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atticrissfinch · 6 months

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Series: The Rogue Who Coaxed You | (joel miller x fem!reader) (18+)

Part 3: The Lunch

pairing: boss!joel miller x fem!secretary!reader summary: joel, in a rare showing of generosity, takes you to lunch. by the end of the day, he's put you back in your place again. warnings/tags: [18+ MINORS DNI] mean!joel, joel respects you approximately 0%, age gap (no specifics), infidelity, bootlicking but make it business casual, face-stepping, shoe-riding, power imbalance/dynamics, daddy!kink, hella degradation and humiliation kink [use of slut, whore, etc], facial, nudes, alcohol, mild sexual harassment from someone other than joel, and reader has hair. extra disclaimer: I want to note that some aspects of joel's character in this series could be considered borderline abusive in certain lights, and while that is not my intent for this series and reader is aroused by his treatment of her, please keep that in mind if this is one of your triggers ♥️ Another reminder that infidelity is very prevalent in this series and is used as a kink. So if that bothers you, you may want to skip this one ♥️ word count: ~6.4K | ao3 a/n: this one is a bit longer, we got a lot of stuff in here!! i wanted to explore some new kinks that I haven't really seen in the fandom. hope you guys like them 😵‍💫 Series Masterlist | Masterlist | Kofi

“Grab your coat. You’re comin’ to lunch with me.”

You do an honest-to-god double-take at the painfully handsome, well-kept Joel looming over your desk with an unreadable expression. You can’t remember the last time Joel asked you to lunch. It’s unmistakably been months since he even suggested it.

You blink. “Wait, really?”

“Really. C’mon,” He dictates, pushing off from your desk and already heading for the elevator.

You quickly lock your computer and grab your coat and purse, hurrying after him. He does have the decency to hold the doors open for you, and you slip inside.

Once the doors are securely closed, you tilt your head toward him. “Why the generosity? Not very characteristic of you when it comes to me.”

He flicks his eyes over to you momentarily before staring at the doors again. “Important supplier. Want to bring somethin’ pretty for him to look at. And you fulfill that requirement.”

“How flattering,” You comment. “Well, thank you anyway.”

He gives a small nod. “Just behave yourself, please.”

“I’m not stupid.”

You note a smile threatening his lips, like he’s dying to counter that, but he leaves it there.

When Douglas drops you off at the restaurant, Joel leads you through with a soft hand on the small of your back. It feels intimate, almost possessive, and it has your skin buzzing under your clothes.

“How’s it going, Miller?” A short, balding, unfortunate-looking man in a tailored suit stands as you approach a table near the back of the establishment.

“Not too shabby, Gary,” Joel replies, gripping the other man’s hand in a firm shake. Joel introduces you as his secretary first, and by name second.

Gary gives your hand a much more delicate shake, punctuated by a brief kiss to the back of it. “Nice to meet you, sweetheart. Gotta get me one like you,” He chuckles with a wink, and something squirmy in your stomach starts to wriggle at the condescending pet name coming from…anyone but Joel. But he swiftly gestures to the table. “Please, sit, sit.”

As Joel rounds the table with you and—surprisingly—pulls your seat out for you, Joel dips down to whisper in your ear, “You smile and be grateful through whatever he says. Just shut up and take it. Know how well you do that.”

Your cheeks warm at the statement, and you nod.

A stunning, voluptuous young woman introduces herself as your server, her wavy brown curls framing her face and her tits waging war against the still-fastened buttons of her crisp white blouse, the top three undone and revealing her impressive cleavage.

It’s impossible to ignore the way Gary sizes her up as she speaks. She doesn’t grant him much attention, but Joel certainly catches her eye. If you didn’t know him so well, you might not be able to see past his passively respectful demeanor toward her. But you do, and you can, and your stomach continues to churn in displeasure. Jealousy.

When she returns to the table with drinks, Gary ostentatiously peers down the front of her shirt as she places them in front of each of you. You swear you see her wink at Joel when she sets down his whiskey.

For the majority of the lunch, Joel and Gary prattle on about shit you don’t care about. Golf, business, shipping costs. You sit quietly, sipping at your water and occupying yourself with your meal when it’s served.

“So where’d you find this piece?” Gary asks into his scotch, indicating toward you with a pudgy finger, a titanium wedding band very clearly adorning it.

“Just got lucky, I guess,” Joel shrugs, draping an arm over the back of your seat as he takes a sip of his own drink. “Poor thing was stuck workin’ fast food when we hired her on.”

Gary’s eyebrows shoot up. “Goddamn. I’m sure those good looks were wasted being shoved into some hideous uniform. Business casual looks fine as hell on you, sweetheart,” Gary leers, boasting his compliments like he’s doing you a favor.

When you only smile politely, Joel softly taps your arm next to his draped hand. “Thank you very much, sir,” You respond, struggling to keep eye contact with the imposing man.

“Don’t be so bashful, beautiful. Be proud of those looks. Get you real far in the, uh, right hands,” Gary laughs at his own innuendo.

You hum affirmatively with a forced smile, swirling the ice in your water with your straw.

The server saves you from any further comment, approaching at just the right time. “Looks like we all enjoyed our meals. May I ask how we’ll be splitting the check today?”

Gary gives Joel a questioning look, and you look to Joel as well when he hesitates a moment.

“I can pay for myself,” You insist, turning back to the waitress. “It’s not a problem.”

“Bullshit you’re paying for yourself, sweetheart,” Gary booms out, waving off the comment. “I know he isn’t that stingy. You wouldn’t leave your girl out to dry, would you, Miller?”

Joel gives an infinitesimal shake of his head, cheating up at Gary from underneath his lashes. “Ain’t my girl,” He quips, flicking the shed paper of a straw away from him.

“I mean, she is your secretary, isn’t she?” Gary insists. “Might as well be your girl.”

“I can come back,” The waitress interrupts in offering, jabbing her thumb over her shoulder, her tits wobbling with the gesture.

“No need,” Joel announces, wagging an upright finger in a circle, indicating to the group of you, and setting his jaw as he stares down his lunch guest. “I got the whole table.”

When Gary nods approvingly, Joel cocks his head toward the server and gives her a broad, warm smile. You easily clock the look on the waitress’s face, the gentle biting of her lip as she nods with a, “Yes, sir.”

And you definitely don’t miss the glint in Joel’s eye, the parting of his lips, the swipe of his tongue, as if he’s noticing the beauty of the waitress for the first time this afternoon.

You practically roll your eyes when she glances quickly over her shoulder at him as she walks away.

It makes your cheeks burn.

The pinky of Joel’s lax hand glides subtly back and forth across the bare skin of your arm for a moment as he works his wallet out of his back pocket with the other. The tiny gestures today have your hopes almost rising like they haven’t in a while. Maybe he’s softening to you?

In your heart of hearts, you know better than that. But you bask in the fuzzy glow of it all the same. You are what you are to him, and while you do love the way he gets with you, he always leaves you a little starved for something more. Something he can’t, won’t, give you.

The waitress returns with a flashy smile and bends at the waist to set down the check presenter across your space and in front of Joel.

“Thank you, darlin’,” Joel nods in appreciation, rummaging into his wallet for his black card.

Darlin’.

Ok, nevermind. He’s definitely trying to piss you off. He has to be. He doesn’t call anyone else that. Not even his wife, from what you’ve heard. That’s one thing you have that she doesn’t. And your teeth clench at him giving it to her like it’s some trite, blasé endearment, and not a name that burns hot in your core when spilling from his lips. One he bestows upon you in his gentler moments, when it means the most. The rare ones.

The idea of that word not being special, not belonging to you…you have to blink away the tears.

“Is there anything else I can get for you, sir?” She asks, clearly addressing Joel specifically as she patiently awaits him slotting his card into the book.

Joel gives her a quick once-over and mutters with a smirk, “I’ll let you know.”

You’re not sure what comes over you, but you feel your hand surreptitiously reaching over to grip strongly just above Joel’s knee. He doesn’t startle in the slightest. As he hands the book back to the waitress, his other hand falls from the back of your chair to wrap tightly around your wrist. Your fingers loosen immediately as his own tense around you a single, threatening time before dropping it and setting you free. Your hand returns dejectedly into your lap, eyes fixed on your picked-over plate.

The waitress returns the presenter with a flirty smile, thanks you for joining them for lunch, and saunters off.

Joel doesn’t do much to conceal the phone number and the loopy “Brianna” scribbled on the customer copy of the receipt in pink, flouncy penmanship with a little heart dotting the “i”.

And you tell yourself the only reason he slips it in his pocket is for business expense reasons. Nothing else.

As you all get up from the table, Gary initiates another solid handshake with Joel and a sportsmanlike pat on his shoulder. When his attention turns back to you, he points a finger at Joel and says, “If this fucker doesn’t appreciate what you got to offer, give me a call, sweetheart. I’ll make real good use of you.”

The second Gary steps into his car, you can’t hold back from admitting, “I think I hate that guy.”

Joel smirks, securing his hand at your lower back again and leading you to where Douglas is idling at the curb. “Only ‘cause he ain’t as handsome as me. ‘F he was, you’d be suckin’ the juice from his steak right off his goddamn fingers with him talkin’ to you like that.”

“Fuck off,” You mutter, sliding into the back seat with that frustration and disappointment still simmering below the surface.

He settles in next to you, and as Douglas shuts the door after him, Joel curls a hand around your neck, and you feel yourself go almost limp, like a kitten grabbed by its scruff. Your sour mood dwindles as his coarse fingertips dance across your throat. “Bet you’d bend over in no time flat for a man like him. Showerin’ you with those compliments.”

He nuzzles at your jaw, biting a kiss into it as your eyes flutter closed with a sigh.

“But I know real goddamn well that he wouldn’t get you wet like I do. He don’t know how hard you get off on me treatin’ you like gum on the bottom of my shoe. Ain’t that right, baby?”

You swallow, your skin prickling at his breath over you. “I think it wouldn’t kill you to be a little nicer to me.”

“You want me to be nicer to you?” He asks, his hand slipping between your legs and teasing up your skirt slowly. “Because I don’t think you do. Nor do I think you deserve it.”

You squeeze your eyelids shut tighter as the tips of his fingers graze the gusset of your thong, pausing there. And honestly, when his hands are on you, his mouth, you know he’s right. The way he treats you…it’s special in its own way. Your own mutually assured destruction in hell, your own morally corrupt paradise captured in stolen moments. She doesn’t have that. She’ll never get this side of him. That’s why he keeps you at his heels in the first place.

“Ok, maybe I don’t want that,” You concede in a hitched whisper.

“I know you don’t,” He purrs, and you feel the words dripping down your spine. “Fuckin’ easy little whore.”

Your head drops back against the back of the seat as Joel strokes you once, twice through your panties, and then pulls away entirely. You whimper, your head lulling around to him as he unabashedly lifts his hips to adjust the large bulge in his slacks and sits back against his seat.

“Daddy, please,” You beg under your breath.

