and so soft and languid, looking down his body at you in awe and in wanting, sweat pooling in the hollow of his throat.

Taglist:

@orcasoul

@archofimagine

@hiroikegawa

@littlemisspascal

@ilovejoel-andjavi

@giggly-otter

@harrysrosetatto

@Hjzghi-blog

@daddy-dins-girl

#joel miller fanfic #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #pedro pascal fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us #joel miller

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houserautha · 15 hours

Note

Feyd is the type to go on and on about getting his wife/partner pregnant but when it comes to actually raising a child? The dramaaaaaa(and unhealed trauma) Ideally Feyd wants to raise a strong and ruthless warrior worthy of succeeding him when the time comes but like what if the little guy(probably a boy bc the prophecy and all that)just got real unlucky in the genetics lottery all the crazy and bloodthirsty-ness his parents have just skips a generation and he's the most sensitive and shy creature to ever be born on geidi prime the most un-harkonen harkonen Feyd getting frustrated his child doesn't have the strength to pick up a sword without trembling,to shed blood without wincing,to take a life without crying canonically I think he'd just throw the kid in the woods to fend for himself Sparta style and hope they die or return and be "normal" thinks he's been coddled for far too long because he just can't accept his son is so different from him sorry to dump all this on you dude I just had to talk to this to somebody!😭💀

Wait don’t apologize I actually really love this

Feyd would be incredibly insecure about fatherhood. He would struggle to connect with a newborn and swear that his son hates him because he always bursts into tears whenever Feyd picks him up. And as a toddler?? Feyd is already as volatile as a toddler so his son would infuriate him😂 I feel like he would snap and be impatient and frustrated. And maybe because he feels so insecure about his parenting/relationship with his son, he throws himself into work so that he doesn’t have to interact with his son as much

So his son grows up with a pretty explosive, absent father. Now he’s a child, and Feyd shows an interest in him again — it’s time to learn how to fight. Feyd spars with his son until his body is mottled with bruises and snot dries on his upper lip; Feyd is appalled by his son’s “weakness” and so shocked that he lashes out at him. Feyd definitely does not understand how to regulate his emotions or disguise his thoughts.

(Now, feel free to disregard this part because it’s related to TDE) Reader knows what it’s like to have your parents disappointed in you and your capabilities, so she nurtures her son and encourages him to do what he likes. I think it would be especially funny if their son is like naturally very tall and strong but is like Ferdinand and just wants to sit in the sun and read all day😂

So reader allows their son to pursue his interests — reading and politics and academics, which he excels in. He grows into a teenager. Other children his age mock him because he is so unlike any other Harkonnen, tease him that his mother must’ve been unfaithful. Their son, in turn, keeps to himself and doesn’t have any friends.

At this point I think Feyd (sadly) would’ve given up on his son. He would occasionally force him to take up a dagger or throw a punch, claiming that no son of his would be so weak. Now, as much as the son loathes these training sessions and his father’s cruelty, he desperately wants his approval. Which is the only reason he continues to agree to let Feyd push him to the dirt over and over again, to draw blood; to belittle him.

And this would drive a wedge in between Feyd and reader’s relationship. She understands Feyd’s own unresolved trauma and the Harkonnen battle culture, but she doesn’t understand how her husband could be so unkind to their son — who looks like a combination of them both, with Feyd’s plush lips but your distinct Atreides nose, brows always pulled down in concentration over his dark eyes.

“He will never survive here,” Feyd snarls at you one evening, when the conversation naturally drifts to your son as it always does. Feyd is shaking with his heightened emotions. “I just want him to be successful.”

And you push back, “He is successful.“

“His achievements mean nothing to the other Harkonnens. They demand brutality and blood, not his…weakness.”

And maybe as their son turns eighteen (or whatever age Harkonnens are deemed an adult, maybe younger because they don’t live very long lives) Feyd sends their son on the ceremonial journey into the Giedi Prime wilderness. Reader is unable to prevent this. Their son is expected to forge his own way home or perish. Now, their son takes an abnormally long time to return but he does — half dead because he refused to kill any wildlife or steal from others, surviving only on his wit and his knowledge of survival.

Feyd is not impressed.

And maybe this strenuous relationship continues well their son’s adulthood. It’s not until a political rival challenges Feyd that he discovers just how strong his son is. The rival is peaceful and refuses to fight or draw a weapon, and Feyd knows he can’t initiate an attack without suffering the consequences. He entirely has no idea how to handle this. But his son does.

