#fic: in the good old summertime | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

miniwheat77 · 4 months

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Taboo. (Stepbro!Soap x Reader.)

!This is 100% pure disgusting taboo smut, do not read if you cannot handle it. You've been warned! NSFW, smut, unprotected sex!

(A video surfaced on my tik tok of Neil in that god forsaken wife beater where he says "Big sister to the rescue." and this was completely the reason behind this fic. Good luck.)

A sigh leaves Johnny's lips as they get ready to board an airplane to go home. Which catches the attention of Ghost. "What's going on Johnny?" Ghost asks. Johnny laughs. "Ah. I just would rather stay on base to be honest." He laughs. "Why?" He asks. "Well. My Step sister stays in my parents guest house everytime I come home and she kind've just... gets on my nerves." He laughs. "How so?" Ghost asks. Passing Johnny a water bottle. "She teases me about some of the dumb stuff I did when we were younger but it's relentless when she's around. Any girlfriend I've brought home she's run off by telling them what I've done." He rolls his eyes. Ghost laughs. "Sounds like her and I would get along ah?" He smiles.

Johnny laughs. "When is the last time you saw her?" Ghost asks. “It’s been a few years.”

Ghost nods. “Well. Johnny. She is your sister. Maybe just talk to her about the teasing.” He shrugs. Johnny nods. “Yeah you’re probably right.” He looks down. “Is that all she does?” He asks. “Yeah that’s pretty much it.”

“You’ll be fine Johnny. Just relax.” Ghost laughs. He nods. Ghosts flight makes last call, and they say their goodbyes. Johnny still has some time to kill before his flight is due.

He was not excited to be home.

———

Johnny feels dread as he catches a taxi to his parents house. They insisted he come visit during his break off. “It is summertime after all, Johnny.” Was their excuse. He agreed, but upon hearing his step sister would be there, he wished he hadn’t.

He knows she shouldn’t get to him as easy as she does, but there’s just something about her that he wants to avoid.

Despite growing up together, and getting along for the most part, he still wished he wasn’t here.

He carries his duffel bag inside and sets it down. Closing the door behind himself. He can hear his mum humming in the kitchen. “Hello?” He calls out. “Oh!” He hears her. She appears in the doorway to the living room. “Hi honey!” She smiles. She pulls him into a hug. “I’ve missed you so much. How was your deployment?” She asks. “Not bad. Fighting bad guys as always.” He laughs.

“Ah. Johnny. How are you kid?”

It’s his step dad, your dad. “I’m good old man. How are you?” He sees his graying hair. It makes him sad a bit, just how much he’s missed out on. “Good. Nice seeing you.” He pulls Johnny in for a hug. “I’m gonna go put this up in the room.” He nods. “Oh, Johnny wait.” His mum stops him. “Sorry. I turned the guest room into an office. You’ll be staying out in the guest house with Y/N.”

Johnny can feel the color leaving his face. He’s so screwed.

“Oh okay. So.. I’ll go take it out there.” He nods. He breathes. "Okay honey. I'm making lunch so tell Y/N to come in once you're done." She smiles. He nods his head. "I will mum." He laughs, making his way out the door. He runs his hand over his mohawk nervously. He's not looking forward to seeing you. He feels dread settle into his chest once again as he knocks at the door before entering. "Come in!" He hears you call. He grasps the knob, taking one last breath before he opens up the door. He sees you sitting on the couch in the small living area. You're watching something. "Johnny, hey!" You smile. He smiles. "Hey." He nods. "Heard I'm staying out here with you." He laughs. Stepping into the house awkwardly. You laugh. "Yeah, your mum turned the spare room into an office for her work since the place she was working in shut down." You explain, standing up. You hug him, and he can smell your perfume. The hair in his body standing up. He needed to get away from you. He nods his head. "I'll just go.. Unpack then. Room on the left?" He asks. "Yep."

———

Johnny can't get the tequila down fast enough. He hates this. He's only been here three days and already wants to go back. You've been glued to his side since he's been home. "Hey uh.. Is everything okay?" You ask.

You've just got home from his aunts house, and you'd done it once again. Pointed out something stupid or embarrassing he did as a teenager. He was trying to talk to his cousins new wife and you'd started in with it. He takes a deep breath.

"I just..." He sighs. Tilting back the cup of tequila he'd just poured. He's sure they didn't notice him take it from the main house. "Why do you always make it a point to embarrass me in front of people?" He asks. You look at him in confusion. "What?" You freeze. "Earlier, you brought up some stuff I did as a teenager and you do it all the time. Anytime I'm around." He rests his hands on the granite countertop in the kitchen. "Johnny I-"

"No, you do it all the time. I mean really. Any girl I've tried dating, anytime I'm around you, you make it a point to do it. I mean seriously. I didn't want to come home because of this and I knew I should've stayed on base." He shakes his head. "Johnny, I'm sorry okay?" He can see the hurt in your face from the words he's just said. "They're just stupid stories that I thought were harmless, I didn't know it was bothering you that bad." You sigh.

"Yeah well it is. I didn't want to leave base because of it and I've been here three days and you've already done it." He grumbles.

“Well that just makes me feel like a horrible big sister.” You sigh.

“You’re not my real sister.” He shakes his head.

He can see the hurt in your face. “Why do you always say that Johnny? We practically grew up together! What difference does it make if I’m your step-sister or not!”

“Because…” he grits his teeth. He rubs his hands over his face, stepping around the countertop. “It’s just different okay? You’re not my sister.” He shakes his head. Looking at the ground. "And I'm not a kid anymore alright? I wish you'd stop treating me like one." He sighs. You shake your head. He can see how bad he’s hurting you. He has to go all in.

All the poker chips in the pot, no going back. "Why do you always say that hm? That I'm not your sister? What's the difference?" He can see the tears gathering in your eyes.

“The difference is.. is that…” he shakes his head. Teeth gritted once more.

“Fuck it.” He mutters. He grabs a hold of your shirt, pulling you into him. He kisses you hard, feeling you tense up against him. He backs up into the countertop. Your eyes are wide for a second, closing after a moment. He pulls away when he doesn’t feel you kiss back.

“Shit- shit. I’m sorry.” He steps back. Seeing you standing there. You’re staring at him but he can’t tell exactly what’s going through your head.

He wouldn’t call you his sister because of the way he felt about you.

You shake your head, shaking yourself out of your thoughts. Kissing him again.

He freezes up, just like you had. Before wrapping his arms around your waist and lifting you up. He sets you down onto the countertop. Your dress gives him easier access to your body, feeling his rough and calloused hands gliding up your hips and onto your waist. Hooking his fingers over your panties to pull them down. He says nothing more, quickly freeing himself from his jeans, lining up with you. Just like that, you're exposed. Nothing between the both of you anymore.

When he thrusts up into you, a gasp leaves both of your lips. Freezing up momentarily at the intensity. Your hands clutch the edge of the countertop. His eyes burn into yours, only pulling away to look between the both of you. The clarity seems to hit the both of you all at once.

A knock at the door has you both jumping. “Shit-“ you mumble. He presses a finger to your lips. “Y/N? Johnny? Dinner is ready!” He can hear his mum yell. “Fuck- oh fuck.” He mutters as quiet as possible. “Uh. Yeah! Okay! We’re just going to finish this movie really quickly!” He calls out. “Okay sweetie. No rush.”

He can hear her footsteps going back to the main house. He turns back to you. Swallowing hard. “Should we stop?” He asks.

Your heart pounds in your chest. Johnny has barely touched you and you already have that knot forming in your stomach. He’s undeniably good at this, he feels even better. “No.” You look up at him. He swallows hard, grasping a hold of your wrists and holds them against the countertop. Pinning them there. He raises himself up, sliding out of you. Feeling you choke out a gasp as he thrusts back into you. The muscles in his upper arms and shoulders flexing. The muscles in his neck doing the same as he grits his teeth. He pushes you back by your chest, until your back is flat on the counter.

“Oh fuck Johnny.” You whimper. His pace is bruising. Slow but hard thrusts. “Fuck- I’ve wanted this for so long.” He clenches his eyes closed. “So fucking long you have no idea.” He cries, body shivering. He’s finally getting what he’s dreamt of for nearly 20 years. “I knew coming here was a bad idea, I knew I wouldn’t be able to control myself around you.” He hisses.

Johnny feels like a freak. Like some kind of pervert for pining after his step-sister after all of these years.

It’s almost like you read his mind. Maybe you can see the doubt in his eyes.

“I-“ you start. You flinch as the tip of his cock presses against your cervix. “It’s why I ran off all your girlfriends.” You gasp as he clutches your thighs harder. “Wasn’t just you.” You pant. Eyes fluttering closed. “Fuck.” He growls. He lowers his head, resting it over your clothed chest. You can feel that his hair is damp with his sweat. The thought that you want him just as bad as he’s wanted you lights a fire inside of Johnny. He bites down onto your collarbone, feeling you whimper. He’s going to make you his. He’s going to show you that nobody will be able to touch you like he can.

Johnny will learn every inch of your body and he’ll know exactly what to do to get you addicted to his touch. Addicted to him.

He adjusts himself, fixing the angle at which he thrusts into you. Gliding through your folds. He presses right against that spongy spot inside of you, hearing you gasp. He lowers his hand, thumbing your clit. He can feel you jump at the pressure he puts on it. “I know it’s a lot baby. Just relax.” He breathes. You nod your head, watching his hands as he touches you. Rubbing gentle circles into your clit. “Poor thing.. so swollen.” He pouts, a smile playing at his lips. A whine leaves your lips. You’re close already. Dangerously close. He can feel you clamping down around him. This is where he makes you his.

He pushes your dress up onto your hips, spreading your legs further. Pushing them up just slightly.

He thrusts into that spot, mercilessly. Your legs tremble and tears gather in your eyes. He’s so good at this, so so good.

Tears spill over your eyelids and before you can stop yourself, a moan leaves your lips. He clamps a hand over your mouth, seeing your eyes roll back. His eyes widen as your pussy clamps down around him. He leans down, pulling his hand away to kiss you, fucking you through your high. Feeling you squirming beneath him as he overstimulates you. “M’close, so close.” He pants. “Can you take it?” He asks. You nod your head. His breathing picks up. You can hear his heart pounding from a few inches away. “It’s okay Johnny. Relax.” You breathe, trying to soothe him. His skin is beat red.

“Look at me.” You breathe. His eyes flicker to yours. “Give yourself to me Johnny.” You sigh. His body shakes, he’s right there. You wrap your legs around him, hands clutching at his shirt for dear life.

He grits his teeth, moaning out as he reaches his high, not even thinking to pull out. A gasp leaves your lips, eyes widening as he empties himself inside of you.

Your thighs are sore and shiver slightly. “Fuck…” he gasps. leaning onto the counter to hold himself up. He breathes heavily. He rests his forehead against yours. He can still hear you panting, over his own. He pulls away from you, sliding himself out of you with a gasp, hearing you whine. He stands up completely, tucking himself back into his jeans. “I.. I gotta go change.” He breathes. You nod your head, pulling your dress down slightly, holding your knees up to yourself. Once he’s gone, you make your way into your room, walking awkwardly as you feel his filth seeping from your cavern, coating your thighs. You lock your bathroom door behind you, turning to look at yourself in the mirror.

You’d just had sex with Johnny. Your step-brother.

You shake yourself out of your thoughts. Cleaning yourself up and changing out of your dress before you emerge. You can still hear him moving around in his room. Maybe, it’s a one time thing. Maybe it won’t happen again.

You want to beat yourself up because you know if he tries again. You won’t stop him. You step out into the kitchen, freezing up when you see the countertop where he'd been inside you just moments ago.

A gasp leaves your lips as he turns you by your shoulder, pushing you up against the wall. You didn’t hear him come out. He takes a deep breath, looking at you. “I’m sorry.” He breathes. “I shouldn’t have done that.” He sighs.

“I’m not sorry. Because I liked it.” You breathe, looking up at him through your eyelashes. You can see his eyes darken. He grips your jaw, kissing you again. He kisses you hard, lowering his hand to rest around your throat. Holding you still. You whine into his kiss but he knows he needs to stop before it goes any further. He pulls away, keeping his lips just centimeters from yours. “We have to go inside.” He sighs. Finally pulling himself away from you.

“After you.” He moves to the side. Hearing you laugh.

The dinner table is incredibly awkward. You and Johnny keep exchanging awkward glances, knowing that what you had done just minutes before was sinful. It was dirty and bad and you couldn't imagine what would happen if your parents found out. “So. What movie were you guys watching?” His mum asks.

“Uh..” you breathe. “It was a show I was watching, he was just finishing up the episode with me. Just some documentary.” You speak up fast. Knowing Johnny isn’t too fast on his feet when it comes to lying. “Well I’m glad to see you two getting along.” She smiles. “Yeah. It’s been fun.” You say. “Yeah, I’m glad I came to visit.” Johnny nods. Neither of you eat very much. “I couldn’t help but notice the door was locked earlier.” His mum laughs. “Almost had to dig the key out but I forget you’re both adults and I can’t just barge in.” She laughs. “Oh yeah, I was taking my makeup off in my room and Johnny was taking a shower. Didn’t want to leave it unlocked for some creep to walk in and try to join him or something.” You send him a playful smile, seeing him roll his eyes.

His mum laughs, your dad rolling his eyes at your crude joke.

I almost feels like the dinner goes by even faster. Neither of you wanting to face what had just happened between the both of you.

"Alright, you guys get a good nights sleep, we're going to the lake tomorrow remember?" Your dad smiles. "Yeah, course dad. See you guys in the morning." You smile. You and Johnny walk back to the guest house. It's a slow walk.

When you step inside, locking the door behind you, you turn to him. "Maybe we should talk about this." You sigh. He grips your chin, holding your face still so he can kiss you, feeling you melt right into him. "Or maybe we can talk later." He breathes. His breath is warm on your face. You can't stop yourself as you nod your head. He turns you around, backing you up into the door. Pushing you up against it and kissing you again.

What were you getting yourself into?

#call of duty mw2 #cod mw2 #soap mw2 #johnny soap mactavish #mw2 smut #ghost mw2 #john soap mactavish #soap cod #soap mactavish

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javarium · 5 months

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under the clouds, in my heart | g. satoru

it’s these kinds of days that make Satoru the happiest — that remind him of the wonderful things he has in his life now; thunderstorms where his wife and children are safe and protected inside of his home are all he could ask for

w — post canon! gojo, canon-divergence, pregnant! reader, former first-year student! reader, mentions of underage relationship, mentions of being in a former! student-teacher relationship, Papa Satoru & Mama Reader, Satoru and Reader have a (growing) big family, this ended up shorter than I anticipated

a/n: another fix it fic you guys 🤧 this one has been in my drafts longer than 236

[ apart of the TFFTS universe! ]

He loves seeing you cozied up in his sweaters, no matter the time of year (he secretly keeps it colder than normal in the summertime so you’ll put them on, but he’ll never tell you that). He loves how the hemline rests at your knees, a testament to the cute height difference between the two of you.

With your pregnancy belly, like now, sweaters only seem reach mid-thigh.

Ah, he’s not complaining.

He’s back from a mission overseas a day early, one he committed to speed-running like a demon so he could get back to his growing family. It wasn’t too necessary, considering he doesn’t have to do many more missions nowadays. The only reason he was summoned was because of his long, long influence, to which he most definitely used to get back faster.

But the universe hits his Pause button the second he warps back into his lovely home. For good reason. His heavenly blue eyes take in the scene in front of him, soul imprinting this memory into itself for eternity.

Seiji, his five-nearly-six year-old firstborn, was curled up on your lap, head using your thighs as a makeshift pillow. Traitor. Satoru can hear little snores escaping his lips at the awkward position his head is in. But if Satoru tilts his head, he can see his son’s protective decision from where his head and body lay.

Sanari, his sweet daughter, is curled up by your left arm. Her white curls of hair are splayed out on the pillow behind her as her head rests on your shoulders. Satoru chuckles. He can clearly see drool at the corner of her mouth pooling onto the sweater of his you’re wearing.

Lightning lights up the sky outside. And suddenly, the gushing sound of rain is all Satoru can hear — a downpour. Huh, the clouds had been just as white as his hair earlier. He supposes anything can happen though.

He can’t even see outside anymore now. The greenery has been completely overtaken by the opaque gray of the intense rain and thunderstorm.

Satoru’s head snaps back to you and his sleeping offspring. As much as he wants to join, he can’t bring himself to. He wants to do anything besides ruin the picturesque moment in time before him.

Just look at the family he’s made for himself.

Ah, but the squirming toddler in your arms may do just that anyway. So he doesn’t debate taking Junpei from your arms as he begins to scrunch up his adorable little nose.

Besides, Satoru’s sure you’re bound to wake up soon. His Six Eyes tells him that because the cursed energy from within your tummy is starting to become restless, the twins are finally waking up.

A big family hadn’t been on his mind. You both agreed on leaving your family with Junpei as your youngest. Especially with you falling pregnant so soon with him after having trouble with Sanari’s pregnancy and birth.

But things don’t always go to plan, do they? Satoru muses.