“Shut up,” He orders, pulling his phone out of his pocket, the “Brianna” receipt falling out with it. He glances down at it for a brief moment, then places it on his thigh to smooth it out.

“Joel…” You whisper, a little crestfallen, your brows knitting together.

“Go sit on the other side of the car if it bothers you,” He commands, glancing up from his phone with no argument in his eyes.

You shouldn’t care. You know you shouldn’t. But it feels like a betrayal, and it has that dulled simmer ratcheting up again. You sluggishly slide to the far seat, resting your chin in your palm on the car door armrest, stealing looks back at Joel as his eyes float from his phone to the receipt as he types.

“We’ve arrived, Mr. Miller,” Douglas announces, exiting the car to get Joel’s door.

Joel’s chest swells and falls with one large breath, stowing his phone in his pocket and crumpling the receipt into his hand. “Stop poutin’,” Joel scolds in your direction with a jab of his finger as his door swings open. “You’re a grown woman. And you know exactly what this is,” He gestures between the two of you.

You ache to tell him to go fuck himself. Your anxiety clenches at your insides that you’ll lose what you have of him if you do. The pleasure of his cock dragging inside of you when he deems you deserving. The affection you earn with the scrape of your fingernails against his flesh, gentle enough to fade before he gets home, but harsh enough to feel it buzz deliciously down your nail beds.

You’re not willing to risk that. To bear what that vacancy would mean. So you swallow your words in favor of the opportunity to savor another piece of him for as long as he allows.

He steps out of the car, smoothing out his suit and fastening the buttons of his coat. “Thanks, Douglas,” He nods at him in appreciation. “I’ll be a little later tonight. I’ll text you.”

“Just let me know. I’ll be here,” Douglas affirms, shoving the door closed and leaving you in relative silence.

You can hear their muffled voices, Douglas saying something like “Claire…home…four…” and Joel nodding in understanding, squeezing his shoulder with what sounds like, “Good man, Douglas,” before you see him head into the high-rise, tossing the scrunched up receipt in the garbage receptacle by the front door.

In a matter of seconds, there’s a tap on the window by your head, and you jump, whipping around to see Douglas giving you a small wave with two fingers. You pull off the armrest so he can open your door for you.

“Thanks,” You mutter as you take his hand to help you out of the car. “Does, uh,” You begin when you’re safely on your feet and the door is closing, “does any of this bother you?” You ask, your eyes flitting to the door Joel just disappeared through, then meeting Douglas’s with a small gesture toward yourself in explanation.

“Not my job to be bothered, Miss. He doesn’t pay me for that.”

“Pays for your discretion though, doesn’t he,” You mumble, running your hands down your skirt in vain due to the wrinkles from Joel’s hand weaseling its way up it mere minutes ago.

“He pays me well enough that it’s none of my business,” He confirms, heading back to the driver’s seat. “Have a nice day, Miss.”

—

After lunch today, you’re ready to just race out the door as soon as the day is over. And you fully intend on doing so, your coat and purse already on your person when the time ticks to 5 o’clock on your computer. Just as you’re logging off, a chat message pops up on your screen.

Joel Miller [5:00 PM]: My office please

You could ignore it. Leave right now and then claim you didn’t see it before you left. But, fuck, he hasn’t given you anything else today. Only the tantalizing stroke of his fingers under your skirt in the car for a few fleeting moments. And you’re thirsting for it, for his attention. Any attention.

You let your things slump to the floor and head for his office as the rest of the staff file for the elevators and stairs.

Joel is leaning against the front of his desk, glancing down at his phone in one hand, and nursing a glass of amber liquid in the other—5 o’clock somewhere, indeed. When you close the door behind you, he sets the phone down to watch you pull the blinds.

“So good at comin’ when I call,” He praises, his eyes heated as they take you in. “No big plans tonight?”

“Just one big plan,” Your voice lilts, your gaze falling to his crotch in explanation.

Joel breathes out a laugh, taking a drink. “That so?”

“Hope so,” You banter back, stepping closer to him.

“I dunno,” Joel sings, looking you up and down. “I don’t love how you grabbed my leg at the restaurant earlier.”

You stop your advances, raising an eyebrow at him.

He frees his hands to cross over his chest, the veins of his forearms protruding at the motion, drawing your eye with the intensity of a feast to a man starved.

“Actin’ like you own me. Like I belong to you. When I sure as hell don’t.”

The words hit harder than you want them to, but you’ve been fighting that all day. You fold your own arms across your chest, shuffling your feet. “I know you don’t.”

“Do you? Seems like you forgot.”

“I didn’t.”

“Then tell me who I do belong to.”

You look up at him, bitterness in your features. “Her,” You vocalize with a hint of resentment.

“Say her goddamn name.”

You chew the inside of your cheek, staring down at the carpet. “Claire.”

When your eyes meet again, he nods, his tongue running over his teeth behind his lips. It’s silent for a beat until he speaks again.

“Get on the floor.”

You’re used to this, practically second nature to you as you drop to your knees hastily, looking up at him with expectant doe eyes.

But he shifts his jaw and says, “Did I say get on your knees?”

“You said…”

“I said get on the floor. So get on the goddamn floor.”

A little lost, you assess his reaction as you fall forward on your hands, situating yourself on all fours.

Joel scoffs, his arms flexing with the shaking of his head. “All the way. On. The goddamn. Floor.”

You can’t mask the confusion on your face as you flop down onto your forearms and drop your hips to the carpet, prone on the ground and feeling pathetic.

“That’s better,” Joel affirms, lifting his glass and taking a sip as he stares down at you.

From this angle looking up, your line of sight is a straight shot for his tenting pants. A reminder that he does want you. That he’s turned on by you, or some element of you. As perplexed as you are with your current position, whatever he wants from you tonight, the thought of it has him straining at his slacks already. And it’s a point of pride that you can do it for him.

“Joel, why am I—”

“My shoes.”

You squint slightly, studying the spotless black oxfords on his feet. “What about them?”

“Looks like they need a little love, don’t they?”

You scrunch your brows together, craning your neck to look up at him. “They’re…they’re pristine, Joel. They’re always pristine.”

And they are. He has them shined every morning, sometimes does it himself midday. You can see your reflection in them as you lie on the ground like a worm at his feet.

The corners of Joel’s mouth tip downward and he bows his head as he peers down at you. “I think they could use a little spit shine, don’t you?”

You feel a cooling shiver down your spine, his implied order finally dawning on you. “Oh.”

He nods at his shoes. “Go on. My patience is wearin’ thin, and you sure could use some goddamn humility.”

So that’s what he wants out of you. Humility.

He wants your pride served to him on a silver platter, presented to him like one of those poor saps serving hors d'oeuvres at his snooty parties. Wants to consume it for himself, as if his ego could expand past where it already screams and stretches across his broad chest like his fitted dress shirt.

To be truthful, he already owns your pride. You’d think it would be proof enough that you’re on your stomach on the grimy carpet of his office at his command. But if he wants more of it, all of it, it’s his. He can have it.

You tentatively pull yourself closer toward him on your elbows, like a limp army crawl, eyes locked on his. You’re not sure why you expected him not to track the movement of your humiliating squirming, but there’s not a shadow of a doubt that he’s reveling in it. There’s a firmness in his jaw, a smugness in his lips, a fierceness in his eyes. The hunger coursing through him, the bulging in his slacks, has both shame and the remnants of your respectability burning out across your skin as you skid along the itchy, speckled carpet. Like it’s trying to escape, trying to crawl to him on its own.

As you come face to face with the shining shoes, you hesitate, unsure if he actually wants you to spit on them.

“Put those pretty lips to good use, sweetheart,” He coos at you.

And even though this is new territory for you, something you’ve never even considered before, it simultaneously, bizarrely, almost feels like you belong here. At his feet. An order to kiss them, worship them like you do his body.

You take a deep breath and pucker your lips, lowering them until they hit leather. You kiss them chastely, then gauge his reaction.

“Little more,” He encourages, his forearms contracting deliciously, begging you to sink your teeth into his flesh as you plead him to feed you his cock harderfasterdeeperfuckplease.

You part your lips this time as you descend, placing a wetter kiss to his left shoe.

“Don’t be shy, sweetheart,” He rumbles, his voice going raspier as his fingers glide over the buckle of his belt, unfastening it deftly along with his pants. “Really make ‘em shine for daddy.”

You ignore the heat rising in your cheeks as your kisses go wetter, sloppier on the leather. You can see the black glistening more with your saliva each time your mouth descends on the material. You flood your mind with images of Joel like it’s his mouth, or something filthier, that you’re devouring.

“There we go, baby. Nice and sloppy, just like that,” He grits out, seeing movement out of the edge of your vision that confirms that he is stroking himself to the sight of you. “Damn, such a pathetic little bitch, aren’t you?”

You hum against his shoe, your hand wrapping around his opposite ankle for a little leverage as your mouth’s actions increase in passion, but he swiftly jerks out of your grip and balances on his one foot for a moment.

“Don’t fuckin’ touch me. I didn’t say you could touch me,” He barks out with a sharp edge.

You gaze up at him with messy, plumped lips, spit coating the lower half of your face. “I’m sorry, daddy.”

“Yeah, you are,” He grunts out, his hand frozen at the base of his cock, but still tightening around it. The toe of his lifted shoe drifts over to your head, the sole meeting the top of it and forcing you down until your dampened cheek is pressed against the carpet, held down by his shoe pressuring at your temple.

The tip of his toe slips down to the plush of your cheek, until the flat of his sole descends on it, squishing the flesh against your teeth and further indenting the low pile of the carpet into your other cheek. Your skull begins to register the squeezing pressure in a way that has your cunt throbbing with disgrace and mortification.

But god, it feels so fucking right.

Joel rotates his foot in tight circles, your cheek sliding against your clenched teeth with the motion. Joel’s stilled hand picks up again in the corner of your eye, pumping the full length of himself as he steps on your face. “Jesus, you don’t even have a shred of dignity left, do ya?” He chuckles cruelly.

You whimper mutedly and shake your head with the minimal amount of give his foot grants you.

“And that’s just how I like ya,” He rumbles, flexing the toe of his shoe in brief bursts, rhythmically intensifying the pressure on your cheekbones and spurring on a stinging wetness in your eyes at your lingering embarrassment. “Say ‘thank you, daddy, for stripping me of my dignity.’”

You let out a pathetic dry sob, and recite through your forced-pouted lips, “Thank you for s-stripping me of my dignity, daddy.”

Joel exhales a sneer through his nose and pushes off your head with one final punishing punch of pressure muttering, “Worthless cunt.”

The insult, the fresh memory of his foot on your face, has your pussy dripping in desire. You’ve never even dreamed of this level of humiliation, let alone loving it. But he’s here, supplying you with this opportunity—privilege—to be crushed under him like a bug. And you’re luxuriating in it. You want more of it, but dare not ask. This isn’t about you or your pleasure. It’s about power. And you want him to choke you with it.