His son knows all about this rival’s culture and history, how to appeal to them, how to navigate their political court and ultimately subdue the threat that they pose. For the first time, Feyd is proud of his son.

And thus begins the turn around of their relationship and Feyd realizing that strength does not always have to be physical. His son is probably in his late twenties/early thirties by now and Feyd takes to teaching his son less aggressive ways to fight — poison and pressure points and defensive measure — and allows his son to teach him about what he knows.

It certainly doesn’t blossom and thrive overnight. They are staunchly opposed to each other’s beliefs but somewhat begrudgingly begin to trust one another and build respect and admiration.

Feyd doesn’t know how to apologize or how to express his guilt over his son’s wasted childhood, but you bet your ass he leaps to his son’s defense whenever he gets the chance and defends him relentlessly.

And, oh, just wait until he becomes a grandfather.

Finally he feels he can rectify his wrongs.

#wow okay there’s a whole history lesson for you #I took this and just fucking ran with it #I actually love this idea so much #and they name their son Brutus #and he is the most gentle spirit #feyd rautha #feyd x reader #feyd x you #dune #feyd rautha harkonnen #these destined ends

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archangeldyke-all · 1 day

Note

sucking plug!Sevika’s dick (real or fake i ain’t complaining) in the car after we smoked together… sighhhhhhh i’ll do anything for her

sameeee

men and minors dni

the music is turned down low, the car is filled with smoke and the soft light of dusk. sevika's sitting back in her reclined driver's seat, giggling at some dumb joke she'd made, and her shirt's ridden up a bit, revealing a strip of her waist.

she looks delicious.

you take the final drag off the joint, then toss it out the cracked window beside you before turning your body and attention toward your girlfriend. "we got any more deliveries tonight?" you ask, innocently reaching over the center console to grab her hand. she smirks at you, turning in her seat to face you.

"don't think so." she says. "why?"

you shrug, drawing circles on her hand. "i don't wanna distract you if we've got somewhere to be." you say. sevika grins.

"how're you gonna distract me?" she asks, waggling her eyebrows. you snort, and sevika grins, then pats her lap. you scramble over the center console but surprise her when you don't get in her lap, but sink to the floor between her legs instead. her eyes bulge out of her head and she gasps. "fuck, really?!" she asks, straightening up in her seat and whipping her head around to look out the windows.

there's nothing to be seen-- you're the only car in the whole lot, hidden behind your favorite little tree-- but it's cute how paranoid she is anyways. you giggle, pressing a kiss to her sweat-pant covered thigh and waiting for her to settle back down. "all clear out there, honey?" you tease.

she huffs, flicks your forehead fondly. "you're such a slut when you're high." she says, grinning. you bite her thigh and she giggles, and you grin when you speak.

"oh, it'll be a quick chill smoke sesh babe." you imitate sevika from earlier in the night. she giggles, and you tug at her waistband, getting a glimpse of her cock. "then you show up fuckin' hard packing. and somehow i'm the slut?" you ask.

sevika just giggles and shrugs. "maybe i just know you well enough to know you get needy when you're high." she suggests, bending down to kiss your lips. "maybe i know how much you like havin' my cock in your mouth."

you shiver, and sevika smirks against you before leaning back in her chair. you quickly pull her dick out out of her pants, and both of you moan as it flops out.

she's wearing both of your favorite dick-- she likes it because it's so lifelike, you like it because it stretches you no matter where she's putting it. in your cunt, in your mouth, even your hand can't reach its base all the way.

you don't waste time before ducking down and spitting on her dick, pumping it a few times.

you've been dating for almost a year, and by far one of your favorite things you'vee discovered about her in that year is that she gets off on you touching her straps just as much as you touching her cunt. if not more.

when you touch her cunt, she's all moans and stuttered half sentences. but when it's her cock-- she's still got the clarity of mind to spew filthy shit to you. like now.

"fuck-- fuckin' love your mouth on me honey." she whines as you start bobbing your mouth up and down the first few inches of her cock. "yeah, baby, get it all nice 'n messy for me." she groans as your drool starts escaping your lips, coating the remainder of her cock you've yet to fit in your throat.

you'll get there.

for now, you focus on steadily stroking her base, bobbing your head at the tip, making a sufficiently drooly mess of her. sevika loves messes. which is a good thing, because her sweat pants-- bunched around the base of her dick-- are growing damp with a puddle of your spit.

"i love you so much, baby, shit, look at you go-- fuckin' me so well."

"mmhngg" you grunt around her. she groans.