Taking the littlest that'll soon be a big brother wakes you from your nap. You inhale and exhale deeply as your eyes flutter open, blinking quite a few times before your vision clears.

“….’toru~” Your sleepy inhale sounds like a cute sniffle; he can’t help but grin. “You’re home?”

“Surprise, baby,” Satoru mumbles as he sits down and leans over the couch and over your pregnant belly to sweetly kiss your lips. “I’ll be home for awhile this time,” he adds softly. One arm holds his son, the other wraps around the back of your shoulders, hand resting on your upper arm to gently pull your body into him to deepen the kiss. You can’t help but giggle against his lips, and he smiles and giggles into it in return.

Lightning brightens the sky, this time for the longest you’ve ever seen. And following it, is the mightiest thunderclap you’ve ever heard. It makes even your husband jump, surprised by the deafening boom. Your lips separate from Satoru’s, who’s looking out the window with you, impressed by the power of Mother Nature.

It wakes Seiji and Sanari, who despite their maturity for their age, show their age by the fat tears pooling at their eyelids. Junpei, fully awake, begins to cry too, slightly louder than his older siblings. The toddler buries himself into his daddy’s shoulder for comfort and protection. And when the other two see their dad, who’s back home early, they jump to him and do the exact same, hugging him and burrowing into his chest and neck.

You’d take a picture had your babies not been so scared.

When your hand rubs Seiji’s back, the little boy turns to you, eyes watery with fear. He takes two little steps on the couch and softly stumbles into your outstretched arms. He rests his bottom on your thigh, head burrowed into the crook of your neck, little hands balled up into fists with the sweater you were wearing between his itty bitty fingers.

“Come on, Seiji. Off Mama’s belly,” Satoru says, a slight tinge of worry to his voice as he sees him lay a little too heavily on your rounded middle.

The little boy gasps lightly and moves. “Sorry, Mama. Sorry babies.”

You chuckle and kiss his tiny forehead. Satoru presses his lips to the side of his son’s temple, his free hand reaching for his sides to tickle him, saying things about how cute he was.

Sanari takes the moment to detach from her daddy’s side and dives back into your ribs, albeit much more carefully than her older brother. She sniffles, still scared from the clash of thunder, but much calmer now that both her parents were home and awake. She burrows her head under your arm, almost behind your back, leaving her nose room to breathe in the cool air and the sweater that smells like both you and her papa.

It’s so cute, Satoru thinks. She’s the complete opposite of him. She’s the more quiet and reserved one of her siblings. And he still suspects that she still will after her younger twin siblings will be born. Satoru has a feeling, knows in his gut that they’ll be the most extroverted of his children, bouncing off the walls just like he does every day.

Though not so much anymore, heh. He’s still a childish person at heart, but his age is slowly getting to him, slowly beginning to chip away at his ability to be the flamboyant jujutsu sorcerer he used to be. He can feel the ache of time and age begin to take root in the bones of his body that had been so tempered.

In its place, however, took fatherhood, took a new and different kind of responsibility that he was more than excited for — days filled with new challenges, watching his kids grow as he smothers them with love.

His former students were more than capable of handling the load he used to. There’s plenty more of them nowadays than there is of him. With most of them all Special Grade sorcerers, too, he muses. Including you. But you don’t partake in missions like that, mostly being in the reserves of jujutsu society and using your reverse cursed energy like Shoko has.

Especially since becoming a mom.

Satoru sees the rainy day lulling you back to sleep. Being five-and-a-half months pregnant with twins, while also caring for three more while her husband was away would make any woman tired.

His offspring, however, were wide awake.

“Go upstairs and go to sleep,” Satoru says quietly. He sees the waves of fatigue hit every time you blink several times in one go. Your happy expression is getting harder to hold as you grow tired all over again, and Satoru thinks he’s going to have to carry you upstairs, fearing you falling.

But you, ever-stubborn, refuse. “I’m okaaay,” you reply, yawning into the words.

The white-haired man chuckles and shakes his head. “Go to bed,” he says, this time in a more commanding tone. “I’ll wake you up in a couple hours with food ready.”

And when he makes that face, the cutesy one that also means he’s more than happy to carry you to bed, you don’t argue. He does, however, help you up off the couch and watches from the bottom of the stairs to make sure you lose balance and tip backwards. Satoru blows you a kiss, to which you chomp down at, mock-devouring his kisses. He gasps, fake offended, and it gets the giggle out of you he’s hoping for before you go into the bedroom.

Satoru’s heart swells with adoration and love. It overflows even more as he turns back to his two sons and his daughter. God, he almost wants to cry. What did he do to deserve such happiness in his life? After everything he’s done, that’s happened to him, when did the universe decide a beautiful wife and sweet, adorable children were in the cards for him?

He doesn’t know. All he knows is that he’s going to hold his family close to his heart and protect them until his last breath.

a/n: this got published at a completely random time lmao, where did this even come from? this’ll flop for sure but everyone who reads pls enjoy anyway

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kaplerrr · 1 year

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Summertime Fondness

John "Captain" Price x wife!reader

Platonic wife!reader and Simon Riley.

Reader is from another country (implied), enormous amount of fluff, John is the sweetest man ever, you and John act like an old couple, this fic is basically a "found family" trope for Simon, John is a plant dad and Simon is a bookworm, John calling Simon "son" shouldn't make me feel the way I feel but here I am, totally self indulgent

Summary: You and John invited Simon to your house on a summer day and everyone is nice and happy.

_____________________________________

Your eyes fluttered open. Sitting lazily, you stretch. Making your bones crack loudly.

"Sounds like you gettin' old, love" Turning your attention to your husband, eyes still closed, lying on his stomach and wearing a little smile on his tired face, you laugh and slap his back playfully.

"Speak for yourself, old bear !" you bite back before gracelessly letting you fall on his back, ignoring his muffled protest, and hug him tightly.

"How did my beloved sleep ?" You ask, peppering soft kisses on his nape and shoulders.

You hear him sigh happily and close your eyes to fully enjoy his body warmth. He moves you as he lays on his back before hugging you close to his chest. He kisses your forehead before answering "Always peaceful when I'm with you."

You smile and kiss his jaw. You close your eyes and are lulled by his breathing and steady heartbeat, enjoying the attack of tender kisses on your head.

You enjoy the comfortable silence for a while before sighing heavily "John, we have to get up."

"Five more minutes ?"

"We can't John, you know that" you say almost regretfully. "Simon will arrive soon enough."

With a last kiss on his lips, you get up as you already miss his soft embrace. "Coffee ?" You ask, rising your voice slightly as you make your way to the kitchen.

At the beginning of your relationship, you had teased him about his lack of appreciation for tea. You are a disgrace to your country, you had said with an over exaggerated gasp, making him scoff.

You feel your husband hugging you from behind. "I'll take care of breakfast angel, go get ready."

"Thanks love" you say as you kiss his hand. Before gathering some clothes and heading to the bathroom.

You had asked your husband to invite his friends to your house. You've already met the whole squad (and you swore to yourself to never again reunite Johnny and Kyle together in your living room, they were chaotic together) and, if you were being honest, you had grown attached to all of them. Kyle could kill for the food you made and Johnny was just too happy to have someone that could tease and prank his captain, survive and tell the story. They were like family now and you wanted to spend time with your family.

Unfortunately, Kyle and Johnny were unable to come.

What about Simon ?

He did like you, you knew that. You saw this cold man warm up to you step by step.

You once noticed he was fond of an iced tea with peaches (or any fruit according to the right season) and a dash of honey you were making. He never asked for it but you would make it every time he would come to your house for some reason and he would greatly appreciate your efforts, thanking you quietly.

But Simon was alone most of the time and he wasn't one to complain. He would sometimes refuse an invitation. You could understand the need to be alone from time to time, but you were worried he was too lonely for his own good. The both of you would talk about some book you read or that he wanted to read, you would lend him the book saying "now you'll have a reason to come back" with a pleased grin.

You knew he appreciated the effort of making him feel welcome to your house, your home. He was always awkward the first hour, as if he was visiting for the first time. John and you didn't pay attention as you would casually include him in your talking or playful arguing.

"What about taupe ?" You said as you were looking at the blank wall

"Taupe ? No, no let's keep it simple, grey."

"John, that wall is awfully dull, we can't make it just "grey", love."

"Yes we can !"

"No, besides taupe would make the plants look so good !"

"My plants are already good looking, thank you very much." he said with in mock offence, making you laugh.

"Alright, Simon, what do you think ?"

And just like that he would relax and join the conversation. He wasn't that much into talking but would absolutely listen everything, which was actually really useful when he was "picking a side" to your quarrels.

You were glad he accepted this time. The weather was great, you had decided to eat outside. The garden was quite big, enough space for a table and for gardening. You were so surprised when you found out John's appeal to gardening but it made you love him even more.

"If you ever say anything about it to Johnny or Kyle, I'm leaving you." He said in a grumpy tone, cheeks slightly pink as he listened your gleeful laugh caused by his confession.

"Oh my, we don't want that, do we ?" You calmed your giggles before wrapping your arms around his neck "I love how resourceful you are, I'm not losing you now." You said kissing the corner of his eye. "Don't worry, your secret is safe with me."

Enjoying each other embrace, you didn't talk for a few minutes.

Until...

"Does that mean I can tell Simon ?" You teased.

"Oh God, don't you dare."

You took a quick shower, determined to set everything before your guest's arrival. You found John on the couch, sipping hid drink and reading some news paper. Your mug was on the coffee table, waiting for you.

"Mrs Price, you look ravishing today." He said as he handed you the cup.

"You're not so bad yourself, Husband of mine." You giggled, kissing his cheek.

____________________

Honestly you were quite proud of yourselves as you eyed the several salad bowls on the counter.

"We did it !" You say smugly, looking at your stunning husband.

"We're a good team" he agreed, kissing you quickly "now I'm gonna take a shower and we're making dessert, how does that sound?"

"Sounds perfect." You nod, smiling widely.

You washed a few bowls and kitchen utensils you were going to use for dessert when a ring at the door interrupted you. You rush to the door.

"Simon, hey !" You greet, surprised. "You're early."

He nods "I can come back later ?" Not knowing if he was one hundred percent serious, you quickly dismissed the question.

"Don't be silly and make yourself at home, will you ?" You gesture him to get in, taking a few steps back.

You put a hand on his arm, beaming "Welcome home, Si." He smiled, muttering a quiet and polite "thank you". You noticed he was holding flowers. You look at him with curiosity, eyebrow rising slowly. He sways bashfully and gives them to you, explaining that he got them before coming to your house and got a new bottle of whisky for John.

"Thank you, they're lovely. I'm gonna put them in a vase! John's taking a shower he should be done in a few minutes. Get yourself comfortable, dear." You instructed making your way to the kitchen, Simon following you.

He glanced at the counter "That's a lotta food."

"And we haven't made dessert yet."

"What are you doing?"

"A dessert from my childhood, I haven't eaten it in years, since I've settled in London. I thought it would be a good idea to make it today."

"Can I help you ?"

You instructed him to wash his hands and explained the recipe. Explaining what to do with each ingredient. You rambled about some anecdotes of you and your family, telling him how your mother used to cook, how she would tell you that she added a "special ingredient" to her dishes and that she would always refuse to tell you what it was. Simon didn't talk, he nodded to show that he was listening but he was more focused on your movements he was clumsily trying to replicate, which made you laugh.

"Well, that kitchen is a bit crowded, isn't it?" John said, leaning against the doorframe. Face relaxed, smiling softly.

"Simon, nice to see you, son." John said shaking his hand firmly. Both men nodding at each other

"What a distinguished gentleman like yourself is doing in my kitchen ?" You joked as you planted a loud kiss on his beard.

"I believed I had a mission about helping someone making dessert ?"

"You know what they say- you snooze, you lose." You shrugged unapologetically.

"And what should I do to help?"

Your smile widened and you lend him a sponge "the table outside needs a little cleaning and then I might need someone brave enough to taste our dessert, hmm ?"

"Lucky for you, it's my job to be brave." He chuckled and made his way outside. Turning your attention back to Simon, you simply add "Let's continue, yeah ?"

_________

The next few hours were delightful. After lunch you asked if they would like to play some board games, which they agreed. You strictly prohibited Uno or any similar type of games since you've had witnessed your husband lose his sanity over that diabolical game, something you wish to never see ever again.

After a few games you stoped and while you were busying yourself with a book and a glass of tea, the boys were chatting, drinking the wishky Simon had brought, the alcohol making him speak more than usual. As you were enjoying the sun on your skin, you looked at the two men sitting a few metre away from you, seeing your husband laughing and Simon's smirk, you knew the latter must have said a bad joke.

A warm feeling made you giddy as you realised how much you loved John. You loved his laugh, his grunts, his attitude, his gruffness, his tenderness, his protectiveness. More often than not he was stubborn, sometimes he was tough. Yet you couldn't have dreamt of a better husband, of a better man to love.

Your gaze drifted to the younger man and you briefly wondered if you should give him sunscreen. Simon was so pale, you couldn't help but worry he would burn if he stayed for too long exposed to the sun. You didn't know much about him, you had once realised. At the beginning you knew he was working with your husband and that he was a loner. Now you knew better, you were learning to read him, as much as he would let you. You appreciated him, he was John's friend, he was your friend, he was family. You'll give him time, you weren't in a rush.

You didn't need his past to appreciate the man he was today.

The sun had almost disappeared when Simon rose, announcing he was going to leave.

You quickly eyed John who nodded at you "You can stay for the night if you want, you know we have a spare room." You said matter-of-factly.

"No thank you, I'm gonna head back. But I appreciate it." He said with a hint of a smile.

You nodded and directed him to the kitchen. You took some tupperware and filled them the leftovers food from lunch.

"Here, you're gonna bring some at home." You said, giving him the boxes. When he opened his mouth to refuse, you shushed him.

"You wouldn't want to hurt my feelings, right ?" You teased and smiled warmly when you saw him shake his head vigorously. "Then shut up and take the food."

He sighed as you laughed in victory.

A few minutes later, he was at the door, thanking you and John profusely.

"You'll always be welcome here, Si." You smiled and waved at him.

"See you soon, Simon" John said, patting his shoulder.

As you watched him leave and closed the door, you looked John's in the eyes, always in complete awe at the deep cerulean blue colour. You wrapped your arms around his neck and planted a quick peck on his lips.

"Have I ever told you I love you ?"

_______________________________

Omg I can't believe I'm done with this fic I'm so happy :>

#omg yes #john price #john price x reader #john price x you #john price x y/n #cod john price #mw2 2022 #simon ghost riley x you #ghost mw2 #simon riley #simon ghost x reader #ghost is a cinnamon roll #captain john price #captain john price x you #captain john price x reader

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beybaldes · 10 months

Text

trace the outlines of your dreams

summertime sleepover masterlist

dad!roy kent x mum!reader

summary : “Exhausted parents kiss” requested by anon.

an : takes place in the same universe as my fic ‘no thing defines a man like love that makes him soft’ because anon wanted Nell and I did too <3

“Come on Nell, you can do it. My little superstar.”

It was just you and Nell at home this weekend. Roy was at an away game with the team and Molly had the weekend off so unless she got called in for an emergency surgery, you doubted you’d be seeing any of Phoebe either.

From 10 months old, Nell had started throwing herself about in attempts to move around faster, so she’d picked up walking pretty quickly. But now she was bordering on 15 months old and had yet to get more out then a babble. Since the perfect opportunity to practice had presented itself, you’d spent the entire weekend trying to get her to say ‘Dada.’ She wasn’t taking to it.

“Come on, Nelly. Just one time, okay? Da-da.” Nell ignored you, stuffing as many of her tiny fingers as she could fit into her mouth. Knowing you weren’t going to get it out of her now and that Roy would be home soon, you left her to her toys, getting a head start on making dinner.

The sound of the door closing and a high pitched squeak alerted you to Roy’s arrival. As you walked to the front door, picking Nell up on your way, you greeted Roy with a soft smile. “Hey handsome, we missed you.”

“My two favourite girls.” Roy pressed a kiss to Nell’s forehead as she began to babble at him. “You have a good weekend?”

“Dada.”

The two of you stilled, both turning to Nell as she gave a toothless grin, clapping her hands together. “Dada, dada, dada.”

“The little shit.” That seemed to break Roy out the trance he’d been put into by Nell’s first words. “I’ve been trying to get her to say that all weekend, and the little fucker waits until the moment you walk through the door to say it.” You wrapped one arm around him, pulling you and Nell so that the both of you were pressed against him in a hug. “You were right, she’s a total daddy’s girl. Isn’t that right Nell?”

“Dada.” Apparently ‘dada’ was Nell’s new favourite word; she babbled it all the way through dinner, bath-time and her bedtime story, whispering the word over and over until she knocked out cold in Roy’s arms. Roy, however, had remained pretty much silent from the moment he’d walked through the door.

When he’d finally lay Nell down, and crept slowly out of her room, you practically pounced on him, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him in for a long, proper kiss. As you pulled apart, the both of you let out long sighs, the weight of the weekend spent apart, each filled with hard work, finally catching up to you. “Hmmm, bed?”