“Get up. On your knees,” He orders, his hand working quicker over his cock now. You’re on your knees in seconds, up close and personal with the flushed head of his dick. “Guess who I’ve been textin’ all day?” He baits, his hand jerking his length hastily.

“W-who?”

A smug smile creeps across his face. “That slutty piece of ass servin’ us at lunch today. She’s a real nasty thing,” He brags, pausing to spit into his hand and twist at the head of his cock. “Sent me a picture of those fat tits the second I hit her up.”

The mention of Brianna has your jaw tensing, but you remain silent.

Joel reaches back for his phone, and you watch as his thumb scrolls on the screen. “Fuck, that’s a nice pair. Bet she’d send me her cunt too if I asked right now. Shit, I wanna bust my load all over those tits,” He grunts as his hand slaps against his skin.

A noise makes its way from the back of your throat at his deliberate power move, and you fail to stop yourself from piping up.

“Daddy,” You protest pleadingly, “Look at me.”

Joel barely concedes, holding his phone out a little further, eyes darting between the screen and your face as they go hooded. Joel’s sounds grow breathy and heavy as he divides his attention between the pictures before him—one fake, one very real—until he groans his release, thick ropes of come hitting your face and your hair. He pulls at his cock as his orgasm ebbs, until he’s wrung himself dry over your skin.

“Fuck. Needed that,” He murmurs, discarding his phone and returning his cock into his boxers.

You’ve come to expect a lot in the way of Joel’s callousness, but your insecurities start to get the better of you as the reality of what he just did sets in. In some convoluted way, it would have hurt you less if he was staring at his wife’s tits, rather than some random stranger’s. You know Claire. She’s familiar territory. But him getting off to some bitch who winked at him at lunch? Some nobody? When you’re right there in front of him, practically begging to be used?

“That was fucking mean,” You dare to condemn him, gritting your teeth with the evidence of his release still dripping down your face.

“Aww, did you not like that?” He mocks with a little condescending pout as he zips his pants.

“I have tits you could’ve come on,” You argue back.

“Yeah?” He asks, buckling his belt with practiced fingers. “You wanna try and take a better photo for me, baby?”

At the chance to prove yourself, you nod up at him eagerly.

“Unbutton that blouse then,” Joel instructs, picking up his phone again and aiming it down at you. “Show me those beautiful tits.”

Your fingers move quickly, fumbling to slip the buttons through the holes. You pull your arms free until the shirt dangles from where it’s tucked into the hem of your skirt, and reach back to unclasp your bra.

“Mmm,” Joel rumbles as your tits are revealed to him, extending a hand to massage one of them with a broad hand. “Don’t get to see these enough. Always too goddamn eager to stuff your holes.”

“Worthy of a picture?” You ask with pleading eyes, cupping both of them in your hands as Joel’s retracts.

“They’ll do. I think it’s my come on your face that really sends it over.” Joel focuses on his screen for a moment, angling until he’s satisfied, and then hitting the shutter. “There we go. That’s real fuckin’ slutty.”

He turns the phone for you to see, and your eyes go wide. You look absolutely trashed. Thick streaks of pearly white coat your cheeks, nose, forehead, and lips. Under Joel’s come, you can see light smatterings of dirt on one cheek from his shoe, and slight impressions of the carpet on the other. Your eyes are watery and tinged with red, your lips similarly wet and puffy. You barely even register that your tits are in the picture, and you’d wager that’s exactly how Joel intended it.

It becomes obvious to you then that the photo wasn’t about appreciating your tits. It was about immortalizing the humiliation he’s foisted upon you.

And all you can really think is, Take that, Little Miss Brianna.

“That’s definitely a good one. That’s goin’ in my private collection for sure.”

You feel a swelling of pride in your chest, a smile teasing at your lips. Riding on that sliver of praise, you ask with all the humility you can muster, “Daddy? May I please get off with your come on my face?”

Joel tosses his phone onto his desk and swipes up some of his semen from your cheek, pressing it into your mouth. You open for him willingly, sucking it off with enthusiasm. He stares down at you, studying you as he considers your request.

“You think you earned it?”

You nod, still suckling on his thumb despite all traces of him being long gone.

“Alright. You can get off,” Joel starts, pulling his finger from your mouth and dragging your lower lip down until it snaps back into place, “If you can get there by riding my shoe.”

You let out a small whine at the prospect. Something else you’ve never even fathomed you’d do, something you probably couldn’t have thought up if left to your own devices for ages. But all at once it feels like a need. “Okay.”

You shimmy your underwear down your hips, flinging them off once you’ve freed them from your legs. As you hitch your skirt and start to lower down, Joel interrupts.

“Not so fast. Take everything off. Let me see what’s mine.”

You have to jerk yourself out of the momentary haze, the euphoric thrumming through your brain and your body at him calling you his. And then you’re naked below him—completely stripped bare for him in nothing but your strappy heels as he stands fully clothed in his luxury suit, hardly a hair out of place. It makes you feel like a plaything, like a pet. But also like a piece of art for him to admire. Priceless and worthless to him in the same instance. Priceless in that you are worthless. You cost him nothing, and it almost makes you feel powerful.

Almost.

Then you’re lowering yourself onto one of those shining oxfords, and your throbbing cunt is pulsing out silent thank yous for the friction.

“Daddy,” You moan out, rolling your hips to glide the wet, desperate folds of your pussy across the toe of his shoe. Tentative hands wrap around his thigh, gripping harder when he doesn’t protest and using your hold to anchor the rocking of your hips.

“Goddamn, baby,” Joel marvels at you, eyes going a little brighter as you debase yourself further. “Spent over a thousand bucks on these shoes and I’m lettin’ you rub your sloppy cunt all over ‘em. I deserve another ‘thank you’.”

“Thank you, daddy,” You voice effortlessly, thoughtlessly as you stimulate your clit on the slick leather. You feel the tip of his toe raise slightly on your downward grinds, pressing harder against that sensitive nub that’s been beating like a fucking metronome ever since he touched you in the car.

“That shoe feel as nice on your cunt as it did on your face, baby?”

“Yes, daddy! Please!” You beg, not entirely sure for what, throwing your head back and riding him like you would his cock on a more normal day.

Your hips undulate, the pointed toe clipping against your clit each time you’ve run out of shoe to grind against, then again when you glide back on. As his shoe widens further down, it spreads your lips along with it, sliding along your folds with heat from his foot within.

“God, such a desperate little whore. Could pay your fuckin’ rent with this shoe, and instead I’m just lettin’ you use it to rut against like a braindead bitch.”

You just moan, feeling your release burgeoning in your lower stomach as you ride him. “Fuck, daddy, may I please come?” You whine, feeling yourself cresting, waiting on Joel’s go-ahead.

He keeps you at your peak as he ponders, finally exhaling, “I guess. Hump it ‘til you come real pretty for me, baby.”

With his approval, pleasure floods your system, flows under your skin, and all you can think is how grateful you are to him for giving you this. His full attention, his permission to come, his shoe for your stimulation. You’ll take whatever you can get from him, and this is enough.

Your forehead crashes against his thigh as you come down, but you’re immediately shoved back by Joel’s hand. “Keep that shit off my pants. I don’t need any questions from Claire.”

Dazedly, you nod, slurring out an apology.

Joel yanks his shoe out from under you, crossing it over his opposite thigh to inspect it. “Fuckin’ disgusting.” He drops it back to the floor and threads his fingers into your hair at the scalp, and shoves your head downward as he spits out, “Clean up your fuckin’ mess.”

You fall forward on the carpet, ass in the air and face level with your translucent slick on the smooth black. You don’t even think, you just obey, mouthing enthusiastically at the damage you’ve done. You savor your own taste off the sweet earthiness of the leather, alternating between sucking and tonguing at his shoe, shamelessly extending the show for him a little longer.

Joel finishes off his drink as he enjoys the view, reclining against the edge of his desk as you work. “You’re so much sexier when you just shut the fuck up and do as I say. So fuckin’ whiny and mouthy all the goddamn time.”

You peer up at him as you continue to clean the leather, highlighting your silent obedience to him. But the silence is cut short by a loud vibration against the desk. Joel snatches up his phone and holds a solitary finger to his lips as he glances down at you and answers.

“Hey, beautiful…yeah, I got caught up with something last minute, but I’ll be home soon.” Joel circulates the toe of his shoe beneath your lips as he talks, encouraging you to keep going, and you do.

“The herb chicken is fine, but please remind Beth to nix that creamed spinach atrocity she served with it last time. I could give two shits if it’s good for me, I’m not chokin’ that down again.”

You hear a tinny, muffled response, and then Joel sighs out with a feigned, smiling annoyance, "Alright, sorry, I couldn't give two shits. Miss Grammar Queen," He teases lightheartedly.

You try to tune him out, do what he asked you to do, but your ears have other ideas. The ease with which he talks to her just makes you redouble your efforts, battling for his attention again.

“Well, I just figured you would be my dessert,” He purrs over the line, followed by a sultry, flirtatious laugh. “But I’ll happily have my cake and eat it too, baby.”

Your attempts to smooth your scowl feel endless as you try to concentrate on your task at hand and filter out his bullshit. Your chest lightens a bit when he finally bids her an innuendo-laced goodbye and slides his phone into his pocket.

“That’s good enough,” He says gruffly, gently pushing you off of him with the tip in your mouth. You detach with saliva dripping over your chin and his shoe, positive that you look nothing less than thoroughly destroyed.

You settle upright with your bare ass seated on the backs of your calves, allowing your eyes to roam over him as he stretches his neck from side to side, straightening his tie and centering his fastened belt.

Joel stretches over his desk and tosses a box of tissues on the floor. “Clean yourself up before you leave.”

He busies himself compiling what he needs for the night, and you wipe at your face as best you can. As he hoists his laptop bag onto his shoulder and rounds the desk, you pluck up your courage.

“Are you gonna fuck that girl? That server?”

Joel looks almost taken aback that you asked. He stands still for a moment, staring at the door before his eyes land on your poised, naked form on your knees. “Would it hurt your feelings if I did?”

He seems earnest in his question, so you’re earnest in your response. “Yes.”

Joel nods, then crouches down to your eye level, tucking a crooked finger under your wiped-clean chin. His eyes search yours, and you’re not sure what he’s looking for. But when he’s convinced he has every glimmer of your attention, he whispers before he presses an innocent kiss to your lips, “Well, then, darlin'. I might just have to stop and fill her up on my way home.”

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weemssapphic · 9 months

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Do you think you could do a fic where the reader has a chronic illness? I don’t have a preference for which Gwendoline Christie character you choose, they’re all lovely. Any genre 💗💗💗

A/N: thank you SO much for this request. as a chronically ill girlie i love the idea of writing more fics like this - both hurt/comfort style but i guess also just reader having an illness and it being apart of their every day life. huge thank you to @eveymay for helping me brainstorm characters and settle on jan stevens - i think she'd be the most considerate, sweetest person to comfort someone. and thank you so much to @milfsloverblog for helping me to beta - i trust her as my number one source for everything jan stevens. anyway i hope you enjoy 💖

slow down, you’re doing fine

Jan Stevens x reader

Words: ~2.8k | ao3 link in title

Content/warnings: hurt/comfort, discussion of chronic pain and illness (symptoms such as fatigue, pain, dizziness, brain fog, nausea), migraine

“Hurry up! We’re leaving, you’re going to be late.” Elle’s words were accompanied by a knock on the bathroom door, and you couldn’t help but clench your jaw.