"yeah honey, take it." fuck, her words do something to you. you sink down a few more inches, almost reaching her base, choking and sputtering. she growls, reaching up to press you down the final few inches, your nose pressed against her pelvis as you gag around her. "there you go-- that's it baby, fuck!"

sevika pulls you off and you gasp, she shoves her tongue in your mouth before you can even clean up the drool on your chin. you hum against her.

"you're so fuckin' hot." she whispers against your lips. you giggle, reaching between the two of you to continue jerking her off as she rambles against your lips. "y' look so pretty-- your eyes all pink and cryin' as you choke on my cock-- fuck, look at the pretty stain you left on my dick." she mutters, gesturing down at the pretty ring of pink lipgloss at the base of her dick. you giggle.

"'s on your lips too, y'know." you say. she grins.

"and my cheeks?" she asks. you pull away enough to inspect her, and burst into laughter when you find you've stained her entire face with your bright lipstick.

"yep." you assure. "didn't miss a spot." you promise. she grins.

"good." she shifts her hips a bit, and you giggle, knowing what she wants but wanting to hear her ask for it. "take your shirt off." she demands. you snort.

"you first." her shirt's in the backseat before you can finish your sentence. you giggle, and then raise your arms, letting her strip you. she sighs when your tits are free, reaching forward to give them each a nice squeeze before sitting back in her chair.

"alright. back to it." she says, smacking her thighs. you giggle.

"no please?"

sevika rolls her eyes, then grunts. "please."

you grin, then duck forward and take her down all in one go. sevika gasps, her hips jolting in the chair, and you choke around her cock for a second as she tries to get her humping under control.

"i'm-- you're so-- fuck you feel so fuckin' good." she whines. you moan as you start bobbing your head again, one of sevika's hands holding your hair out of your face, the other holding the 'oh shit' bar on the roof.

you reach one of your hands up to press just underneath the strap, right against her cunt through her sweats as you continue to bob your head on her cock. she whimpers, "oh!" and her hand comes flying down for her to bite her knuckles as she starts to cum. "mmmbaby!" she squeals, thrusting her hips up and choking you just a little more as she cums.

you pull off with a gasp, spit soaking your neck and chin, tears running down your cheeks as you try to catch your breath. sevika's giggling and grinning at you, reaching up to help you wipe the mess on your face clean. "good?" you ask, kissing her palm. she bursts into another round of giggles at this.

"come up here." she hooks her arms under your armpits and pulls you up into your lap, nuzzling against your face. "i love you." she mumbles. you kiss her temple.

"love you too. is my makeup a mess?"

"you cried some of your eyelashes off." sevika giggles. you groan, and she gently pinches your ass. "now... you want me to fuck you in the backseat or take you home and fuck you in bed?" she asks. you giggle and consider your options.

"if we go home, we can take those fuckin'... arousal edibles you were talking about earlier." you whisper. sevika grins, then launches forward to kiss you so suddenly your back hits the horn.

you both jump as the car lets out a 'beep!' in the abandoned lot. then, you both burst into giggles. "you're so fuckin' smart and so fuckin' hot-- how'd i get so lucky?" she asks you as you crawl into the passenger seat.

"well-- you lemme smoke a whole lotta weed for free, that was a pretty good start." you joke as she starts the car. she snorts, and you reach over, tucking her hair behind her ear. "also... y'know. you're gorgeous." you say, shrugging. sevika grins, stops the car in the middle of the abandoned lot, and darts over the center console to kiss you. you hum against her lips, then smack her shoulder. "c'mon drive! you need to get me home."

taglist!

@fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity @love-sugarr @chuucanchuucan @222danielaa @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther @gr0ssz0mbi3 @ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @leomatsuzaki @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @vikasub

#sevika #sevika imagine #sevika arcane #sevika x reader #sevika x you #soft sevika #sevika smut

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dwtdog · 3 days

Text

Nursing Home AU, from the list of reverse tropes

DNF, ~1.7k words, fun little drabble as a break from finals :33

George’s walker catches on a stray piece of carpet and he grumbles, waving off the nearby nurse who turns her head toward him. He can handle this himself, thank you very much.

He straightens his back as he nears the door that he knows opens to the room just above his, all the complaints he’s built up in the weeks since his upstairs neighbors moved in at the tip of his tongue as he raises a fist to knock, grunting slightly at the way his shoulder creaks with the effort.