“Bed.” Roy confirmed with a grunt, throwing you over his shoulder and carrying you to the bedroom. Neither of you wasted time getting into your pyjamas and throwing yourself into bed, settling under the duvets and into each others arms.

One of your hands came to cradle Roy’s face, your thumb running over the apple of his cheek. “What’s wrong, handsome? That was the most I’ve heard from you since you got home.”

“She fucking called me Dad.” He whispered, the proudest smile you’d ever seen forming on his first. “I was her first fucking words.” Roy placed his hand on top of your own, running his thumb over the side of pointer finger. “Sometimes it just doesn’t feel real, y’know? All of this.”

“But it is.” You assured, pulling him flush against you so you could press another long and firm kiss to his lips. “And she worships the ground you walk on because you’re such a good dad to her. Of course, you were her first words.”

“I think you forget only one of us carried her for 9 months.”

“Hey, it’s just like you said.” Roy’s eyes were dropping closed, with each stroke of your thumb across his cheek. “She’s a real you girl, just like her mama.”

Roy pressed a sleepy and soft kiss to your jaw, then nuzzled himself against your chest, noticing the way your body shuddered at the scratch of his beard against your skin, trying to aid it by pressing a kiss to the top of your breast. “That she is.”

#beybaldes summer sleepover !!#roy kent imagine #roy kent x reader #roy kent one shot #ted lasso x reader #shoutout my beloved onceuponeaoneshotfanfic I think about superstar everyday of my life #I need more Roy Kent as a dad so pls send in dad!roy requests

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teddyeyeseddie · 10 months

Text

To Hell I Go

Part One: Cheyenne

Bull Rider Steve Harrington x Reader

masterlist

(a/n: if im one thing im obsessed with cowboys so writing bull rider steve has been so much fun for my californian turned southern heart. also ,everyone say hello to @lofaewrites when you see her in this fic hehe! Also, if you can spot the zach bryan mentions throughout this series, ill kiss you bc I love that man)

Now Playing: Open The Gate

"Now I ain't never feared nothin

that was four legged and buckin

throw me on a hurricane

and I'll ride it til the coast”

He was a Harrington and if Harrington’s did anything, they earned their keep. Steve Harrington grew up on a ranch in eastern Texas, his dad never giving anything to him. Summertime was filled with breaking horses and shoveling hay, Steve never knowing the fun in summer vacation. Winter brought cold mornings, Steve cursing his father at the crisp hour of 6am as he fed the horses. Harrington men were tough, their name well respected in the town.

That was until Steve had something to do with it. While Steve earned his keep on the ranch, he was a wild one off of it. By the time he graduated highschool, Steve had sought out any and all adrenaline highs his small town had to offer. There weren’t enough cliffs for him to jump off of, there wasn’t a dirt bike that went fast enough, and there wasn't a horse that bucked hard enough to tame the fire that bloomed in Steve’s veins.

He was 18 years old the first time he rode in his first rodeo. He lasted 6.6 seconds earning him a score of 72 . He came in second, going home with a medal and a gift card to the town’s local steak house. Once he started, he was hooked. The high he felt when he rode couldn’t touch any other feeling in the world.

From the moment he came in first in his first competition, he was set off in a whirlwind of bulls, dirt and blood. He worked his way up the ranks, becoming the top bull rider in the country, going for 95.7 points to win the PBR national championship.

“And here to present the awards for Jefferson’s Junior Rodeo, Steve “The Mudslinger” Harrington!”

Steve takes the microphone, hand on his belt buckle as he begins to announce the scores and winners for the teenagers.

The crowd cheers when Jamie Bounds is announced as the first place rider, he had become Steve’s protege, the two of them training when Steve was actually home.

The Bounds family was intertwined with the Harrington’s, their families doing business together for several years. Jamie worked on the ranch in the summertime, Steve getting to watch him grow up into a well rounded 17 year old.

“You did good out there, bud,” Steve’s hand comes to clasp Jamie’s shoulder, the smile on his face wide as the two walk towards Steve’s pick up.

Steve drove a 1984 Chevy K10, he had fixed it up nice when he was 19. Despite his rise to fame in the bull riding world, he stayed humble, still driving and fixing up his beloved truck and even living with his family on their Ranch. When he was home, he worked the land and helped with the business aspects of running the largest ranch in northeastern Texas.

Steve drops Jamie off at home, deciding to head home early instead of going to the local bar. He crept into the main house on the ranch, being careful as to not disturb his mother and father. He slips into his bedroom, immediately toeing off his boots and stripping himself of his dirt ridden clothes. His belt buckle hits the floor with a thud, Steve wincing at the loud sound.

He pads into the bathroom, wetting a washcloth and wiping down his face and back of his neck. He contemplates a shower for a moment but decides it can wait until the morning. He brushes his teeth before making his way back to the bedroom and slipping into bed.

The next morning, he showers and quickly gets dressed. He tucks in a plain black t shirt into his blue jeans, adjusting his belt and placing his hat on his head. He makes his way downstairs, the smell of coffee wafting into his nose. He approaches his kitchen and finds his mom and dad sitting at the kitchen table. Steve takes a seat beside his mother, reaching for the coffee pot as his mother pushes a mug in his direction.

“Mornin’ Momma,” Steve leans over and places a kiss to her cheek before pouring himself a cup of coffee.

“Dad,” Steve simply says, his dad responding with a low grunt. He rolls his eyes, getting up from his spot at the table to grab a plate and dish up what his mom had cooked for the morning.

The workers got there at 6 in the morning, Mom always having a hot meal ready for them every Saturday. It was a simple skeleton crew on the weekends, the real hard work coming during the week.

“Are you going to watch the amateur rides today at the summertime rodeo?” his mom questions from her place at the table.

“I’m thinking about it! I’m gonna go visit Eddie and Charlotte and then maybe I’ll head over there,” Steve responds as he leans against the counter, devouring the toast on his plate.

Steve finishes his breakfast, bidding his mom and dad goodbye before making his way out to his truck. He loads up, peeling out on the gravel as he makes it onto the main road.

He pulls into Eddie’s driveway, a small craftsman that Eddie and Charlotte put a lot of love into. The front garden had just been redone, the two of them bickering over what flowers to plant this year. Steve had finally had enough and picked the flowers himself the day he came over to help.

His boots thud as he walks up the stairs, softly knocking on the door. Charlotte answers shortly after, a baby on her hip as she swings the door open.

“Harrington! I didn’t know you were back in town,” she exclaims, drawing him into a hug with the arm that isn’t supporting Crue.

Steve ruffles Crue’s hair as he walks through the front door.

“Lottie babe, who is here this damn early?” Eddie shouts from the living room, Steve rounding the corner, coming into Eddie’s view.

“Well I’ll be damned, Steve “The Mudslinger” Harrington! In the flesh!” Eddie gets up from his place on the couch, extending his hand to Steve in order to pull him into a bear hug. Eddie pats him a few times on the back before pulling away.

“What brings you into town? Weren’t you just down in Tampa riding in a competition?” Eddie questions as he directs Steve to the couch, the two of them sit down, Lottie’s eyes silently telling the both of them to not put their dirty boots on her coffee table.

“Yeah, I don't have another competition til next month. Riding in Cheyenne’s “Daddy of em All”.” Eddie nods, looking to lottie.

“Honey, could you bring me and Steve here some sweet tea?” he bats his eyelashes at her. She hands Crue off to him before turning on her heels towards the kitchen.

“You talked to your daddy about taking over the ranch?” Eddie asks as he tries to distract Crue from pulling on his hair.

“No, don’t really want to yet. I’m at the top of my career and there’s no way I’m slowing down or settling down, no offense,” he says, motioning to Crue.

“None taken, but how much more exhilarating can it get? I mean one time on Ajax and I was good. Half the bulls you ride would have killed me. ” Eddie says as Charlotte comes back in with two glasses of sweet tea. She takes Crue back, trudging back to his room in order to put him down for a nap.

“Wanna go to nationals again, won’t turn down the invite to worlds this time if I win,” Steve reveals, taking a sip of his sweet tea. His eyebrows raise as it touches his tongue, looking to Eddie.

“Right? Lo makes the best sweet tea in Jefferson,” Eddie says as he takes a whopping gulp of his own drink.

“Anyways, regionals this year. To Hell I Go is going to be there,”

“To Hell I Go?”

“That’s the name of the bull,”

Eddie and Steve fall into easy conversation after that. They talk about how Eddie’s job at the Ranch has been. Steve got in late Wednesday and spent all day Thursday preparing Jamie for his competition that night, he barely had time to even say hi to Eddie.

The two finish their sweet tea, Steve checks his watch and sees he has been visiting with Eddie for 2 hours. He decides he better leave if he wants to make it to the start of the amateur competition. He bids Eddie and Charlotte goodbye, stepping out into the blistering Texas sun.

It’s times like this where Steve wishes his pick-up had air conditioning. Steve gets in his truck, rolling down the driver side window and backing out of Eddie’s driveway.

He makes his way into town, the wind blowing in his hair as he hums along to the radio. He pulls up to the corral in less than 15 minutes, pulling into a grass lot where volunteers are instructing cars as to where to park.

That’s when Steve has to slow down. Right ahead of him, walking towards his truck is a girl he’s never seen before. Her sundress skims her thighs, glowing skin glistening in the sun, hair kept up by a pair of raybans. His stomach does flips when she laughs, his mind short circuiting as he drives. As fast as she appeared she was gone, mixing in with the group of spectators that were walking towards the event center.

Steve pulls into a spot beside a jeep, jumping out of his truck before making his way to the corral. He knows the people working the ticket booth, the pair allowing him to walk right in without paying. He stuffs a 50 in their tip bucket, smiling at them as he walks inside. He gets stopped a few times on his way to his seat, little boys and dads in awe when they see The Mudslinger in person. He takes a few photographs and signs a few baseball caps before he is set free by the group of children and men.

He watches as 15 men try their hand at lasting on their respective bull. The ride of the night being Big Tex. He lasted for a whopping 8 seconds on the bull Ajax, a known rough rider around Jefferson. Steve had once lasted for 10 on the same bull but who's keeping track? (He is)

He meets up with Big Tex after awards, Steve slapping him on the back as he pulls him into a hug.

“That was some great riding out there, Franklin.” Steve says with a sly grin.

Big Tex puts him in a headlock, Steve groaning as he tries to get out. The two roughhouse for a bit until they finally calm down.

“You’re back in town so soon? Shouldn’t you be out celebrating your big win?” Big Tex asks as he takes off his gloves, throwing them down on the bed of his truck.

“Had to get home. Got a big business meeting coming up with the Bounds, had to be there for it. Plus, didn’t wanna miss the summertime rodeo,” Steve jumps up on the bed of Big Tex’s truck, reaching behind him in a cooler in order to pull out a beer.

“Wait wait wait, for old times sake?” Big Tex stops him, holding up his key in a silent suggestion.

“Oh fuck yeah,” Steve agrees. Big Tex hands Steve his key, Steve puncturing the bottom of the beer can, tilting it up so as to not spill any of the contents. Big Tex does the same, the two of them carefully knocking their cans together in a “cheers” before expertly shotgunning their respective beers.

Steve gets home that night thanks to a buddy who stayed sober, the man dropping him off at his front porch. Steve stumbles in, loudly opening the screen door, it ends up slamming shut behind him, he prays it hasn't woken up his parents. Steve finally gets the door all locked before he makes his way upstairs, his boots clunking up each step.

Steve sleeps peacefully that night, the alcohol running through his blood aiding in his slumber.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #Steve x reader #steve x you #steve x y/n #steve smut #steve fluff #steve angst #steve harrington fluff #Steve harrington angst #steve harrington smut #teddy eyes writes 🧚🏻‍♂️✨#lo 🦉#Spotify

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ayyy-pee · 1 year

Text

𝑷𝒓𝒐𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒖𝒆: 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑫𝒂𝒚 𝑾𝒆 𝑴𝒆𝒕

Discord 18+ - Twitter - JJK Masterlist

Pairing: Choso x f! Reader

Summary: Every summer, he's a little taller. Every summer, his voice is a little deeper, a little richer. Every summer he's more handsome. And as you both grow together, so does your love.

A story of love blooming between two individuals over many, many summers.

Chapter Warnings: **Depictions of Drowning** - read with caution

Choso Art By: NC9__

AN: I've been itching to write a Choso only fic lately and I've had this summertime romance fic in my head for the last few days that I thought he'd be good in! It'll be a childhood friends to lovers shortfic (like five chapters) and I hope you all enjoy! Here's the prologue!

**Also while not all chapters contain adult content, the themes of this story are targeted towards adults, so minors DNI please.

You were nine years old when you laid eyes on the ocean for the first time.

You remember it clear as day, your parents' sudden turn of fortune allowing them to splurge on more luxurious things. Suddenly you were gifted with new toys, new clothes and shoes, new furniture in your home. And your parents…well, they decided to purchase a beach house for vacations. So fun. So exciting. So new. You’d never gone on family vacations before unless it was to visit your grandparents. That was boring. But this…this was something new and shiny and wonderful.

You’d never been so excited to get in the car and go, your mouth moving a mile a minute as you bombarded your poor mother with questions along the way. After many hours of curling up in the car for naps, many pit stops and what seemed like an entire day to your young mind, you finally arrive at your new vacation home.

Your dad unloads all of your bags as you bounce around the house. It’s homey, comfortable, already furnished and most importantly, you can see the ocean from your living room windows. You watch the waves roll in one after another, barely able to contain your excitement. You beg your parents to take you to the beach, to let you see the ocean as close as you can. After some negotiating (unpacking your bag and a quick snack), your mother rushes you off to the beach, leaving your father to inspect the rest of the house.

“We’ll have a girls day. Just you and me,” your mother beams, holding your hand tight as you descend the stairs from the pier.

There is so much to take in here: seagulls screeching in the distance, the crashing of waves rolling into each other, jet skis zipping past, all new sounds filling your little ears. The graininess of the sand between your toes, the warmth and softness as it runs through your fingers. An hour later, after many sandcastles and moats have been built, you stand where the sand meets the ocean, barefoot with wide eyes drinking in the vast amount of water ahead of you. The soft foam of the rolling water kisses the tips of your toes before crawling back out to sea.

Your mother has gone to get you both drinks at the boardwalk, the sun finally beginning to drain you both. Before leaving, she made you promise to stay seated under the beach umbrella until she gets back. Any other day, you would listen. You really would. You’d stay glued to your spot, waiting patiently for your mother to return. But this is your first time at the beach. Of course you want to know more about this massive wonder only a few steps away. So your tiny feet inch forward.

The sudden chill of the water makes you gasp in shock when you feel how much colder it is in contrast to the scorching sand on your feet just seconds prior. It takes you a moment to adjust, shivering slightly as you wade forward. The water soon reaches above your knees, the push and pull of the current sending more shivers up your body as the cold reaches higher and higher. The current pulls and you lose your footing for the briefest of seconds before it pushes you back to standing. You giggle, deciding you love the ocean more than you’d thought.

You wish you knew how to swim. You think you’d swim all the way to where the sky meets the ocean if you could. The horizon. That’s what you remember your mother calling it just earlier when you’d arrived. You decide you’ll ask your mother for lessons when she gets back. But for now, you’ll only go out until the water reaches your waist. That won’t be too bad. You push forward, your heart pounding happily as your little mind rapidly fires off questions you hope to soon have answers to.

I wonder how much water is in the ocean?

Can I drink it?

What’s that smell?

Why is wet sand so squishy?

What if there’s mermaids?

Or what if there’s a shark?

All of your thoughts are racing through your head so fast, you don’t realize you’re inching further and further, deeper and deeper into the waters. Eyes locked on the horizon, you fail to notice how deep you’ve gone…until your footing is lost beneath you. You feel yourself drop, feet hitting soft sand, your face barely above water enough to breathe but you launch yourself up, gasping in an attempt to get as much air as you can. And then you’re down again, feet kicking, toes pointed to the point of cramping, desperately trying to find the ground again and only sinking further. A dark shadow rises to loom over and you peer up just in time to let out a shrill cry as a wave comes crashing down on you not a second later.

The first thing you feel is frozen, the sudden iciness of the deep waters shocking you to the point you can’t move. You try to inhale, only resulting in your lungs being filled with fluids. But it’s enough to make you move, your arms and legs thrashing wildly as you try to resurface to no avail.

You peer up again. The reflection of the sky above waves tauntingly at you, teasing you by being just within arms reach, and still you are unable to get to it. You can just barely make out the rays of sun over the surface of the water, your eyes burning with an intensity you’ve never experienced before in your nine short years on this earth. You wave your arms, kick your legs, try your hardest to get closer to those rays only to feel yourself sinking lower, getting further.

Your lungs are on fire, ears throbbing with the roaring whoosh of water as the ocean pounds against your eardrums relentlessly. You squeeze your eyes shut tight, not even able to enjoy the relief it brings your eyes as you stupidly try to breathe again. You can’t even help it. Your body is doing what it knows to do, what it needs to survive.

And you, at the tender age of nine, soon begin to realize that even as your body fights, your chances of survival are minimal.

You wish you knew how to swim.