“Just go ahead without me, I’ll catch up,” you replied - you heard a huff, and then the shuffle of footsteps moving away from the door. With a sigh, you directed your gaze into the mirror, regarding yourself carefully as your lips settled into a deep frown. You looked tired. Fitting, considering how poorly you’d been sleeping this past week. So not only did you feel like shit today - you looked like shit, too. Cool.

You’d started your residency at the Sonic Catering Institute with your group a few months ago and so far it had been like a dream come true. You finally had the time to devote yourself 100% to the pursuit of art - nearly all your time was spent rehearsing, experimenting and performing. Every day was dedicated to your craft, and it was your version of bliss.

But even bliss was hard to enjoy with a chronic illness - you constantly felt as though you were seconds away from crumbling, as though one bad day could take away everything you’d worked so hard to achieve. You’d been having a flare-up the past few days (as you seemed to have every few weeks lately, almost like clockwork) - every evening you would go to bed and pray that, come morning, your body would afford you some brief reprieve. It never really did, of course - today was no different.

A dull throbbing could be felt behind your eyes - ever present, but no less painful or frustrating - and your joints ached before you’d even moved a muscle. You’d briefly considered staying in bed today - getting up meant facing the day, meant facing your body. But staying in bed meant having to call in sick - it meant curious looks from your bandmates, it meant disappointing Jan Stevens.

Oh, Jan - infamous, enigmatic director of the Sonic Catering Institute. Your relationship was still fairly new and, well… undefined. She flirted with you relentlessly, and you flirted back, though neither of you had made a move yet. Sometimes you caught her watching you, or staring at your lips a bit too long as you spoke, but someone else was always there to interrupt the two of you. Still, you found yourself dying to impress Jan, to get closer to her, to be with her even.

So, no, staying in bed wasn’t an option. It’s not like it would magically make you feel better anyway. You’d still feel like shit - you’d just be in bed instead.

After a few minutes of just holding yourself up on the edge of the sink, you went about your morning routine, mechanically half-assing all the necessary steps - brushing your teeth, brushing your hair, splashing water on your face.

Getting dressed was a little more challenging - it was the more exhausting part of your routine, and it was on days like today that you wished you’d chosen some stupid work-from-home job at a computer instead of your current career, if only so that you could show up to work in your pajamas and no one would care. A small (or maybe not all that small) part of your mind wandered to Jan, however, so you grimaced as you attempted to look your best for her.

~~~

Getting through the day was more of a challenge than you thought it would be. During your weekly meeting to go over notes and changes to performance techniques, you were seated directly next to Elle as she engaged in a heated discussion with Jan - Elle’s raised voice directly in your ear was enough to make your head pound viciously. You wouldn’t take pain meds yet, though - you didn’t want to risk them wearing off before the concert tonight.

Every so often, Jan’s impenetrable gaze would flick over to you. She seemed to be able to tell that something was off - red lips pursing in thought, deep blue eyes regarding you curiously under heavy black lashes.

Elle ended up storming out of the meeting, with Lamina close behind, already beginning to argue with her. Stones excused himself, one hand on his stomach as he rushed out of the room. That left you and Jan as you slowly packed your things, feeling her gaze upon you.

Jan flashed you a smile and stood from her seat, walking over to your side of the table with her voluminous white skirt swishing behind her. She perched herself on the edge of the table in front of you, placing a hand on the papers you were about to pick up, effectively stilling your movements.

“Well, well, I finally have you alone,” she said playfully as she loomed over you - her height was as intimidating to you as it was attractive, and you swallowed visibly.

“Jan Stevens.” You tilted your head in acknowledgement. Normally, you would have thrilled at such an opportunity - right now, though, you wished you were curled up in a ball in bed.

You attempted to slide your papers out from underneath Jan’s hand - her eyes dropped to the table and she placed her hand over yours. “They’re so pretty - your hands, I mean. Here, let’s compare sizes.” She lifted her hand and nodded eagerly at you - mesmerized, you couldn’t help but place your palm against hers - it was larger than your own, her fingers longer. It was surprisingly warm and oh so soft and you felt a spark of electricity go through your body when your bare skin touched hers.

“Oh! Look how well they fit together.” Jan’s lips pulled into a wide grin and she batted her lashes, her fingers curling slightly around yours. “A perfect match!”

You flushed, feeling a warmth rising in your face, and you pulled your hand away with a timid smile. “Y-yeah.”

Perhaps, if you’d felt a little better, a little less like complete garbage, you might have had the energy to flirt back - but it seemed your traitorous body couldn’t even let you have that much, unable to summon up the effort for a witty comeback.

Jan’s brows knit together, her lips parted slightly as she searched your face. “Are you alright?” she asked softly.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You offered her a weak smile. Jan looked skeptical, watching as you stuffed your papers into your bag and stood - too quickly, apparently, as you swayed slightly and your vision became hazy around the edges. You tipped forward a bit, catching yourself on the table and taking deep breaths, waiting for the room to stop spinning.

Jan pushed off the table in an instant, standing behind you and placing a hand on the small of your back - you couldn’t help but shiver.

“Are you not feeling well, darling?” she asked, her voice gentle and breathy.

“What?” You gave her your best doe eyes, hoping she wouldn’t probe you further. “I’m fine, I promise.”

“Will you be alright to perform tonight?” You could sense the anxiety radiating off of her in waves - you knew how much pressure she’d been under lately, and it was one more reason why you couldn’t let her down.

“Yes, of course.” You used all the effort you could summon up to beam at her, hoping it would set her mind at ease. “Please, don’t worry about me.”

Jan looked slightly unconvinced, but she nodded and smiled all the same.

“Then I’ll see you tonight,” she murmured. With a curious glance and a moment’s hesitation, she leaned forward, placing a chaste kiss to the corner of your mouth. Your skin tingled pleasantly where her lips had been moments before, and you felt butterflies in your stomach. She reached out a hand to help you stand, watching as you left the room.

~~~

The rest of the afternoon passed by torturously slowly as you attempted to avoid all human interaction and wait for your pain meds to kick in - they never did. The concert was even worse. Your body was screaming at you to get some rest, but you couldn’t risk your residency - and, most of all, you didn’t want to let Jan down. So you tried to smile through it, pretending like the sound of the flanger wasn’t making your head pulse and like standing for an hour and a half wasn’t making your body ache and like the stuffy air, filled with the scent of various cooking foods, wasn’t making you feel dizzy and extremely nauseous.

And then there was the orgy after the concert - the mere thought of attending made you feel ill. You wanted to - you knew Jan would be there watching, and you would do anything for Jan. But a wave of nausea hit you just before entering the room, so you rushed to the bathroom instead. You left the bathroom door open - everyone else was at the orgy, surely no one would even notice you were gone. You sat on the floor in front of the toilet, a cool, damp washcloth pressed to your forehead. The nausea had begun to settle, but you were so tired and the bathroom tiles were pleasantly cool, so you stayed there, eyes closed, head leaned back against the wall.

You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn’t hear the clicking of approaching heels - it wasn’t until you heard a voice in the doorway that you jumped a bit, your eyes snapping open.

“You’re not feeling well.”

Jan Stevens looked down at you, eyes flooded with concern. It wasn’t a question - rather, it was a statement - and you almost tried to deny it - then your eyes flicked to the toilet in front of you and you realized you couldn’t hide from Jan any longer.

“Yeah… I feel like shit, to be honest,” you admitted quietly, not quite able to meet Jan’s gaze - afraid of the disappointment you’d surely see there.

The taller woman surprised you by stepping towards you and sliding down the wall until she was sitting next to you - close enough for her scent, light and floral, to fill your nostrils, but not close enough to touch you. You looked at her curiously.

“I’ve been missing you tonight. I was wondering where you’d gone.”

The thought of Jan Stevens - the Jan Stevens - missing you made your stomach do a somersault, your heart beginning to pound violently.

“I had a date with an old friend,” you joked, tilting your head towards the toilet. Jan’s lips curved up into a smile, before she turned serious again.

“You’re ill. You could have told me.” Her voice held no reproach or anger - it was soft and gentle; if anything, she sounded worried. “You could have stayed in bed today, skipped the concert.”

“I didn’t want to disappoint or- or worry anyone. Especially you.” You added that last part quietly but from the way Jan’s eyes widened, you were certain she’d heard you loud and clear.

You chewed your lip as you searched for the right words - a way to convey how you felt without giving cause for too much concern. “If I stayed in bed every time I felt like this, I don’t think I’d ever get out of bed.” You tried to keep your voice light, chuckling slightly - one of your biggest fears was always being misunderstood, not being taken seriously, being seen as useless due to your illness.

Jan reached out for your hand, threading her fingers between your own.

“What is it? Can you describe it to me?”

No one had ever really asked for details about your illness before - some people asked to be polite, but Jan seemed so sincere, like she really cared. You cleared your throat nervously. “Well, part of it is chronic migraines. They’re, uh… not really treatable. I get nauseous a lot, and sometimes I get dizzy when I stand. I’m also really, um, tired all the time? Tired isn’t the right word, it’s more like exhausted. And it’s not just my head that hurts, it’s everything, all the time.”

You paused, thinking for a moment. “Doctors haven’t figured out why yet, it’s kind of hard to be taken seriously. But sometimes it’s bearable, you know? Like, it’s there but I can deal with it. But sometimes I flare up and that’s… harder.”

Jan nodded along as you spoke, her eyes scanning your face with great interest - when you finished, she was silent for a moment. Just as you began to wonder if you’d said too much, she stood and reached out her arms to you.

“Come with me,” she said. You furrowed your brow but allowed her to pull you into a standing position, and then she took you by the arm and escorted you out of the bathroom - you didn’t realize where she was leading you until you were ushered into her bedroom, the door closing behind you.

“I thought you’d be more comfortable here tonight. It’s just me here, you know. And you won’t have to worry about the others getting back late and disturbing your sleep.” She regarded you carefully, some emotion you couldn’t quite identify swimming in her cerulean pools.

You felt your cheeks grow warm, nerves washing over you as you looked around the spacious room, eyeing the large, luxurious bed. “You’re right, that does sound nice. I just…”

“What is it?” Jan asked, suddenly looking utterly nervous.

“I don’t want to impose, is all - this is your private space and-”

“Is it imposing if I want you here, darling?” Jan cut you off, her lashes fluttering as she watched you drink in the space.

“Uh… no, I suppose not.” You smiled hesitantly - Jan’s smile matched your own.

“Then you just stay right here, darling. I’ll get you something to wear.”

