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katiexpunk · 5 months

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Sex On Fire, Part 1 | Pairing Firefighter!Joel Miller X Fem!Reader

Series Summary: You're a country girl in the big city, thanks to your generous aunt. You expected to have adventures your first year in New York, but what you didn't expect was for your hot, firefighter neighbor, Joel, to be part of them. Part 1 Summary: You move to New York, after a little coaxing from your aunt. You meet your new neighbor, Joel, and quickly learn he's a Captain with the NYFD and good with his hands. Rating: 18+ Minors DNI Word Count: ~6.7K Warnings: Sexual tension, sexual tension, sexual tension. This one is dripping in it. No age gap specified. No explicit smut (yet, there's uh...gonna be a lot in part 2), but a nice lead up to it in the end that will probably blue ball you. Groping. Alcohol. Hardcore flirting. Fleetwood Mac, The Rolling Stones, and Kings of Leon song references. Uniform kink. Joel has a hard on for seeing reader in his shirt. Reader's mom has passed. Texas/small town vibes. New York City. There are no specific descriptors for reader, except that she has hair. Ya'll, these two are just down for each other so fucking bad it's not even funny. Authors Note: This one is for my darling moot @darkheartgatita. Pia, thanks for putting Firefighter!Joel into my brain. I hope you enjoy. As always, thank you to my Slutty, Smutty, Sister @sydneyinacoma who inspires me every day and shares her filthy thoughts on the reg. And to everyone who gives my little blog love -- I fucking love you all so much. Part 2, Fall and Winter, will drop next Saturday.

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S P R I N G Spring blooms, bringing with it a new beginning for you. Of all the places you’d thought you would be, New York was not one of them.

Life back in Texas wasn't terrible, a bit dull sometimes, but not awful.

Yet, in the mundane moments, your mind often drifted to daydreams – visions of swapping your Levi's for a sleek black dress and trading quiet farmland for the lively hum of city bars. You’d think of Samantha from Sex and the City sitting on your porch at sunset, drinking Bud Light, wishing your fairy godmother would appear and magically turn it into a dry Martini.

That was until three weeks ago, when your rich aunt, visiting from New York, decided to sprinkle a bit of magic into your life.

“I’m gonna move to Italy for a while,” she casually said over family dinner as if she was just announcing that she was going to the store for milk. You should have been surprised, but she’s always been the kind to never stick around for too long. Single and child-free, she’s spent her adult life dancing to her free-spirited rhythm, bouncing around from one place to the next. Not because she had to, but because she could. You, on the other hand, were the total opposite. After your mom passed away, leaving the cocoon of the familiar felt like too much. Despite your aunt's protests and encouragement to just go, you resisted, not wanting to leave behind your dad and the comfortable life you'd known. But if there's one thing you've learned about your aunt, it's that she's relentless – and yanking you out of your comfort zone was precisely what she wanted, and she had just the plan to do it.

She handed you the keys to her Lower East Side apartment, turning your once silly little daydreams into a reality. “Sweetie, you need this – you’re meant for so much more, your dad will be fine. Please go,” she encouraged.

Despite your initial reluctance, you caved, and before you knew it, you were on a plane bound for JFK.

++++ You feel like a small fish in a big pond as you navigate the city. Trying to figure out the subway turns into a whole saga of you getting lost more than once. You eventually find the right borough, but not without a fair share of unhelpful people brushing you off along the way. Yep, you're definitely not in Texas anymore.

While walking through the city, it hits you that a new pair of shoes is in order; something made clear to you by the little blister on the back of your heel that’s screaming at you. Despite the annoyance, you’re enjoying the walk to the apartment, your new home. The city's buzzing with life, and even the faint smell of urine in the air doesn't bother you. It's a wild, trippy feeling to be in the city, to feel like the main character of your own story.

You grab your phone, itching to double-check the building your aunt texted and ensure you have the right address. Remembering her advice about the unassuming exterior but spectacular view, you get ready for the big reveal. The key affixed to a keychain with a little apple on it meets the lock, and as you turn it, the door swings open, revealing a spacious wooden staircase.

As you step inside, you notice there's a bit of mail scattered on the slightly dusty floor. You collect the envelopes and magazines with your aunt's name on them and neatly stack the other pieces for Joel Miller into a pile on the bottom step.

After climbing the – Jesus, really fucking narrow – stairs, you're faced with doors opposite each other. While a brief doubt nudges you to recheck the apartment number, your gut tells you that the door with the welcome mat showing lemons and a pot of fake flowers is the one — a stark difference from its neighbor with a simple grey mat and no decor. Trusting your instincts, you decide that the lively entrance is the one.

As you step inside, you're greeted by a cozy space that, despite its age, radiates warmth and character. The walls are adorned with paintings that seem to tell stories of bygone eras, while rays of sunlight filter through the window, revealing glimpses of the bustling cityscape below.

Though small, the apartment is meticulously decorated, each corner telling a tale of adventures and cultural escapades. Remnants of your aunt’s travels, collected with care, add a touch of global flair to the modest space. Posters from Broadway plays hang proudly on the walls, as do family pictures. It’s lived-in; the kind of lived-in that feels comfy and embraces you like a warm hug.

You look at the frames on the wall and pause when you see one of your favorites – a photo of you as a little girl, smushed between your mom and your aunt, a cake three sizes bigger than your tiny head lit up with birthday candles in front of you. You can't help but trace the edges of the frame with your fingertips, connecting with the warmth radiating from your mother's beaming smile. Miss you, mom escapes your lips as your eyes linger on the photograph for a heartbeat longer before the rest of the room demands your attention.

In the compact kitchen, a handwritten note from your aunt beckons, strategically placed beside a bottle of wine on top of a stack of takeout menus. Her words resonate with warmth and encouragement. "Welcome to your new home! I am so proud of you for taking me up on my offer. Disregard the bedroom chaos—I started painting the walls but didn't quite finish before taking off. Feel free to pick up where I left off if the mood strikes. And if you ever need a hand with anything, Joel Miller across the way is a nice guy. I've already told him that you’ll be staying for a while, or who knows, maybe forever. Love you!" The paper carries the unmistakable fragrance of her perfume, and a smile graces your face after you finish reading it.

Setting the heartfelt note aside, your attention shifts to the menu for Sang Garden, a vibrant pink post-it exclaiming, "Right down the street! Super yummy!" Hunger gnaws at your stomach; the last meal was a distant memory from this morning, and you're ravenous. Without hesitation, you dial the number on the menu, your choice a steadfast favorite: orange chicken. “10 minutes,” the older lady on the phone tells you, not bothering to say goodbye before hanging up. Huh, efficient, you think.

As the aroma of anticipation fills the air, you finish unpacking your suitcase and weave through your new space until your food is ready. Only having to go down a flight of stairs and less than a block down the street to pick it up is a new feeling for you. If you wanted something like this at home you’d have to drive at least 20 minutes to pick it up.

You finish the entirety of the meal within minutes curled up on the couch, Sex and the City on the T.V.. Your aunt was right, it’s good. Probably the best orange chicken you’ve ever had in your entire life; just the right amount of zest and sweetness. You can already tell you’ll be a regular. Everyone always talks about the pizza in New York, but nobody bothered to tell you about the Chinese. You can tell you’ll probably have a lot of moments like that, discovering new things for yourself instead of hearing about it from magazines or seeing the photos on Instagram.

With your belly now full of the sticky goodness, you settle into bed for the night. You stare at the ceiling, paying no mind to the smile that’s been plastered on your face for the past three hours. You feel giddy, like a little girl seeing the stars for the first time. You’re doing it. You’re really doing it.

The city is still thrumming to life, but the distant sound of sirens and honks eventually turns to white noise as you drift off to sleep.

++++

The next morning, you rise with purpose; new life breathed into you. You brew a cup of coffee and decide to savor it on the fire escape, enjoying the not-yet-thick spring, and still slightly chilly, spring air. As the city stirs awake beneath you, you’re determined to craft an agenda for the day. With another few days to spare before your new job starts, your thoughts drift to the bedroom, where the abandoned paint cans await.

It's been a while since you've had the chance to dive into something genuinely productive, or creative for that matter, and you decide that this is the perfect opportunity. Your aunt chose a deep, rich shade of green, one that harmonizes seamlessly with the space; not too dark, but not puke or pea green, either. It’s pretty. She always has had good taste.

And while you like the color, it’s not particularly one you’d like to see splattered all over your clothing, having only brought what you could fit into a small suitcase. Your aunt must have something, you think. The woman has more clothes than a department store and there is no way she could have brought them all to Italy, although you don’t put it past her to try.

You make your way to the guest bedroom and rummage through the dresser located there. The top drawer is full of nothing but scrapbooks, the middle drawer has only sweaters, but luck strikes in the bottom drawer, where you locate a handful of old shirts.

You pull out a dark blue, oversized “New York Fire Department” cotton t-shirt; the front of it has an emblem, and the back says “Rescue 1 FDNY” in faded blocky white letters, obviously well-loved. This will do, you tell yourself, quickly exchanging your tiny crop top for the large shirt. It hangs over your body, the bottom nearly hitting your knees. Why your aunt has such a large shirt in her collection you’ll never know, but you wager it’s probably from one of her many “friends” over the years.

++++

The sounds of Fleetwood Mac's "Rumours" fill the room, you stand in the center of the bedroom, paintbrush in hand, ready to transform the space. The nostalgic chords of Stevie Nicks' voice in Dreams infuse the air, blending with the scent of fresh paint as you dip the brush into the can, and begin. “Like a heartbeat drives you mad,” you sing, slightly off-key, but no one is around to listen and you don’t mind. “Thunder only happens when it’s rainingggggg,” you belt, using the paintbrush as a microphone.

While most of the paint makes it on the walls, you have to admit that painting isn’t your strong suit and a fair amount of it has splashed back onto your face, shirt, and even your hair. You’re having fun, more fun than you’ve had in a while, even if you make a mess while doing it. Not like you’re gonna see anyone today anyway.

“Players only love you when they’re plaaaaaying…” doing your best Stevie twirl.

More and more green covers the walls, but as you’re about to get started on the final white wall, you’re interrupted by a loud steady stream of knocks at your door.

You hit pause on the music, and make your way to the door, unsure of who would possibly be knocking. You peer through the peephole to take a look, but you can only see the back of a man in a simple white shirt, his back turned to face away from the door. You undo the chain lock and swing the door open.

As the man pivots to meet your gaze, his presence sweeps over you, an unexpected force that leaves you momentarily disarmed. He’s handsome in a way that unmoors you; a mass of a man with broad shoulders, sun-kissed skin, and sculpted biceps that redefine your sense of composure. Whoa.

“Hi,” you murmur, your eyes conveying a blend of softness and curiosity, "Can I help you?"

The man looks at you, and you feel yourself heat under the attention of his gaze. His eyes gently caress your frame; lingering a little too long on the emblem sewn into the fabric, just above your breast.

"Uh," he clears his throat, his hand rising to his face, fingers subtly grazing the beard hair on his cheek, as if grappling for words. "Yeah, well – no, uh," he stumbles, the words caught in a momentary struggle. "Hi, ‘m Joel Miller, I live across the way," he greets, angling his body to signal to the door directly across the foyer. “Oh right, my aunt told me about you you,” you say, introducing yourself, voice smooth like honey. “She mentioned you were a nice guy and to call you if I ever needed anything,” you say, taking up space in front of him by leaning into the door. “Just stopping by to say hi, then? Or do you need a cup of sugar or something like that?” you ask with a playful tone.

Suddenly, the last thing he wants to do is admit that there's something you could help him with—like turning down your music. He likes Fleetwood Mac as much as the next guy, but the last three days on shift have left him craving peace, not a soundtrack reverberating through the thin walls.

Plus, he wasn’t expecting you to be so damn attractive.

And he definitely wasn’t expecting to be wearing his shirt when you answered the door.

“Ha, no, don’t need any sugar,” he chuckles, “just thought I’d make myself known.” He pauses, eyes locked onto yours. You notice the subtle flecks of amber in his deep brown eyes and the furrow of his brow. He’s painfully handsome. Just as you’re about to say something, he breaks the silence first, “But I'll let you get back to whatever it is you’re doin’...you look busy,” he tilts his chin to the paint that’s splotched over your bare legs. You can tell he’s looking for the story behind the mess.

His left hand leaves his pocket and he places it on the doorframe. He leans into it, and your eyes catch the firmness of his bicep flexing under the strain of his lean before meeting his face once more.

“Cute shirt, by the way” he says, his voice low and even.

“Oh thanks, you like it?” you ask, pulling the fabric out in a tent from the center, noticing the little splatters of paint as you do. “It’s my aunt’s, I just borrowed it while I finish up some painting.”

“Yeah, I have the same one,” he adds, “looks a helluva lot better on you than it does me, though,” a little laugh leaves his chest and his cheeks flush, a little embarrassed that he just said that. Fuck, it’s been so long since he’s tried to flirt with a woman.

Your skin prickles with heat, and you’re suddenly very self-aware of what a wreck you must look like, but you decide to be bold anyway. “Maybe we’ll have to compare sometime,” you playfully retort.

“Yeah, maybe we will,” he responds, looking you up and down, hoping the meaning behind his words isn’t too obvious.

“Well if ya ever need anything, ‘m just across the way,” he says, dropping his hand from the doorframe, hitting his thigh with a slight sound of a pat. “Nice to meet ya, Darlin’,” he says. You don’t miss the way his eyes flicker down to your chest once more, your stiff nipples now peeking through the fabric. He turns on his heels and turns his back to walk back to his apartment.

“Nice to meet you, Joel,” you purr. His head peers over his shoulder back at you, and the corners of his lips turn up in a little smirk.

Oh god.

You’re so fucked.

++++

Later that night, you text your aunt that you just met Joel Miller. You curse her for not telling you how incredibly hot he is. You also tell her that you decided to finish the painting, sending a selfie of you in front of the freshly updated walls with the message. You also add that you borrowed one of her shirts and that you’ll do your best to get the paint out of it.

Her response causes your breath to hitch in your throat, and your stomach swirls into a tight knot.

“The walls look amazing! Oh and by the way, that’s not my shirt, it’s Joel’s. I must have forgotten to give it back to him; the shared laundry downstairs sometimes causes mix-ups. Be a doll and give it back to him, will ya? Oh and quarters for the machines are in the clay pot next to the door.”