After three quick, hard knocks that he’s sure will be audible through whatever hearing impairment burdens the person behind the door, he studies the decorations with a careful eye. There are unframed pictures scattered across the door, some close to falling off the weak adhesives that secure them. George has to hold himself back from pressing them back down, telling himself that whoever is pictured in them probably deserves to have their treasured family pictures swept up by the night workers.

Because they’ve made George’s life a living hell.

He didn’t think his time in a nursing home could get any worse, until this neighbor moved in. It was like they had bricks attached to the bottoms of their shoes and frequently performed tap dancing routines, or like they had a particularly rambunctious pet elephant that traipsed around the place at all hours of the day.

George had done his best to be patient. He really had, but it’d been long enough. He’s dealing with this here, and now.

As if summoned by his thoughts, the door handle turns, and the solid wood slowly eases open towards him. He shuffles back to avoid being hit, because he doesn’t exactly trust them to be caring of his health now.

The deep frown that he’s been wearing since he was awoken that morning by thundering footsteps directly above his bed shifts to something softer when he sees the man opening the door.

The first thing George notices about him are the eyes- a golden yellow that he knows is really green, set in a kind face weathered with smile lines. The second thing George notices is that he does not, in fact, have bricks attached to his shoes, and that brings the frown right back to his face.

“Uh- Hello. How can I help you?” the man asks, and he sounds nice enough. George thinks it’s an elaborate front.

“Are you aware,” George starts, bringing his eyes up from the mans shoes. “That there are people living below you?”

He blinks. “It would be pretty weird if they didn’t, yeah?”

“So you are aware them,” George clears his throat, crossing his arms. “That you should consider that before stomping around up here like a bull with dementia?”

George almost finds it satisfying, to watch the way his expression goes from open and friendly to sour, the way his stance comes to mirror George’s, down to the crossed arms.

“So it’s a sin for a man to walk around his own house now is it?” he says, and George finds it hard to take him seriously with the ridiculous hat covering silvery hair- it’s pointed at the corners, taking a shape similar to the ears of a cat. “Just turn down your hearing aids.”

“Don’t need them,” George says curtly, rubbing a finger over the skin of his left ring finger, a habit he hadn’t dropped since his divorce. It draws his eyes to the same place on the man across from him, and he notices that he wears no ring either. “And it is a sin if you’re disrupting my sleep.”

He looks ready to argue back, but his eyes dart down to the movement of George’s finger, and he seems to change his mind. “Listen if you want to debate the bible, the lady three doors down can go for hours. Let’s say, instead, you come in for a cup of hot chocolate. Get all your complaining out.”

George shifts on his feet, feeling his hip pop as he does, and it reminds him that sitting down sometime soon would be nice….

“Fine. But if there’s no vodka in that chocolate I’m stealing something.”

With a small smile that makes George’s heart flutter in a way it hasn’t in decades, the man steps aside, pushing the door all the way open. “I’m Dream, by the way. I don’t think you introduced yourself.”

“George,” he replies as he steps forward, struggling for a moment to lift his walker over the edge between the hall and Dream’s carpet. “Strange name.”

Dream laughs, and George is distracted from looking over every inch of his apartment when a small animal appears, walking with its tail held high.

“You have a cat,” he observes, and Dream turns from where he’d been pouring milk to heat up. George sets his walker to the side as he ever so carefully crouches down to pet the thing, smiling to himself when it purrs.

“He likes you,” Dream says, and there’s a note of fondness in his voice. “That’s Spirit. He probably hates my stomping just as much as you do.”

“Oh, you’re a smart one then, aren’t you,” George coos, rubbing under the cats chin. He’s a big cat, with long orange fur and some spots of gray on his muzzle, and ridiculously long whiskers that tickle where they brush against George’s leg. “You ought to bite him more. Maybe piss on his bed,” George says in a faux whiper, leaning down as much as he can.

“Oh, so now you’re trying to turn my cat against me?” Dream says, and George nearly jumps from the sudden proximity. “Need a hand up?”

George huffs, glaring at the offered hand but taking it anyway, groaning loudly as he stands. “So you can walk quietly,” he grumbles, eyeing the distance between he kitchenette and his current position.

“Only when I want to” Dream says with a wink, and George really wishes he still had his own cane- a much better weapon. “Come here, sit down before I have to call someone to help you. God forbid that new one- what’s her name- Rosa, god forbid she shows up. She’d have you on the ambulance in a matter of minutes.”

George laughs, following as Dream leads him to a chair in the living area, acutely aware of their still connected hands. “She on this floor too? Sent my neighbor to hospice for a cough. Haven’t seen her since.”