Jan left you standing at the center of the room to head to her walk-in closet, coming back with a pair of silk pajamas and directing you to her en-suite bathroom, where she pointed out an extra toothbrush. Soon you were ready for bed and, at Jan’s insistence, you settled back on the plush mattress - it was large and comfortable, and you found your fatigued body sinking into it, your eyes fluttering closed in momentary bliss.

When you opened your eyes, Jan stood at the edge of the bed watching you, a small, adoring smile playing on her lips.

“I suppose you’d like to go back to the orgy then?” you asked quietly, feeling a familiar gnawing sense of guilt at taking up too much of Jan’s time, at asking too much from her and taking too much.

Jan hesitated, stepping even closer to the bed. “What if I want to stay here with you? Will you have me?”

“Of course,” you breathed, your stomach fluttering and your eyes widening.

A wide smile bloomed on Jan’s face, and she left the room for a minute, her hips swaying and her dress swishing back and forth. She came back in light pink, silk pajamas with a matching bonnet that had two long bunny ears dangling from the sides, perching herself on the edge of the bed. You couldn’t help yourself - you pushed yourself up and ran a hand over one of the silky, dangly ears and let out a giggle.

“What?” Jan eyed you curiously.

“Nothing,” you said sheepishly, your face flushing. “I just find you very endearing, Jan Stevens.”

That remark earned you the warmest smile you’d ever received.

After such a long day, lying in the warmest, most comfortable bed you’ve slept in in a while, you allowed your body to go limp. The aches and pains were still present, of course they were, but exhaustion was slowly taking over and your eyelids were beginning to grow heavy as Jan tucked you securely under the duvet. Jan’s scent surrounded you - it was everywhere: on her sheets, her pillows, her clothes, clinging to the air. On her, as she snuggled in next to you, eyeing you intently - those deep blue irises sparkling with adoration.

A question formed on the tip of your tongue, one that suddenly began to nag you as you felt the pull of sleep, one that you couldn’t leave unasked: “Will I still be welcome here in the morning?” It came out a low mumble as you tried not to let your sudden apprehension become too apparent.

Jan furrowed her brow, her face falling slightly as adoration and awe morphed into confusion and concern in equal parts. “Of course, silly.” She gave you a reassuring smile and placed a warm hand on your arm as she scooted closer to you, daring to rest her head on your chest. “You know, I’d like to have you in my bed when you aren’t in pain, too.”

Your belly tingled pleasantly as a shy smile spread across your face. “I’d like that very much.”

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#jan stevens #jan stevens x reader #flux gourmet #gwendoline christie #jan stevens flux gourmet

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k4katsujin · 11 months

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ATSV CHARACTERS AT THE BEACH!!?!?!?!?!?!?!,

i just came (haha funny word) home from the beach and im hella exhausted but :3 it's been a while since i last posted smth "real" on here so there i go 🕺🏻

(apologies to @ukranianacearo im working on your request i promise my computer keeps dying and the heat make it hell to finish BUT we 🆙️ 🫡)

SO content :3 // headcanons only, miguel, hobie, both miles and peter b parker are included :D and indeed gender neutral reader,, enjoy 🕺🏻🫶🏼

also idk if that makes sense but reader is in a separate relationship with all the characters and slightly ooc everyone 🫡

☆ hobie is the one who proposed going to the beach and you'd be the only one who hyped him up. the hardest spidersociety's member to convince obviously being miguel, you ran to lyla to do so. (since he has a soft spot for her he said yes, not for fun but to watch on you and the others. (but he actually ends up having fun)

"come on, it'll be fun!plus, it would be a shame to not come since it's like 35 degrees outside, and it'd give you a well-deserved vacation"

+ he's the kind to throw you in the freezing water because he'd find it funny how you're mad at him afterwards (but you never stay mad at him for a long time because look at that man. he is a slut. (in a pretty way) + he's also the kind of boyfriend to carry you on his shoulders to like. idk what's that's called but like he'd have on his shoulders and fight another person on another's shoulders. (you would lose bc you didn't stop moving)

☆ miguel would be the grumpy kind for sure. he came there because he knew that'd make him happy and you know he can't help it when it comes to his sunshine <3 (guess lyla isn't his only soft spot X)) he would definitely hold you like a princess in the water and teach you how to swim if you don't know how to,, he'd even find it cute

(in a soft tone) "why do you want to go to the beach? to learn how to swim? OK i'll gladly teach you :D"

and then he'd just turn into the softest teacher ever bc it'd remind him of teaching his daughter. eventually you didn't succeed at learning how to swim, but at least you spent a very wholesome moment together :D

☆peter would be the crackhead dad XD i js feel like you'd be the one watching him and mayday and even help him teach mayday to swim :3 + he'd be like super hyper because going to the beach isn't something he does often bc of his spiderman job and stuff so :3

"what did you say?? you want to go to the beach with me and mayday?? YES PLEASE. ITS BEEN YEARS SINCE I HAD ANY FORM OF ENTERTAINMENT."

☆ 1610 miles would be so hype bc he never went to the beach before, so going with his partner for the first time? he sure is happy :D

"wait?!?!?! is this a kind of date? this is so cool!!!"

but then the heat would just make you too tired to actually swim so you'd just chill, like cuddles and stuff

☆earth 42 miles wouldn't be hyped at first because he's more of an indoors person, like to him going outside when it's already hot us unuseful

"don't you want to stay inside? not gonna lie, im a bit lazy to go out right now."

but he accepts, and he had more fun than he would ever admit

the two last ones seem hurried im sorry 😭😭😭

but :> hope you enjoyed!

please reblog it helps a lot with reach, please, and thank you!

#kaheri's chronicles #x reader #spiderman atsv #hobie brown #spiderman across the spiderverse #lgbtq #across the spiderverse #peter b parker #peter parker #miguel ohara #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #earth 42 miles fluff #earth 42 miles x you #miles molares #earth 42 miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles x reader #miles morales #marvel 1610

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neewtmas · 11 months

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A Bouquet Of Tulips

A/N: This was fun to write! I used this request as an opportunity to write a reader that is not working for Lockwood & Co because it's rare that that is fitting, but I thought here it did and it's a nice change. This is also written from Lockwood's POV.

@ the anon who requested, I'm not sure if this was what you're looking for, but I hope you like it :) everyone enjoy <3

pairing: anthony lockwood x fem!reader

wordcount: 2.2k

request: Hey, I'd like to request a lockwood x reader where they're going on their first date together and there's just loads of fluff - by anon

taglist: @maraschinomerry @marinalor @oblivious-idiot @lockwood-lover @givemea-dam-break (if you wanna be added or removed, just send an ask :))

masterlist

“One of you is going, I don’t care if you want to or not”, George said and Lucy immediately jumped up from her seat at the table, chair scraping over the floor. “I need to do - uhm… laundry. Looks like it’s your turn, Lockwood!” She didn’t wait for his response, but instead rushed over to the staircase that led to the basement. "Have fun you two", she said sweetly and gave them a wave before swiftly descending the stairs.

Lockwood ran his fingers through his hair, groaning. "Last time she did the laundry she dyed all my shirts pink because she threw in some red socks! She shouldn't even be allowed near the washing machine. Why can't she go with you?"

George shrugged, entirely unfazed by Lockwood's desperation. "Get in a fistfight over who's going for all I care. But not now, we're leaving in ten minutes."

Begrudgingly, Lockwood followed George out the door a few minutes later. Their walk to the archives was quiet, mostly because Lockwood was still sulking over the fact that Lucy got to stay back with the excuse of doing laundry - which she was not going to do, he was sure of it.

The sky was a monotonous grey, and together with the chilly breeze that whirled dried-up leaves over the concrete sidewalk, it did nothing to raise Lockwood's mood.

They entered the building together, and immediately the hushed atmosphere weighed on Lockwood like a heavy blanket around his shoulders. Contrary to George, who was in his element here, Lockwood was glad about every minute he did not have to spend in the library.

He noticed a little stain on the sleeve of his coat and tried to scratch it off while following George as he walked through the foyer, not paying any attention to his surroundings. A voice called George's name and Lockwood looked up to see him waving to someone. As he followed George's gaze he spotted a girl sitting behind the front desk, waving as well. As her eyes met his, her smile widened briefly before she returned her focus to the computer screen beside her.

Lockwood stood for a moment, staring at her as she scrunched her eyebrows in focus, leaning closer to the screen when he heard George call his name. He was already at the foot of the stairs, motioning him towards him impatiently and Lockwood hurried through the foyer after throwing one last glance in the girls' direction.

The rest of the afternoon George sent him back and forth through the long aisles between the bookshelves with a piece of paper on which he had scribbled different book titles and instructions on how to find them. Sometimes, those instructions would lead him past the area from where a glance down into the foyer was possible, and every time he walked past, he would try and catch a glimpse of the girl sitting at the desk below.

After George decided they had gathered sufficient information, they packed up, Lockwood now in a much better mood than a few hours ago. He almost skipped down the stairs towards the foyer, but his mood immediately got a damper when they walked past the front desk and instead of the girl, the seat was now occupied by an elderly man. He had grey hair and wore gigantic glasses, and just like the girl, he greeted George by name and with a kind smile.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

"You seem to know the people at the front desk pretty well", Lockwood said as they walked down the sidewalk a few minutes later. George shrugged. "I mean, I come here often. You're bound to get talking at one point. The guy in there just now is really into discussing The Problem's history, we've been talking a lot."

"Sounds great. And the girl?", Lockwood asked, not interested in George's conversation about ghosts with a man who probably wasn't that far from turning into a ghost himself.

"Oh, that's (name). She's nice. Sometimes, when she's on her lunch break, she helps me with research for our cases."

"Oh." Lockwood grimaced. He didn't expect George to be that close to her. "You never told us about her."

George raised his eyebrows. "What is there to tell?"

"I don't know? Maybe that you got a secret girlfriend at the archives that helps you with your research?" The words came out much sharper than he intended, and George immediately stopped walking. "What?"

"I said what I said." Lockwood turned around, crossing his arms defensively. He knew he was acting ridiculous, but for whatever reason the thought of George and (name) leaning over some dusty old book together made him furious.

"What is your problem, Lockwood?", George asked, raising his hands defensively.

Lockwood just turned around wordlessly and continued down the street, not looking to see if George was following him.

Just a few seconds later George was next to him again, slowing down his run to match Lockwood’s speed.

“I might remember her telling me she’s single. You could ask her out”, he said innocently, looking straight ahead and trying to suppress his smirk when Lockwood whipped his head to look at him. “What?”

“I said what I said.”

Lockwood huffed and sped up, hands buried in the pockets of his coat.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Lockwood was quieter than usual during dinner, not really paying attention to the conversation between Lucy and George and instead absentmindedly ripping up his piece of bread.

"Oh, and you know (name), right?" George said in between spoonfuls of soup.

"Yeah, what's with her? She had a shift today, didn't she?", Lucy replied.

Lockwood looked up immediately. "You know her too?"

Lucy chuckled. "Of course. She sometimes helps us with research on cases."

Lockwood looked back and forth between the two of them, and George had to bite back a laugh at his expression.