Fuck. Of course you would answer the door to your incredibly hot neighbor, covered in paint, in his shirt. You shake your head in embarrassment.

You look down at the shirt and notice just how much paint is all over it. You strip it from your body, bring it over to the sink, and begin to scrub the paint out of it with dish soap. As you watch the paint fade into the warm water, you notice the tag on the inside of the shirt and the rank inscribed in permanent marker on it.

Your fingers prune in the water, but you eventually get all of the paint out of the fabric. Satisfied with your cleaning job, you hang it up to dry and scribble out a note.

The following morning, on your way out to explore the city, you leave it neatly folded on Joel’s doorstep. You don’t bother to knock, you’re certain you might combust from embarrassment if you did.

Shortly after, on his way to work, Joel opens the door and notices the shirt by his boot, a little envelope placed on top of it.

“You could have told me it was your shirt, Captain Miller.”

Joel smirks. The cat’s out of the bag on that little secret then. He places it inside and lets out a little sigh. The image of your perky nipples, exposed legs, and messy paint-riddled hair flashes in his brain.

God, he wishes you would have kept it.

S U M M E R

As spring transitions into summer, the city experiences a gradual warming trend. Cherry blossoms and tulips from spring slowly give way to vibrant green foliage. Parks become lively with people enjoying the pleasant weather, and outdoor events become more frequent. The temperature rises, and there's a noticeable shift towards a warmer atmosphere with longer days.

It’s a shift you also feel in yourself, having found your niche, carving out your place in the ecosystem of the city. You’ve gradually adjusted, figured out how to successfully navigate the complexities of the subway system, and are starting to rely less and less on Google Maps to get around. You frequent a bodega around the corner from you, know where to find a decent bagel, and are a recognizable regular at Sang Garden.

Your new job keeps you busy. It’s tough work being a bartender in the city, but it’s granted you more than one opportunity to meet people from all walks of life, people you’d never get the opportunity to meet back in your hometown.

People like the gregarious and charismatic trader, who’s more than happy to make it clear he works in the financial district, even when nobody asks. People like the countless young professionals unwinding after a long day with their colleagues; some with sexual tension so obvious you can taste it. Designers. Architects. Engineers. Writers. Musicians. Actors. You don’t like them all, but you don’t have to, you’ll never see most of them more than once anyway.

You quickly learn the art of making a good martini, one you think would make Samantha proud. It’s all so posh. So far from your usual. But the money is good, and without having to pay rent – a luxury you now realize; having almost fainted when your coworker told you how much he pays in rent – it allows you to pocket most of it.

Your first few months in New York have been good, although a tad lonely. Making friends was never really a strong suit of yours, and you’re finding the city to be a particularly hard place to get to know people in any real way. Most of your free time is spent curled up with a good book or watching Friends for the millionth time, wishing Central Perk was a real place.

You see Joel in passing now and then, the in-between times when he’s coming home from work, and you’re just leaving for yours. Sometimes you pass each other on the stairs, and you have to angle your bodies side-to-side just to fit on the narrow stairs as you navigate around one another. You sometimes have to collect your composure when you leave for work and notice the faint smell of his cologne still in the hallway, it smells so good it makes you dizzy.

You find excuses to talk to him every now and then – a squeaky fire detector, to hand him his mail, or even for a stupid cup of sugar. Every time you find yourself knocking on his door, the butterflies congregate in masses as if preparing to migrate. You feel like a school girl with a crush for the first time, but as far as you can tell, Joel doesn’t feel the same, and you’re okay with that. At least that’s what you try to tell yourself.

The exchanges are always short; little blips in the grand scene of time, but that doesn’t stop you from feeling like you might faint under the intensity of his scorching gaze. Which doesn’t help, considering it’s already sweltering outside.

You severely underestimated how hot summer would be. Of course, you’re used to the oppressive Texas sun, but something about the way the buildings and concrete reflect the rays makes it feel like New York is at least 10x hotter.

The temperature in your apartment isn’t much better than outside. The air hangs heavy inside as you lay on your mattress, clad in only a bra and underwear, on crisp white sheets, attempting to cool yourself with a damp towel on your forehead. You listen to the feeble hum of the wall crying out for help.

As luck would have it, the overworked unit decides to give in to the heat. Beads of sweat form on your forehead as you attempt to fix it, but it’s pointless. You stare at the lifeless unit, realizing that the city’s relentless heat has claimed it as a victim. Time for a new one.

Once the sun dips past the skyline, you venture out to your local hardware store to grab a new one. You wish you would have had some forethought to bring a cart or something, not thinking about the fact that you were going to have to carry the heavy unit eight city blocks. Coulda, shoulda, woulda, you think to yourself. Once back to your apartment, you balance the quirky box on your hip, holding it steady with one arm as you fumble to grab the key from your purse outside the entrance of the building. Your cheeks are warm, you’re drenched in sweat even at this hour, and your hair is starting to stick to the nape of your neck. You manage to grab it, but inadvertently drop it, your fingers clammy.

“Shit,” you mutter, frustrated and hot.

“Need some help there, Darlin’?” Joel asks, making his way up the stoop. You turn to face him and oh.

Of all the times you’ve seen Joel, you’ve never seen him in uniform. The sight catches you off guard. His crisp, navy blue uniform emphasizes his broad shoulders and neatly tucked shirt, the shiny FDNY badge on his chest. He flashes a charming smile, revealing a hint of dimples, as he picks up your fallen key with ease. You’re not sure how he always manages to look so put together, a stark contrast to the way you always seem to look in front of him.

"Rough day?" he asks, unlocking the door, and for a moment, you forget the oppressive heat, captivated by his charm. “Here, lemme take that for you,” he offers, and you kindly accept. You shift the box out of your arms into his, and your stomach swoops when you watch the way his biceps flex as he grabs the unit with ease.

Grateful for the assistance, you offer a sheepish smile, “Yeah, you could say that” you reply, opening the door, holding it open for him. He begins to ascend the staircase ahead of you, giving you a full view of his ass in his uniform pants; it’s toned, and his thick thighs match. You walk behind him, trying to ignore the stickiness that’s beginning to pool in your underwear. You allow yourself to perv out for a moment, at least while his back is to you. He’s just helping you out, stop being weird.

Joel waits at the top of the steps for you to open your door. Once unlocked, you enter and he follows behind you. “Oh shit, it’s hotter than hell in here,” he says once inside, the irony is not lost on you that a literal man who fights fires for a living thinks it’s hotter than hell. He bends to place the box down near the front door and rises to full height, bringing both hands to his hips. You notice the little sheen of sweat that has now collected on his thick neck, fighting the impulse to lap up the perspiration. “You’re telling me, I’m rendering lard,” you say, letting your Southern roots shine through. You cringe a little at yourself, watering your accent down to not stick out as much, but you’re reminded of the age-old saying you can take the girl out of the country…

You wipe the back of your hand on your forehead to push away the sweat that’s been collecting there all day and look at him. “Thanks for the help carrying it up,” you say, offering him a kind smile.

“No problem at all, need some help installing it? These units can be tricky,” he asks, trying his best to ignore the fact that your white shirt has gone see-through from your sweat, allowing him a perfect view of your breasts. No bra again, he notes. He shifts his stance a little, trying to prevent his cock from hardening at the sight.

“Are you sure?” you ask, a little unsure, but deep down you know you need the help. As much as you’d like to think of yourself as an independent and capable woman, you’ve never been one to be good with anything mechanical, and the heat has left your brain feeling like the static of a T.V. channel with no reception.

“Course. I’m a servant to public safety. Can’t have you accidentally pushing it out the window and crushing a person below, it’d be a lot of paperwork” he chuckles and takes out a knife from his pocket to undo the tape on the box. It’s an ordinary act, yet somehow you’re mesmerized by his dexterity and competency.

Midway through the process, Joel pauses, feeling the heat, and glances at you with a lighthearted grin. “Mind if I take this off?” he asks, tugging at the collar of the uniform shirt. You nod, suddenly feeling warmer than before. “Sure, go ahead.”

His large fingers fumble with the buttons on the shirt, eventually revealing a white tank top underneath. The fabric clings to him, highlighting his defined chest, and a little bit of belly. You practically drool at the sight, once again resisting an impulse to want to sink your flesh into the softness above his belt.

He has an awful farmer's tan, but he wears it well; his forearms are a nice shade of golden and his shoulders are pale. You see from the lack of collar on the tank that he has a bare chest. He throws the uniform shirt onto a nearby chair and goes back to work installing the unit. You watch as he works to position it in the window, stealing glances at his glistening skin as he does. You think you’re being sly about it, but Joel can tell, he can feel your eyes heavy like bowling balls on him.

“So, how long have you been a firefighter?” you ask.

“About 15 years,” he responds. “Sorta always knew I wanted to do it, I was a contractor for a while, but wasn’t my thing.”

“Oh no? You seem like you’re pretty good with your hands,” you reply, your words suggestive.

“Never said I wasn’t, Darlin,’” he replies, shooting you a wink.

He plugs the unit in, and the screen comes to life. He sets the temperature as low as it will go, and the fan on high; the unit is about to put in overtime to make the air tolerable again.

“Well, that should do it,” straightening back up from his bent-over position, clapping his hands together as if to dust the task off. “Probably gonna take a while for it to cool down in here. You’re uh, more than welcome to hang out at mine for the time being. Don’t need you overheating on me,” trying to mask his excitement at you being in his space by carding his fingers through his salt and pepper curls.

You glance at the unit, and you can tell he’s right. “Alright, why not,” you say, offering him a smile. “Just gonna use the restroom fast,” you say, looking for an excuse to make yourself at least somewhat presentable and confirm that you don’t smell like a sweaty subway car.

Inspecting yourself in the harsh, exposing light of the bathroom, you grimace at your appearance. Not that you’d been expecting to look your best, but still. You pat the extra moisture off your skin with a clean towel, when you notice that nipples are straining against the fabric of your wet t-shirt, leaving nothing to the imagination. You briefly consider changing shirts, but the cheeky side of you decides to leave it be. You give yourself a quick smile and internal encouragement in the mirror and you step out of the bathroom.

Joel waits in the foyer by the door for you, taking the opportunity to learn a little more about you, drinking in the details of your space for any glimmers of insight it might give him about your life.

He’s been in the space before, but it’s different this time – updated. It still has many of the same things your aunt had put up, but you’ve added new additions to the walls; photos of you with friends, and family, and vinyl covers in frames. His eyes gravitate to a photo of you at your college graduation; your smile ear to ear, a bottle of champagne in your hands. You always seem happy. He likes that about you. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t look for a photo of you with another guy, a hint that you might already be taken, but he’s relieved when he doesn’t find one.

The bathroom door opens with a soft creak, and you stroll out, shooting him a casual but confident smile. As you do, you casually tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, giving off an easygoing vibe. It's a simple move, but there's a certain charm to it that doesn't go unnoticed by Joel.

“Ready?” you ask, and he clears his throat, trying to hide his pleasure that you opted not to change your still slightly transparent shirt. “Let’s get outta here,” he says, yanking on the handle, the door groans and opens with a loud creak. “Don’t wanna hit traffic.” Oh god, that’s a dad joke if you’ve ever heard one. You try to hide the stupid smile that graces your face, but Joel sees it, and matches it. Your shoulder brushes against his chest as you walk through the door, and Joel straightens in response, a little tingle shooting up his spine from the brief touch. Get a fucking grip, Miller, he thinks to himself, pulling the door closed behind him.

++++

Once inside his apartment, you gasp. It’s not at all what you expected.

If his front doorstep was any indication, you expected his apartment to be full of Ikea furniture, bare walls, and maybe a fake plant in the corner somewhere. You’re pleasantly surprised when you find that it’s the exact opposite; you feel like you’ve just wanted into some swanky bar. The air smells like palo santo, but above all, it’s cool. You let out a sigh of relief.

“Can I get you a beer” he asks, and you nod your head in response. He walks into the kitchen, and you’re mesmerized by his space. It’s a similar layout to your apartment, but somehow it feels bigger, even a tad cozier, plus he has exposed brick, a detail you wish your apartment had.

“Your apartment is amazing,” you tell him, spinning around to get a full 360 view of the space. You hear him yell something like thanks from the kitchen.

You find your seat on the cognac-colored couch and run your hand up and down the texture of it. The leather is cool on your skin, and your body temperature slowly begins to return to normal.

Joel returns from the kitchen, and hands you a Bud Light. And for once, you don’t wish for it to turn into a martini. Now having spent a few months in the city, you’re starting to realize that you’re more of a bud girl than a cocktail girl, and that fairy godmothers are a tad overrated.

You’re not sure when he did it, but your ear tunes to the classic sound of Beast of Burden by the Rolling Stones playing in the background at a low volume, adding a funk you adore to the moment.

He finds a seat on the couch next to you and throws his arm behind you on the ledge. He crosses his legs over one another, and you squirm, not out of discomfort, but nerves.

“I am impressed with your apartment, it’s well decorated,” you compliment him, bringing the bottle of beer to your lips.

“Had a bit of help, ‘f I’m being honest,” he replies. Your stomach flips.

“Oh?” you say, a bit breathless, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Of course, he would have a girlfriend. You see it plain as day now, the feminine touches built into the apartment, hanging on the walls in plain sight, taunting you with the obvious. He even has like ten live plants for fucks sake. Joel Miller is taken.

“My daughter, Sarah,” he replies, bringing the beer to his mouth for another swig. You try not to make your sigh of relief too obvious. “Oh!” you squeak and turn your body to face him. You don’t know if you’ve scooted closer or if he did, but your thighs are now touching.

“She’s studying interior design. Begged me this past year to let her fix up my apartment, and well…I didn’t have the heart ta say no,” he replies. “Said my apartment resembled a frat boys bachelor pad,” he lets out a gruff little chuckle and you smile at him.

His arm drifts close to you, his hand nearly touching your shoulder. It’s not quite there, but you can feel the heat, the electricity, his fingertips shoot to your skin. So much for cooling down.

“Well, if you didn’t decorate the space, what’s your favorite part about it then?” you ask, taking another swig at the bottle. Joel stares at your lips as they latch around the glass, admiring how plush and warm they look. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t wonder what they might look like around his cock.