As George lowers himself onto the chair, Dream still doesn’t let his hand go, and George can feel a blush, of all things, creeping up his neck and staining his face.

“You planning to hold my hand forever, or-” George suggests, just as the microwave beeps. “Don’t tell me you microwaved the milk.”

“How else would I do it?” Dream asks, pulling his hand back and turning back to his microwaved milk. “You want peppermint?”

“I want vodka. And I don’t know, on the stove, maybe?”

“Too much work,” Dream says cheerily, and George sighs, long and exaggerated.

He looks around Dream’s living space as he waits, noting the various pictures with his seemingly excessively large family. It’s not the only thing he’s looking for, but he can’t help but notice the lack of any sort of spouse.

“Snooping around already?” Dream asks as he returns, two steaming mugs in his hands. “You could probably find my whole life’s story on these walls.”

George meets his eye as he hands a mug over, wrapping his easily chilled hands around it gratefully. Dream takes the chair opposite his, and watches as George takes his first sip. As much as he wants to hate whatever microwaved monstrosity is swirling in the mug, he has to admit that it tastes damn good.

“‘T’s good,” he says into the mug, not missing the way Dream’s face lights up at the admission. “Family recipe?”

“Nope, all mine,” Dream says with a grin. “Come on, I know you have questions. Hit me.”

George hums, making a show of thinking it over. The burning question feels too obvious, and too revealing. He’s only just met this man a few minutes ago, he shouldn’t be asking about his love life. And yet-

“No wife?” he asks bluntly, taking a big sip right after.

Dream laughs, setting his own mug aside as he leans forward, planting his elbows on his knees. “Nope. Never settled down. Always felt like I was chasing something just out of reach, like I needed to wait until the perfect person came along. And now look at me,” he laughs again, this time sounding more forced. “Left in a home to die alone. Probably doesn’t help I only realized it wasn’t a wife I should have been looking for what, ten years ago?”

George leans back in his chair, studying Dream in a new light. “Trust me, men aren’t worth it either. My husband filed for divorce, what, 20 years back? Never even bothered to tell me why. One day there, the next, gone. Took everything too.”

“That why you ended up in Florida? Don’t meet many British people around here.”

“Wanted to die under the sun,” George says easily, the alcohol warming his veins. “London was too grey, too many memories. I always loved it here.”

They sit in silence for a bit after that, only broken by Spirit jumping up to George’s lap with a loud meow.

“So no kids?” George asks, easing one of Spirit’s big paws away from where it’s kneading at his shorts, claws digging into his skin.

“You’ve got the only one on your lap,” Dream says. “Well, grandkid, technically. His mom was mine too.”

George nods, tangling his fingers in the long fur. “You ever think about second chances?”

“I think I’m on third’s by now,” Dream chuckles, meeting George’s eyes curiously. “Why, you rethinking the way you introduced yourself?”

“In your dream’s,” George says with a grin. “But I wouldn’t mind coming over again- to tell you off, probably.”

“And to pet my cat. And drink my vodka.”

“That too,” George nods. “Might need to visit a lot, then.”

“Well,” Dream shifts in his seat, and he appears to be fighting off a smile. It still reaches his eyes, and George can’t help but think of the man he sees on the walls- happy, glowing. Hopeful. “Then I guess I’d have to let you in. As an apology for the stomping.”

#cq.writing #dnf #old man yaoi 🎉#if yall want any of the other prompts lmk this was fun

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wlwprker · 3 days

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your little things- tom!peter parker x reader

a/n: I have a lot of old stuff that was posted on my old Tumblr, and this was one of them :)

warnings: brief mentions of anxiety, not proofread a lot so I apologize for grammar or spelling mistakes! italics indicate a flashback.

w/c: 1,847

-Peter Parker-

Peter was aware that you didn't think he noticed or paid attention to the little things that you do but he does, he always pays attention to you.

He notices the way that you love to sit by the window reading a book when it rains because the sound of the rain hitting the window makes you feel calm. He admires how you can get so caught up in your books and how your face lights up with different emotions depending on what was happening in the books you always got lost in.

Your little things that make you so wonderful, he notices them all and he loves them all because they're what makes you so beautiful and he loves everything about you.

Peter loves to look at you and he adores all of your little things, especially the ones that you're insecure about but he doesn't know why because everything you do is beautiful to him.

He picks up on things that you didn't even know he knew about or took note of. He knows when you're anxious because of the way you always bounce your legs repeatedly and how you nervously play with the rings on your fingers. He notices it all. Peter notices that when you're incredibly anxious, you draw patterns on yourself to attempt to calm yourself down, but it doesn't always work, which makes you more anxious.