Your head hurts, the pain beginning to seep into your bones as your limbs tingle. Everything hurts as the undercurrent of the waves tosses you back and forth, rolls and twists your body painfully. But more than anything, your heart hurts as your mothers face comes to mind.

The disappointment and fear she’ll surely feel when she comes back and sees you’ve moved from your place under the umbrella. That you broke your promise to her and now you’re nowhere to be seen.

You see your dad’s face, twisted with agony when he gets the news.

Even as your nine year old heart comes to terms with your impending demise, you can only wonder if your mom will be angry with you. You hope she won’t be. You hope she’ll know how sorry you are. That you should have listened. You should have stayed.

You wish you knew how to swim.

The burning in your lungs subsides. The muffled noise of breaking waves fades. And your mind stops racing. Your mind just…stops altogether. There are no thoughts lingering in your head, no more fear, no more pain. You’re just there, floating in the abyss.

And then you feel it, a lifeline hooking itself quite literally to your shirt, yanking you up and out of the depths below and guiding you roughly to the surface as the ocean tries to drag you back. You feel the rays of the sun warm your skin again, the heat radiating all the way to the marrow of your bones. The gusts of wind slapping against your face quite literally revive you; a visceral cough racking through your body. It’s disgusting, putrid, all the salt water stinging both your throat and your nostrils as you retch, gag and expel the remnants from your body.

You feel your back gently hit the sand, someone’s small hands holding your face as they hover over you. You can’t see straight, your vision blurring as you squeeze your eyes open and shut to rid yourself of the salt water still assaulting your corneas.

Whoever is holding you is talking, but it’s muffled. You can barely make out anything they’re saying. They’re holding your hand, pressing their ear against your nose, talking to you and you can just make out a “someone’s coming to help you”. Then there’s another person crouching next to you. They grab you, pulling you to them, holding you so tight you almost feel like you’re underwater again. And it takes no time at all for you to realize it’s your mother: the familiar warmth of her body, a heartbeat you’ve known since before birth. There’s no doubt in your mind it’s her. She’s not angry with you like you thought she’d be but you can hear the fear in her trembling voice when she speaks to the person you assume saved you.

Your mother swipes at your eyes and your vision clears, your gaze focusing only on her. Then she dips her fingers into your ears and you feel the water spill from them, her voice becoming clearer. Next to you, the person who pulled you from the water speaks, voice soft as they ask if you’re alright.

You tilt your head from your mothers chest to give a tiny nod. With clear eyes, you can finally see their face. It’s just a boy, a kid maybe your age or a year older. He’s got wide brown eyes that stare straight into yours as he inches closer to you and your mother. His dark hair is wild and unkempt, tied up in two pigtails. Even wet, they poke out every which way.

“You almost died,” he gasps, not bothering to filter himself. “You gotta pay attention out there!”

“You saved her?” Your mother asks, and you can hear the shakiness in her voice still. The little boy nods.

“Yep! Me and my brothers were playing over there–” he points off to the side where two younger boys and a small baby sit under a large umbrella.

“What’s your name?” Your mother questions.

“Choso,” the boy answers with a wide grin. He’s got a large gap where one of his front teeth should be and it makes you smile. “I take care of my brothers when we come to the beach, so I’m always watching to make sure they don’t get hurt. I saw a wave take her under so I went to help and–”

He’s cut off by your mother suddenly yanking him into her embrace, squeezing you two together tightly. “Thank you,” your mother sobs into his hair. “Thank you so much. You could’ve died, too. You have to be careful, too. Both of you. You have to be careful.”

She holds him and you to her chest, sobbing in joy and relief that you are both okay, both safe. You feel strange, your mom cradling you in one arm and this stranger you just met two minutes ago in the other. But your eyes find Choso and he doesn’t seem to be sharing the same sentiment. He looks shy, embarrassed, his cheeks a bright crimson as your mom continuously thanks him for saving you, calls him your guardian angel.

His gaze meets yours, brown eyes swimming with what you think are tears and he gives you a shy smile that you just as shyly return. You know from that moment that you will be seeing Choso again. And though the day did not turn out as expected, when you crawl into bed that night and replay the events of the day, you think the day turned out even better.

You think back to the look on Choso’s face when your mother held him, thanking him profusely. She wanted to meet his parents to thank them as well, and was surprised to know that his mother and father were not around much and so the brothers entertained themselves for the most part. This wouldn’t do, so your mother took him and his brothers home after treating them to dinner. You think about the tender smile Choso gifted you with when you agreed to come back to the pier to play with him and his brothers later in the week. Yes, you could say today was a good day. And you were hoping to have many more with Choso.

You were nine years old when you laid eyes on the ocean for the first time.

And you’d almost died.

But you were also nine years old when you were saved from that same ocean.

And you laid eyes on the love of your life for the first time.

#choso kamo x reader #choso kamo x you #choso kamo fic #choso x reader #choso x you #choso x y/n #choso x female reader #choso kamo x y/n #anime x you #anime x y/n #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk fanfic #anime fanfic

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sterekbros · 8 months

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the wolf and the renaissance fair (1596 words) by Winchesterek Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski Characters: Derek Hale, Stiles Stilinski, Original Children of Derek Hale and Stiles Stilinski, Eli Hale (Teen Wolf) Additional Tags: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski are Eli Hale's Parents, Mates Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omegaverse Omega Stiles Stilinski, True Alpha Derek Hale, Pack Alpha Derek Hale, Good Pack Alpha Derek Hale, Omegaverse Alpha Derek Hale, Established Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale Deserves Nice Things, Derek Hale is a Softie, Married Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale Loves Stiles Stilinski, POV Stiles Stilinski, Stiles Stilinski is a Nice Thing, Slice of Life, Kid Fic, Fluff, Family Fluff, Parents Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Family Feels, Renaissance Faires, Carnival, Games For @sterekweekly hilarious, @sterekfests road trip, @warmandfluffybingocards won you a carnival prize, @sterekbingo country fair.

Stiles turned around to look into the back seat where Eli was reading a book and Ava was, thankfully, sleeping. He smiled at his little family, his heart filled with overwhelming love. Sometimes it hit him during quiet moments like this, which rarely happened when they were driving. But it was nice, especially since they’d been on the road for a little while and that was like an eternity for his kids.

He reached out to take Derek’s hand, threading their fingers together. “I love you,” he told him quietly and Derek cast him one of those smiles reserved only for Stiles.

“I love you too,” Derek replied softly and gave Stiles’ hand a squeeze. “We should be there soon. I hope the kids enjoy it. It was always fun when my parents used to take us as kids.”

“I don't think I’ve ever been to a Renaissance fair.” Stiles had checked out the place online and it looked like people really went all out for it. It was seasonal and they had shows and games with prizes and a market that Stiles really wanted to check out if they had enough time. Not only did they have themed shops but the farmers market looked great in the photograph he’d seen on Instagram.

“Maybe if we come next season we can dress up? Elijah will be a little older and Ava would probably be able to fit into a small costume.”

“Only if you dress up too,” Stiles teased. “Tights and all.” Derek laughed. “I’m not going to wear tights. I’ll be a knight and wear britches and armor.”

“Well hopefully it’s not during the summertime then because you might just boil up in all that armor,” Stiles teased and laughed, imagining Derek dressed up. He couldn’t say that he wouldn’t think Derek was all hot dressed like a knight. It had Stiles thinking about Derek sweeping him off his feet and straight into their bed.

“Yeah, let’s not do that. Hopefully they’ll have one in the fall or closer to the winter time. Wouldn’t want to have a heat stroke dressed up as a knight. I don't know how some of them do it.” Derek laughed and squeezed Sties’ hand. “Thank you for coming and bringing the kids. I know it’s something new.”

“Well, I like doing new things with you. We’ve been together so long, it’s good that we can still find things to do that we’ve never done before. Life’s an adventure.” Stiles’ head rested back against the headrest, rolled in Derek’s direction as he watched his mate, a warmth filling his chest.

Sometimes it was hard to believe that they were together after everything they’d been through, but Stiles loved Derek more than anything. Well, except their kids. No matter how much they got on his nerves sometimes. It was just part of being a parent.

“I know Ava is only a few months old… but whenever my heat comes again, I want to try for another baby.” He knew it was a sudden change of topic, but he needed Derek to know.

Derek took a deep breath and nodded. “Okay… you know I won't say no to another baby. We waited years between Elijah and Ava, but if you are ready now, then we can try again.”

“It might not even happen right away… You know sometimes it can take a while after I give birth, but I just wanted to talk to you about it before it happened.” Stiles didn't think Derek would tell him no, so he wasn't sure why he was suddenly nervous over the whole thing.

As if sensing his feelings, Derek gave Stiles’ hand another squeeze. “Stiles. I love you. I love our family. Another child, it would only fill our house with more love…”

That calmed Stiles’ nerves and he smiled at Derek before glancing into the backseat. Ava was still asleep (and still human, thankfully) and Elijah was still engrossed in his book, oblivious to their conversation.

“Thank you,” Stiles said as his gaze returned to Derek’s.

“I should be thanking you for everything you’ve given me.”

“We’ve given each other a lot of things… there’s no keeping score,” Stiles assured him and leaned over to kiss him on the cheek.

They fell into a comfortable silence as Derek drove them the rest of the way to the Renaissance fair.

Once they were there, Stiles took care of Ava, changed her, and had her ready for the fair in no time while Derek got Elijah situated. They carted the kids off to buy tickets and get them through the gates as they thankfully beat the crowds.

The atmosphere changed the second they were inside, where there were tents, tables, stables, and signs that stated they had wares. They walked by a shop that said they made handmade books and Stiles was intrigued. They’d have to stop by on their way out to see what they had inside.

He rubbed Ava’s back as he carried her in her wrap against his chest, Derek walking next to him with Elijah on his shoulders. Elijah’s eyes were big and he was excited about everything babbling and pointing and giggling. Thankfully Derek had a strong grip on him, so Stiles wasn't afraid that Elijah would topple off of Derek’s shoulders the second he saw something else he was excited about.

They watched a jousting tournament and the knights as they fought during the sword fights. The knights were given their prizes and they were off to check the market. Stiles was especially excited to see what they had at the farmers market, despite all the cool things they also had for sale there.

After buying a basket full of strawberries, they headed in the direction that stated they had more traditional fair games on the map.

“So which one do you want to play?” Derek asked Elijah as he jiggled him on his shoulders. Elijah looked thoughtful at all of the games.

“Hmmm,” Elijah said, putting his finger up to his face and studying each game more thoroughly as if he knew what each one was.

Stiles knew that he was really checking out the prizes.

“That one!” Elijah shouted and pointed. “It has a big wolf!”

Stiles laughed. He knew their son. It was all about the prizes for him. Stiles couldn’t deny that he liked the prizes too. He remembered the first time Derek took him to a fair, early in their courting. They’d gone home with several prizes that night, but the best prize was Derek. He knew it was cheesy, but Stiles loved him so damn much.

“Whoa! That’s a huge wolf!” Stiles exaggerated and smiled when Derek looked over at him.

“That one looks good, bud. Did you want me to play all the rounds or did you want to try?” Derek asked as he tapped Elijah on the thigh.

Elijah looked thoughtful again like this was serious business. Finally, he said excitedly, “I want you to do it! So you can get me the big wolf!”

Stiles laughed, smoothing his hand along Ava’s back as she stirred in her baby wrap. “Well, then let’s go win us a giant stuffed wolf. I’m not sure where we’re going to put it at home, but we’ll figure it out.”

“It will go in my room!” Elijah countered like it was law.

“Of course it will,” Derek chuckled, glancing over at Stiles and then motioning with his head as they started over to the game tent.

When they got there, they paid the attendant and they gave Derek three balls to throw at a stack of bottles. Derek missed the first two with greatly exaggerated terrible accuracy, which had Elijah laughing next to him as he waited. Stiles thought it was adorable and yes, he made sure he was recording it on his phone so he could tease Derek about it later.

He was such a great dad. An amazing mate.

When Derek threw the last ball, he knocked all of the jars down and Elijah screamed in excitement. Stiles chuckled and watched as Derek picked Elijah up and put him on his shoulders. They talked to the attendant and Elijah pointed eagerly at the giant stuffed wolf. When it was handed over, Elijah had a hard time holding onto it so it smacked Derek in the face, but he didn't complain. Stiles managed not to laugh despite how hilarious the whole situation was, with the stuffed wolf dwarfing them.

Derek helped Elijah hold onto the wolf off to the side of his shoulder instead of in front. “Hold on tight, Elijah! You don't want to drop him.”

“I won't!” Elijah promised, but Stiles wasn't so sure about that as the stuffed wolf swung as Derek walked with Elijah still on his shoulders.

“Ready to go home?” Derek asked, stopping in front of Stiles.

The stuffed wolf bumped into Stiles as Elijah moved on Derek’s shoulder and he laughed softly. “I love you,” he said softly, leaning in to give Derek a kiss. “Yeah, let’s go home. We have to find somewhere for that stuffed wolf to live anyway.”

Derek chuckled and kissed Stiles’ temple, one arm wrapping around him as they walked, his other holding Elijah steady on his shoulders.

Stiles couldn't wait for the next time they came to the fair as he leaned against Derek while they walked back to the car. They’d had a perfect family day and Stiles was warm with happiness and the promise of more in their future.

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cakeemoji · 3 months

Text

collection of fics i've written :]

| links in each section are sorted by most "recent" to oldest lol; click "read more" to view the rest (watered down my works in the mini description here so please read the tags of my pieces for more info !!)

rinhime works (enstars)

☆ a little death | rinhime metaphorical cannibalism

☆ favourite record | written for rinhime week 2023. one of the prompts was "alternative universe" so i wrote this in mind to crossover with mcr's concept album, "danger days". features crazy:b as killjoys and a little peek into their crazy lives :]

☆ black morgue + back to you | two-shot mini-series, based on the concept of a one-night stand, some love and the aftermath. third person limited, himeru-centric.

applejuice works (twst)

☆ madol for your thoughts? | deuce and epel go on a date (very fluff-oriented ^_^)

☆ small, simple, safe price | deuce and epel bond over apple carving

mammon/reader works (shall we date?: obey me!)

☆ winter mood/dreaming of spring | emotional hurt/comfort, dabbled on idea of wanting to love + be loved while being terrified of commitment and never being good enough

☆ we'll get by, somehow | "i'm tired of losing people i love." - a take on a "what if" scenario where MC dies in L16 (<-personally, i think this is the best thing i've written for this fandom)

☆ bulletproof loneliness at best | in which reader finds old scars on mammon's back and comforts him, features small scene of bathing together and sleeping together (literal sense)

☆ where i belong | waking up from a nightmare and being comforted by the great mammon =]

☆ summertime | inspired by the devilgram "a private beach for two", short & sweet.

☆ hearts only hurt from here | heavy on hurt/comfort + implied/referenced self-harm. based on what i wanted to hear when i was in a dark place.

hidadei works (naruto)

☆ hands that god gave you | two gross men do gross things (care for each other)

☆ a lovely night | inspired by the song from la la land the musical; this was written in 2021 so it's definitely not all that great lol

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ladyoftherefrigerator · 2 years

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Chapters: 1/? Fandom: She Loves Me - Bock/Harnick/Masteroff Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Amalia Balash/Georg Nowack Characters: Amalia Balash, Georg Nowack, Ilona Ritter, Ladislav Sipos, Mr. Maraczek (She Loves Me) Additional Tags: What-If, First Meetings, Meet-Cute, Pre-Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence Summary:

“Do you often interrupt strangers when they’re reading in cafés?” he asked, nodding in the general direction of the line of empty seats along the bar. Seats she passed by to sit next to him.

Amalia felt her face flush in mild indignation and she hoped the relatively dim lighting disguised the change from him. “I don’t often find strangers reading in cafés at all, especially at dinnertime. I wouldn’t have approached you if not for the novelty of it.”

#she loves me #fic: in the good old summertime #otp: dear friends #theatre: she loves me

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starlahuskyz · 7 months

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Chances - Chapter 1

A TLB fan story

Summary: It's 1988 and Jordan has been alone for a while now. She's tried to escape her past which has forever tied her to Santa Carla, but now has to learn to trust again. She also finds out that her past will always come back to haunt her.

GIF by @hypnoticvamp

This is my first ever fic and most likely one of my only ones. I plan on telling this entire story so stay tuned for updates. BTW I'm not a very good writer but I'm just telling this story for fun. If you don't like oc x canon stories then you are gonna want to avoid this one.

TW// none for now

Chapter 2

Feedback is appreciated ^ ^

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Boardwalk

Summertime only means one thing in Santa Carla, it brings in hordes of new tourists and visitors into this crazy town. And you can expect it to remain that way for the next few months. But amongst all of the people on the boardwalk, there is one individual who walks alone. She isn’t a particularly special individual, not really attractive or ugly, dresses casually but not really normally either. She’s a stranger to most people and seemingly can’t be read by most who pass her. She has one goal in mind and one only, she doesn’t let anyone get in her way as she goes.

Within a few minutes, she’s reached her destination…Max’s Video Store. Looking through the entrance she doesn’t see the owner, “Awesome…” She isn’t a fan of the owner. He always gives her a ‘look’ when she walks in. She makes her visit brief as she sifts through old VHS’s looking frantically for something that catches her eye.