“Ah, good question,” he says, bringing his hand to cover his crotch with the bottle, all while subtly trying to adjust himself from his previous thought. He’s surprised he even heard your question at all. “Probably the table over there,” he says, nodding his head back to signal to the dining room.

“Made it myself,” he says, a bit of pride in his voice.

You crane your neck to look, but can’t get a good view with how plush the cushions are. You slightly angle your body upwards, coming onto your knee on the couch to look, bringing your chest closer to Joel’s face.

“Well I’ll be damned, you really must be good with your hands,” you playfully tease, letting your body sink by his side once more, feeling the warmth he exudes. Your words cause his gaze to go dark. “Mhmm,” he murmurs, taking another sip of his beer, sure if he said any more he might regret it.

You notice the music switches to Kings of Leon, a favorite tune of yours echoing through the air. “Oh shit, I love this song,” you exclaim, barely able to contain your excitement, much to Joel’s delight.

“Yeaaaaaah, your sex is on fireeeee,” you belt, and you inadvertently tilt your beer bottle a little too far down in the process of your solo, and a splash of beer pours out onto Joel’s lap. The action abruptly causes you to stop.

“Ah, I’m so sorry,” you apologize profusely, setting the nearly empty bottle on the coffee table in front of you, noticing the box of tissues as you do.

“Don’t worry about it, Darlin’,” he says, voice mellow, placing his beer on the table, too.

You frantically grab a handful of tissues and bring them over to the wet spot pooling on Joel’s crotch. “Here, let me,” you say, dabbing at the liquid, the realization not fully hitting you that your hands are literally on his crotch until – oh.

Joel’s been walking the fine line of a stiff one all night, and your simple gesture throws him over the edge, the dabbing causing blood to rush to his cock.

You continue to blot at the liquid and notice him stiffening underneath you. A heavy rush of arousal courses through you, and heats your core. Joel’s hand darts to grab your wrist, the size of it completely swallowing up your entirety of it, his fingers wrapped around it, and you’re certain he feels your pulse quicken under his touch.

You look up at him with big doe eyes, only to find his own pupils are blown open wide with lust, his jaw tense. His other hand finds the side of your face, and he holds you up to look at him. You both pause there, letting the tension of the moment swallow you whole. He looks at you like you're a juicy summer peach, ripe for the picking.

His grip on your wrist softens, and you flatten your hand to palm at his growing bulge. Joel lets out a deep groan in response to the full contact. “Shit darlin’,” he says, voice wrecked. His hand drifts to the column of your neck, and he begins to pull you up so you’re face-to-face with him.

The anticipation builds, and just as your lips are about to meet, a sudden shrill sound shatters the moment – the fire alarm.

“Fuck.” Joel groans.

TO BE CONTINUED - READ PART 2

Tagging moots and those who I think might like this: @endlessthxxghts @theoasisofthings @bastardmandennis @untamedheart81@lavema @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @dugiioh @nervoushottee @milly-louise @ghostwritesthings@josephquinnswhore @drunk-and-capable @peachmy @survivingandenduring@darkheartgatita @hotgirlbedtimescenarios @dins-riduur-anthe @ohheypedrito @joeldjarin @nerdieforpedro As always, feel free to let me know if you'd like to be added to my tag list, or removed (even if we're moots, no hard feelings). Might transition to a notifs blog soon.xx

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x you #joel miller fluff #joel miller #pedro pascal character #pedrohub #pedro pascal #new york #firefighter smut #pedro stories

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callofdudes · 4 months

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I made more because... Because! @aidenlydia again, this is their au but I'm eating it like fish sticks on a plate of mac 'n cheese. Getting this scene out of my head because I love them and I have nothing else to do waiting for dinner.

More Viking SoapGhost.

Ghost watched, his eyes unmoving as John wrote with his charcoal wood pen on some old pages. Geez it must have been four pages with three drawings and eight life updates.

Finally John signed the bottom of the pages and rolled them up with a string.

"You done??" Ghost asked flatly when He finished.

"Yes, now I need these delivered back to Roach."

"You say that like I'm going to do it."

John looks at him, nodding. "You are."

Ghost sighs and groans. "I'm not your dumb messenger bird." He grumbles, shifting closer and standing. John pulls his cloak tighter and chuckles softly. "Actually, you are."

He holds out the folded papers to a pouty Simon. "Go on, shouldn't be long now if you get to it." John encouraged.

"Fine, but I'm bringing back a tab worth my while for it." He grumbled, looking up at the big man.

"Mhm, and I'll happily pay."

Ghost shifted, black wings flapping in the air, snatching the papers between his talons. He squawked at John, who could only smile softly, barely noticable.

And watched him head off. Simon didn't actually mind doing errands for John. If anything the combined stretching of his wings and the inevitable praise he was going to get for completing the assignment would be worth it.

Oh yes indeed.

John kept the fire lit, watching the open snowy land as Ghost's small form had left his sight. He poked the fire, watching the embers flock to the wind of the cave mouth, then over at Ghosts bedroll.

He sighed softly, placing his hand on it, noticing a stray feather stuck to the inside. He chuckled softly, picking it up and twirling it around.

"Be safe, Ghost."

Ghost did as he promised, he made the incredible eight hour journey in the shitty weather back to their small village. Fucking between houses to the main hall.

Stopping at the doors, his feet hit the ground, heading up the stairs and pushing the knocker open.

The large door swing, creaking when he entered. A head poked up, followed by a little smile. "Well well well, hunting season is barely started and you're already back."

Simon rolled his eyes softly, coming over and dropping the roll of papers. "From MacTavish."

"What is it??" Roach asked, undoing the twine.

"Hell if I know, I may be a crow but I do not snoop."

Roach gave him a look, and Simon sighed. "Ok not this time. But I was damn curious."

Roach chuckled softly. "Alright, I'll look these over, you go get some rest. Probably had a long trip."

"Well I got permission to run up a tab so I'm gonna go get my arse drunker than a bat in honey." He flipped the end of his cloth mask back over his shoulder to keep it secure. Heading back to the door and out to go get absolutely hammered.

And you don't want to see a shifter drunk, it's not always pretty. But Ghost has been starting to learn that eighteen drinks is when John has to cradle the poor crow with his talons straight out and wings a mess as he takes him home.

And of course, by the time Ghost had slept off the drunken night Roach had something new written up for him. Returning to the hall and taking the papers.

"Will you be alright to fly?? You look a little..."

"Mmm I'll be fine!" Ghost mumbled, heading from the hall and taking off again. Damn messenger bird. John better congratulate him at least or he's never running him these stupid errands ever again.

It was late when he returned, but he saw the familiar smoke and a crackling fire. Flapping his wings and stretching out his talons when he saw a dark figure among the casting, wobbling shadows.

He latched onto John's arm guard, crooning his neck and fluffing his feathers before tucking them in.

John noticed the letters and gently took them, noticing the scratchy pen writing of Roach.

"Thank you Ghost, you've done very well."

Simon melted, making a little noise and hopping up his arm, craning his head to peck at John's beard.

"Yes, good work." John put the papers down to run his large, calloused thumb over Simon's small head, gently smoothing the feathers down.

Oooh yeah, this is so worth it.

He fluffs his feathers, nipping at his hand when he attempted to pull away. "Alright then, if you insist... Get comfy."

Simon cawed at him. He wouldn't be getting comfortable. Hopping onto the ground and shifting, noticing his bedroll slightly closer.

"You miss me or something?"

"Only warming the place where my cold heart will go after I see that tab." He mumbles as he turns his attention mostly onto the letters.

Simon smiles a tad, laying down and getting comfy. He looks around, then at the fire, watching the flames dance. His head slowly coming down, resting against John's thigh.

It was hesitant, but then again peaceful. The silence only filled by the crackling fire. Simon's head feeling a mess from the last of the alcohol and the flight until Johns hand gently touched his head.

He didn't react, keeping himself stiff as Johns thumb absentmindedly stroked his hair. Eyes still glued on the letters, reading them through.

Simon relented to relaxing, curling up and pulling John's cloak over him slightly. His eyelids felt heavy, and the soothing warmth of John's hand slowly had him coming undone.

Letting himself fall asleep there, letting out soft breaths.

John's gaze finally flickered over to his partner, humming softly. "Good work, Simon. Can always count on you."

He put the papers aside and leaned back, watching the entrance of their camp as Simon slept. He would keep watch, he'd gotten enough of his own rest for now.

It's shorter but hell that first photo had me in a coma. Yes, I am insane, yes, I will make more, respectfully if I'm allowed to keep gobbling up these meals...

#call of duty #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #johnny soap mactavish #ghostsoap #09 soapghost #soapghost #viking john mactavish #viking au #crow shifter simon riley

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leavemebetosleep · 14 days

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do you have any good fluttercord fic recs?

OH BOY DO I. In no particular order (except of when I thought of them):

1: Non-Entity by Captain Wuzz: An AU in which, instead of being turned to stone, Discord was shot in the head with a magic arrow that takes away his sentience and magic for a 1,000 years. Fluttershy mistakes him for a wounded animal and brings him home. I loved it so much.

2: Chaotic Neutral by C-Puff: The magic is starting to fade from Equestria, and the Main 6 and Discord go on an adventure to find out why, and reverse it. A bit of AU, in the sense it was written before the show was done, so it diverts in some places because of that. Super sweet, and I love the character development here.

3: Time is Taller than Space is Wide by Dott. Can also be read on Ao3 if you prefer. Soulmate AU (?) fic with a Groundhog Day style twist. I rarely see fics play with the idea of what if Fluttershy and Discord's friendship had started when they first met, so this is fun.

4 & 5: Blank and it's sequel Reconnection by @geekcat. Can also be read on fanfic.net. AU in which, before Discord can choose friendship over ruling Equestria, Twilight remembers a "reformation" spell. He is stripped of his free will, and Fluttershy does her best to bring him back. If you don't like the idea of Twilight being a villain, you might not like this one, but I think her villain arc in this is done in a perfect way for her character. It's super heart wrenching in many places, but in a good way.

6: Our Fair Lady of the Chaos Lord, also by GeekCat Can also be read on fanfic.net. Fairy tale inspired AU in which Fluttershy is a princess who's father is pressuring her to marry noble knight Sir Big Mac. Wanting to be sure he's a good person, she makes a deal with the Chaos Lord, letting herself be "kidnapped" so she can test his character. You can guess who she falls for instead. Honestly I've enjoyed all of GeekCat's fics, so they're getting an extra mention. Check out the rest of their fluttercord fics if you like any of these.

7: The Draconequus with the Dragon Tattoo by A M Shark This is a major case of, strange premise, kick ass results. Basically an AU based off Girl with the Dragon Tattoo by Steig Larsson, with Discord as Lisbeth, and Fluttershy as an amalgamation of Mikael and several other characters, but focusing more on the murder mystery aspect of that book, and less on the...everything else. If you're familiar with GwtDT, don't worry, there's no rape scenes. Again, it's more about the murder mystery part. If you're not familiar with GwtDT, then don't worry again, because you don't need to know the original to enjoy it. It's just Discord and Fluttershy playing detective and solving a murder together. It has two sequels, but I haven't read them yet, and it didn't feel right to rec something I haven't read.

8: The Corpse Bride by Bad Horse. Dark fic. No relation to the Burton movie. Fluttershy dies in a tragic accident, and Discord brings her back from the dead as his zombie wife. Her friends (sans Pinkie) are horrified. Has a fantastic twist ending. If you like some of the darker stuff, def worth a read.

Bonus: Comic rec: The Last Adventure by Eveeka. Taking place after the final defeat of Tirek, Cozy, and Chrysalis, Discord gets into a depressive funk after shouldering the hatred from Ponyville citizens for his latest actions, but also because his friends seem to never be available anymore. He starts to think maybe Equestria would be better off without him, as he can't seem to exist with out making everyone miserable, and decides to hide away in the Everfree forest. Fluttershy, worried when he doesn't show up for tea, asks her friends for help, only to discover there's a monster running lose there he and the rest of Equestria might be in danger from. This fic has two endings, so keep reading even when it seems like it's over. You've got one more ending left. This one nearly made me cry.

#fluttercord #fanfic recs

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ruewrote · 1 year

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𝑤𝑒𝑙𝑙 𝑑𝑒𝑠𝑒𝑟𝑣𝑒𝑑.

PAIRING: jj maybank x fem!reader WARNINGS: none GENRE: fluff, f2? SONG INSPIRATION: just cant get enough by black eyed peas WORD COUNT: 868

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you never had much money. living as a pogue proved that, but you didn't care.

you didn't keep up with the latest cosmopolitan since you were out surfing instead.

getting dirty looks from kooks as they judged your worn-out tops to your ripped vans, but you had no shame about it. holding your head high as they whispered behind you.

from time to time you wondered how it'd be to live big and fancy, but wouldn't trade what you had with your friends for anything else.

from the lazy hangouts at the chateau to the risky adventures, the bond that pogues had was unmatched. they were your family.

so when you started your new job working at the kooks country club you wanted to show your gratitude and bought each of them small gifts.

a golden turtle broch for kiera, an expensive pair of trainers for pope, and so on and so forth.

everyone was hyped about their gifts, you received many hugs and thanks but not jj. he sat on the sofa, rolling the black marble ring that you had gotten for him between his fingers.

an appreciative smile displayed on your lips, standing up and walking over to you, interrupting the conversation that you were having with sarah. giving you a knowing nod, she sat on john b's lap across the room, her arm around his neck, his hand on her waist.

"is everything okay?" concerned as jj sat beside you, his knee knocking into your own whilst doing so.

"i cant accept this." that made you frown and your brow furrow.

"of course you can, i wanted to spoil you a little. it's well overdue from all of the times that you've either paid for my food or i've stolen yours." playfully nudging his arm with yours, jj still didn't look convinced.

"you deserve this. as much as you're talking yourself out of it, it's true. its about time you got some well-deserved appreciation." you persisted, nudging the ring gently back to his chest.

still looks doubtful you made a promise.

"okay fine if you take this, this one time, no more expensive presents. only because i have one to match." lifting your hand gesturing to your pinky, slipping his on, and wrapping his finger around your own.

"promise?"