When he senses that you're having one of your really rougher days, he is there to help you because Peter loves and supports you... Always.

Today you were having a hard day, nothing seemed to be making you feel better. Peter knew instantly because when he took peaks at you every so often, he saw the way that you couldn't stop bouncing your legs and the fact that your hair had been messed up from the number of times that you pulled at it in frustration. He takes note of a simple fact: you cannot sit still. Peter worries for your poor lips that you've bitten down on many times throughout the night.

Peter wasn't even doing anything productive if he's being honest, he was just writing out a study guide for a test that wasn't for another 3 weeks. He put his pencil down and walked over to you and sat down on his bed next to you, you were so caught up in your own thoughts that you didn't even know he left his desk. He softly touched your thigh to remind you of his presence because he knew that you were a million miles away.

"Oh! I'm sorry Peter, did I interrupt your work?" Peter's heart stung with pain as he heard the hurt in your voice because you were genuinely worried that you distracted Peter from his work. You turned your head slowly to look at him and his heart swelled because every time that you look at him, it's as if he's looking at you for the first time. Peter took your shaky hands in his and intertwined your fingers with his and placed a soft kiss on your knuckles.

"I don't care about my work; I care about you. What's got you so anxious today, sweetie?" Peter asked while he rubbed comforting circles on the back of your hand, your hands had stopped shaking. He watched as you sighed deeply and laid your head down in his lap.

"There's just so much happening and it's happening so fast, it's nothing particular, it's just well...everything. I don't know but it's breaking me down, Pete." He visibly frowns when he could hear the genuine suffering in your voice, and he knows how much it sucks to be anxious. He took the hair-tie that was practically falling out anyways and let your hair fall down onto his lap.

"Baby, I'm so sorry that you're dealing with this, but you don't have to deal with this alone." Peter played with your hair, and he could physically feel that your rapid heartbeat was returning back to its normal pace, he knows how the simplest gestures can ease your anxiety. Peter used his free hand to draw patterns on your arms because he knows how you try to do that when you want to relax.

Peter easily sensed that you are starting to finally relax, and he can feel the way your entire body is visibly softening just by the touches from your favorite person, Peter Parker.

Peter always knows how to make you feel safe, he's made mental notes of things he does that makes you feel safe, loved and at peace.

You love random displays of affection, which is completely fine with Peter because he loves to be affectionate with you. You love when he is affectionate with you because it reminds you of how lucky you are to have such a lovely person in your life.

You'd never admit it to him but he knows how much you love the pet names and compliments he gives you so he will compliment you any and every chance that he can.

Peter knows how you're not very open to talking about your feelings, but he always feels a sense of pride and love when he realizes that despite you not being open to share your feelings, he's made you feel safe and comfortable enough to share those parts of yourself with him.

Peter always loved to give you small kisses here and there just to let you know he appreciates you, but he had no idea how much those meant to you. He smiles to himself as he remembers the day that you told him how much you like his small kisses and ever since that day, he gives you random kisses throughout the day...every.single.day.

Peter was coming home from his nightly patrolling duties and he climbed through the window that led into your room, you always left the window open for him, he'd always have a place here. Peter watched in adoration as he caught the sight of you lying in your bed, with glasses perched on top of your head and a book lying face down on your stomach as you slept peacefully. He quietly removed your glasses from the top of your head and marked your place in your book (he knew how mad you'd be if he didn't) and placed them both carefully on the bedside table. He removed his suit, took a shower and changed into the spare clothes he left at your place and calmly climbed into the bed next to you.

You were a very light sleeper so no matter how hard he tried to be quiet, you were very aware of his presence. "Peter? Is that you?" He almost laughed at the sound of your sleepy voice. He moved a piece of hair away from your face and smiled to himself at the sight of your half-closed eyes and eyebrows scrunched in confusion.

God, you are absolutely gorgeous.

"Shh, love, it's okay. Go back to sleep." Peter whispered as he watched you drift back to sleep and he pulled you closer to him as you wrapped your arms around his body and he held you close. Peter kissed your forehead and whispered goodnight into your ear and you're a light sleeper so you stirred in your sleep.

"Mmm. I like when you do that, Pete". You mumbled in your sleep-like haze.

If it was anybody else, they would not even knew that you said anything but Peter being who he was and hanging onto every word you said, he heard you. Peter knew you were very sleepy and had very little energy to fight him back which was the perfect chance for Peter to use this to his advantage.