"Lockwood's got a crush", he said under his breath, and Lucy turned to Lockwood, wide-eyed. "On (name)?"

"No!"

"Oh please, if I hadn't called you you'd still be standing in the foyer, staring at her. And don't think I missed your disappointment when it was Stanley behind the desk instead of her when we left."

"What? No, I -" Lockwood sputtered and now Lucy was chuckling as well.

"Maybe you should ask her out. But better hurry, or else I might do it first."

"You?!"

Lucy didn't answer immediately and instead examined her nails that she had painted blue that afternoon before shrugging. "Why not? She's really cute. I'm sure you agree."

"You're the worst", Lockwood grumbled as George couldn't hold his laughter in any longer.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

The next few days George and Lucy were teasing Lockwood incessantly, and while it was annoying, he couldn't deny that he might actually have a crush on (name). Which was ridiculous, because he never even talked to the girl. For all he knew, she could be the worst person to ever walk this planet. Then again, George and Lucy only had nice things to say about her, so that was unlikely. And the way she had smiled at him…

It didn't take long for him to decide that he had to do something about it. But it had to happen without his two friends knowing because he didn't need them to make fun of him if she rejected him. Which was likely, since she probably was into well-read guys, someone more like George.

The next day, after an early lunch and confirming that neither George nor Lucy would be at the archives today, he put on his coat and left the house as quietly as possible. On the way to the archives, he passed a small flower shop that he never really noticed before, and he had already almost walked past it when he reconsidered and turned around.

The sweet smell of freshly cut flowers was overwhelming as he pushed open the door, a little bell chiming above him. The shop was even smaller than it looked from the outside, and it was packed with all sorts of flowers and plants. No one was behind the counter, but then he heard rustling and footsteps and from behind a curtain, a woman emerged. Her face lit up with a smile as she saw him.

"How can I help you, dear?", she asked.

"I'm going on a date", Lockwood began but quickly corrected himself. "Or rather, I'd like to go on a date. I thought I could bring her some flowers."

The woman clapped her hands together. "How lovely! More men should think like you." She walked around the counter over to a large and colourful display of all different kinds of flowers. "You know, my husband brought me flowers on our first date as well. What flowers does your girl like?"

"Uhm… I don't know." Lockwood felt like a fool. Should he have prepared better? Maybe he should have talked to her first. Maybe it was a little weird to come onto her like that without ever saying a single word to her.

The woman didn't seem to mind and after a moment, she pulled out a bouquet of tulips in all different colours.

"How about these? Chances are her favourite colour is somewhere in there."

Lockwood didn't have anything to say against that, so a few minutes later he left the shop with the tulips in hand.

The remaining few minutes to his destination he felt uneasy. He wasn't so sure anymore if this was a good idea. But there was no going back now. Before entering, he checked his hair in the reflection of the glass door and made sure his coat was neat before gripping the flowers tightly and stepping inside.

Y/N sat behind the desk, typing away at her computer. His heart skipped a beat as he saw her, and only then did he realise that he hadn't known if she would even be here today. Maybe that meant it was his lucky day. He took a deep breath and straightened up.

He walked up to the desk and suddenly forgot what he wanted to say. She looked up from the screen, a polite smile on her face. "Hello, how can I - Oh, hey!" Her expression changed into one of genuine joy, and Lockwood thought he might faint.

"Hey", he choked out, cursing himself. He always knew what to say, how to charm himself in and out of every possible situation. How was it that the one time he needed his brain to work, it didn't?

"I'm Lockwood."

Her smile widened. "I know. George told me you might come by."

He felt the tips of his ears get hot. God damn it, George.

"What brings you here?", she asked, and without thinking, Lockwood pulled out the flowers from behind him and held them out to her.

"These are for you."

She gasped, and her hand flew to cover her mouth. "For me?" She reached out to take them from him, her fingers brushing over his. She buried her nose in the bouquet, taking in the scent with closed eyes. Lockwood did not take his eyes off her.

"These are so pretty", she finally said, a cute pink blush on her cheeks. "Thank you so much, no one has ever given me flowers", she added timidly.

Lockwood had the urge to tell her how this was a disgrace and how he would give her flowers every day if she wanted, but he held himself back.

She tucked a stray curl of hair behind her ear and Lockwood watched her, wishing it was him doing that. "I'm about to take my lunch break in the park", she said. "Do you maybe wanna join me?"

"Yes", he said immediately.

He waited a few minutes for her to finish her work before they left the building together, and walked to the park.

The conversation was flowing easily, and Lockwood's nervousness dissipated soon. Talking to (name) felt natural and like they had known each other for ages. Every time she laughed at one of his jokes, he couldn't help but smile as well, his heart doing somersaults in his chest.

They sat down in the park beneath the shade of a tree, leaned against its trunk, and (namr) pulled out a box from her bag. "I packed strawberries this morning. We can share?"

They sat in comfortable silence for a while, eating strawberries.

"I saw you a few times with George", (name) suddenly said. "I wanted to talk to you but you always seemed to rather be anywhere else." She smiled shyly at him. "It's almost a little funny how you were so eager to leave every single time."

Lockwood ran his hand through his hair. "I like it more to be in the field, you know? Facing the threats head-on. The library isn't exactly my favourite place to be - though that might have changed today."

He watched as she blushed brightly and averted her eyes. "You're messing with me", she mumbled, but he could tell that she was trying to hide a smile.

"I would never", he chuckled, and she smiled at him before leaning her head against his shoulder. Her hand was resting on her leg, and without thinking, Lockwood moved his hand over hers. For a moment he feared she'd pull away, but she didn't and instead intertwined their fingers.

thanks for reading! feedback is appreciated :)

#anthony lockwood #anthony lockwood x reader #lockwood and co #lockwood & co #lockwood and co x reader #lockwood & co x reader

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letsgetrowdy43 · 1 year

Text

Chapter three— in all fairness

Au Masterlist!!

Philippe sat on the couch, the stubbornness of his daughter racking his brain as he tried to give her a bottle, his attempt lasting nearly twenty minutes and was fuelled with agony, “Flo, baby, you gotta eat my girl” he whispered as he bounced her on his knee, “your mama makes this look so easy.” The little girl stared at him for a second, her eyes glossing over as she stared at the bottle in his hand, her bottom lip wobbling as Phil tried to work the nipple of the bottle past her lips, “please no tears baby,” he mumbled to her as she whisked her up into his arms loud wails coming from her as he rubbed her back. “Where’s my smiley girl?” he asked while pulling her away from him to look her in the eyes, the cries slowly dying off as her tiny hands find the plush of his cheeks and squeeze, a smile growing as he pulls her back into his chest to places kisses all over her face, “There she is,” he says in between kisses.

“I get why people say you get your stubbornness from me,” he said grabbing the bottle again to attempt to feed her once again. “It's easy,” the young woman said from the doorway, startling Philippe, “You just have to let her hold it herself, she’s recently discovered independence” “Oh thank god you’re home,” “Yeah yeah,” the girl smiled as she dropped her bags on the ground to grab Flo from the man who was now in a hurry to get to campus, “go to class, have a good practice tell the media team I miss them” “I owe you my life,” he said as he kissed his daughter on the cheek before handing her over, then he placed a quick kiss to her mother's temple before searching for his car keys. “What's new” the girl mumbled as she sat down on the couch with Flo resting against her chest.

She grabbed the bottle off of the coffee table and smiled as she sat Flo up on her lap and placed the bottle in the little girl's hands, “now little Miss, time to eat” she said as they watched Phil triumphantly find the keys and run out of the house in a rush to make it on time class. Her phone lit up, a notification reminding her about an essay due the next day that she had completely forgotten about, “Oh shit” anxiety grew in her chest as she reached for her phone to look at the assignment, “fuck, okay” she groaned as she hiked Florence up on her hip to go and grab her computer and textbooks.

“Hey, sweets!” A voice behind her startled her as she entered the kitchen. “Holy fuck Jay you scared the shit out of me,” she said breathlessly as she looked at the three boys who all smiled back at her. Her eyes travelled down from Jay’s face to his shirt, her brows furrowed at the ‘I love hot moms’ in big bold writing across his chest, “you like my shirt, I wore it with you in mind” the man smiled innocently as Nolan high-fived him, the two of them ignoring the woman’s loud scoffs. “This is why Nick is my favourite” She pointed to the quietest guy who now sat on the couch as the group of four found themselves working their way towards the living room, Nick looked up from his phone with a small grin and waved at the baby who reached out for him, “see how he sits there smiling and stays quiet?” Nolan put his hand over his heart and pretended to act wounded, going limp and falling into the couch dramatically, “Is this what betrayal feels like?” He questioned as he looked at the woman, hoping she would say something to make him feel a little appreciated. “Suck it” Nick mumbled as she passed him the baby.

“You look tired,” Jay said in a serious tone as he passed her the coffee they had picked up for her on the way over, “Here.” “I just remembered that I have a paper due tomorrow in my child development class” She frowned and stood up from the couch in search of her laptop that she had meant to grab before they showed up, “I'm stressed, but Flo is due for a nap so I'm hoping to start it then,” the woman gave a defeated shrug as she settled back onto the couch “Hey, we will take Flo with us to practice, make Truss watch her while we all practice,” Nick said softly as he took the baby from the mat on the floor and placed her on his chest as he took her little hands and started to play with her. “That’s not fair to him.” “The idiot is out on an injury and still has to go to the mandatory practices if anything you’re doing him a favour and relieving him of boredom,” Nolan said with a scoff, the boys loved when she visited, it kept morale high so her visit would help the team and Jacob out a lot more than they let on.

“Can you at least text and ask him first before I send my child off with him? I don’t want to just assume he’s okay with it” she asked as she looked over to Jay who was already on it. “Give me two seconds,” he said walking into the kitchen to call him.

Nolan smiled as Nick handed him the baby, a smile on her face as she ran her chubby hands over his moustache, “I think that's a sign to shave” “She loves it” he smiled as the baby yawned and rested her little head against his shoulder, “do you need anything before we go?” “No no, I just need some quiet” she grinned watching as they pretended to be offended by her words. Jay came into the room and gave everyone a thumbs up, pointing to his phone to let the boys know that they needed to leave in order to make it to practice in time, “want us to drop you off at the library?” Nolan asked as the woman stood up to help them get Flo ready, she shook her head and grabbed a warm set of pyjamas from Florence's freshly clean laundry basket “Okay, let us know if you need anything and we'll make sure Phil gets it”

“Thanks Jay” she smiled as she scavenged for a clean pair of baby socks. “Anything for my fav Milf” he joked “Choke,” she said in a dead tone, lightly hitting him in the chest as Nick passed her the baby to change. Jay smirked and watched as she ignored his laughter, “You love me, I know it”

Nick opened the front door, “where’s your car seat?” The girl looked up from the babbling baby, Flo was squirming making it hard to change her “You’re a hundred percent sure that he’s okay with it” “I wouldn’t lie to you about this, read his texts” Jay said as he grabbed Flo’s snowsuit and maize Michigan hat, or her ‘rink fit' as mum liked to call it. “Okay the car seat is in my car, let me go and get her dressed quickly” She started to change Flo before Nolan swooped the baby and her clothes off the couch. “You stay sat, I will go get her little diaper bag and the necessities, don't worry I know the drill” The girl frowned before opening her mouth to interject, “Don't try to cut me off and say you can do it, I'm aware you’re capable, I just want to help you out, I've decided to be kind” “You guys all suck” she closed her mouth and folded her arms over her chest as she death stared Nolan. “Hush”

Once the boys are ready and Flo is in her car seat the three of them stood at the door with proud smiles, “You guys call me if anything happens,” she says sternly as they all nod, “and tell Truss that if anything happens to my baby on his watch I will break his other arm.” Nolan laughs at her threats as he lifts the carrying to make Flo wave her little hand to her mum, “Yeah sure, anyways, we love you go do your assignment.”