"promise."

you stuck to what you said to jj, you hadn't bought him a single expensive item, maybe treated him to dinner from time only after arguing back and forth about it, it ending in him giving in.

you had also made it your life's goal to make him gifts, whether it be finding pretty shells on the beach or decorated notes of appreciation.

yeah, it might've been insignificant to anyone else, but you felt a sense of pride when you watched his face light up at the silly little homemade trinkets.

from then on it just became a random thing you did for him even if you didn't get the others anything.

both of you agreed for him to sleep at your house since his dad was not having a... particularly good day and obviously not wanting him to be at the receiving end of it, he crashed at yours. this happened often enough that your parents let him stay over as long as the door was open.

so now you stood over the stove, stirring the pasta that was bubbling for the mac and cheese that you were making. jj making it ten times harder as he started doing stuff to distract you like eating the pre-grated cheese.

your hand slapping his wrist as he yet again went to reach his fingers into the bowl.

"i swear to god if i have to tell you again jay!" he giggled and ran out of the kitchen as you grabbed the cloth off of the side, following not far behind him.

after a while of chasing each other around the house, you finally cornered him in the living room, trying to whip the material.

unfortunately for you, he managed to snatch it out of your hands, wrapping his arms around your body and falling onto the couch on top of you so you couldn't do anything.

"let go of me!" wriggling around to find a way out.

"why would i do that when i know what the outcome will be? hey im dumb but im not that dumb."

letting out a huff, you relaxed into his arms knowing there wouldn't be any way of getting him to budge. he overpowered you every time.

"ugh fuck you dude!"

"you wish sweetheart!" jj winked at you, it wasn't until then that you realized the position you two were in.

he laid on top of you, in between your legs. faces two inches apart. your mouth went dry, looking at him was an even bigger mistake because when his eyes flickered from your lips to your eyes... you melted.

jj leaned in closer, your lips nearly touching when the smoke alarm goes off.

"shit the food!" you both dashed to the kitchen, turning off the fire, and making sure everything was fine. it was. laughing relieved.

you both wished deep down that the alarm had never gone off.

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cowgurrrl · 1 year

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Dancing Barefoot

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader

Author’s note: this was slightly self-indulgent because Patti Smith is my personal god also baby Miller should be arriving in the next fic but this idea was stuck in my head and I HAD to write it

Summary: “I’ll never finish falling in love with you.” - Nicole Williams, Collared aka Joel helps you and the baby sleep ~800 words

Warnings: a little bittersweet, talks of Janey girl and Sarah bear, brief brief brief mention of a strained parent/child relationship, pregnancy, tooth rotting fluff

The moonlight streams from the windows, and the birds chirp sleepily outside. Ellie is safe in her bed, and Joel is lying on his right side beside you, occasionally mumbling something you never quite catch. You should be asleep. The baby should be asleep; instead, they're using you as their punching bag. You've been tossing and turning for thirty minutes, making the baby toss and turn just as much. You sigh and rub your face like it will be enough to soothe you and the baby to sleep.

"Can't sleep?" Joel mumbles, and you look at his back. You didn't even know he was awake, but you nod at the ceiling.

"Your kid is doing laps."

"Why is it my kid when he's misbehaving?" He asks as he turns to face you. His hair is a mess, and his eyes are heavy with sleep, but his hand still manages to find your bump in the dark. "Let your mama sleep." He says, poking at your stomach.

"I don't think poking our baby in the face is going to get them to sleep," you say, and he hums, half-asleep. You run your fingers through his curls and smile when he cuddles closer to you. "I think they want a song."

"The baby wants a song, or you want a song?"

"Both." You say. You catch the pull of his lips in the moonlight before he kisses your temple. He sighs as he gets out of bed and grabs his guitar from the corner. He perches on the edge of your bed shirtless, his silver scars on display without shame, and you remember each story associated with them— ghosts of the people you were before baby bumps and shared last names.

"What d'you want to hear?" He asks, strumming a few times to check the tuning.

"Do you know any Patti Smith?" You ask, and he turns to give you a look. "What? I had a life before you." He chuckles, and you lean against your headboard, hands resting on your swollen belly. He looks at the frets like they're an equation for a few slow moments before the familiar ballad fills the space. You smile as he quietly sings the words, mouthing them as he goes.

Little Miller seems to realize their dad is singing because you feel them move in time with the strums. If this kid loves music already, we're going to need more records, you think. You imagine little hands reaching for the guitar as Ellie or Joel play, adding their own dissonant sound to the song previously being played. Maybe you could hire someone in town to make tiny instruments for them to play with once they're big enough. The idea of a little jam circle with Ellie, Joel, and the baby makes your heart sing. As the song ends, Joel looks at you expectantly, his dark brown eyes meeting yours. The tiny heartbeat under your ribs has settled, only occasionally kicking to let you know they're still alive.

"Like clockwork," you say, and he smiles, gently placing the guitar back in its corner. "As judgy as you were with my request, you pulled that out pretty fast."

"I had a life before you," he echoes, and you roll your eyes as he slides back into bed with you. "Sarah didn't like most of the music I played in the truck, but she liked Patti."

"Smart girl."

"What music did Jane like?" He asks, and the way he says her name makes you want to cry. He says it as if it were holy and sacred because it always will be to you. You smile and cuddle close to him. His arms envelop you in warmth, and his smell surrounds you, and you feel safe.

"She was an old soul. She liked ABBA, Fleetwood Mac, and Janis Joplin. I'm convinced we played the Pearl album more than any other person on the planet," you say, kissing his shoulder. "Thank you for always asking about her."

"I like hearing about her," he says as if he were pointing out constellations— easy and undeniable. Her dad didn't even want to hear about her, and now this man who had never met her asks about her because you loved her. Because you still love her, and he loves you. This time, you do cry. You blame it on pregnancy hormones and a lack of sleep, but Joel knows it's something more. He kisses your tears away and rubs soothing circles into your back. "She'll always have a place in our home, d'you hear me?" He asks softly, and you nod.

You fall asleep in his arms that night and almost every night, but this time you dream of little feet standing on your kitchen table, dancing along to Janis Joplin's crooning. You dream of teasing Jane's hair to match Stevie Nicks’ on the cover of her Bella Donna album. You dream of the day she came home, suddenly detesting ballet and wanting to take drum lessons instead. Something tells you she left some of her rockstar energy with you, and the new baby is taking it all in— pieces of her left in so much more than just your memory now.

🍓

Tag list: @evyiione @nyotamalfoy @abbyhaslongshorts

#the last of us #joel and ellie #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #the last of us x reader #joel tlou #joel miller the last of us #joel miller fluff #joel miller x female reader #Joel Miller x pregnant reader #he’s so girldad your honor #look for the light

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yelenasdiary · 10 months

Note

I'm in the need of some ceo! Yelena x fem! Reader fluff or something and your writing is just so gooood. So if you're up to this, it would be great:)

No, We Did It!

Pairing: CEO! Yelena Belova x Fem! Reader

Summary: Since Yelena started her own business, she’s been busy. Putting a lot of her focus on making sure things are running smoothly and you’re there to make sure she’s not overworking herself.

Tiny Angst? Like really small? You might miss it if you blink? | Fluff | No Warnings | 1K |

Translation: малыш (baby), милый (darling),

AC: I am always up for Yelena content or any kind! I miss her so much; I hope you enjoy this!! xx

You knew when your girlfriend decided to start her own business that it was going to take up a lot of her time, she's stepped back from doing missions and put more of her focus on making her business. Yelena had this idea to make things that anybody could use to protect themselves, from clothing to different gadgets, she was proud of what she'd made of her business, and you were beyond proud of her.

Of course, it wasn't always easy, there were many nights where you missed her, late a night when it was cold, and you wished she was beside you to cuddle up against. Not saying Fanny did a horrible job at keeping you warm but it was safe to say you both missed her, even more than when she used to go on missions.

Today was a big day for Yelena and her business, she was hoping to strike a deal, an international deal to begin selling her products worldwide. All her time was spent at the office and every day you popped into the office with lunch for her and to give her a little extra hand before you'd go home and cook something for her for dinner.

You were in the process of making Yelena's favorite, mac n cheese. A win, win kind of meal. If she didn't get the contract, she'd have her comfort food to help but is she did get the contract, she could celebrate with her favorite meal. Fanny laid by your feet while you stood by the stove, stirring the pasta before adding the extra ingredients. Things were almost ready when your phone buzzed.

"малыш, can you come to the office? Really need you here"

Yelena's text worried you, you looked down at Fanny and sighed "Looks like Ma didn't get the contract" you spoke before packing the mac n cheese in a container. The drive to her office you couldn't stop thinking how hurt Yelena must be, she's worked so hard for this and of course there will always be other contracts, but she was really counting on this one.

You arrived at the office, nobody insight but the light from Yelena's office. No signs of a celebration taking place only made your suspicion grow. Gently you knocked on Yelena's door and opened it slowly.

"Honey?" you questioned while you opened the door. A gasp soon left your lips at the sight before you. A candle lit dinner waited your arrival, Yelena looked up from her desk, a bouquet of light pink roses sat in front of her. "There you are" she smiled softly as she stood from her desk, grabbing the roses before walking over to you. "Lena" you gasp once more in shock.

"What's all this?" you asked as she handed you the roses, taking a sniff of them with your eyes closed. "A little thank you for everything you've done over the past year and a bit, especially over the past few months with everything going on. I didn't ask you to do anything but you did it anyway and I never want you feel like I don't see that, or you" Yelena spoke, one of her hands cupping your face, "we got the contract, милый" she smiled softly.

"You did?! Baby, I'm so proud of you!!"

"No, we did it!" she reminded you before kissing you softly, "I've missed you and Fanny, mostly Fanny, I won't lie" she added jokingly before leading you to the table in the middle of her office and pulling out a seat for you. Kindly she took the container of mac n cheese from your hand along with the roses, placing them on her desk. "I didn't cook but I did order your favourite take out" she placed the hot take out in the middle of the table as you chuckled at her comment.

"I was thinking" Yelena added while she began to dish up both plates, "how about we take a vacation? Just the three of us, or two, whatever you want"

"I don't care what we do or where we go, as long as I get you all to myself, I'm happy" you smiled.

----

After dinner, Yelena followed you home where she wasted no time running a bath for you both before getting comfortable on the sofa with you in her arms, watching one of Netflix's new movies. Her fingers twirled with your hair on one hand while the over was intertwined with yours.

"Thank you for everything baby" Yelena whispered before placing a kiss on the top of your head, you smiled instantly before looking up at her.

"You know I'd do anything for you"

"How do you feel about travelling the world with me? I know you have your job here so it's okay if you can't. Once all the paperwork is finalised and things get moving, I want to be there for the store openings around the world, I'd love for you to be there as well"

You sat up and looked at her, a smile tugged at your lips as you nodded, "you don't even have to ask me twice" you replied before kissing her deeply. "I'm just so beyond proud of you my love, you've worked so hard on all of this, of course I want to be there for you any way I can" you added as you pulled away.

Yelena smiled back, brushing a lock of hair behind your ear, and even with all her success lately, you couldn't help but feel something else was playing on her mind. "What is it darling?" you asked, catching her eyes connect with yours.

"It's nothing, I promise" she brushed it off, "I was just taking a moment to take all of this in, and how there is nobody I would rather be with, not a single soul, not even for a second" she added. "Everything I do is for us and I know I did this business for me but without you, there's no way I would've went through with it"

"Lena, you have to thank yourself as well, you put and continue to put in the hours, the meetings, the paperwork, all of it. I'm just your little cheerleader cheering you on. You made this happen baby, take a moment to be proud of yourself" you reminded her, knowing that giving herself any form of credit.

"What would I do without you huh?" she couldn't help my smirk softly. Playfully you shrugged, "who knows" you replied.

#yelena belova #yelena belova x reader #fanfiction #marvel #black widow

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alltoowelltom · 1 year

Text

a missed chance

tom holland x single mom!reader

from this request here

note: this is a repost! i've been having so many issues with tumblr and posts not showing up so i decided it was best to just re-upload <3

⭑･ﾟﾟ･:༅｡.｡༅:ﾟ:*:✼✿

Almost three years ago Tom came to the conclusion that he'd missed his chance. The photo of two pink lines on a stick you'd sent to the group chat with no caption was an image that Tom saw whenever he closed his eyes. It haunted him in the middle of the night and clouded his mind when he sat in traffic. It summed up the situation, as he saw it - he'd waited too long and the opportunity for your will-they-won't-they friendship to ever grow into something more had slipped out of his grasp.

He settled into his role as Uncle Tom wonderfully. As the eldest of four he'd always been great with kids and he loved your young son as if he were Tom's own, but the tension in your friendship never quite fizzled out.

⭑･ﾟﾟ･:༅｡.｡༅:ﾟ:*:✼✿

Your phone rang as you sat on a park bench, watching Alfie play in the sandbox just a few meters away.

"Hello?"

"Love, you've got to start checking the caller ID before you answer." Tom chastised lightly on the other end of the line.

"Tom!" you squeal, drumming your feet on the concrete ground. "Does this mean you've landed?!"

"I'm touching solid ground," he confirms. "Back in the land of hope and glory."

"Good," you grin. "I've missed you."

"Yeah?" you don't miss the hope in Tom's voice and if you could see him, you'd notice the crinkles by his eyes that only appeared when he received really good news.

"Does that mean I can come over this evening?" he wonders aloud.

"I wouldn't complain," you shrug. "It's your first night back though, you don't want to see your family or anything?"

"How many times do we have to have this conversation?" Tom shakes his head. "You and Alfie are family."

As if being summoned, Alfie begins to whine from the sandbox, seemingly done with the plastic shovel in his hand as he holds his arms in the air, wanting to be picking up by you.

"Alright, I've got to go but I'll see you tonight," you say. "Talk soon."

⭑･ﾟﾟ･:༅｡.｡༅:ﾟ:*:✼✿

"How's my little man?" Tom asks, scooping Alfie up as he runs towards where Tom stands by the front door. He swings Alfie through the air, spinning around before bringing the giggling toddler to rest on his hip.

"He's grown!" Tom remarks. "You're almost too big for me to do that." He tells Alfie, poking him playfully in the tummy.