"Do what, pretty girl?" Peter watched as you hid your face in his chest and he laughed, he knew what he was doing, it was funny though because you are just too cute to not mess with. "Don't hide from me!" You begrudgingly lifted your face from his chest and snuggled closer to him.

"I like when you give me random kisses like that, it makes me feel loved and really happy." You sighed happily and began drifting off into the world of dreams.

"Oh how I love you, Y/n." Peter confessed for the first time. The corners of your lips twitched upwards as you started to feel sleep overtake you for the millionth time that night.

"I love you too, Peter." Peter placed a gentle kiss to your hairline, and he fell asleep.

You love kissing Peter; you really do but Peter discovered that you also love other kinds of things that he does to show you how much he adores you. To other people, it may seem small but to you, it was everything which meant that Peter continued to do them. You love when Peter locks his pinky finger with yours and places a soft kiss to your pinky, it's such a mundane gesture but it reminds you of how safe you feel with Peter, and he does it with so much love and devotion that you can't help but fall even harder for the brown eyed boy.

Peter can go on and on about all the things he loves about you. Whenever someone asks him if he has a favorite little thing that you do, his answer is always the same.

His favorite little thing that you do is loving him.

Peter never really had a way with words, when he really cared for someone, he would get starstruck and the words would escape him. He always felt bad about it because he has so much love to give and he wants to share it, but the words never left his lips, he would stutter because his emotions clouded his senses, and the words would dissolve into thin air. You changed that for him. When people would ask him what being loved by you is like, the words poured out of him easily as if it was as easy as breathing, he didn't have to think too hard.

Your love is so warm and comforting and being loved by you is like falling asleep next to a fireplace, on a freezing winter day while drinking a cup of hot chocolate. The feeling of your love is so special, he could talk forever about it but he knows that there aren't enough words in the entire universe to fully express how much you mean to him.

You would so call him super cheesy and a romantic, but he means it. He only became all mushy and lovey dovey because of you.

It's the feeling of his knees going weak as he locks eyes with you from across the room. It's the feeling of safety when he holds you close to him in bed at night.

That is what it's like to be loved by you.

The little things you do remind him of what being loved feels like and maybe one day, there will be a ring on your finger, a forever one.

#tom!peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker fluff #wlwprker🥀💌#peter parker #tom!peter parker x reader #spiderman #mcu spiderman

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takeachillpillshawty · 2 days

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Twst boys with an artist reader

Riddle- it's not uncommon for him to see you doodling in class when nothing is really happening. He knows it's rude to peep into someone else's business but he raised an eyebrow when he saw some doodles for grim and a nice sketch of him, it wasn't life like but it was pretty. There were some crude doodles of him yelling at Ace and Duece, but to his credit you also made them ugly as well.

Ace- Ace is always bored in class but luckily he has you for entertainment, you two would sit next to each other as you draw some funny scenarios play out, like drawing Riddle tripping over his heels, Deuce making a face and other friends of yours with over the top expressions to the point Ace would have to clutch the table not to laugh. He saves a few of them to show to the other first years though.

Deuce- like Riddle Deuce would often glance at what you're drawing, he's some what impressed with how your drawings are. He'd notice sticky notes stuck on his desk, it range from those cringy motivation quotes with a cute little drawing of an animal, a sketch of him and the first years doing activities or doodles of him. He actually has a scrap book of them that he shows his mom during the holidays.

Cater- He was the type of person to ask if you could or draw him, surprisingly you said yes....that was a week ago, he guess you for got about it but to his surprise walking to his desk that morning he saw a paper on his desk with different drawings of him in different outfits and poses. The moment he saw it was the moment everyone saw as well as he posted it on his Magicam. After that day he'd often check out whatever you were drawing.

Trey- He needed ideas for a cake he needed to make for an unbirthday party, he'd ask you what he should do and you left him with a sketch of a cake that would suit that day. He was really impressed by the details of the drawing, he could work with this. After the unbirthday party he made sure to save you a slice.

Leona- he would find post it notes all over his room, one in particular was a note saying 'pick up your socks' with some skeleton character on it. He knew it was you laying those around, Ruggie must have put you up to this. He didn't care really, one thing he knew is that Cheka also likes drawing so he just lets you distract Cheka while he visits. Until he noticed a drawing Cheka left behind, it was of him sitting on a throne with a crown on his head while playing with Cheka, Leona noticed that you helped Cheka with the drawing with it signing off 'To Unca Leona from Cheka and Prefect, you'll always be our king.'