-❀-

The woman smiled at her phone, three texts from Mark popped up on her screen, two little photos of him on the ice holding the baby in his arms, Flo’s little hands on the flushed skin of his cheek as she smiled up at him. the baby raise hat on display as she giggled, it was merely a photo but the woman could hear her baby’s laughter through the image. The other photo is of him hugging her against his chest, her little hands now wrapped around his neck and pulling at his long strands of hair, as she placed a kiss on his cheek. Mackie stood on the other side of him and placed a kiss on Mark's other cheek, mirroring Flo’s actions. It is impossible to stop her face from warming up as she reads the tiny caption “Always knew I was her Favourite”.

She stares at the two photos for a few seconds longer, she doesn’t even know why, it's like she’s trying to pick apart every aspect of the photo, trying to decipher what about these images are making her stomach feel fluttery and her chest tight. Convincing herself that it's just the cute way her daughter smiles in the photos, the happiness displayed on her daughter's lips as she hugs the boy.

She highly shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut and dropping her phone back into her lap so she could return to her work, the essay had been coming along very easily as she finished finding her sources and her outline. The intro paragraph wrote itself and now she just had to finish the bulk of the work.

Her phone began to ring in her lap just as she went back to staring at her computer screen, her eyes stinging from the brightness of the screen. Philippe’s contact photo pops up on her phone as she looks back down at her phone. “I’m about to ask you a question, and feel free to say no if you’re too stressed,” he said, the girl was able to hear his smile over the phone as the boys in the background all chatted in the locker room. She smiled as she heard Duker softly singing to Taylor Swift in the background, Flo squealing in the distance, “What’s up?” “The seniors are having drinks at their house tonight and I was wondering if I could join them?” he asked, his voice wavering on guilt and desperation for a yes.

There was something so familiar about this occurrence, the conversation felt like it had happened at least a hundred other times. A constant loop of Phil asking for lenience and her letting him live the life he had pre-Florence. This conversation was happening almost every other weekend, him asking to do things that normal twenty-year-olds do and her letting him go off and experiencing life, the way it was before their daughter. She couldn’t say no to him, because she had held a lot of pent-up guilt about their situation, like his new way of life had all been an accident and all of the blame falling onto her shoulders.

The girl's smile faltered as she looked at the time and the amount of work she had finished so far, annoyance wracked her brain as she let out a short sigh, followed by a “yes.” Phil profusely thanked her and apologized as Steve and Jay cheered in the background. “How are you getting Flo home?” she massaged her temples, remembering her daughter was stuck at the rink. "Mark and Eddy offered to drop her off on their way home,” he said shortly.

"Can you give Mark the phone?" She asked as he silently agreed and handed the phone over to his teammate who stared at the man who ushered for him to put it up to his ear. ”Everything okay?” he asked as he was met with silence on the other end. The woman softly sighed as she shut her laptop and got up to retrieve her sweater, ”I can go pick her up, Phil shouldn't be putting his responsibilities on you" she said the ending bit in a hushed tone as she searched for her keys in her bag. “It's fine really," Mark shook his head, the phone now balanced between his shoulder and ear as he snatched up Flo from her spot on Luke's lap and put her back into her car seat,” besides, if he’s putting the responsibilities on anyone it's you, I'm just driving her home" Mark reasoned as Flo ripped her hat off of her head and giggled.

"He needs a life too,” she felt like a broken record, that sentence seeming to be the only words ever leaving her mouth. “You deserve a life just as much as he does,” he paused to let it sink in for a moment, "me and Ethan will be over with her in 20 sounds good?” She softly frowned on the other end “perfect”

-❀-

Mark and Ethan had come and gone, staying for a bit to help Mum with the bulk of getting Flo settled and ready for bed. Ethan had left the two of them for a brief period of time to go and pick up Dylan, Adam, and Luca from the party that they had deemed boring.

The boy sat with Flo in his arms as he feed her one last bottle before bed, “I don't get how she is so perfect” he whispered as she closed her eyes, lazily drinking from the bottle as she fought off sleep. “she gets it from me” the woman joked as she reached forward and took the bottle out from Flo’s mouth. Mark looked up at her seriously, “She does” his tone held not a single ounce of humour as he handed the now sleeping baby over to her mother, the woman softly murmured to the little one as she cradled her to her chest.

He watched with soft eyes as she smiled down at her daughter and then back up t him, he was always there in moments of need, or even the softest of domestic moments so far in her journey of motherhood.

“I wasn’t meaning to tell you how to handle yourself earlier, I know I sounded harsh,” he said as she looked back up at him with confused eyes, completely forgetting their phone call earlier, “It's just that you treat yourself so unfairly, he gets all the freedom at your expense” Her lips formed a straight line as she shook her head, “it’s fine, no harm done,” it was now his turn to frown, she was always so dismissive to her own emotions.

“When was the last time you went out with the girls, or even just joined us for drinks while he stayed in?” She shrugged her shoulders and thought for a second before the answer came up as nothing, “never I guess.” “That’s not fair to you” he reasoned, a sad expression on his face as he watched her look away from him, blinking back tears, “I love Phil, we are teammates, brothers even, but that’s not fair to you.”

Mark’s phone began to ring, startling the both of them as he looked down at the caller and back up at her with soft eyes, “the boys are here so I'm gonna head out,” he ushered out the window to Luke’s car. “Thank you” she whispered as he placed a kiss on the side of her head, a sad but knowing look on her face as she stood up to walk him out, the baby still on her chest as her eyes began to water, chalking her burst of emotions up to exhaustion. Mark put on his sneakers as she opened the door and waved out to the boys in the car who smiled back at her, “call if you need anything” Mark whispered as he ran his thumb on the soft skin of Flo’s cheek as a sort of goodbye, “promise?" She gave him a soft look and nodded, he stared at her waiting for verbal reassurance, “Yes Mark.” “Good.”

It wasn’t long after she was awoken from her bed, a slightly tipsy Philippe stumbling into her room with an expression of worry on his face as she sat up in her bed. “Phil?” “Yes?” He mumbled as he laid himself across the bottom of her bed, letting out a soft sigh as she sat up, her pyjama top was twisted and her hair a mess as she wiped the sleep out of her eyes, her arms folding over her chest as she turned on the lamp beside her.

Phil groaned at the light as he propped himself up to look at her, a soft smile on his face as his vision travelled over to the crib next to her bed, “Where are the boys?” She asked pulling him back into reality. “Still at the seniors,” his hand found her shin, drawing shapes on her skin to occur himself from staring at her, “I needed to come home.” Her brows furrowed as, “Are you okay?” “I’m fine” he started, “but we need to talk” “We do?” “yes.”

He slowly stood up the shut the door, just in case someone came home, a frown on his face as he stared down at his sleeping daughter, “Have you ever thought about us?” “In what way Phil?” She groaned, squeezing her eyes shut to fight off the exhaustion creeping back up on her. “Like together, a couple?” “I’m confused?” “I think I'm in love with you!” He blurted out loudly gaining a soft cry from Flo who was awoken, the woman sat frozen for a second, staring at Phil as he waited for an answer.

She then stood up from her spot, not daring to blink as she walked around the crib to retrieve her crying daughter, her heart was loudly beating in her chest as she read an unreadable look on the man's face. His eyes were hazy from the booze, his cheeks flush from the heat of the party and what she assumed to be the sprint home. “Phil, you’re drunk,” she bounced the baby on her hip to settle her as she made her way back under the covers of her bed, he sat back down on the bed. She shook her head as he grabbed her hand to make her look him in the eyes, “I'm not, I’m nearly sober,” she frowned at him, pulling her hand away from his grasp to run it over her face, not believing his lies.

The woman let out a sigh as Flo went silent once again, her face cradled in her mother's neck as the rocking continued, “I don't know what you want me to say to this Phil” she whispered, tears welling up in her eyes as she shook her head, vision blurring with tears as his hand re-found hers. “I just wish I could understand how we can do this,” he motioned between them, the baby, their current life, “ we literally created a life, and you still have not an ounce of love for me” he whispered back, tears now rolling down his cheeks as his thumbs wiped away hers. “Philippe, I love you so much, so deeply” Her sentence got caught in her throat as she placed Flo down on the bed in front of her. Her cries were so intense that her body shook, and trembling hands reached out to wipe Phil’s tears away, “I promise I do love you, I just don't love you in the way you want Phil.”

“I think if you really loved me, I think if you really loved this family you would at least try to,” his tone was so serious and so cold that she backed away from him, her hands letting go of his as she physically moved away from him.

Her jaw dropped as she let go of his hand, “That’s not fair to me, to you, or to her” “I'm not being selfish, I just want our daughter to experience parents who love one another,” his voice now less a drunken whisper and more an annoyed tone.

“That’s such bullshit, Phil,” she said numbly as she stood up from her bed to find her phone and the baby’s diaper bag, “I think it's really shitty of you to show up to my room, confess your feelings and then tell me I'm basically failing my daughter cause I don't love you in a romantic way” her voice grew venomous as she found an old hoodie on the floor of her closet and slipped it on “That’s not-" She cut him off by opening her bedroom door and motioning for him to make his exit, “no you don't get to speak to me right now, I'm done listening” she wiped her tears again and ushered him out of her room, before shutting the door and rummaging through Florence's drawers for some spare clothes.

She dialled her phone and waited as it rang three times before a tired voice picked up on the other end, ” Hello?” “Can me and Flo come and stay with you for the night?” “I'm on the way”

I feel like the reader needs a nickname, so please lmk what you think fits her :)

Also sorry (kinda, not really) for the update literally taking a month. I've been through it with adulting and shit, so we are just gonna pretend that this didn't take me an entire month to finish...

#mylittlestlovesau!!#mark estapa #mark estapa fic #mark estapa x reader #philippe lapointe #umich boys #umich hockey #umich imagine #luke hughes #ethan edwards #dylan duke

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bellaireland1981 · 1 year

Text

Stubborn Hearts | 2

Summary: Reader (Firecracker, Sunshine) has been in love with Bradley since she was a young girl. Growing up the two were inseparable, apart from short periods of time when she was on the West Coast with the Kazanskys. One faithful decision by her dad to block Bradley from going to the Naval Academy resulted in a huge rift between father and daughter and left her without Bradley in her life. Now all grown up, she’s called back to the west coast at the same time as her father and Bradley. Her mission, according to her dying godfather, is to mend fences with her dad and Bradley. Can stubborn hearts be healed?