Tom feels stupid for not realizing how much bigger Alfie's gotten in the last four months since Tom's been away filming. Your FaceTime calls usually took place while Tom was in hair and makeup, right before you went to bed back in London and by that time Alfie was more often than not fast asleep already, so Tom hadn't seen much of the little guy. He wanted to kick himself for once again kidding himself into believing that you and Alfie existed in some sort of time-warp, lives permanently still until Tom came home to London. Of course you guys had your own little life together. You didn't need him, right?

"Yeah, he's getting older by the day," you laugh, wiping your flour-covered hands on your jeans as you step into the hallway. Tom wraps you into a side hug with his free arm, making sure not to squash Alfie between you two, who's fiddling with a loose thread on Tom's sweater.

"Alfie's just had dinner, do you want any?" you call over your shoulder as Tom follows you into the kitchen.

"Hmm, what's on the menu, chef?" He chuckles, placing Alfie down on the carpet and ruffling the boy's hair.

"It's the extremely gourmet and elegant meal of boxed Mac and cheese." You answer.

"Ooh, yes please!" Tom calls as he wanders into the living room.

He's always felt so comforted in your flat. It’s always felt a mile away from the stresses and worries of Tom's life as an actor, and more importantly it's always felt like you. Despite the baby bouncer hanging in the doorway, the discarded toy stuffed behind the TV and a few picture books strewn across the sofa it retains the features that made it yours like the vinyls on display above the record player Tom bought for your birthday one year and the mini chalkboard with a half rubbed out score from a game of beer pong from before everything changed. There was now a hastily scribbled reminder to 'buy teething rings' over the top.

"Sorry about the mess," you say, gently kicking a few brightly colored building blocks out the way. Tom helps by stacking the picture books from the couch into a little pile on the coffee table. "I was going to have a tidy up when Alfie and I came home from the park, but you know how it is."

He doesn't know how it is, not really. As close as you are, he's always slightly on the outside when it comes to you and Alfie, reduced to an uncle just the same as Uncle Haz or Uncle Tuwaine. But he wants to be more than that. He wants to be your partner in this, someone to lend a hand when the house gets messy or a shoulder to cry on when things get tough. For being a web-slinging superhero during the day, he wishes he was brave enough to tell you how he felt.

"Don't even worry about it." He says instead, smiling in thanks when you pass him a serving of mac and cheese in a colorful plastic bowl and a plastic spoon.

"I ran out of real cutlery." You laugh as he looks at it quizzically, one eyebrow raised. "You know, no one tells you how much living with a toddler changes you," you say. "I haven't used adult cutlery in about a week, and just the other day I found myself eating a sucky yogurt for dinner while watching Cocomelon. Alfie wasn't even in the room."

Tom laughs as he spoons the golden pasta into his mouth.

"It sounds to me like you're desperately in need of some adult interactions." He hears how it sounds as soon as he says it and hopes you don't think he's being creepy.

"Oh God, don't even get me started, " you say. "I haven't gotten any sort of adult interactions in like, a year. No wait…two years and nine months."

"Two years and nine months?!" Tom gasps, glancing at Alfie out of the corner of his eye who sits on the carpet playing with a toy train track Tom had given him last Christmas.

"Welcome to motherhood." You grimace.

Tom puts his empty bowl on the coffee table, trying to figure out how to word his next question.

"Do you ever get…lonely?" He asks delicately. "I don't mean physically, I mean actually."

You shrug, pulling a blanket over your lap.

"I mean, yeah. It's just that between work and Alfie, I don't have time to go out and meet people, you know?"

Tom nods thoughtfully, letting you continue as he gently tugs the edge of your blanket, pulling it over his legs too.

"And if I do meet someone, it's hard because sometimes if I tell them about Alfie it's a deal breaker, or if they're okay with it I'm still not comfortable bringing people in and out of his life. If someone's in his life I want them to be in for good, right?"

"Yeah, I get what you mean," Tom sympathizes, placing a hand on your leg.

"I wouldn't change having him for the world," you say quickly. "I just sometimes wish I had someone to talk to who doesn't speak only in Bob the Builder references."

"I'm always here to talk to, lovie." Tom reassures you. "Can we fix this? Yes we can!" He giggles and you laugh too, pushing his shoulder with yours.

"I'm really glad you're home, Tommy." you say quietly, putting your hand over his where it still rests gently on your leg and rubbing small circles into his skin.

"It's good to be back." He agrees. His eyes meet yours and you both lean in ever so slightly. He picks his hand up off your leg and slowly brings it up, only to be interrupted by a shriek from Alfie as one of his trains crashes off the track. You both jump away, Tom's hand hovering in mid-air as the only proof of the moment that might have happened, frozen on its collision course to your cheek.

You avert eye contact, standing up and reaching for Alfie.

"I'm sorry-" Tom starts but you shake your head, eyes shining.

"No don't worry, it's okay." You say. "Uhm, do you want to help with bathtime?"

⭑･ﾟﾟ･:༅｡.｡༅:ﾟ:*:✼✿

"Hello?" Tom calls down the hallway, kicking the front door shut behind him. There's no answer but he hears chatter and laughter from in the distance. He deposits the cake on the kitchen counter, breathing a sigh of relief upon discovering he'd gotten it from the bakery to your house in one piece.

He steps out of the French doors, immediately grinning as he takes in the scene before him. In the back garden Alfie's second birthday party is in full swing. A handful of toddlers play on the mini slide set you'd set up, their parents hovering nearby and chatting. He assumes these must be some of Alfie's friends from daycare. He spots Alfie almost immediately, running (or waddling) around with the top half of his face painted to look like a Spider-Man mask, clearly having the time of his life.

"Tom!" you spot him standing on the deck, excusing yourself from a conversation with a few parents and heading over to him.

"I'm so glad you made it," you say, giving him a quick hug. He lingers for a second, basking in the feeling of being able to hold you close. He lets you go with only a slightly wistful smile.

"Did you get the cake?" you ask hopefully.

"Of course," he says, rolling his eyes but taking you by the arm and leading you into the shade of the kitchen. "It's in here."

He opens the cake box, grinning as you gasp happily.

"It's perfect! Thank you so much for picking it up." you say, giving him a quick one sided hug and he gulps.

"You look pretty." he murmurs before he can stop himself, taking in the glittery dress you'd chosen for the occasion.

"What was that?" you blink, turning your head away from where you were putting two blue candles in the frosting and making eye contact with Tom.

"Uh, I said I love this city." Tom tries to save it, suddenly losing confidence as usual. "Glad to be back, y'know?"

"Okay?" you nod. "'s good to hear."

･*:༅｡

Tom hangs back as Alfie blows out his candles with a little help from you, allowing himself to hide in the small crowd of toddlers and parents. He'd been so confident driving up to your house with Alfie's cake safely in the passenger seat, even going as far as blasting Enchanted by Taylor Swift with the windows down to prove to himself that today was the day. He had to admit how he felt for so many years or it would truly eat him alive. But now here he was, leaning against the wall at a two-year-old's birthday party and feeling like the biggest wimp in the known universe. He silently excused himself to the bathroom, locking the door and knocking his head on the mirror. Come on, Tom!

"Hey," Tom said, tapping you on the shoulder.

･*:༅｡

"Oh shit," you say, whipping around and dropping the pile of paper plates you'd been collecting up. "You scared me, Tom! I thought everyone had left already."

"Sorry," Tom laughed gently. "No I was just in the bathroom. Want some help cleaning up?"

"You were in the bathroom for an hour?" you ask worriedly. "Jesus, is everything okay?"

"Oh, everything's brilliant." He smiles at you. "I was just thinking."

"I didn't know you knew how to do that." you grin at him. He breathes out, glad some of your familiar banter had returned.

"I have to tell you something." he says before he can think too much about it.

You nod, smiling gently for him to continue as you clean up.

"Can you…can you stop doing that for a minute?" he asks shyly, taking the stack of paper plates from you and putting them down. "This'll only take a minute and then I'll be gone, promise."

He hesitates before taking both your hands in his. You lean into his touch, trying to ignore the electricity that radiates from where your hands meet.

"Do you remember that night at the pub a few years ago?" he asks slowly. "It was the night they were doing the trivia night on pop culture and you won our team all those points for knowing the One Direction questions."

"Yeah," you laugh. "Once again the 1D obsession saved all of our asses."

"And then later that night," Tom continues, his voice wavering. "You uh- you found out about Alfie and you sent that picture of the test to the group chat."

You nod, remembering that night all too well.

"I was outside your house that night." he blurts out. Well, I've done it now, he thinks.

"What the fuck, Tom." you laugh. "You got all serious just to tell me you were stalking me almost three years ago?"

Tom groans.

"Will you let me finish, love?" he asks. "You left before any of us. And the boys all hyped me up, and then I left too. I came to your house because I had to tell you how I felt. And then before I could even knock, you sent that photo to the groupchat. And then how could I possibly add more to the situation and tell you that I've been in love with you since we met?"

Your eyes widen after his confession and you slowly take your hand out of his. Tom swears he's never heard a silence quite this loud before, and he takes it as a bad sign.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," he babbles. "I just had to tell you because I couldn't keep lying to you and pretending that everything I see or think about doesn't remind me of you."

"No, Tom." you stop him, gently placing one finger over his lips to shush him. "It's just that I don't really know how to respond to that. I mean, you want me? You actually want me?"

"Darling, you could punch me in the eye and I'd still want you." Tom tries to ease the situation and you giggle. You wrap your arms around him gently, breathing in his scent.

"Is this okay?" you ask hesitantly.

"It's more than okay." Tom confirms, copying your actions. He nuzzles his head into your hair, inhaling the sweet smell of your conditioner that he's only ever been able to admire from afar before now.

You nudge him ever so slightly away from you and tip your head up a tiny amount so you're looking at him. He's been so brave, being the first one to make a move so you feel it's only fair that it's your turn to break the ice. Chest flush against his you close the gap between your mouths, meeting his lips in a soft kiss.

Tom all but melts into the kiss, holding you firmly. There's no way he was letting the chance slip away again, now that he was right where he wanted to be.

⭑･ﾟﾟ･:༅｡.｡༅:ﾟ:*:✼✿

tysm for reading! reblogs are always appreciated and really help a writer out <3

#tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x single mom!reader #dad!tom #tom holland fluff #tom holland angst

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pottypet · 1 year

Note

Can you tell us about the biggest mess you've made in a diaper

Thanksgiving Mess

After my accident in Wal-Mart my boyfriend started requiring that I wear diapers whenever we went out in public together. So if I wanted to attend Thanksgiving dinner with his family I would have to wear one so I don't embarrass him in front of everyone by accidentally pooping in my panties. I was hesitant to wear such an embarrassing thing to dinner but I didn't want him to be upset with me so I agreed.

I wore my diaper under my skinny jeans and hoped it wouldn't be too noticeable. My boyfriend assured me that no one would be able to tell I was even wearing one. I felt confident in my outfit and we went on our way to his parent's home.

We sat at the table with his entire family and chatted away before his mom brought the food out. I stuffed myself with ham, turkey, green beans, mashed potatoes, mac and cheese, and so much more. After about 40min of eating I was entirely full. Once everyone was finished with their dinners we stayed at the table and continued conversing and joking around with each other.

After a while of talking with his family I started to feel my tummy shift. It felt like my dinner was about to go right through me. My face went pale as I felt my cheeks clench, trying my best to keep my cool and to stop myself from losing control.

His family continued their conversations and didn't seem to notice me in discomfort which I was grateful for. I couldn't hold it in anymore. A thick gush escaped my body and squirted out into the seat of my diaper. I knew I wasn't finished though so I prayed that no one could tell what was happening and continued soiling myself at the table. Gush after gush of thick, soft, poo began filling my diaper, squishing up my crack and spreading over my cheeks. My entire Thanksgiving dinner was coming out into my diaper. I could feel my diaper getting bigger and heavier and started to worry that I might have a blow-out.

I was nearly finished messing myself when his older brother noticed. A wet squirting noise came from my diaper when he got everyone's attention. "What was that sound??" he asked. "...and what is that smell?" his sister chimed in.

"May I be excused?" I asked as I stood up from the table, hoping to escape the situation. I was unaware of how I looked before his family began freaking out. Apparently my diaper had poofed out so much that it was extremely visible in my jeans. And the weight of the mess in my diaper had caused my jeans to sag, exposing my diaper's waistband to everyone. His whole family could clearly see that I was wearing a diaper... and that it was full.

"Oh my god... she's wearing a diaper!" his grandma shrieked. "She shit herself!" his cousin shouted. "If you want to pack your pampers full then go take a seat at the kid's table!" his uncle laughed. "Awee does the baby need a diapey change??" his brother teased.

My face turned bright red as I quickly left the room. My boyfriend followed me out into the living room. I thought he was going to comfort me but when I looked he was holding a diaper bag. "Let's take care of that messy diaper" he sighed. "In here?!" I yelped.

I accepted defeat and layed out on the floor like a toddler, feeling my hot, squishy, mess all over my bottom. My boyfriend took my jeans off and then, to my surprise, his family entered the room. "We want to see how you change such a big messy diaper!" his brother laughed. My boyfriend laughed along and then unfastened the tabs on my diaper. I wanted to disappear, I was mortified.

He opened my diaper up and exposed my mess to everyone. Brown sludge was caked up my crack and all over my cheeks. The entire diaper was filled with it. "Oh my god, she's destroyed that thing!" his mom shouted. "Poor girl had quite the accident!" his grandpa said while shaking his head. "My kiddo never poops that bad!" his sister laughed.

My boyfriend began wiping me clean, letting them all see my bum up in the air.

#diaper check #diaper humiliation #diaper kink #messy diaper #pantypoop

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peachshadows · 1 year

Text

So what if MK gets transported to a world where Wukong was never trapped under the mountain or went on a journey to the west?

During the havoc in heaven, Wukong successfully overthrew the Jade Emperor and now rules the celestial realm with an iron fist

Wukong in this universe is more bloodthirsty and doesn't hesitate to use violence or straight up murder someone

Wukong and Macaque are married in this universe since they never fully had their big fallout

Both Mac and Wukong live in FFM but Wukong has his godly ruler duties to attend so he leaves Macaque with the responsibility of ruling the mountain during his absence

MK, upon landing in this new world, accidentally bumps into Red Son at a market place and hugs him cuz he doesn't know where everyone is and is glad to see a familiar face

Of course Red Son gets hella pissed because how dare this peasant touch him like they're acquaintances

So Red Son tries to kill MK, but is shocked when MK not only evades Red Son but manages to land some blows (not hard enough to leave broken bones, but some light bruising)

"Red, please! I don't want to hurt you!"