He hung that near his head board and refuses to admit that he felt his heart tug a bit, if you ask him why he kept it... He'll just tell you to piss off.

Ruggie- you two have a post it war, you'd draw something crude and stick it on his back while he wonders why everyone is laughing, he'd do the same to you. And it goes on and on until a teacher has to stop.

Jack- you often draw Jack tending to his cacti or him in his wolf form looking like a puppy... He keeps it but still hates how you draw him all cutesy and stuff.

Azul- He's annoyed with how you portray him in your drawings, his glasses aren't that big and he doesn't stand like that. But oh boy does his heart melt when he found out how much effort you took to draw him. He keeps it in his office in a draw at his desk, last time he left it out Floyd and Jade would not let him love it down.

Floyd- similar to Ace he likes when you make crude drawings of others, especially when you draw Azul as Mr. Krabs or Azul as an octopus with glasses. He'd put them everywhere where everyone could see it, unfortunately Azul had seen a lot of them around the lounge.

Jade- mushrooms. That's it. Jade often walks up to you and you immediately know what he wants. You'd take a few minutes to draw him a mushroom of his choosing and he slides you your payment and walk away like nothing happened. His side of the room is covered in those drawings, Floyd is scared.

Kalim- you draw him as an otter and he finds that adorable, you also draw him and Jamil with Jamil looking miserable, but Kalim could only laugh saying "ahaha! Jamil does make that face!". Jamil on the other hand pays you to draw Kalim cry as he sits on a throne, you'd recommend therapy but you won't be getting that money now would you?

Jamil- he finds it very, now extremely annoying that you leave drawings of him on his door, first it was him as squidward then him at Mc Donalds and him looking miserable. He throws them away but there are a few sketches of him, but the one he likes the most are drawings that make Kalim look stupid, he takes those as apologise for making him look so ridiculous.

Vil- he judges you alot. "Why do the eyes look like that?", "lips don't belong there", "how is that a nose?" Lord forbid you draw this man, "I look nothing like that?! My legs aren't that long, my hair is supposed to be shorter, my hair isn't yellow." Overtime he realized he has been too harsh on you when he himself can't even draw a stick man let alone draw what you draw. He takes the drawings in appreciation on how far you've improved.

Rook- he's the opposite of Vil honestly. He admires your art style and how you draw others, he find it amazing how you gave everyone such unique poses that match with their personality. He keeps every drawing you made of him, and some of the draft ones (don't ask how he got those.)

Epel- he also ask you to draw him, but with big muscles and him beating up Vil. Vil forbids you from drawing any of that due to it being a bad influence on Epel.

Idia- you'd leave post it notes on his table with drawings of Ortho telling him to touch grass, each getting funnier everyday. But it you draw him as his favorite character from an anime he watches in that art style? He's head over heel with you. He wants to marry you and your drawings. NOW.

Ortho- he likes it when you stick post it notes on his with cute little drawings of him and Idia.

Malleus- he just stares like a god excepting a sacrifice from his discipline. he loves your art, to the point he'd request that your drawings and sketches be hanged in his dorm even if they look silly. A person is laughing at a drawing of you and him eating ice cream? They shall be dealt with.

Lilia- similar to Ruggie, you two have an all out war which results in dorm covered in post it notes.

Silver- he's thankful for you leaving post it notes on him to remind him of things he needs to get done, but also enjoys the little drawings you made of his and his family.

Sebek- it depends on how good your art is. He'd degrade you to no end on how terrible it is and how you need to give up now! Or if it's out of this world, he just pays you to draw Malleus like a Greek god.

Staff- Sam most ask for your help decorating the shop during festivities or special occasions, leaving cute doodle or murals to encourage people to stop by the shop more often.

Trein find the drawings you make on the chalk board quite strange... Is it one of those me-mes mr. Diamond keeps talking about? He does admit you have talent but dislikes you drawing utter nonsense.

Crewel is biased and have favourites, you're one of them. You'd draw a sketch of him if you have enough space on your test paper and leaving a little message asking for extra points, how could he say no to his favorite pup?

Vargas doesn't hate you drawing, he just doesn't like it when you're doing it in class. He can't hate you after you just gave him a drawing of himself with the message 'best teacher ever' on it, it'll break his heart.

Crowley hates it, you keep making drawings of him looking stupid, if not that... A stupid bird.

#twisted wonderland shitpost #twisted wonderland #heartslabyul #riddle rosehearts #azul ashengrotto #floyd leech #jamil viper #kalim al asim #deuce spade

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