As she finally finds something, A new presence makes itself known by slamming its hands onto the box she was looking through. She winces as she already knows who it is.

“Before you say anything, please save it” She looks up at them with the most uninterested face she could muster.

“I wasn’t gonna say anything, I was gonna simply admire you from afar…” They said with a snarky yet lovestruck smile. It was Marko…

That curly haired blonde who sported the most complex looking jacket she will ever see and wore black leather chaps. He also had the face of a Greek statue and eyes that she swore could change colors at will. A part of her wanted to feel flattered that he liked her, but at the same time she knew she didn't quite trust him.

“Well I’ll have you know that I’m pretty busy, so you should do yourself a favor and go with your buddies before I let you down again.” She walked towards the counter to pay for the VHS when she heard a new voice.

“Jordan! You didn’t tell us you would be here today! Why didn't you tell us?” A tall lanky blondie who looked like Twisted Sister wrapped his arms around Jordan’s much shorter frame and spun her around much to her dismay. “You guys don't need to know what I'm doing OR where I'm going!" She twisted and writhed in his arms as he simply dangled her over the ground.

Paul kept blabbering while Marko came up to her and simply said, “You said I should go with my buddies, but I already brought them here.”

Jordan finally got herself out of Paul’s arms and slammed cash onto the counter for her VHS. “You can keep the change just please let me get the hell out of here” The lady working the register simply smiled and laughed to herself “I know how you feel.”

“What’s the hurry?” A new voice intervenes. Everyone looks from what they are doing, it’s David.

Jordan could recognize the platinum blonde from anywhere. Walking up to Jordan he puts a rough hand on her shoulder. “You should know they are just excited to spend some time with you.”

“You forget yourself, it’s just Marko who wants to spend time with me. You guys are just third wheeling his sad attempt at flirting with me for god knows how many times. I’m sure he’s wonderful and all but I’d advise you to give him a wake up call.”

Jordan snatches the VHS off of the counter and makes a beeline for the exit before she is blocked by the one brunette of this club of crazies. “Well, you haven’t even given him a chance, so how do you know you don’t like him?” He grabs her shoulders and turns her around to face Marko who is giving her the biggest frown she’s ever seen. “See? You can make that frown turn upside down if you give him the chance to-”

“What did I tell guys you about coming in here?”

#the lost boys #the lost boys 1987 #tlb #david the lost boys #dwayne the lost boys #paul the lost boys #marko the lost boys #oc x canon #tlb oc #tlb jordan

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aziraphales-library · 1 year

Note

Hello! Do you have any recs for fics that feel place-bound, instead weirdly flat and generic anywhere-USA? I tried to find a good example of what I was looking for, instead of what I wasn't looking for but there isn't really a good succinct tag. The kind of fic you probably a tab open to google slang for if you don't live in the UK. I have the feeling the last good one I read was a human!au, which means I probably didn't save it as they are not my favorite. Thank you!

Hi! These are fics that I personally felt were very location-based and incorporated the setting into the story...

human nature by attheborder (T)

When you’re talking about bodies locked in orbit, forever circling each other, it takes two to tango. Forces opposed; action and reaction. One, and the other.

But the blank-slate version of Aziraphale sleeping beside Crowley in this cold little bed had no fear of Heaven, no fear of Falling. Not even a fear of snakes. He only had, as all humans did, the knowledge of good and bad, and the ability to make a choice.

***

Crowley must turn Aziraphale human in order to hide him from Heaven.

A House in the Country by TheOldAquarian (T)

“Really Crowley, I can’t very well go and live with a demon until I get the next assignment from Upstairs-”

“It’s not living together! Look, there’s 36 bloody rooms in the place. You can take one wing and I’ll take the other. We’ll be no more living together than you’re living with those idiots on the fourth floor who don’t tune their piano.”

Aziraphale gave a shudder at the mention of these unmusical neighbors, then considered. “I have rather wanted to see the Lake District in summertime.”

He was going to say “This is an obviously silly idea,” or “We both know the Arrangement doesn’t cover holidays at the lake,” or even “I don’t want you to get in trouble.”

What he actually said was, “I think that would be delightful. When should we make the trip?”

It's Not The Journey by cosmya (T)

It had been going so well. They’d averted the apocalypse, averted their punishments, averted further investigation or attention by their respective organizations. They were left with little to do but bask in the happy ending. Therein had been the problem. Another champagne, sir?” interrupted the flight attendant. Aziraphale’s eyes snapped open. Oh, I shouldn’t, he thought. “Yes, please,” he said. “Thank you.”

Anathema and Newt are getting married, and two of their wedding guests are in a bit of an awkward place. An all-inclusive resort with unlimited alcohol is precisely what they need to re-break the ice.

Not a Human AU by maniacalmole (G)

Aziraphale knows Crowley has a crush and doesn't know what to do about it.

Aziraphale wasn’t sure if he considered himself ‘alive’ or not. What would he do if he had to live a life?

We may not be people, Crowley thought. But I do—I do want.

My Favorite Ghost by cassieoh_draws & DiminishingReturns (T)

Decades after the world didn’t end, Heaven and Hell got their war — and nearly destroyed everything in the process.

When Aziraphale finally manages to reacquire a corporation and return to Earth, he discovers he was gone longer than he thought and the planet has become unrecognizable. As he searches for Crowley and tries to figure out how he fits in a world that Heaven, Hell, and God have all wiped their hands of, nature works around him to reclaim the bones of an old civilization as the scraps of humanity build a new one.

A lush and optimistic post-apocalypse story, told from the POV of an immortal who can't let go of the past.

Though Heaven Bar the Way by everybody_lives (T)

Nearly five decades after the Holy Water argument, Aziraphale is sent to a world-famous sanatorium in the Swiss Alps on an assignment that Heaven appears to care about rather more than usual—only to find out that Crowley, of all creatures, has already established himself there.

Clearly, this cannot be good for anyone's constitution.

None of these are human AUs, as you said they're not your favourite. However, if you do want human AUs and a lot of British slang and terms, I'd recommended any and all fics by FeralTuxedo who often includes a glossary of terms in the end notes! Here's one to start you off...

Served Cold by FeralTuxedo (M)

On a quiet Wednesday morning, a man with flaming red hair and a face tattoo saunters into a London café. But it appears that he’s there for rather more than just espresso.

This was exactly the type of customer Divinitea wanted to attract, Aziraphale thought. Modern, fashionable, rich. Too casually dressed to be a banker. No, this was someone with an undefinable job that was done at posh brunch places with free wi-fi. He probably had the word entrepreneur on his business card. He was clearly a bellend. But a very attractive one. Shame Anathema wasn’t here to admire him. Aziraphale would have to do that all by himself.

- Mod D

#good omens #ineffable husbands #travel #mod d

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bitchlessdino · 2 years

Note

Hiii hope you're having a great day 💞

If requests are open, can I ask for a Jihoon fic where reader confesses to him but Jihoon rejects them even though he feels the same, because he thinks he's too busy to be a good boyfriend, but then regrets his decision after someone asks him about it and then goes to get them back, especially when he sees how sad they are <3

Pairing: jihoon x gn!reader

Genre: angst, suggestive

Word count: 3.1k

Tags: f2l, rejection, pining, depictions of anxiety and depression, billie elish quote, happy but suggestive ending, let me know if I missed anything

author note: angst, I missed you old friend

It’s admittedly hurt lying to your face about his feelings. The way you poured your heart out to him with the beautiful smile on your face he loves so dearly. He knew he was in love with you the moment he met you. You looked upon the sea in its vast beauty, getting lost in the natural motion of its presence, and breathed in the summertime breeze because that’s what you were to him: summer.

Where he came from, summer was hardly attainable these days, often replaced by cloudy skies and polluted streets, hardly sun rays hitting him the way they used to when he was a child. You were to him a hopeful day, a chance to bask in the sun. Jihoon was an introvert. He wasn’t meant for the sun.

Jihoon is a man of many tasks and duties and lacks the general convenience of taking on any new roles like friend, pet owner, or boyfriend. It would’ve been selfish of him to accept your confession by his logic, so he settled by lying. He didn’t think you deserved a boyfriend with no time on his hands but knowing you, you wouldn’t take that as an answer.

“Sorry, but I don’t feel that way about you.”

His harsh words cut through every individual butterfly in your stomach, massacring its population only to leave their scattered remains behind, wallowing in your body followed by emptiness. You look down at the freshly made pastries in a box you clutched, holding back the tears threatening to fall, you sniffle, gulping down the bit of anxiety stirring and you smile. Placing the box in front of Jihoon regardless of the rejection, you manage to hold on to the forced grin.

“I understand. Well, I made these for you. Didn’t want them to go to waste, so keep them, give them away, whatever you want. I’ll see you later.”

You don’t wait for a response and make your exit. You pull yourself together to walk away from him calmly, only to have the tears come running down the moment you’re in an empty bathroom stall. You never knew your heart could ache like that, as if it shattered like glass, its pieces splicing your insides until you feel a dulling pain. You muffle your sobs into your palm, worried someone would hear, and bow your head to your knees on the toilet seat, drowning in the feeling of rejection.

Jihoon wasn’t one to beat around the bush. He shut his eyes, resenting the words he blurted out to you and now he can’t stop hearing them in his head. It did its job but at what cost?

He walks the halls leading up to his apartment building, the doughy goodness from the pastries taunting his nose, he approaches his apartment front door with his head down. He enters with an emotionless expression and lifeless candor, carefully placing the box on the kitchen counter. He pushes off the flap, witnessing the creation of your time and heart put into pretty shaped croissants and colorful danishes.

He felt himself overcome with emotion, knocking his head pathetically on the plaster walls, pounding at it with his fist with clenched teeth and wet cheeks. He had no right to feel sad. He rejected you not the other way around. He was doing both of you a favor, he reasoned. Nothing good could come out of a relationship with no time.

Time is fleeting when it comes to work and despair, which at times often go hand to hand. Jihoon took a couple of extra shifts at the convenience store today and the restaurant; the price he pays for his dreams. He scraps up enough savings for a good microphone, already dreaming of the work he could finally record. He smiles for the first time in a while, his hard work has finally done him some good.

Wonwoo tells him he’s looking better, which Jihoon appreciates. Wonwoo was one of the lead servers, along with Jihoon, at Chateau Crystal. They had known each other for years but only recently grew close due to Jihoons increased work hours. They would’ve gone closer being in similar circles of friends but Wonwoo has been some of the few faces he had seen this often recently.

Jihoon found himself friendly with him whenever their schedule lined up, sometimes confining in him naturally if he’s known him for years. It was nice. Jihoon was alone a lot, all of his own volition, but these heart-to-heart moments were much needed.

“You should come to kick back. You know the place. We were all thinking of going back there for summer.”

Jihoon knew just where it was. They used to go every year together back to college. Soonyoung would drag him ever so he pleases until he had to work abroad. He was the only reason Jihoon ever kept going, besides you that was. These trips were peace for him and truth be told he missed them.

Jihoon muses at the thought, “I’ll think about it.”

“It couldn’t hurt. Seungcheol is getting closer to getting everyone together again. Even Soonyoung is flying back out here.”

The stout man couldn't help but smile, putting away the dirty plates and glasses and nodding the busboy thanks before getting back on the restaurant floor with Wonwoo. “Everyone, hmm? Who else is coming?”

Jihoon couldn’t help himself. He anticipated the gradual mention of you only for it to never come. Double checking with Wonwoo if he got every one right. “Really? What about Y/n?”

Wonwoo pushes his glasses back to the bridge of his nose, thinning to himself for a moment, “They’ve been MIA for a while. We’re not even sure if they’ve been getting out group messages or emails. We honestly thought it’d be harder to get to you, Jihoon.”

That was unlike you. You were the type to even cherish a wrapper from a candy bar you ate in another country, you weren’t the type to ignore people calling out to you. He didn’t want to assume but he couldn’t help but feel at fault. He gave you the time you needed to process what you were feeling and he tried not to regret his decision and is currently failing.

“That doesn’t sound good.”

“Yeah, I wonder what happened with them,” Wonwoo questions.

Jihoon was hopeful, if not desperate, to see your face and ensure you were fine. It was interesting. He tried all this time to forget the incident happened only for it to come up again. There was no doubt about it. He was going to force himself at that mini reunion, even if that meant he had to call up Soonyoung to drag him from the floorboards.

That wasn’t necessary, seeing as he was one of the first to arrive at the beach house. How he remembers dreading the first time they all went (so he says), but had a great time nonetheless, finding inspiration in loud waves and grains of sand. It was the most romantic place to be. That’s why he felt like most of the time he didn’t belong.

“Jihoon! How are you?”

He was ambushed immediately, not surprising. He hadn’t met most of his college friends face to face, only occasionally replying in the big group chat they all shared (admittedly muted most months until he gets bored and goes in to catch up). They all welcome him like he hadn’t been spending the last couple of months working himself to death.

The group gradually gets bigger. Most faces familiar, some not so much, and he’s soon meeting gazes with Soonyoung who picked Jihoon and flails him around before falling to the ground, overestimating his own strength. Jihoon then enforces harsh pounds against the man's back, urging him off but smiling like he hasn’t in years.

It felt nostalgic, it was even comforting, but he was missing you. You always went to these.

He was still anticipating you regardless, approaching the balcony you used to frequent, resting his arms on the rails, and taking in that breeze. He felt 18 again for a moment, where nothing mattered. It felt well deserved. Long awaited.

“Enjoying vacation stranger?”

He turns his head and smiles at the kind face looking back at him. “I was trying to avoid you, Soonyong.”

“You don’t mean that,” the man grins taking the vacant spot next to him, in turn enjoying the same ocean air, “penny for your thoughts.”

Jihoon chuckles, staring off into the dimming sky as the sun looks like it starting to set, “You been drinking? You don’t get this sentimental until after a few.”

Soonyong shakes his head, taking a swig of his Coors light, the familiar taste settling on his tongue. He savors both the beverage and this moment, neither things he’s got to since leaving the country. “Nah. Just catching up, buddy.”

“Well, not much has changed since you left.”

Soonyoung ponders Jihoon’s quick denial. “Really? Nothing.”

“Nothing.”

“Not even like, someone professing their feelings to you?”

Jihoon’s gaze drops, hearing the thoughts out loud. He sighs“...they told you.”

“They did.”

“How much do you know?”

Soonyoung simply shrugs, setting his finished beer on the outdoor table, “Not enough, but by seeing that they aren’t here, I’m guessing it didn’t go great.”

“…I was hoping to see them today.”

“You know, maybe it’s for the best. You did break their heart.”

Salt in the wound. “I really wish I didn’t.”

The same-age man scoffs. “Then why? It’s obvious you like them.”

“Soonyoung, you were gone for two years.” Jihoon exasperates, guilt rising up to his throat, choking back on his words, only finding the courage to project his self-made frustration. “You don’t get to ask that.”

“Well don’t you?”

Jihoon glares back at him with clenched teeth but no rebuttal.

“See.”

Jihoon felt his blood boil. “I—“

“Y/n! Oh my god!”

Jihoon's eyes shoot in the direction of excited voices, your name burning in the back of his mind and he scrambles to get to you inside the house. He looks over the crowded room, seeing you standing calmly, nonchalantly collecting the hugs hounding your way. When he’s tempted to take a step closer, he stops himself, weighing out on the idea of doing so. Soonyoung takes his side, seeing their friend get a warm welcome.

He snickers, and rests an arm on Jihoon before whispering, “Well, what do ya know? They did come. Let’s see you not screw up his time around, hmm?”

Soonyoung joins his other friends soon enough, shouting your name into the air, your eyes following to meet Soonyoung but matching with Jihoon’s instead who stand a good distance ahead of you, glued to the ground. The crowd around you is a blur and fades into the background, giving you that feeling you two were the only ones in the room. Jihoon stays in that spot for however long, blocking out the external sounds and feeling his chest just tighten at the sight of you.

Little did he know, you felt that same sensation, swallowing down your nerves and taking in his appearance to notice that nothing about him had changed. It feels like time passed achingly slow since your rejection, but all of a sudden those emotions: fear, excitement, depression; it was all rushing back to you ten times over. You were still infatuated by him.

When your mutual friends did eventually settle down, your gaze was still locked on him on the other end of the room, staring back at you with an unreadable expression that you never knew he could make. He takes a step further in your shock by physically taking steps closer to you, pushing past the busy bodies until your close-toed shoes met.

You greet each other as people in your situations would, hesitant ‘hi’s and obligatory lingerance in each others’ presence, learning that breaking ice was better said than done. You tried conjuring a smile on your face, the suffocation in your chest not settling in the slightest. “H-how are you?”

He could see how distraught you are at his appearance, maybe not expecting him to be around. He wipes his hands against his side and tries pulling on a smile. “I’m okay. Doing better actually! Especially since you’re here.”

“You don’t have to say that.” You respond, tearing your eyes away from him, a hint of those butterflies finding their way back home.

“But I am glad you’re here…Can we find somewhere to talk?”