Red Son just attacks even harder and faster

In desperation, MK summons his staff and pins Red Son to the ground. MK lifts the staff and Red thinks this is the end for him but then hears a loud crash right beside his head

"you're lucky I was holding back"

"...you were holding back?"

"Duh. Now I'm gonna get off, but you have to promise to not murder me, ok?"

Red Son nods, still in shock

But now, there are whispers of the staff that MK is holding (and it looks very identical to the staff that the Great Sage Ruler of Heaven has)

To make matters even worse, a lot of demons are now mistaking MK as Wukong's heir (due to the staff) despite never seeing or hearing about a monkey prince

Regardless, Red Son falls in love through the sheer show of power and the fact MK was holding back

Red Son has the great idea of courting this idiot so he kidnaps MK and takes him to the palace

Upon kidnapping MK, who's screaming and kicking as he's tied down with magical ropes, Red Son's parents immediately sees the very same essence and magic that Wukong has in MK

So PIF sends a letter to Wukong to inform him about his "cub"

Red Son tells his parents that he's gonna court MK

PIF: "Darling, you do realize you're already engaged?"

"You're engaged?!"

"That's besides the point. Me and the dragon girl already talked about this and it's fine between us."

"dragon gir- MEI? YOU'RE MARRIED TO MEI?"

"engaged, but I've already settled on courting you"

Both Mac and Wukong finally arrive at DBK's palace

DBK, pushing MK towards Wukong: "brother I believe we found your cub"

Swk: "...cub?"

Mac, puts a hand on MK's shoulder: "ah bud, so this is where you've been. You gave me and your baba quite the scare."

"What- baba-?"

"You see, we've been keeping our cub a secret 'cause peaches here is too paranoid. Trained him ourselves as you can tell"

PIF: "well you should've told us sooner, Mihou. We could've arranged a marriage between our children. My darling here is already smitten."

Wukong: isn't your kid already engaged?

PIF: you can't really stop love, can you? Great Sage?

Mac tries to grab for MK and drag him back to their palace but Red Son stops him by grabbing MK's other hand

"I'm courting MK. He stays with me."

"Little prince, you'll get your chance with our cub but first we need to...talk to him. It's his first time outside our territory so we're just gonna establish some rules."

Anyways, I have a lot of things planned for this au but I'm not sure how to exactly write it but let me know what y'all think!

#shadowpeach #spicynoodleshipping #lego monkie kid #lmk #the sundown era #yup that's the name for this au

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cheeseburgersinparadise · 11 months

Note

By this point, my cheeks are flushed, and I'm panting like this is the most exercise I've gotten in months - knowing me, it probably is.

I'm so full. My belly has hardly any give to it, packed with my favorite indulgences from the convenience store: a 12-inch sub, mac n' cheese, all of those chocolates and pre-packaged pastries; topped off with a cheesecake frappe.

Before we'd even left for the store, I had gulped down a few bottles of my favorite cider and finished off a friend's when they didn't want to. I'm doing that all the time now, like I'm the official garbage disposal of the friend group. Anytime a portion is too big or too decadent for someone, the plate gets pushed in front of me and I'm putting it in my mouth before I even think about whether or not I'm still hungry, especially if I've had something to drink.

That's beside the point, though. Right now, we're back at your place. I'm tipsy, stuffed to my absolute limit, and grinding on the base of your strap as desperately as you've ever seen me. You won't let me put it inside yet, though, no matter how needy I get. You've got the mouth of the last bottle from the 4-pack pressed against my lips, and I'm not getting fucked until I've drank every last drop.

Did you know that each of those bottles has a cool 200 calories? I try not to think too hard about numbers, but I have to stifle a moan and keep sipping when I consider that I've downed nearly 700 calories from just this little vice of mine today alone.

I had never considered myself much of a social drinker or a party person before we met, so imagine my surprise at looking myself in the mirror and realizing I've got a bonafide beer gut nowadays, sitting pretty over the waistband of my jeans. The thing almost eclipses my view of your strap entirely. I think of that surprise now, when the tip of the toy pokes at the underside of my belly.

We're down to the dredges of the bottle, and I open my mouth for you to empty that last bit down my throat. I'm almost drooling, dizzy at the thought of having earned my prize, and I know just how nice and full I'm about to be.

-🥯

i don’t even know what to say because my mouth is dry reading this and I’m screaming holy shit anon this is so wonderful and sexy omfg. not only is it well written but it’s like, all of my kinks.

god, what I wouldn’t give to have an overstuffed, drunk cutie on my lap, grinding desperately against me and waiting to get fucked. and I’d help you through it; rub your aching and full belly so you can fit every last drop. because as much as you want to ride my strap, I want you to just as much.

#what did i do to deserve this #😭😭😭😭#chzburger answers #tw intox #BUT ALSO I LOVE IT PLEASE DO MORE IF U HAVE IT IN U #this is gonna live in my head rent free for a WHILE

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punkitt-is-here · 1 year

Note

hey so i've never seen any mlp stuff until your comics (i still haven't) but last night i had a dream where applejack was like in a museum and she was looking at all the awards her grandma had won (for excellence in film) and she was like "She only won 9 I wish she won 10" and I was in the museum too and I saw a photo of what looked like her grandma on an album (the resemblance was uncanny) and it was a photo of her grandma in a hat and a mustache in front of one of those movie clipboards that they do for like 'action' and 'cut' you know? anyway the album said "PIECE OF SHIT PLAY : THE ORIGINAL CAST RECORDING" and I got excited to tell applejack her grandma had actually won 10 awards but then i got lost in the museum and i woke up before i could tell her

what im saying is you've actively poisoned my brain and i have to ask why you didn't include trans big mac in my dream

i'll make sure she's there next time

#my posts #asks #anon #mlp

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rosieblogstuff · 11 days

Text

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

44 😲 in my main AO3 account. 2 others in my older account = 46!

I didn't realize I had that many things!

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

270,883

3. What fandoms do you write for?

All 44 of those works in my main AO3 are MacGyver 2016. One is a crossover with The Rookie. The other two at Star Trek TOS and Star Wars fics.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Table + Flashlight + IEDs

Mac + (Wilderness + Training + Survival) + Jack

Lost Causes

Lake + Stick + Fever

4 Times the LAPD Didn’t Pull Jack Over + 1 Time They Did

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I try to! I often respond to a chapter's comments when I post the next chapter of a longfic. And sometimes I just space on it and respond a year later when I notice I failed to respond.

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Oh definitely my X-ray + Penny flashfic, Bad Penny. Most of the comments are variations on HOW DARE YOU!!!

There are a couple other flashfics with pretty ambiguous endings, too.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

That's a hard one. Most of my fics have a happy or at least comforty ending. Maybe... uhh.... Electricity + Combustion ? which I literally labeled "whump with a fluffy ending". I also have two Jack Lives fics so that's always a happy situation at the end...

8. Do you get hate on fics?

I haven't. A few weird comments but I mostly scratch my head and ignore them. Anybody who hates on my fics will be getting a very long and nasty reply, followed by their comment being deleted.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Nope, no smutty fanfics here. I did have a romance I posted for another fandom awhile back (and never finished), and I've written fade-to-black stuff in my orig fic novels.

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

Just one! My Macgyver 2016+The Rookie cops-vs-spies crossover, in which some LAPD officers keep coming across a black GTO involved in shenangains around LA: 4 Times the LAPD Didn’t Pull Jack Over + 1 Time They Did

It's probably the funniest thing I've ever written, and the ending is one of my very favorites. Also possibly the only gen fic ever posted in The Rookie fandom, although I don't look over there much.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Yes. Somebody stole all my completed fics from FF.net last year. There was a big Tumblr post about some site full of stolen fics, and sure enough, there mine were. I asked to have them remove, got not reply. I haven't posted anything to FF.net since then.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Not that I'm aware of.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yes, but not for a long time. I used to frequently co-write fics in my first fandom.

14. What's your all-time favourite ship?

I'm going to go with Washington State Ferry M/V Wenatchee. Who doesn't love a good ferry boat? It's an irconic style, fun if you're walking on, handy if you need to drive on, saves you hours of driving around Puget Sound by land. Also just a very nice-looking ship.

15. What's a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

Ugh, wow. I have a couple dozen things I kinda like but might never finish. My favorite, and least likely because I've made the least progress on it, is a MacGyver fic about Patti having plotted out her revenge better, and tring to fuck over the team by having listed Jack as her replacement... which of course gives him access to high-level secrets like Oversight's identity. Much drama ensues.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Ramping a story up. Characters. Make a story fully story-shaped.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Endings. 😫

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

Hmmm I don't think I've ever needed to. Like most things in writing, I'm not against it in theory, but it can be done well or badly.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Anne McCaffrey's Pern, back in the paper fanzine days. Prior to joining AO3 in like 2019, I had 0 fanfics posted on the internet but a few in zines listed on Ebay. 😂

20. Favourite fic you've ever written?

This is IMPOSSIBLE to answer. I could answer it differently every day for the next couple weeks. Anything I already mentions plus a couple more!

#ask games #asks answered #fanfiction #macgyver 2016

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pasta-in-the-pudding · 6 months

Note

Oohhh I got a bit of an angsty request (with fluff!!)

could you possibly write Jeff with a younger sibling (around 13-14) that has stuck around with him and been with him since he went insane n shit, who goes to school (but lives in the mansion with him and everyone else) and that he’s really protective over that gets cheated on by a partner that they really trusted? Fem!reader or Gn!reader, idm, just want some overprotective older brother Jeff fluff :)

Jeff as an older brother is everything to me <33

Thank you so much for requesting!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Brother!Jeff x Sibling!Reader

Getting home from school felt like a godsend. You had just found out that your partner had cheated on you, and all you've wanted to do since you've found out is go home and cry. You thought that they were better than that, you thought that you were at the point of complete trust. Guess not.

As you open one of the manor's great big doors, the sound of various chatter is heard. Jeff is one of these voices, and when he sees you walking through the door he gives you his usual greeting. "Sup loser, good day today?" You ignore him and keep tredging up the stairs to your bedroom. This makes him raise a brow. "Relax, dude I'm sure its just teenage blues. They are at that age after all" BEN says, placing a hand on Jeff's shoulder. This falls on deaf ears though, as jeff is already getting up to go check on you.

You open your door and throw your backpack down to the floor, flopping onto your bed and sobbing as quietly as you can. This is interrupted as a few minutes later, Jeff is opening the door. You immediately try to make it look as if you weren't crying and throw a pillow at jeff, which he catches. "Oh my god, get out!! Don't you know anything about knocking!" You say frustratedly at your brother. He ignores this and throws the pillow back at you, hitting you in the head. "Chill dude, I'm just checking on you." He says as he walks over to your bed and stands by it. "You ok? Your eyes are all red and your nose is oozing. Its nasty"

You let out a short laugh before beginning to cry again. Jeff sits and pulls you into his arms for a hug. You continue to cry for a bit before finally speaking. "I saw them with someone else" you mumble. "What are you talking about?? Saw who??" He asks, making sure to keep your snotty nose away from his hoodie. "My partner. I saw them with someone else" you say, the tears just starting to slow down.

Jeff is quiet for a moment, which is never good. "Really?" He asks. You look up at him, and see that he is staring off into the distance and gritting his teeth angrily. You get up off of him and wipe your tears "woah. Hold on now, jeff. Don't do anything ras-" you are cut off as he stands and begins to leave your room. "Wait, jeff! Don't hurt them!" You shout, racing after jeff as he storms down the stairs, gets into his truck and drives off, supposedly to go beat this poor kid up. You sit on the porch and sigh, waiting for jeff to get home.

Toby comes to sit with you outside and offers you a plate of dinner from the house. Mac and cheese and chicken, it's still warm from the oven. You thank him and begin to eat while he stares into the distance. "What happened?" He asks after a while. With a mouthful of food you respond, "he's being stupid again. I told him my partner cheated on me and now he's going and beating up someone almost 10 years younger than him" toby snorts at this. "That's jeff for ya." He sighs "come on kid, it's getting late and you gotta go get ready for bed" he says, standing up and offering you a hand. You stand up and take one final look at the driveway. "How long do you think he'll be gone this time?" You ask.

Toby offers a sad smile. "Well, he'll be back by in the morning?" His speech is getting more and more filled with his vocal tics, especailly the whistles. You can tell that he's not being entirely truthful with you, and is moreso just trying to make you feel better. "Thanks." You say before heading back inside and putting away your dish, before going and getting ready for bed.

When jeff comes back, you are just finishing up your homework. "Hey." He says, sitting beside you on your bed. You are quiet for a moment before looking at him. "How bad was it?" He sighs "i didn't kill them?" You roll your eyes. "People are gonna think im doing this shit" you say, continuing your homework. He hugs you tightly "i know. I'm sorry" you let him hug you for a minute before groaning "alright man, get off me!" You say with a laugh. "I might consider forgiving you if i get to stay home tomorrow" you add cheekily. Jeff nods "alright, whatever. Just don't do drugs while im gone tomorrow." He says, standing up and leaving your room. "No promises" you say with a grin.