For a while, you were quiet. You kept your eyes on the floor. Your heart feels like it's pounding out of your chest. Despite that, you agreed, soon trailing behind his broad backside to a secluded area of the house, hoping to clear up your mind away from the loud music of rowdy people around, even if that meant being alone with Jihoon.

You both find peace in an empty bedroom, closing the door behind you for privacy. The silence was deafening, making you wonder why he would take you alone anywhere for any reason.

“I thought I’d be honest with you,” Jihoon confesses, looking down at his own feet, “There's a lot of things I wish I said to you instead of what I actually did say.”

Your hands tingle, clenching and unclenching your hands to regain the loss of blood flow that made you start to feel numb. You stay to listen, still not meeting his eyes, a slight ringing in your ears. Your anxiety squeezes you motionless.

“I wish I could take it back. What I said. All those months wasted…You in my life.”

He takes one step closer and you one back. “I lied…And I’m stupid for it.”

You shut your eyes, holding your hands in each other, breathing out of your nose to regulate yourself. Still, no words to escape you, only sniffing, feeling the anxiety reach your eyes, and drawing out burning tears.

“I fucked myself over and there's nothing I could do to take it back.”

Jihoon was maybe off his rocker by a few shots he sneaked in on the way over to the room, luckily without you noticing, but he felt every word come out more naturally the more he focused on breathing. He recites the words that played over and over in his mind since he got there, trying to get them out clear enough, and keeping his composure by doing soon until he notices your descending mood.

“Please don’t cry,” he begs, “I’m not a worthy enough reason to cry.”

The words come out barely coherent, coughing out his words roughly as the alcohol dispersed in his system, and weakened his stance. His knees gave out, staggering to the mattress, and fitting his clenched hands around the sheets. “I just…I don’t think I could’ve let you walk out here tonight thinking I don’t care about you.”

“Well, I’m fine,” You burst out, “And I’ll be fine, so should you.”

“I can’t be fine when I’m in love with you.”

“Stop,” you choke on your breath, tears blurring your vision to see that Jihoon’s tears blurred his.

“I’m sorry.”

“You can’t say this to me right now!” You shout, feeling yourself overwhelmed with a mix of unsightly emotions, stomping your feet like a spoiled child.

“I-I don’t,” he swallows. “I don’t deserve to.”

You pace to yourself in that open space, leaving Jihoon to drench himself in his intoxicated emotions, and hearing yourself cry to yourself and hurt as much as the first time. Your confusion hurt, just want to take you away from all of…this. Whatever Jihoon’s intentions may have been, it hurts.

You head first for the door but halt at the sound of desperation in Jihoon’s voice. “Don’t leave. Please…”

“I don’t like my emotions being played with, Jihoon. If you were a decent human being, you’d know that.” Venom seethes out of your tone.

“I swear, I’m not.”

He picks himself up from the bed and boldly embraces you from behind. He clutches you so tightly it hurts and foreign from anything he’s done in the years you knew him. You knew he was an emotional drunk but he has never done further than cry before completely knocking out.

“I just want to make you feel okay…but all you do is look the other way.”

Your sniffles grow violent, grasping the doorknob, torn. “D-did you just quote Billie Elish?”

Jihoon couldn’t help but chuckle through his sobs, red in the face, noticing his tears staining your blouse and wiping them away. “Fuck. I thought I heard that somewhere…It just feels right. You feel right.”

Your hand drops from the cool metal and turns around to face the man before you. His teary gaze stares back at you, stretching a smile at you through his sore cheeks. “There you are.”

He dares to press a hand to your wet cheeks, feeling your warmth through his fingers, parting away your loose hair. “I could’ve had you.”

“...Don’t let me go this time then.”

You lick your lips before pulling them against his with a heavy heart. Your arms come up to loop around his neck, tightly, intimately. He clutches your frame, kissing you gingerly with chapped lips, the salt of your tears slipping between both your lips. He pulls away to tilt his head but reconnects, pressing you up against the door in a soft thud, balling your shirt in his fists, only thinking about the heat of your bodies together finally. Nothing else mattered.

That was a year ago.

Since then, you’ve made more public appearances, you had to ensure your partner would get anywhere out of the house. He didn’t mind. He could never fight with your logic, seeing as he couldn’t see himself seeing your side. It was fortunate you both took remote careers. Jihoon found himself in makings as an online music teacher and finding micro success on the underground music scene, while you took a hybrid job based on your major in college. That meant he’d get to see you every day.

“Good morning,” You chuckle.

Your voice tickles his bare skin, and he only responds by pulling you in closer, “Yes it is.”

He presses a kiss to your lips, tracing along the spine of your back, He feels your smile against his lips. “You have class in an hour.”

He shakes his head. “They canceled yesterday.”

“Well, you still have to wake up, love.” You urge, nudging his legs, his leg, in turn, tugging yours, connecting by your nude torsos.

“I don’t want to wake up yet. This is such a nice dream.”

#svthub #woozi angst #seventeen angst #lee jihoon angst #lee jihoon #woozi #woozi x y/n #woozi x you #seventeen woozi #seventeen jihoon #seventeen x you #seventeen #seventeen fanfic #seventeen scenarios

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singswan-springswan · 1 year

Text

Chenford AU where Lucy is Tim's guardian angel

Didn't expect this to turn into a full-blown fic. it was supposed to be an imagine oop. please enjoy I spent too much time on this

words: 5590

rating: teen and up

warnings: bullet-related injuries, allusions to suicide, substance abuse, and abusive parents, also a building blows up

summary: Lucy is assigned to guard Tim. Unlike most mortals, he's aware of her presence, and they become friends as a result. Detailing their relationship through the years

@accidental-spice

Lucy is assigned to him the moment his soul blips into existence. She's a veteran guardian at this point, has helped plenty of humans through life from start to finish. The first few fleeting months are simply protecting his mom while she helps him grow, just until he's old enough to breathe on his own. Normally, this stage would be very peaceful and warm, but Tim's mom has a few life troubles of her own to sort through, and Lucy works closely with the woman's guardian to make sure Tim isn't harmed before he's born.

He's a screamer. He's a very serious baby, very judgy, very spirited. Lucy can tell she's in for quite the ride with this one.

It's completely routine at first. Children are a handful, and Tim is by no means an exception. He's not remarkably special, of course. There's tenuous strain in his family, but it's nothing Lucy hasn't seen before, and certainly nothing she can't handle. He gets himself into harmless trouble often. He's bright. He's curious. He's a kid. Lucy dotes on him because his parents don't, and she doesn't care that he won't feel any of it.

But suddenly Tim is special. He's three when it happens. He's inspired to spill some secret, and marches to his mother who's working in the kitchen, proudly announcing that he's got someone for her to meet. Lucy drifts beside him as he says it. She's formless. Invisible. Intangible. Nonetheless, Tim grabs her by the hand and calls her his "friend". It's never happened before. His mother smiles kindly. She looks right through Lucy and says it's a pleasure. Tim beams.

It's not a one-off occurrence. Tim knows she's there. It's a strange thing, and when she asks other guardians, most just grin. They say it will either make her job easier, or difficult ten-fold. (it turns out to be the latter of them, naturally). Tim knows she's there.

He hugs her back when he's scared, even if he can't touch her. She's the one he asks for when he's woken from a nightmare. He can feel her presence. If it didn't make him a reckless little freak, Lucy might almost find it fun.

But it's nothing serious, as far as she can tell, and it doesn't hamper her ability to perform. She stays with her mortal through everything; she's there for all of it. His first screams, his first hours of restless sleep, for every dangerous toy left in the cradle at night, and every wobbly arm that didn't hold his head just right. She was there for his first steps, holding his hands when his mother let go. She was there for his first words, his first laugh, his first meal of solid food. She was there for his first day of school, and his first adorable little crush, and his first letters handwritten with the help of a pencil gripper and the teacher's gentle hand. She was there for every skinned knee, every monkey bar blister, every fight, every trembling lip, every spilt juice box. She was there every time his father came home. She protected Tim through all of it.

She saw him through poor test grades, annoying younger siblings, summertime adventures, and bad family reunions. She saw him through the nightmare of secondary school, along with all its awkwardness and hormonal imbalances and voice cracks and social anxiety. She became his friend. He'd talk to her sometimes, ask for advice, or wonder if she was proud. Lucy couldn't talk back, but she could convey her sentiments, and that was enough for him.

There were plenty of things to protect Tim from. His dad was a big one, but they found out good ways to deal with it. and Lucy was an angel. she could redirect the angry man often enough without breaking a sweat, avoiding confrontation in the first place. Tim was too young to have to face that yet. Then there were cruel friends (and enemies) at school, teachers with an axe to grind and little help to offer. Lucy couldn't read aloud to him, but she found him someone who would, and his grades improved. She was there for the football tryouts of course. Those were a busy few days.

Tim happened to love a sport that got aggressive at his age. There was lots of pushing, and tripping, and a few nasty tail-spin take-downs that kept Lucy on high alert out there. Luckily, he had a good arm. Quarterbacks weren't roughed up too bad all the time. He told her he wanted to be a lineman, and she was grateful to the coach for deciding against it. She laughed at him the night after cuts. He was pouting.

At least he had a good outlet. He was under plenty of stress as a teenager. There were tough classes, and tough parents, and tough choices to make about the future. Lucy guided him as best she could, but he still grew hard a bit on the inside. it came without saying in this broken world, and an abusive father only sped the process along. Tim built up his walls against reality, because he was soft deep down and Lucy couldn't shelter him; that wasn't her job.

He really tested her sometimes. It was his signature thing. the Tim-tests. She found it endearing, mostly, but sometimes he went way overboard and got himself in a mess. Lucy would warn him, or stop him once, but he couldn't rely on her to be his conscious. He had to understand the consequences that came with stupid decisions. There was so much trust for her in him. But eventually he did start being responsible. It didn't take too long.

Until then Lucy stepped into bad situations with increasing exasperation. There was a beach party and a cliff jump just a little too high for human bones on impact. There was a football banquet where he drank and almost drowned in the pool. Then there was Gwen Kelsey and the back of her blue pick-up truck (and the bad news between her legs). If Lucy never had to perform a literal miracle to save Tim from genital warts again, it would be too soon.

To be clear, Lucy would never begrudge Tim's nature to seek danger out, but she could disapprove of his intentions. Intentionally putting himself in risky situations just because he trusted her to save his arse was not appreciated. Joining the military, on the other hand, was acceptable. Lucy didn't like war. The war of man had no glory.

But Tim had few prospects, and he would more easily survive on the front line than staying home. There were simply more bullets to deflect.

His time in the army was a sobering thing. it made him more jaded. Not optimal, but Lucy was an angel, and didn't shy away from human heartache. There were plenty of nightmares. Lucy did her best to soothe them away, along with the guilt and fear that came as a survivor. Tim allowed himself to be vulnerable with her. He didn't cry much anymore, but he let the emotion show when she was there. He asked her how to carry on. Lucy would wrap him in a hug, and he'd relax. He'd be comforted.

The tours came to an end when some manic demon guided a bullet through the minute gap in his body armor. From the angle of the shooter, it should never have landed like that, but it didn't really matter. Tim took the fall. Lucy fought the monster off. She redirected the bullet again, saving his lungs and heart. The doctor told him it was a miracle. He let out a broken laugh.

After military service, Tim needed to keep up the action, and decided to join the police. He took to it swimmingly, passionately, naturally, and it pleased Lucy to see. Tim was a kind man: a real softie, deep down. He wasn't on the force because he was good at barking orders and getting physical; he'd joined because he genuinely cared, and it was only easy because of his skills. For the first time in years, he'd found his place, and he could settle.

He made friends, he worked hard, he was determined to be of service. Isabel was the icing on the cake. They were a total delight to one another, and Lucy was often entertained by their synergy. The two were so alike. They made a good match.

Tim talked about her often when he was alone with Lucy. He wasn't one to gush, but Lucy had known him all his life, and she knew that Isabel was something special to him. Isabel was a bright future. Isabel was family that wouldn't hurt him, for a change. Isabel gave Tim so much hope and vibrance, brought so much light to his life. He wanted it to go on forever, he said. He said he was going to marry her.

And for years after the fact, the happiness lasted. Tim had found a good normal for himself. He and Isabel swore to be lifelong partners before a crowd of people they loved, and the celebration was delightful, excepting the few dark moments where demons plucked at Tom's shirt and he made Isabel cry. Lucy intervened quietly, despite it being outside her job description. Ruined weddings were despicable to her.

Life carried on with honeymoon ease. Tim was still his tough, commanding self, but his heart had a levity that made him glow. There were still tragedies every day on the job, but they weren't personal, and he performed well. He was helping people. He was happy.

But being a guardian couldn't mean basking in the good times. Lucy had to remain vigilant, regardless of how good a place everyone seemed to be in. The fairytale started to crumble after a few years, and Lucy knew right away because she was an angel and could see things that humans couldn't.

Isabel was on an op for weeks. The long stints took their toll on Tim, but he was strong, and he had Lucy to help him through the anxious nights. It was supposed to work out. They were supposed to work it out. But when Isabel finally came home, there were traces of rot in her veins. She needed help. She needed it now.

But Tim had fallen in love with his newfound happily ever after, and any threat to that was too awful to entertain. He ignored the hints Isabel dropped him. He tried to pretend like everything was fine. He even ignored Lucy's warnings, despite her insistence. As a result, Isabel slipped away.

The fallout was messy. It wrecked Tim. He tried too late to salvage the pieces of his ruined wife, after doing wrong by her, covering for her, lying to himself. In the end, most of the happiness he found after coming home from war was smashed to bits, leaving him worse off than ever and half as confident, twice as ruthless, retreating behind stone walls. Lucy did her best to save him from disaster, but she could only provide so much comfort without a physical voice and arms to hold him.

It was worse, having experienced a good life and losing it wholly, than never knowing it at all. When Isabel left, that was the last straw. Tim gave up. He locked his soft, kind heart away behind his many walls and focused on staying alive, going through the motions. Saving face. He pushed his friends away, daring to be vulnerable exclusively with Lucy, but even those vital moments dwindled as his light dimmed.

It was a dire situation, to be honest. A mortal that lost hope was a wretched, dangerous creature, and the longer this went on, the greater the surety stood that Tim would never be himself again. He'd never feel compassion, never be kind. He'd waste himself on sorrow and fear if Lucy didn't do something.

Luckily, he was a training officer.

Lucy devised a plan to show him the seriousness of his status. It was a severe strategy, only used by guardians in times of critical need. Clearly Tim was in need, and Lucy was obligated to help him. So she went to the academy and took on human form. She picked a name that mortals could pronounce. It wasn't her first act walking the earth. it still felt intense. She was accustomed to watching from the sidelines, but she was created with a gift of empathy, and fitting in was no trouble.

Six months and a few divine interventions later, she landed in the front row of the bullpen at mid-wilshire police station. When the Sergeant called Tim's name, he pointed at her.

At first, it was a shock to see him. He'd gotten worse. So much worse. He'd lost weight, lost sleep, lost any lingering trace of light in his eyes. There was a heavy weight in his gaze and the way he moved. One that hadn't been there six months ago. What changed? At the very least, he'd been stable. There'd been no reason for him to slip further down the dark hole Lucy pledged to haul him out of. Now, he was dangerously close to losing himself.

She didn't expect him to recognize her in that state. He didn't.

Any warmth he'd once possessed was frozen over by the time they started their first shift together. It felt wrong, and now that Lucy could feel physical things her stomach was a sinking knot. Tim was unsteady. Tim was not himself, walled off and detached. He cared a lot about people and it was grating at him to be like this, deep down, but Lucy had to work with what he gave her. She wasn’t going to pull any punches.

He was merciless the first few days. Unapologetic, vicious, blunt and rude. He snapped back at everything she said, bossed her around, belittled her. If Lucy really was who she said, she’d probably be hurt and greatly taken aback, but she knew Tim. He was in so much pain, and it was clear to her. The other rookies didn’t seem to think so, and their concern was touching. But Lucy saw the way the other officers looked at her, like she was either a dead woman walking or a poor soul in for the most horrible year of her life. Angela and Talia were so worried. They told her to look out for herself, leaving the “because he won’t” unsaid. Lucy appreciated them. Even if they misplaced the roles.

When Tim got shot, Lucy was not afraid. He’d been through worse, and this time she was there to hold his blood in. Her execution would make him proud if she were any rookie of the past. She directed Lopez to the two downed suspects, whipped her gloves on, and held Tim for the first time. He still tried to give her orders. Something angry and defensive. He looked terrible but he’d be okay. She made sure the bullet missed his important parts. Just like old times. A different doctor said the same thing: it was a miracle. Lucy wasn’t in the room when the news hit, but she could feel Tim crying all the same.

The weeks it took him to heal were precarious. It was dangerous to leave him alone, but part of the gamble to assume human likeness was that she had consistent responsibilities, and they were distinct from Tim’s life. She still made sure to check on him regularly, and she was there when he was discharged. He despised her by the end of it. He felt patronized, and pitied, despite Lucy’s insistence. Always a stubborn man. Her words meant a lot less in the mouth of a mortal, even if they were clearer now than anything she’d said to him before.

Whatever else came from her efforts before he was cleared, he gained a modicum of respect for her. She could be just as persistent as him if she wanted, and he’d known that seven months ago. They were starting from scratch now. It was going to be rough.

Eventually, the Tim-tests came back. It felt like a breath of fresh air. While Tim was no less cut-throat and no more entertained than before, Lucy counted the violent slamming on brakes and demand for a location as a victory. He was getting a very important part of himself back, clawing, taking it by force. It hurt a lot, but the progress mattered so much. Lucy was happy to play along. Sure, she could read his mind, anticipate the nature of each test and answer him correctly every time, but the man needed to feel himself being productive. Even if that meant ruthlessly pummeling her for the sake of a lesson learned. She could take the heat.

Things after that became less bad, for lack of a better term. Tim leveled out well enough, to the point that Lucy trusted him to be alone with himself. There was little in life for him to enjoy at the moment, but she sensed that he at least found respite in the day spent with her, fighting crime, stopping tragedy, being human. He hated to talk to her, loathed her enjoyment in the act. He wanted to be alone. He closed himself off time and time again, even if a clever enough detective might connect the dots from all the friendly seconds she extorted from him, there was little substance she could glean unless she pushed him hard—which always involved a tough fallout.

There was one bad day she pushed it. The day was still young, and their calls had been mild. Tim hadn’t slept well. He looked like a wreck, even if he didn’t let it affect his performance. Lucy started talking. He liked her voice, she could tell, despite his claims of finding it annoying. She talked about psychology, which he hated, and she pushed him, and he hated that too. She pushed, and she pushed, and she asked him so many questions. Eventually he snapped, tired and defeated and white-knuckle grip on the steering wheel, right foot near through the floor of the shop. The vehicle lurched roughly, and Tim worked his jaw. He looked so angry, and so sad, and so tired. His eyes were very tired. “Look,” he forced out around the thickness in his throat. “I just lost someone very close to me. I’m not in the mood to answer prying questions.”

Lucy could have swooped in with even more psychology. She could have cited a hundred various grieving tactics, ranging from self-destructive to completely healing, based both on psychological case studies and personal testament. She might have, under other circumstances. But this was Tim. She knew everything about his life, and taking on human form hadn’t changed that. She knew everyone he cared about, everyone close to him, and no one matched his claim. Isabel had been gone for over a year. His grief for her was nothing fresh. Not like this. And Lucy could tell that he was truthful in his statement because she was an angel and knew her way around his sentiments, his surface level thoughts. This was real, and she couldn’t think of anyone he might love enough to mourn with this much devastation.

After a long, sober moment not knowing what to say, Lucy folded her hands neatly and projected calm into the cabin. It wasn’t the same coming from a human body, but she was still an angel and it worked well enough. Just enough to form a truce with Tim. “What was this person like?”

Tim wrestled with an answer, paging a few harsh comments through consideration before giving up. A muscle in his jaw twitched. “She didn’t talk as much as you.” He said, and his voice was soft when he did.

It took Tim a while to stop resenting her, to stop taking out his frustrations on her. It took him a while, and a few verbal reprimands from his friends at the precinct before his torture of her ended. Apparently he was harsh, but never this harsh with rookies. Even the sergeant asked Lucy if she wanted a new TO. She wouldn’t hear of it. Tim was her charge, and she wanted to help him as long as she could. He was hurting a lot, but he was salvageable. He was still good. Despite the pain he was going through, he chose to not give in at the start of every day, chose to consistently do the right thing, to serve people in need. His execution was flawed but very redeemable. And it was working out slowly but surely.

Tim warmed up to Lucy in his own way. The process was painfully gradual, even for a being who’d lived innumerable years within the constraints of time. Lucy was a creature of patience, but Tim was dragging it out. It took him weeks to stop actively hating her. She bought him hot wings to commemorate the occasion, ditched them on his doorstep the night his team was playing—which he didn’t watch with the same enthusiasm anymore, but still appreciated.

From there, they graduated to relying on one another during calls. Lucy had his respect, she knew, and she’d solidly proven herself a capable officer, but it was different for Tim to trust her with his life. It was nostalgic for both of them, except Tim was being bittersweet about it.

He started caring again, just a little bit at first, because jumping back in would exhaust him outright. It started with just covering her, making sure she didn’t die. Then he acknowledged her discretion. He listened when she spoke, didn’t just tune her out. He was more resigned than he’d ever been all his life, but he was coming to realize that life continued whether he was there for it or not, and peace was weaseling its way into his mind.

It was months on the job before Lucy saw him smile again. He’d pranked her with a surprise Tim-test, tucked away in a trash can in the middle of a park. The whole situation had thrown her off guard because he’d actually been enjoying himself. Baby powder exploded in her face. Tim was there to enshrine the moment in his memory. Through the blur, he lectured her about bombs and radio waves, and both corners of his mouth were slanted up. He shone softly with satisfaction. Victory.

Their relationship developed slowly but surely. They respected each other, they trusted each other, and they eventually grew to like each other. The haunted looks of the other TOs and all of Tim’s friends turned relieved, grateful. Angela pulled Lucy aside one day and thanked her sincerely. “We were worried about him. He never told us what happened. Look, whatever you’re doing, keep doing it.” Tim never told Lucy either. She was just happy to see him back on his feet. He still carried an enormous grief with him: one he’d likely never shed as long as he lived, but he was so strong. He would be okay.

Lucy was there when Isabel got caught. Isabel had ruined herself, and it ruined Tim too. It hurt a lot to go through again, for both of them. At least Lucy could hold him now, place a steady hand on his shoulder and say a few fortifying words. It helped a lot more this time around. Isabel was caught, deep in trouble, desperate to cut a deal that almost cost what remained of her life. Tim leaned on Lucy then, unknowingly. Isabel went away for her health, divorced Tim and made it final. It was rough. At least it was closure. Tim grieved the loss of his best life as well as he knew how, and it was far from easy for anyone involved. Lucy didn’t shy away. She could hold him now and she did, as far as he’d let her.

They became tentative friends, on Tim’s part, because Lucy wanted to regain what they’d had all his life, and he remained wary—understandably so. He was going through a lot. She knew that. She wasn’t pushing. But now they could share light conversation without any sour emotion to discolor the atmosphere. They could crack jokes, share gifts, perform favors. Tim was fighting through the pain to get himself back. His fire was a thing of beauty. He made Lucy laugh sometimes, and always stopped to stare a little. She caught him once with a sad, longing half smile. “What is it?” She asked, still grinning. He looked away quickly. Swiped at his eyes. “Nothing. You just remind me of someone I knew.”

By the time Caleb came into the picture, they were solid partners, on good terms. They went out with friends, shared trade secrets, and Tim was getting used to being comfortable with her. Being kind to her. Empathetic. Compassionate. Old traits he’d had a long time ago. He apologized for the awful first few months of her training. She just shook her head and grinned. She knew. She told him she knew, she understood, she’d forgiven him completely. Then Rosalind Dyer kicked up a fuss, and Caleb lost luck on a victim, which meant he was desperate. It went outside of Lucy’s job description to use herself like this but she could help lots of people by getting Caleb convicted. Before she called him, invited him out for a fateful few drinks, she pulled Tim aside. He was doing well. She didn’t want this event to throw him through the ringer again.

“I know you have my back.” She told him. “I trust you. Whatever happens with this case will not be your fault.” He’d been confused, and worried to hear that, and he was near hysterical when he pulled her from the barrel with bloody hands, split skin from clawing at the dirt in raw desperation. She was an angel, not a human. Asphyxiation couldn’t hurt her when she didn’t need to breathe. The drugs hadn’t really done a thing in her drinks except make them taste like crap, so she faked the snooze and made Caleb haul her (fake) snoring dead weight from the bar to his car trunk. The whole fiasco would be amusing if Tim hadn’t gone so crazy because of it. He squeezed her with a hug, holding so tight and shaking while Lucy narced on his three broken nails. His laugh was wet and broken. Caleb lived. He stood trial. He was sentenced to die.

Tim and Lucy were so tight after that. Everyone was suspicious of her incredible rebound, but she’d dealt with much worse in past assignments as a guardian—not that she could tell anyone that much. Tim forgot himself in his desire to help her. It was an incredible leap of progress, so close to where he started. He was so kind, and so thoughtful, and he went out of his way to make her smile because he hated that she thought to do it for him first. He didn’t need restitution after she went through what she did. He was selfless. Lucy, in turn, rebuked any of his lingering guilt and shame.

There were times when he forgot the nature of their professional relationship. He treated them like partners, as though they operated on the same level of authority. And even though his nagging and stubbornness and Tim-tests never once saw slack, Lucy was totally pleased to carry on like this. Taking on the world together. Performing miracles. Doing wonders of good. It was a beautiful arrangement that took them past the dynamic between a rookie and her TO. Lucy knew he saw her differently, cared about her differently, worried about her differently. He was protective in a different way, and not because of guilt or shame. Or because he felt responsible for her. She could attest the same things too. Tim had been special since he was three years old. She’d do anything to protect him.

There was one call that tested her mettle. It changed them. The fire started small in the big apartment building. They were the first to respond, and the building was mostly empty in the half minute it took them to arrive. But there were people still inside. And they were charged with running in easily. They herded out the motile ones, carrying those injured by the building giving way. It was the last time they went in that the building sat down, slouching in and trapping them where they were. Just one person left. They were cornered in the hall with the kid tucked in Tim’s arms. There was no way out of the fire. All exits were blocked by rubble and branding hot rebars, and the fire grew still, reaching the gas line now. Tim was afraid of dying. The kid was afraid of dying, in spite of adamant reassurances. Tim crouched in the corner, rocked the crying child and gave Lucy a horrible look. He didn’t think he’d make it out alive, and maybe he wouldn’t. The thought was discouraging. He’d just gotten his crap back together. Lucy knelt beside him, determined, wrapped them both in her wings as the fire swelled. The explosion shook the building’s foundation soundly. They were near the ground, a lower level, so the windows burst out in the deafening roar of flame. It was a death sentence. A barbecue. But Lucy was a guardian, and her mandate was to protect. So she did. She was an angel; manipulating fire was something of second-nature. The heat ran white hot around them but Lucy didn’t see, just squeezed both eyes shut like Tim and pressed her forehead close like Tim. It took a long time for the flames to die down. No one rushed in to save them—which Lucy could understand. They should be dead. Everyone would be assuming them dead by now.

But Tim and the kid were fine, which was nothing short of a miracle. She let them breathe the stale air.

Tim’s confusion left him mute. Though that could have been the shock as well. He stared at her. Hard. Then the kid sat up and blinked at the fire, blinked at the collapsed building around them, blinked at Lucy and said “you’re an angel.” like it was obvious. It probably was.

They emerged from the ruined, blackened skeleton to behold awestruck faces. Superficial burns only. It was a miracle they said, and Tim buckled, and Lucy caught him by the arm while he fainted at those words. They were whisked away by medical responders immediately. So much chaos. There wasn’t time to spare between tests and discharge to see Tim. The next time they saw each other was back on duty, in front of everyone who wanted to see. Tim didn’t seem to care about the audience. He grabbed her hands and his knees gave way again.

“It’s you.” He breathed, strangled and agonized. “All this time, it was you. It’s you.” Lucy hauled him to his feet, told him not to kneel for her, though by now there were undisguised tears dripping steadily from his chin. He was trying to process, trying to find the words. “I wanted to be here.” She said, squeezing his hands. She tugged him down for a hug, finally wrapped her arms around his body in the way she’d needed to for years. “To give you this.” He folded himself into her embrace, trembling violently, squeezing her so hard and so tight she couldn’t inflate her lungs at all, like he was afraid she’d vanish from the physical world at any given moment.

“You left.” He whispered, at a level their onlookers wouldn’t pick up. “Without warning. I lost you.” The accusation was biteless, but it gave Lucy chills anyway. She’d come to Earth without warning, without saying a word to him about her plan. Six months was but a breath for ageless angels, but for Tim who’d never lived a day without feeling her presence, to wake up one day completely alone for the first time ever, it must have been horrifying. Had he felt abandoned? Lost? So soon after Isabel left, how many frightening lonely nights had he spent waiting and waiting for her to reappear? Had he called for her? Had she broken his heart? It was such a fragile thing, and he’d built so many walls to protect it but Lucy had the keys to them all.

“You weren’t there.” He cried. “You weren’t there to fill the gaps or hear me cry or say I’d crossed a line—you were just gone.” His flowing tears turned to broken sobs, right there in the middle of the precinct, but Lucy didn’t care. She just held him and held him and held him back just as tight and maybe shed a few human tears of her own.

“I missed you like I’ve never missed anything.” Tim said.

Lucy tightened her grip. What else was there to do? It was exactly what she’d come to do, and her absence was a thing of the past now. She could explain everything when there was time to speak, with real words, like she’d never spoken to Tim before. Now they were a team. They could fix this heartbreak together. “I’ll never leave you again.”

“Don’t.” His chest was full of rubble. “Please don’t.”

#chenford #tim bradford #lucy chen #the rookie #the rookie au #the rookie fic #my writing #chenford au #wrote this at way past my bedtime don't come at me for the sloppy plot

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sweeter-innocence-fics · 8 months

Text

Summer Fic Week 2023 - Day 3: Retracing the Steps That We Took

Pairing: Colin Zabel x Reader

Work Summary:

Set in the Even If It All Comes Crashing Down universe.

It's summertime and you're moving house. Daisy gets an ouchie and Rose surprises everyone.

Rating: General audiences

Word Count: 2686

Read on AO3.

Masterlists.

Summer Fics Masterlist.

Taglist: @mrs-kai-anderson @ang3l1te @missryerye @trashmaximoff @josephines-simps-fics @cursedandromedablack @rottenstyx @totta69 @clowwderr @starmansirius @raincoffeeandfandoms

Taglist info.

Notes:

I just can't quit this AU.

Warnings for very minor injury to a child

---

Rose was gurgling in her car seat, trying to put her foot in her mouth. It was a struggle, because of the way she was strapped in. Colin’s mom had thankfully agreed to babysit for the hardest part of the move.

Now it was the final stretch, and the girls were with you. You just had to move the final few boxes, and then you would be in your new home.

Daisy was a little teary-eyed. You were, after all, leaving the only home she’d ever known. It was the home where she’d spent the first five years of her life, where you had fallen in love Colin, where her baby sister had first come home.

Rose, at about eleven months old, didn’t have enough awareness of what was going on to be upset. She stared at her big sister with big brown eyes, not understanding what was wrong.

“Are you excited to see the new house, Daisy? We told you about the garden, right? It’s got a lovely big garden.” You reached back over the back of your seat to stroke her arm.

“I know.” The girls hadn’t seen the house yet, but you’d decorated Daisy’s new bedroom in a way that you were sure she’d love.

Your friend Louise, who was pretty good at painting, had helped you paint a mural onto one of the walls. It was a scene of a jungle, with all her favourite animals featured.

Rose’s room – having separate rooms for your daughters was a big driving force behind moving house – had a mural too, but it was an undersea scene. Colin had taken the girls to the aquarium once, and Rose had sat, transfixed, staring at all the different fish.

“And we’ve got a present waiting for you when we get there,” said Colin, flashing you a grin from the driver’s seat.

“A present?” That had perked Daisy up. “What present?”

“You’ll see. It’s a surprise.”

“A surprised,” said Daisy, quietly. “I like surprisedes.”

You squeezed her hand. “Nearly there, sweetheart.”

The new house was only a ten-minute drive from the old one. It was also closer to Colin’s mom, which was very convenient, since she was always glad to babysit the girls.

As Colin pulled into the driveway, you said, “here we are.”

Daisy stared up at the house. Your old house had only one floor, but this one had two, which was a novel experience for her. The master bedroom also had an ensuite bathroom, which was a big perk for you and Colin.

Colin turned off the ignition and twisted around in his seat. “You wanna have a look around?” Daisy nodded.

You picked up Rose, while Colin took Daisy’s hand. He had a free hand, so he unlocked the front door and pushed it open wide. It opened into the living room. As you tried to walk up the steps, Max cut past you, completely unfazed by the change of scenery. He plopped himself down on the dog bed in the corner, and very quickly fell asleep.

“Rude,” you grumbled affectionately.

“Two sofas,” said Daisy, her eyes wide.

Granted, the sofas weren’t very big, but there were indeed two of them.

Your budget would be a little tight for a while, but Colin had just got a promotion at work, which came with a big bonus, which, along with the proceeds from selling your old house, as well as a gift from his mom, was enough to cover the deposit on this place.

“Come on, Daisy-daze,” said Colin, “Let’s give you the grand tour.”

You followed behind them, much more slowly. Rose kept holding out her hands, trying to touch things, which you let her do (carefully).

She was cradled in your arms as you walked into the kitchen. Colin and Daisy had already moved on. You supposed Daisy wasn’t all that interested in the kitchen. It had a brand new fridge, and in the corner were Max’s food and water bowls.

Rose pointed to the big glass double doors that led the garden, made a questioning noise, but you shook your head.

“Not yet, baby. Daddy’s saving the garden until last.” You hitched her higher up on your hip and headed upstairs. You could hear Daisy talking rapidly in her room – the door of which was marked with a wooden letter ‘D’ that was painted her favourite colour, orange – so you knocked.