#creepypasta #slender mansion #creepypasta x y/n #creepypasta x you #creepypasta x female reader #jeff the killer #jeffery woods #jeff the killer x you #jeff the killer x reader

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tkachukz · 11 months

Text

How is Matthew Tkachuk as a boyfriend

-Matthew is an extremely competitive person, so since you agreed to be his girlfriend, he works hard to be the best boyfriend in the world

-That means he's always researching things to do, bringing you gifts without special occasions, and planning dates in detail

-But he also loves spending the day with you cuddling on the couch watching a movie

-For dates, he likes to take you to fancy places, where you can dress up and he can watch you in a pretty dress

-He loves playing sports, and is always planning to play them with you

-You've already joined him in golf, tennis, cycling, mountain climbing and scuba diving

-He still intends to make you play hockey eventually, but for that he still needs to teach you how to skate

-And of course the game would only be between close friends so you don't get hurt

-He can be quite overprotective, but only because he cares about you a lot

-At parties and events, he likes to have one hand behind your back

-First because he knows that big events make you nervous

-And secondly, because he want to make sure that everyone knows that you are accompanied

-If any guy approaches you, he will loudly introduce himself as your boyfriend, maybe shake his hand or pull you closer

-But it won't take you out of the conversation if you want to stay

-He likes to be present at your side, but also he likes that you feel comfortable talking to whoever you want

-Things change if the guy tries to hit on you, makes a pass at you, or makes you uncomfortable

-Matt will put himself in the middle, pulling you behind him

-He prefers to resolve things by talking, intimidation, or simply getting you away from there

-But wouldn't mind punching someone if the situation called for it.

-He wouldn't let anyone hurt you

-When you are alone, he allows himself to show his most vulnerable side

-Matt has always felt very pressured into what people expect of him, and having you by his side, someone who loves him entirely for who he is, makes him immensely happy

-And he has no problem showing it

-He never hangs up a call, leaves the house, or goes to sleep without saying 'I love you'

-Little kisses on top of the head, holding your hand whenever you leave the house, opening and closing doors, offering your arm when you're in heels or needing to deal with stairs. Before you met, you didn't know he could be such a gentleman.

-You lost count of how many times you ended up with his suit over your shoulders at the end of parties because of the cold

-And he loves to see you wearing his clothes, be it a t-shirt or a coat, but mostly, his jerseys

-with his number and last name stamped very large

-When he is traveling, you can expect a call from him every night

-Sometimes it comes with a complete analysis of the game, a gossip about a teammate or something that happened in your day

-But sometimes it's just you looking at each other for a while, mumbling longing, and often sleeping listening to each other's laughter

-You've fallen asleep on too many phone calls while Matt had the camera on, because watching you so relaxed made him feel good

-When he comes back from his trip, he always brings a gift

-Often from the city he was in, some cap or teddy bear

-Or when he felt that no gift was good enough, he resorted to flowers

-Lilies, your favorites

-He loves watching you do everyday things

-Watches you out of the corner of his eye as you're getting ready to go out, doing your makeup and humming Taylor Swift

-He secretly likes the songs but likes to pretend they're not a big deal just to watch you take a deep breath and start a ten minute monologue explaining why Taylor is the music industry

-And you secretly know he likes the song, but you love talking about Taylor

-He is not very good at cooking, but he is always committed to helping you

-You tend to leave him with simpler tasks that don't involve fire

-Like cut vegetables or decorate cookies

-One day he surprised you with a wonderful mac and cheese

-You let out a sincere smile when you saw that he had looked up the video step by step on youtube

-And it was very good.

-He loves to give little love bites

-all affectionate

-And he doesn't mind when you call him a little pest or teddy bear

-Only when you're alone

-Matthew wants to be the best boyfriend in the world and so far, you definitely have nothing to complain about

-He is doing a great job

#matt tkachuk #matthew tkachuk fanfic #matthew tkachuk fic #matty tkachuk #matthew tkachuk #nhl fic #nhl fanfiction #hockey fic #hockey imagine #boyfriend

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starsurface · 2 months

Note

Hii um I really like your blog I've seen a few awesome posts so um sorry I was wondering do you have any headcannons for Takeda ? I really like takeda ! Also hope you're doing well

Oh my goodness I love the Kombat Kids!!!! They're all my favorite characters, I love them so much!!!! <3 (We're gonna make Frost a Kombat Kid too, she should have been one)

<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

Regressor Takeda Takahashi Hcs

🏵 Regresses to about 2-7

🏵 Normally about a toddler headspace

🏵 But can go bigger or smaller depending on his day (has one of the biggest age ranges out of all his friends)

🏵 Clingy baby, constantly wants your attention

🏵 And asks a million question

🏵 What are you doing? Oh, boring big kid work? Can he help? Well why cant he help? He's smart enough!! Oh, it's really important big kid work? Well can he work beside you?

🏵 His ‘work’ is coloring, it's a tough like our here at four years old :(

🏵 Really likes coloring and making you pretty pictures :3

🏵 He's very proud of his pictures too!! (And he'll usually have you choose what he colors he uses)

🏵 If you put his pictures on the fridge, he'll get all giggly and blushy (and embarrassed when he's bigger because the entire Special Forces can see it on the fridge)

🏵 Has rarely ever regressed at work but has regressed quite often because of work

🏵 It's stressful, he's gonna do this, do that, beat this guy up, travel through a thick forest

🏵 The first time he regressed at work it was because Sonya kicked him a bit too hard and in a really mean voice told him to get up or quit

🏵 Usually it's a banter she has with the Kombat Kids, but he was already having a super stressful day and it kinda broke him :(

🏵 Don't worry, Johnny took him to the side to play and get patched up while the others got their training done, and Sonya said she was sorry

🏵 He's has a close few times where he's almost slipped during training, but usually ends up regressing during end of the day paperwork and his shifts almost done

🏵 Very much a go with the flow guy

🏵 He'll want your opinion on everything!!

🏵 What does he want for dinner? No, what do WE want for dinner? :D (he'd prefer Mac and cheese though)

🏵 Is NOT allowed to touch his weapons while small, but he wasn't the one who had the incident that established that rule

🏵 He did, however, prompt Jin on to use his bow to shoot an apple (it went incredibly poorly, thankfully no one got hurt)

🏵 Most preferred punishment is the naughty step because he feels too silly standing in the corner

🏵 (^ Will sit in a chair in the corner though, just not when its facing the corner)

🏵 Also, you've gotta be in the room when he's actively doing his punishment

🏵 And any attempt to leave the room will cause his immense stress

🏵 You know when I mention he's a clingy baby? He has a constant fear that your going to leave him too

🏵 (I think Kenshi did the best thing he knew to do at the moment, but should have kept somewhat in touch before coming back and trying to act like Dad)

🏵 On days this fear gets super bad, he'll cling to you like you'll turn into dust at any moment

🏵 Getting incredibly fussy when you have to even just leave the room

🏵 His relationship with Kenshi is . . . iffy, but not as bad as it use to be

🏵 His father figure is Hanzo, but he's grown to see Kenshi as a second fatherish or uncle like figure (close but never quite that father son bond)

🏵 Kenshi is actively trying to fix that bond, but also understands it'll never fully be there

🏵 Takeda never celebrated Father's Day until he was about 21 and when he was little, he made both Hanzo and Kenshi really messy picture drawings and those drawing have been framed and hung on their walls

🏵 Has had moments where he's clinged to Kenshi sobbing while being small, but only on really bad days

🏵 Kenshi and Hanzo are also in full support of this coping mechanism

🏵 Takeda isn't a rule breaker usually, but can lose common sense sometimes

🏵 Really the thought process of “We could bake these cookies at 350 for 6 minutes . . . Or at 700 for 2 minutes!! :D”

🏵 . . . Don't let him near a stove while small

🏵 Whenever he does break a rule, it's usually an accident and he never really means to

🏵 Borderline leash kid when he's regressed in public

🏵 Will wall off because he saw something interesting, but then wonder where you are and why your not following after a few steps

🏵 Just make sure to hold his hand, he'll be much less prone to just immediately wall off, and will instead try to drag you or tug on your sleeve excitedly

🏵 Not exactly a biter . . . But also not not a biter

🏵 He finds your reaction funny >:3

🏵 Will never bite hard though!! Only soft noms

🏵 If you really want him to stop, but I'm that one episode of Yo-Gabba-Gabba where the entire lesson is about not biting your friends, even if it seems fun

🏵 Likes TV, but likes older things (Shirai Ryu technology is outdated and has only recently got caught up)

🏵 Likes old shows like Rugrats (will play Reptuar while watching it) or Golden Girls (big or small, it's secretly a favorite of his)

🏵 Naptime with him is quite easy, you've just gotta convince him that he wants naptime

🏵 Again, very chill regressor, so if he doesn't wanna go to bed yet, just tell him that his body's getting all sleepy and it needs to go ni ni!!

🏵 Almost every single time, this explanation is good enough for him

🏵 Very rarely you'll ever have to put on a five minute timer so he can play a bit more

🏵 However, if you don't watch the time, he'll stay up playing until 2 AM

🏵 If you believe bedtime is a social construct and is silly, then y'all get to hang out until the sun rises!! :D (and pass out as soon as 6 AM hits)

🏵 Although if you gently remind him of the time, he'll get all surprised and fussy because he honestly didn't realize!!! Please don't get too upset with him, he was just playing with his dinosaurs :(

🏵 Main CGs are you or Jacqui

🏵 Will show his appreciation to you by making you pictures or other crafts

🏵 Or helping you out!! He'll put the clothes into the laundry, just tell him what buttons to press!! :D

🏵 Little lost puppy over here will follow you around everywhere while small, you don't have personal space (unless you ask for it) it's OUR personal space

🏵 Likes being babysat, although would prefer you

🏵 But that isn't fair because Cassie gives him extra candy and Jin let's him break rules

🏵 Frost has never babysat him, but she's a lot nicer around him when he's tiny

🏵 ^ However, she does take her title of Big Sissy very seriously and will secretly give Takeda stuff (candy, a new plushie, etc)

🏵 Loves any and all nicknames you give him!!!

🏵 Baby Boy, Sweet Thing, Rascal, Squirt, Little One, Sweetheart

🏵 ^ Those are just a few, but he'd melt at anything you said to him

🏵 Would giggle if you called him a brat (but you have to not actually mean it)

🏵 If you actually mean it, he'll start crying

🏵 Baby over here has some pretty big emotions

🏵 Also a very giggle baby (sleep deprived regressed Takeda can giggle for hours on end)

<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

Stop, I have so many more just of him, he's one of my favorites. 🥺

#age regression #agere #sfw age regression #age regression headcanons #mortal kombat agere #sfw agere #mk agere #mk11 #mk11 headcanons #mortal kombat 11 headcanons #mortal kombat 11 #mortal kombat x #mkx #takeda takahashi x reader #takeda takahashi #little takeda #regressor takeda

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laurel-finch · 3 months

Text

'I Don't Bite' S1.Ch09: Gamble

Summary: The reader learns more about herself with a new friend's help... Referenced Episodes: None. CW: Minor gore (hunting for food). Word Count: 4015 Recommended Song: Go Your Own Way -- Fleetwood Mac Previous Chapter -- Masterlist -- Next Chapter

I told myself it would only be a few days, that traveling with a stranger would just distract me. The first night I laid awake thinking was this really the best option for me? Two days with Calliope turned into three. Three turned into five. Five turned into a week. A week and a half later, the two of us were still traveling together – sometimes I had a hard time understanding why.

"You know, you could at least smile for once," she grumbled, crossing her arms over her chest. She pouted from her place on a fallen tree, a fire whirling at her feet. I chuckled softly and leaned further into my backpack, stretching my feet out in front of me.

"I do smile," I countered playfully. I crossed my arms over my chest and stretched out languidly. It was chilly out and I brought my feet closer to the fire in the hopes of warming them.

"But only like that," she said, gesturing towards my face. I frowned and pulled my eyes from the fire, taking in her dower expression. "You never, like, actually smile. You know, where your cheeks hurt because you've been smiling so much."

I dropped my gaze back to the flames, eyes downcast. “I’m just tired, Cal.”

She sighed. We fell silent for a few moments and I enjoyed the sounds of the forest. It was late now and the moon was high in the sky casting a weak glow through the trees. Its milky glow splattered the ground like someone had dipped bunches of grass in white paint.

"Do you want to go hunting tonight?" she finally inquired. "We could hunt something together if you feel up to it."

I shrugged and nudged some tinder closer to the fire with my covered toes, using my boot to press the twigs over the edge of the stone pit and into the flames. The fire sputtered encouragingly as it devoured the kindling. "I'd rather watch you hunt again, if that's alright."

She huffed again. "When are you going to help me bring in the food, huh?" she teased, a smirk growing on her features. My brows twitched downward in a frown. This wasn’t the first time she had subtly pushed me toward changing forms.

"When you stop being so damn good at hunting," I quipped back. "Seriously, you make it look like art."

Her face flushed and she ran a shy hand through her dark hair, hiding her face from the light of the fire. Calliope had a unique way of hunting. It was more like tracking and then a sudden, swift attack. She could down an animal in one blow, and when she tore at its skin it was as if she was shredding a pre-existing seam. Nothing like when I hunted – blood always got everywhere, all over the fur of the animal and all over me.

She made it look effortless and minimized the mess. It was almost impossible to tell that there had been a kill in that very spot. It was even more impressive each time I saw it.

Despite her bulky, fluffy malamute form Calliope was incredibly fast. Hell, sometimes I thought maybe she could rival my own speed. She could certainly rival Marcus's and she wasn't even a pure-blooded wolf. I assumed that came from years of living on her own.

"Have you ever wanted to join a pack?" I asked her. She was caught off guard by this question, looking rather confused and shocked by it. She stiffened, bottom lip quivering for a split second before she broke into an uneasy smile.

"I mean... not really? I've never really thought about it, honestly,” she answered in a warbling tone. I turned my head to face her as she suddenly stood on the downed tree, walking up and down its length and balancing with spectacular precision. "I don't know, I've never met many others like me, so I've never thought about being in a big group of them." She turned around to face me, arms extended wide to keep balance. "What about you? Do you have a pack?"

I hummed contentedly in acknowledgement and leaned my head against my bag. "I do… you’d like them."

She paused as she met my eyes. My gaze was steady, expression unreadable. I believed my words, they would like her, and she would probably like them. If she wanted to visit… I wasn’t opposed. "What are they like?" she asked, hopping down from her log.

"They're... warm. And funny. I can count on them to be my family, my friends, and I have a sneaking suspicion that if I asked them to, they'd help me bury a body," I joked.

"Why are you away from them if you care about them so much?" She sat down beside me, the grass faintly crunching beneath her. She leaned forward and propped herself up with her arms.

I bit down on the inside of my cheek. Right, the question we’d both been dancing around. My skin prickled and I shivered at the feeling of a warm sensation on the back of my neck. Like warm breath fanning my skin, demanding my answer. "... I was hunting with a few friends," I finally answered uneasily as I rolled my shoulders and pulled my jacket around me.