“Come in!” came Daisy’s excited reply. You opened the door and she barrelled into your legs, almost knocking you off balance. Daisy was a lot heavier than she used to be, and she didn’t know her own strength.

“Woah there, sweetheart. Be careful, mama’s holding Rose right now.”

“Sorry, mama, I just love it so much.” She pointed at the big painting of the lion. “Daddy said Lulu made it.”

“She did,” you said, shifting Rose onto your other hip. Colin took a step towards you, holding out his arms to take her. Wordlessly, you passed her over. It was a familiar dance by now. Colin lifted your baby daughter up to his face and pressed kisses to both her cheeks.

“Hello my little angel,” he said, “How do you like the new house?” Rose gurgled happily. “Good.” He kissed her forehead.

The room was set up with a bed in the corner with a bright orange bedspread that had pictures of suns on it. Almost all of Daisy’s stuffed animals, barring the couple that she’d slept with at her last night in the old house, were lined up, waiting for her.

There was also an old chest of drawers you’d managed to get secondhand, and a desk that wouldn’t have fit in her old bedroom. It wouldn’t be too long before she started school, so you thought it was a nice to have. Even if she didn’t need it for homework, she could always use it for colouring in.

“Let’s go see Rose’s room, okay?”

You led your little family into the room with the red ‘R’ on the door. Rose’s room was a little smaller, but it had more floorspace, since it lacked the desk. Her new crib had been set up, with a fish-themed mobile above it. There was a chest of drawers too, as well as her playmat and toybox.

Colin set Rose down on the playmat. She immediately started to crawl, the intrepid explorer of her own new bedroom. She had almost made it to the door when you scooped her up.

“Looks like baby Rose wants to see the rest of the house. Shall we?”

Colin took Daisy’s hand again. She was less interested in the bathrooms, or in your bedroom, but as you walked downstairs, you could tell she was getting excited again.

“Are you ready for your present, Dais?” asked Colin.

“Yes, please, daddy.”

“Okay, check this out.”

You were in the kitchen now, and Colin fiddled with the locks on the back door. As soon as it was open, Daisy bounded out into the new garden. You heard her gasp before you had even made it outside yourself.

“Is that… for me?” she asked shyly, pointing at the shiny new bike that was sitting on the back porch. It was dark orange with a white basket and tassels hanging from the handlebars. It had training wheels for now, but Colin was hoping she would graduate from them soon. You were less sure. In your eyes, she was still only a baby.

“That’s your present, sweetheart,” said Colin, ruffling her hair. She spun around and hugged his legs tight.

“Thank you, daddy!” After a moment, she let go of him and sprinted over towards you. “Thank you, mama!”

With Rose on your hip, you couldn’t quite hug Daisy as well as you were hoping, but you managed to wrap one arm around her.

“Can I ride it, please, mama?”

You looked over at Colin, who was grinning at you. This was precisely the reaction that you’d both been hoping for.

“Rose is starting to get fussy,” you said. “I’m gonna put her down for a nap, if you want to help Daisy with her bike.”

You could tell it was something he was excited about. He stepped over to you and wrapped an arm around your waist.

“You’re the best, baby,” he murmured, and then kissed your temple. Rose made a whiny noise, so he kissed her on the top of the head.

You could hear Daisy’s whoops and shrieks of delight as you carried Rose upstairs to her new bedroom.

“How do you like your new room, huh, baby?” you cooed. “And your new crib. It’s a very pretty crib, isn’t it, Rosie?” You set her down.

Although she couldn’t understand what you were saying, she ran her chubby little fingers over the bars, examining her new bed.

“It’s nice and purple, isn’t it, sweetheart? Do you like the purple? Do you like your new mobile too? I know you like fishies.”

Rose had had a blank but curious expression on her face until you said the word ‘fishies’, at which point she looked at you and her little face broke into a huge grin, revealing all four of her teeth. You grinned back at her.

“Look, fishies,” you said, spinning the mobile. Rose reached up, grasping for them, although they were far too high up for her to reach. “Don’t tell your dad I said this, but maybe when you’re older, we’ll get an aquarium, and put lots of lovely fishies in it. You’d like that wouldn’t you, baby? Lots of-”

You were cut off by a shriek from outside. It wasn’t the playful shrieks that you’d been hearing for the past few minutes. It sounded pained.

Before you had a chance to think anything else, you heard loud sobbing.

Daisy. Shit.

Rose was still wriggling about, so you knew that she’d cry if you left her. For a moment, you wondered if you could leave Colin to deal with the Daisy situation, but you knew you couldn’t. Daisy hardly ever cried out loud. If she did, you knew something was very wrong.

You picked up Rose and made your way back down the stairs as fast as you dared while holding your infant daughter.

The back door was still open. You cradled Rose’s head close to your chest as you stepped outside.

Daisy’s bike was in a heap next to the porch. Daisy herself was lying in the grass, covering her face with her arms. Colin was crouched beside her, doing his best to comfort her, but looking very out of his depth.

“Where does it hurt, Daisy? I need you to show me,” he said, and you could tell that his patience was fraying.

“What happened?” you asked, and Colin’s head shot up. His eyes darted from you to Rose and back, and he grimaced.

“It’s my fault,” he said. “I took my eyes off her for two seconds and she slammed right into the edge of the porch.”

Despite your best efforts, Rose kept twisting around to try and see what was going on with her sister. At the sight of Daisy’s sobbing form, Rose began to wriggle and cry too. Hearing this, Daisy looked up at you. Her tearstained face broke your heart.

“Hey baby,” you said, squatting down next to her. Behind you, you heard Colin going back into the house. “What happened? Where does it hurt?”

Sniffling, she held out her hands. Her palms were badly grazed, and bleeding a little bit.

“I’m sorry, sweetie. That looks really painful. Anywhere else?”

“Knees,” she said, quietly.

“Here, show me.”

She shifted so that her legs were right out in front of her. There were fresh holes in her tights right at the knees, which were grazed too, though not as badly as her hands.

“Poor baby girl,” you said, stroking her hair. “You’ve had a bit of a shock, haven’t you?”

Rose had quieted by now, but she was wrigglier than ever. She was reaching for Daisy. You had to keep shifting her position.

“Hey,” came Colin’s voice from above you. He knelt down on Daisy’s other side, holding out a first aid kit. “Daddy’s gonna fix you up, okay sweetheart? I’m so sorry.”

“Not your fault, daddy.”

He didn’t argue, but you could tell he didn’t believe her. You knew how he felt. For the first couple of years, you had tortured yourself over every miniscule bruise and skinned knee, convinced that you were a terrible mother.

“We’re gonna give these cuts a little clean, okay?” said Colin soothingly. “It’ll sting a little bit, but then it’ll feel better. You need to a brave girl right now, okay?”

Daisy’s lip wobbled, but she nodded.

“Mama and daddy are right here for you, okay?” you said, stroking her hair again.

“And Rose,” she said.

“And Rose.”

Always trusting, she held out her hands to Colin. He poured a bit of antiseptic onto a cotton pad and dabbed at the graze. She winced, but didn’t pull her hands back. After a moment, it was done.

“Good girl.” You wrapped your arm around her shoulders and squeezed gently. “My brave, brave girl. You know, mama kisses have special healing powers, right?”

You kissed her palm very gently. She giggled. “I know, mama.” You kissed her other palm.

“What about daddy kisses?” asked Colin.

“I hear they’re pretty good too,” you said.

He lifted Daisy’s hands up to his face and kissed both palms. She giggled again, harder this time. “The hard part is over now,” he said. “Your knees shouldn’t hurt as much.” You helped Daisy take her tights off so that Colin could clean her up more easily.

After checking that they were, indeed, a write-off, you tossed them in the general direction of the house. They would be going in the bin.

Colin repeated the process with Daisy’s knees. She kept her eyes screwed shut, her little hand in yours, for the whole procedure.

“All done,” said Colin. He leant in to kiss her forehead. “Well done, Daisy.”

“Well done, Daisy,” you agreed.

“Daisy,” said Rose, nodding.

You were stroking Daisy’s hair back from her face, and you froze. You turned to look at Rose. “What did you just say?”

“Daisy.” Rose pointed with her whole hand at her older sister. She was wriggling so much that it was hard to keep a grip on her. She wanted to get to Daisy.

You looked at Colin. He looked just as dumbstruck as you felt.

Daisy’s face split into a grin. “She said my name!”

“She did,” said Colin. He laughed, all trace of anxiety gone.

You let Rose crawl towards Daisy. She planted herself firmly in her sister’s lap. She flailed around for a moment until she managed to grab Daisy’s arm. You all watched as she pressed her mouth against Daisy’s hand in a facsimile of a kiss.

“She’s trying to heal you,” you said. “That’s the secret, actually. Rosie-kisses have the best healing powers of all.” Colin met your eye over Daisy’s head. Your heart had never felt so full.

“Thank you, Rose,” said Daisy. She stroked her baby sister’s hair.

“Why don’t we go inside and have a snack, huh, Daisy?” asked Colin. He stood up and dusted himself off. Daisy glanced over at where her bike lay, crumpled on the ground, and her smile faltered.

She looked as though she was about to start crying again.

“What’s wrong?” you asked. “Does it hurt?” She mumbled something you couldn’t hear. “What was that?”

“I breaked my bike.” Tears were rolling down her face again. “It was a present and I breaked it!”

Colin stood up and went to go investigate the damage.

“It’s not broken, sweetheart, look,” he said, standing it up. “It’s just a bit of mud, you see? It’s just dirty. We can give it a little spray with the hose and it’ll be as good as new.”

“Really?” asked Daisy shyly.

“Really.”

“Come on my love,” he said, picking her up, careful to avoid her grazes. “Let’s get you that snack.”

---

Notes:

Preview of tomorrow's fic: Set in the 'I'll Paint You Wings'-verse. Going to the carnival with your boyfriend Eddie and your girlfriend Chrissy.

#colin zabel x reader #colin zabel x you #colin zabel fluff #evan peters x reader #evan peters x you #summer fic week 2023

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theredwritingwitch · 1 year

Text

Soulmate Fic- Home Cookin’

Pairing: Frankie Morales x reader

Soulmate AU: Food has no taste till you meet your soulmate.

Words: 1.4k

Warnings: food consumption

______________________________________________________________

Frankie just wasn’t one for parties. He was getting too old for the loud music, too achy for the dancing, and too stubborn for the small talk. Honestly, Frankie was rather hoping to spend his weekend with a cold beer and a small home improvement project in his garage. Maybe even grab a meal with the guys one night. But Santi was back in town, for good this time. Him and his soulmate Yovanna were throwing a housewarming party, and invited several friends and new neighbors over for dinner. Frankie was obliged to go as Santi’s best friend, but deep down, well actually not very deep at all, he loathed every minute of this party.

The cross of his arms and tugged down brim of his cap gave a good indication of Frankie’s lack of interest in the conversation. Even as Benny awed his small audience in the living room with his tale of his latest fight, Will and Frankie stood on their own in the corner of the room. Santi and Yovanna were busy in the kitchen, bickering over food and drinks.

“Santi says Yovanna’s cooking tastes amazing,” Will broke the brief pause in their conversation.

“I bet, but what does his cooking taste like?” Frankie smirked at his friend.

“Probably like a donkey’s ass.”

“Maybe it’s a good thing we don’t know what food tastes like then.”

“Someday you both will try my cooking and then you’ll be begging me for more,” Santi announced as he joined in on the conversation. The two men laughed at their friend as they got a good view of the old Delta Force operator in a greasy apron decaled with the phrase “Life is what you BAKE it.” Frankie played with the small front pocket of the apron as Santi flicked his fingers away announcing to the rest of the house, “Dinner’s ready! Grab a plate, it’s buffet style tonight!”

The guests followed Santi into the kitchen, where a spread of gorgeous food lay out on the kitchen island. Pitchers of pink strawberry margaritas and bright yellow summertime tea sat on the far counter. Colorful and festive bowls of cheese dip, salsa, and feta dip were situated near piles of blue and yellow tortilla chips and pretzel chips. On the island were plates of finely browned meatballs in lush gravy, grilled shrimp in a beautiful lime and lemon salsa, and brilliantly golden ravioli with choice of creamy alfredo sauce or bright red creamy tomato sauce. Even the dessert of a soft and sweetly pink meringue topped with glossy red strawberries and blueberries.

The guests all congratulated Yovanna and Santi on the beautiful and vibrant display of food. A line quickly formed as everyone made their way through the buffet, grabbing food and drinks before sitting down to eat. As the boys waited for their turn for food, Frankie stood behind Benny, smiling as his brother poked and prodded the younger man on his ever elaborating story. Benny, never one to back down from a fight, poked right back.

“Every time I hear you retell that story, it seems to get a little longer,” Will chided.

“And every time I look over at you two old men, I see more lines appearing on your ever growing foreheads.”

“Careful baby brother, these things could be in the genes, you better watch yourself.”

“Why don’t you watch what's ahead of you,” Benny pointed as he shoved Will lightly to the empty space in the line ahead of him.

Will stumbled forward but then purposely leaned back and fell against his brother, pushing the younger man into Frankie and thus forcing him to stumble back. A small squeak of surprise came out from behind Frankie, causing him to quickly turn to find its source. Frankie’s large brown eyes found yours as he turned to start spouting out an apology. You eyed the handsome man before you as he looked at you with his dropping wide open mouth. Frankie expected the person behind him to be one of the couples that showed up together, not the pretty girl next door that came over alone. Caught off guard by the sudden impact and the clear silence, you tried to stammer out an “excuse me” to the man before you.

“No no, I’m sorry. My friend pushed me. It’s my fault.”

“I was standing too close, I could have given you more space.”

“No really it’s my bad. These two idiots get me in all sorts of trouble.”

Your giggle had Frankie smiling as he introduced himself. The two of you made light conversation as you made your way through the line of food and joined the rest of the guests. Many were already chowing down on the colorful food. Santi was explaining how long he grilled the shrimp to give them the crisp they needed for their warm color. Frankie took a bite of the shrimp then, chewing and pulling the shrimp apart just to chew the clearly overcooked shrimp some more before finally swallowing, tasting nothing but the charcoal of the grill and a hint of lime. Frankie froze as all these new flavors hit his tongue. There had been plenty of times where Frankie had eaten Santi’s cooking that he had chewed and chewed the overcooked food to bits, but never once did he properly tasted it. Slowly he lifted the crisp shrimp to his tongue again, lightly tasting the overdone flames of the grill. Now wide eyed, Frankie dropped the shrimp then. He knew what this meant as his brain and eyes went into overdrive, analyzing the people around him. One of these neighbors had to be his soulmate, he just had to figure out if anyone else was having the same stomach turning emotions as he.

Chugging his margarita down to get the terrible taste out of his mouth, Frankie hummed at the delicious tastes that hit the back of his throat. His eyes quickly traveled around the room, taking note of everyone’s reactions. Many continued eating as if nothing was wrong, as if nothing was different. A few couples frowned at the food, but stayed as neutral as possible.

Frankie grimaced and went on to the meatballs, which were undercooked from the looks of the pink center and the raw taste of meat that hit his tongue. Santi must have cooked that as well. Yovanna’s ravioli saved the meal though as Frankie slurped down the tomato sauce and creamy cheese centers of the ravioli. Never in all his dreams and real travels could Frankie imagine the range of tastes that were out there in the world, even if some of them were quite bad. Frankie wondered if his soulmate was going mad from the food. But he couldn’t find anyone freaking out as he was as he looked over the guests to see many conversing with others and continuing on with their eating. He suppressed a groan from the delicious tastes of the ravioli so as to not bring attention to himself, but a cough coming from right next to him broke him out of his thoughts.

There you sat, tucked away in the corner of the room just out of eye sight of Frankie, coughing up rubbery shrimp. A few pairs of sympathetic eyes landed on you, all from people who were clearly couples, as you continued to cough.

“Try the margarita, it’ll help clear your throat,” Frankie watched you intently as he handed you his cup.

You grabbed the drink with thanks and swallowed a decent portion down. Frankie chuckled as your eyes bugged out from the delicious taste.

“Yovanna must have made the margaritas then, because Santi definitely made the tea,” you groaned out.

“I thought the same thing. Just a warning, don’t try the meatballs.”

“Oh no, another Santi creation I presume,” you chuckled and looked over at Frankie.

“Seems to be,” Frankie rubbed his beard contemplating if he should try his luck.

“I’m all of a sudden very new to this whole taste thing…” you paused as you shyly looked over to Frankie.

“Same, I’m new to it as well,” he smiled down at you which only made you mirror his smile. Looking around the room and back at you, Frankie shifted in his seat, “you know maybe the two of us could head out early and see what other things taste like…” Frankie internally groaned at his own words. It had been awhile since he flirted with anyone.

You laughed though, “I think that’s a great idea, we’ve got a lot to experience now don’t we.”

After one shared sweet meringue and at least one week spent together as a couple later; Frankie and you made sure to mail Santi a thank you card for the housewarming party, and enclosed one gift card to a cooking class.

#Frankie Morales #frankie morales x reader #Triple Frontier #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales x you

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