"... Hunting?"

"Yeah," I mumbled back. I sat up and sat beside her, pulling my knees to my chest. My hooded gaze scanned the treeline, feeling as if I was being watched by someone other than the woman seated beside me. "Hunter friends. Humans. It was supposed to be a short hunt, but..." I cleared my throat and stared at the earth beneath my dirty shoes.

"Something happened?" I glanced at her from the corner of my eye, her blue eyes locking with mine. Her eyes never changed color, seemingly a permanent manifestation of her furred self. I wondered if maybe she always kept it right on the surface out of necessity. "It's OK if you don't want to talk about it!" she said hurriedly. "I totally get it, sensitive topics and all that." She fell backward onto the grass, her limbs stretched out and fingers groped, tearing at the little green shoots, a few old leaves getting tangled in her hair.

"I killed someone." Her eyes widened and she looked as though she wanted me to continue. She eventually grew frustrated with my silence and sat up with a groan. "A human. I just… I got scared and I lost control.”

She was silent and I could feel her eyes on my face, gauging my reaction and waiting for me to continue. I leaned forward, plucking at the blades of grass around my legs.

It wasn't necessarily that it was hard to talk about. It was just... if I told her about it that would mean I'd have to recognize what I had done. It was always in the back of my mind. How do I fix this? How do I stop it from happening again? What will I do if it does happen again?

I didn’t like the honest answer to any of those questions. Thoughts of my mother swirled, her panicked frenzy that drove her over the edge and led to her death. I didn’t want that to be me.

I pictured myself staring down the barrel of Sam or Dean’s gun.

So much had changed over the past few months. I had become something I never wanted to be, and now there were others dependent on me – me, someone who could hardly rely on herself. How was I supposed to lead my pack when I never had any intention to do so, and certainly no experience?

I envied Calliope. She was so... free. Unapologetically herself. She didn't have to worry about what a pack thought about her, or if she was doing it right. She wasn't scared of her wild instincts taking hold and potentially hurting someone she cared about... again. I wanted to be like that, free to be myself and learn who I was, as a skinwalker and a leader. That was the whole reason I avoided contact with others like me in the first place.

Maybe I cared too easily?

I jumped as I felt her warm hand touch my shoulder. I turned to her, expecting to see pity in her pale irises. Instead, I saw affection and understanding. I felt something warm slip down my face. I reached a calloused hand up and brushed my face, my hand coming away wet.

"Shit," I whispered as I frantically brushed away the stray tears. "Sorry, I didn't even realize-"

"It's OK," she interjected. "We’re all eggs sometimes. We crack." I tried to laugh, but my giggles turned into sobs. She wrapped her arms around me and I leaned into her embrace without thinking.

—

"Are you sure you're OK with me following you like this?" I asked the bouncy malamute standing before me. The sun had barely risen and my eyes were still sticky with sleep. Calliope yipped and bounced around in a circle before facing me and flashing me a doggy grin. I flashed a small smile back. "I'll take that as a yes."

She yipped again, bounced high into the air, and bounded off into the woods. I jogged behind her and she would occasionally check over her shoulder to make sure I was keeping up.

My human form was not as well-conditioned as my wolf form. As a wolf, I felt that I could run forever, as I was built just for that. As a human, I lacked balance and precision in my running. I felt clumsy and wasn't nearly as fast.

Calliope howled and dashed madly into the woods. I assumed she had picked up the scent of another animal. I couldn't blame her for leaving me. I smiled warmly and watched her fuzzy figure disappear into the woods. She would come to find me soon. Until then, I slowed my pace and buried my hands into the pockets of my jeans. The knees were scuffed and torn from a lot of wear – they were perfectly fitted to my wolf form, blending perfectly with my skin when I shifted, and incredibly comfortable.

I momentarily pulled my cold hands out of my pockets and drew my old jacket tighter around me. It was barely spring in Montana and still freezing.

I was ecstatic when I saw crocuses budding for the first time under a thin blanket of snow. The little purple and yellow flowers were so delicate. The fact that they could bloom in these harsh mountain conditions amazed me.

I heard an excited yip in the distance and my content grin widened. I suppose that meant Cal had found something to hunt. I wouldn't be surprised if she came barreling towards me in the next few minutes, keen on me helping her track whatever she had found.

I walked towards the distant yip, my feet falling on the dried leaves and pine needles that littered the ground. The Rocky Mountains were nothing like back home; there was little to no humidity here, and the temperatures always stayed rather low compared to Alabama. Here, you could step into the shade of a pine tree and feel the temperature drop ten degrees.

I heard a howl towards my left. It jarred me, making me jump. Calliope was still a ways off, but I hadn't expected her to have moved so far in a short period. Her howl wasn't the same excited whine I had heard before. This one was different, but I couldn't quite place it.

I wished I could be out here running with her. A race against Calliope would have been an impressive sight, with her speed and finesse matched with my raw power. I cracked a grin, imagining the feeling of my paws pounding against the forest floor.

I had tried earlier that morning to shift but to no avail. Granted, I had felt my furred form closer to the surface this time, but my hackles had barely protruded before I was exhausted. Despite Calliope's kind words, I still had that barrier, and I wasn't sure how to overcome it-

My skin chilled, save for the warmth at the back of my neck, like a puff of hot breath. I shivered. An unwanted image pressed into my mind and my brows furrowed, my head spinning. Divots in the ground, like claw marks.

The hell..?

I placed a hand on my temple, my head pounding now. It felt like something was clawing to get in. I stumbled and clutched at my face. This felt like… when I first met Marcus and Caeden.

I heard a whisper distantly in front of me. My eyes widened and, to my shock, I could feel them filling with that familiar molten gold color.

Come, it said, demanding this time whereas before it had been coaxing.

Come.

My golden eyes flared as I marched further into the woods, picking up the pace with each whisper. In a few short seconds, I was sprinting through the woods, chasing an invisible presence. This time I was going to find those damn whispers.

See.

I ran harder now at this new word, my feet pounding against the ground. I nearly tripped over a root but somehow regained my balance and plowed forward once more.

Go, it said. It sounded frantic this time, whatever it was. I could feel my hackles rising, the fur waiting to burst forth. I hardly took note of it. My mind was set on finding the source of this whisper.

The whispers got louder and more frantic until it felt like they were almost screaming. My head was pounding at this point, trying to understand what it was saying. It sounded like one voice echoing or distorted by water.

It really was screaming now, screaming the word 'go' over and over until that was the only word in my mind. Not the thought of finding it. Not Calliope.

Go!

I burst forth into a clearing and the screaming suddenly stopped. I blinked away rapidly forming tears, caused by the aching pressure in my head. It was silent for the first time in minutes.

Something was wrong.

I heard a scream mix with a roar, a ferocious, rage-filled roar that made my stomach curl and brought another shiver down my spine. My feet were moving again without my permission, carrying me in the direction of the not-so-distant scream.

Once more I heard a high-pitched wail, filled with terror. My eyes widened and suddenly my legs were carrying me faster than they ever had in this form.

I felt like I was flying again.

The trees thinned and I could see a river ahead of me. It had a shallow bank lined with thousands of small rocks and the occasional reed springing up from the water. The trees hung low over the bank, and a wide sand bar stood in the middle of the shallow yet raging water.

On the bank of the sandbar, I saw Calliope, a monstrous grizzly standing above her, one heavily clawed paw raised.

I howled and pushed my legs harder, passing massive, muddy paw prints on the bank that surely belonged to the grizzly. I sprinted through the water, my feet barely touching the riverbed before I was taking another step, and the water doing its very best to knock me off my feet.

The water rose higher, up to my mid-thighs, as I struggled to run through the coursing current. Calliope snapped her jaws at the bear, bullying it into distancing itself. The grizzly snarled in rage, curling back its black lips and showing three-inch fangs.

I screamed in rage, pushing forwards and practically swimming through the water shallow but turbulent at this point, my feet hardly touching the bottom. I trudged up the bank, the water sinking lower now and I took large, sweeping steps. Calliope's eyes locked on mine for a split second. The bear lunged at her, attempting to sink its sharp teeth into her shoulder.

I clambered up the bank as I felt the familiar feeling of fur sprouting along the ridge of my spine. My nails elongated to claws and my teeth grew to sharp points.

And then it all stopped. Fur bristled on my arms, thicker than my usual body hair, but nowhere near what I needed. I inhaled deeply and closed my eyes, ears deafening save for the constant roaring of the river. I struggled to ground myself, to keep hold of my instincts. I felt eyes crawling across my skin, watching my every move.

The grizzly whirled on me as I came pounding across the rocky bank towards it. It stood, reaching its full height as I collided heavily with its chest. My fangs sunk into its meaty shoulder in a way that was vastly unpleasant compared to my wolf form. I roared and dug my teeth further into the beast's shoulder, my fangs sunk into muscle and tore. The bear swiped a paw at me and snarled.

I jumped back, narrowly avoiding the raging grizzly's paw. As the bear righted itself, Calliope tugged herself to her feet and pounced onto its back. Her claws and teeth dug into the animal's thick flesh, too much for it to take out on her own.

I shouted Calliope’s name frantically as the bear rolled, attempting to sink its broad jaws into the much smaller figure on its back. She fought to hold tight, blue eyes on mine and curled tail lashing. I backed into the water, rising to waist level quickly. She huffed as she clawed at the things skin and then finally leapt free.

Calliope’s paws skittered on the river rocks and she dove muzzle-first into the river. I followed as she plowed through the water, the bear roaring on the embankment behind us. We ran as far and as fast as possible from that scene, not looking back until the grizzly's roars faded into the distance.

—

My whole body curled forward as vomit sprang from my throat in painful waves. Calliope’s hands stroked my back in a soothing manner as I heaved into the grass of our small campsite. My body trembled in response to the sharp, sudden stimulus. My ears rang as whispers licked at the back of my mind. I choked and clutched my stomach as I felt the prickling sensation of fur receding into my skin and my teeth withdrawing into my gums.

Calliope’s frantic words finally reached my ears as the torrential wave of illness slowed. “I’m sorry, I- there was a cub, a- a baby, and she was really, really territorial, I didn’t know-”

I laughed, wiping my mouth with my sleeve. I'd have to wash this coat later – it was drenched with dirty river water and now with bits of vomit, though that wasn't the worst thing its fabric had seen.

Cal scoffed and swatted at my back, then smoothed the mark at my groan of protest. "You could have died!"

I laughed harder, cackling now, and threw my hands up into the air in joy. I fell backward onto a large patch of fluffy grass and held my stomach. Calliope watched me like I was insane. The sudden rush of endorphins in response to my vomiting and the sheer adrenaline of the chase had thrilled tears in my eyes and a smile on my lips.

"That-" I wheezed as I struggled to regain my breath, "- was awesome!"

"You and I have very different definitions of 'awesome,'" she grumbled as she flopped down beside me.

"That's the closest I’ve gotten in weeks!" I exclaimed, throwing my hands up in triumph, the oversized sleeves of my coat rolling down my arms. "Not only that, but I didn't kill the bear!"

"Did you want to kill it?" she questioned, her brows furrowed in confusion.

"No!" I laughed and flashed her a wide, confident grin. "No, I didn't!

—

"Do you really think they’d like me?" Calliope questioned in a soft tone, worry written across her delicate features. I clasped a hand onto her shoulder, now decorated with a small messenger bag that I had purchased for her in a small city. It was decorated with turquoise beads and a western style chevron pattern – fitting for Montana tourism.

I lifted my head and furrowed my brows as I walked beside her through the edge of town. Her eyes were fixated on her dirty, worn out shoes as we plodded slowly down the sidewalk. Her skin was freshly cleaned and she smelled sweet, a mix of strawberry shampoo and her signature wintery scent.

A single day in the small city had settled my nerves enough that I found myself willing to pursue true civilization again. Family, friends, hunting. Slowly, of course, but it felt like the first step of many. Maybe I could do this.

“My pack?”

“Yes.”

“They’d love you,” I answered with a small smile. I placed my hand on her shoulder in a comforting gesture. She fiddled with a strip of paper in her hands, a train ticket to somewhere in the Midwest. She frowned and ran her thumb over the city name.

“Could I… visit someday? Just to see what it’s like? To see you again?” she asked as she lifted her head to meet my gaze. Frosty blue glazed over with worry and fright. I placed my other hand on her shoulder as we came to a stop a few yards from the station. I held her at arm's length and fixed her with a firm stare.

"They'll love you," I said definitively, as if our minds were already made up. I trusted her, and I knew they would too. "If they give you any trouble, tell them to give me a call. I'll charge my phone up as soon as I can, just in case." I knew they wouldn’t, not when she smelled so much like me now. Not when I smelled like her. Her wintery scent, subtly melted to reveal the scent of warm earth and belonging. My rich earth blanketed in frost, like a warren built for comfort in the cold.

She looked up at me with pensive blue eyes, a slight nervous flush to her cheeks. “I wish you would come with me.”

“I will, eventually,” I assured, squeezing her shoulders. She dragged one hand from her ticket and placed it on my wrist. "I still have some friends I need to apologize to. But don't worry, I'll come home soon." This time I smiled reassuringly and she grinned back.

She hummed quietly in response, swallowing nervously as the word home slipped from my lips. "... Don't be too long. God, I feel like I'm missing you already," she said with a laugh. She threw her arms up and beckoned me in, a hug I gladly reciprocated.

"Take care of yourself," I mumbled quietly to her. "And don't let Marcus mess with you too much. I have a sneaking suspicion that he'll love to pick on the newbie."

“I’ll try my best," she giggled. "I'll see you soon,” she said as she took a few steps back and waved shyly. Her hands gripped the straps of her backpack as she swiveled daintily on her heels and dragged her tired feet toward the train station.

I sighed as I watched her go and picked at my nails nervously. I buried a nail between my teeth, clenching down firmly with my teeth as the train approached. I wanted to go with her desperately. My lovely friend, soon to meet my family. A new addition to my pack. A ragged huffed escaped me as I pulled my nail from my lips and dusted my palms off on my jeans.

It was too soon. I had other business to attend to first. An apology deep in my gut that needed to be ripped from my lips. I clenched my jaw in worry as I began the long trek back to the familiar arms of Sam and Dean.

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