(I suck at summaries for real).

This will have multiple chapters… this is 2 of ??

Characters: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x Mitchell! Reader, Pete “Maverick” Mitchell x Daughter! Reader, The Dagger Squad, Shay (OC), Penny, Tom “Iceman” Kazansky

Word Count: 5373

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Death of character, TGM Spoilers, Smut (later on ), Turbulent relationship with parent, Friends to lovers, …Please let me know if I’ve missed any!

Part 1

A/N- This is my first time writing for TGM. I do not own the characters or plot lines from the movie. I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION TO COPY OR REPRODUCE MY WORK ON THIS OR ANY OTHER PLATFORM! Reblogging is always welcome! Feedback is MUCH loved and appreciated. THANK YOU to @waywardodysseys for all support and bouncing ideas!!

Taglist: @gracespicybradshaw @memoriesat30

The morning after your run in with Bradley, you came down to your aunt making pancakes in the kitchen. You cousins were sitting at the island, eating and preparing to head out to school shortly.

“Good Morning, Sweetie.” your aunt said, smiling warmly at you, “There’s coffee ready to go if you’d like some. I was expecting you to sleep in this morning.”

“Morning.” You replied, reaching for a mug from the cabinet. “I wasn’t out that late. The night didn’t go great.”

“Oh no.” she replied, pausing to turn to you. “What happened?”

“I ran into Brad…” You replied, “It didn’t go fantastic. I came home.”

“Are you ok, Y/N?” your cousin asked, looking up from her breakfast.

“I’m ok, Peanut.” you replied smiling, “Nothing I wasn’t expecting I supposed.”

“I’m sorry it didn’t go well, sweetie.” Your aunt said sympathetically. “Perhaps it was just the shock of seeing you for the first time in years.”

“No, I think it’s the fact that he apparently no longer sees us as friends.” you answered, “He made that abundantly clear. I’ll be fine though. I ran into Shay, so the night wasn’t a total bust.”

“His loss then and he’s a bigger idiot than I originally thought” She stated, “But I’m glad you ran into Shay. It’ll be good for you to have someone you can hang out with around here.”

“Yeah.” You replied, “I think we’re going to try to get lunch today. I have to give her a call.”

“Uncle Tom has a doctor’s appointment this afternoon, so we’ll be out for a bit.” She said, “I was thinking of putting some food on the grill for dinner…did you have plans?”

“No, I'll be here.” You replied, “Do you need me to go shopping or do anything to help you?”

“No, it’s ok.” She replied, “I think we have everything we need here already and honestly the cooking gives me something to do to keep busy.”

“Ok.” you said, understanding. “Just promise to let me know if you need help with anything at all.”

“I promise.” She smiled, turning to the kids, “Ok kids, hurry up. Your ride will be here shortly.”

You ate breakfast with your aunt before heading up to shower and get dressed. You sent a text to Shay setting up lunch for later that day. With the time you had this morning, you figured you’d head to the hangar and maybe take the plane up to clear your head. With the residual feelings from the night before, you felt air time was what you needed to shake it off and give you a mental break.

Coming downstairs you passed your uncle’s office, the door open, you could see him already sitting at his desk working on the computer. You shook your head, chuckling quietly. He truly never stopped.

“Morning, Uncle Tommy” You said, stopping at the doorway.

He looked up, smiling at you, motioning for you to come into the room.

Sarah said your meeting with Rooster didn’t go well. You ok?

“At the moment, not really.” You admitted, never able to keep anything from your uncle, “But I have plans to get up into the air this morning so I’m sure the situation will seem better soon.”

Don’t give up, Firecracker. Keep the door open.

“Uncle Tommy, I think that door was firmly closed by him. Not much I can do if he doesn’t want to be friends anymore. I can promise that I will …eventually… talk to my dad.” You assured him. “Brad did inform me you’d kept him up to date with my whereabouts occasionally, so thanks for trying.”

I wouldn’t count him out just yet. He cares. Going flying today?

“We’ll see.” You replied, “I am planning on flying this morning, then meeting Shay for lunch.”

Your Dad?

“You’re not letting this one go are you?” You replied, realizing how determined your uncle is when he sets his mind to something.

Not enough time to let it go, Firecracker. Time is always the enemy.

“I will call him tonight.” You promised, “He’s teaching now I assume, right? First day?”

Yes. More reason to reach out. He’s going to have a rough day.

“Tonight.” You repeated, “I love you more than the sky, Uncle Tommy.”

I love you higher than I can fly, Little Bird.

You wrapped your arms around your uncle from the side and dropped a kiss to the top of his head before heading out.

You grabbed your bag and headed to the hangar to get a few hours of flying in.

Thankfully, Frank seemed busy with other pilots and people that looked to be chartering a flight. You filed that information into the back of your head for later. If you were staying, you’d need a job. Maybe you could establish yourself as a freelance charter pilot. If all else failed you could always ask Penny for a job slinging beers at the Hard Deck. Not that running into Bradley on the regular was something you wanted.

You ran through all preflight checks on your plane, making sure you had enough fuel and everything was safe. You looked over maps and plotted a flight plan that would take you out over the desert and back. Once you finalized your plan, you walked over to Frank to file the flight plan with him.

“Morning, Miss Mitchell.” Frank greeted as you walked over, “Getting some time in your plane today, huh?”

“Yes, sir” You replied, “Need to clear my head. I’ve got a possible flight plan here, if it checks out, I’d like to follow and get permission to take off.”

“Let me take a look, and we can get you on your way.” He replied, taking the plans you’d handed him. He looked at his computer screen and back at your plan before looking back up at you. “This should work, I’ll get you in the take off line-up now.”

“Thank you.” You replied, taking the paperwork he handed you, “See you in a few hours.”

The time spent in your plane did wonders for you mentally. You felt you could breathe easier as you radioed to the tower to get permission to land back at the hangar. It had been a smooth flight out and around. Clear skies all the way. Honestly, if you weren’t meeting Shay for lunch, you’d stay in the air longer.

Landing went as smoothly as the rest of the trip and you were taxiing back to the storage hangar in no time. Once you’d parked your plane you switched everything off and jumped down to start tying it down. The tasks, so familiar, you could do them in your sleep.

“Have a good flight?” Frank asked, stopping the golf cart outside of the hangar.

“It was great.” you replied, “Definitely did what I needed it to do.”

“Glad to hear.” He smiled warmly, “Say, if you’re plannin’ on being around here awhile, any chance you’d be interested in occasionally taking a charter?”

“I could do that.” You said, “A lot depends on how things go with my uncle though, to be honest. I’m here mostly because his health is declining quickly. I think I’ll be staying though, so maybe on a once in a while basis for now… until I know where my life is headed?”

“That’s more than fair.” He replied, “I’m sorry to hear about your uncle.”

“Thank you.” You replied, “I’ve got to meet a friend for lunch, but next time I’m here, I’ll bring a copy of my license and certifications.”

“Sounds good.” He said, turning the golf cart back on, “Enjoy your lunch.” Frank drove off with a wave heading back to the main office hangar,

You grabbed your bag and purse and walked to the Jeep parked outside the hanager. Turning your phone back on, you saw you had a text from Penny asking you to pop in during the day that week. Another text from your old boss asking if you’d consider coming back, and a text from Shay with the address of the Mexican restaurant you were meeting at for lunch.

You texted Penny back promising to stop in, your old boss telling him thanks for the love but you were planning to stay in San Diego, and lastly a text to Shay letting her know you were headed that way now.

Part of you wished you’d had a text from Bradley, but the logical part realized he probably didn’t even have your phone number anymore.

Putting it out of your mind, you entered the address for the restaurant into your phone and headed towards your lunch with Shay.

____________

“Hey!” She called, as you walked into the restaurant.

“Hi!” you replied, as you slid into the booth, setting your purse next to you. “How’s your day going so far?”

“It was pretty busy this morning, it makes the day move fast though so I don’t mind.” She replied, “How about you?”

“I had another heart to heart with my uncle. He made me promise I’d talk to my dad tonight. He said, ‘Time is the enemy’, so that’s going to be great.” You replied, “Then I went flying and life started to look a little better again.”

“How are you feeling about that impending conversation with your dad?” She asked, knowing the history. “How are you feeling after last night’s encounter with Bradley?”

“Honestly, I’m ready to talk to my dad. I miss him. One thing about Uncle Tommy fighting cancer… it put things into perspective. Being home and seeing him, knowing we’re at the end… just pushed the idea home. Being stubborn is dumb. I only have one dad.” You replied, “As for Brad… I was hurt and upset last night, and I still am, but now I’m also pissed. So fuck him.”

“I’m glad you’re ready and willing to try to patch things with your dad. You’re right… your uncle is right. Life is too short.” She agreed, “If you want, I’m sure Aunt Penny would be ok with you two meeting up there to talk… at least you’d have a referee if needed.”

“That might not be a bad idea” You laughed, “Penny always was a good go-between when her and dad were together.”

“As for Bradley…” she said, “I think it’s perfectly acceptable and justified to be pissed. I’m here if you ever need to vent…or need someone to help you hide a body.”

“I don’t think I’m at the homicidal level,” You laughed, “He’s not worth doing life in prison for. But thank you. I just may avoid the Hard Deck during peak hours for the foreseeable future.”

“Well that’s a shame.” She replied, “I mean, that other aviator was HOT last night. There were several others that were not hard on the eyes either…”

“He definitely showed interest in you!” You encouraged, “Hangman, I think, right? You should definitely pursue that.”

“He seems like he’d be a player though,” she reasoned, “Still, it could be fun while it lasted.”

“He may surprise you, Shay.” You said, “He certainly seemed interested, maybe there’s more to him that you saw.”

“Maybe.” She hedged, “You should come with me… I may need a wingman…woman…person.”

“I don’t know that my heart can handle having to see Bradley right now, Shay.” You replied honestly.

“I’ll block any interactions until you tell me otherwise.” She promises, “And I’m the female pilot…Phoenix? I’m sure she’d be willing to run interference… girl code and all. I know Aunt Penny would ring the bell on him in a heartbeat.”

“Ok…” You agreed, hesitantly, “I’ll come out with you. If it goes south though, you’re on your own afterwards.”

“I will take that deal.” She said, “What about tomorrow night? I know you’re talking to your dad tonight…”

“Tomorrow works.” You confirmed, “If it ends up a repeat of last night though, I am getting knock out drunk and you’ll have to take me home.”

“Also, a deal.” She said, “I promise to buy your drinks and be your drunk uber.”

After finishing up lunch you and Shay firmed up plans for the next night before you left to head to the Hard Deck to see Penny on your way home.

The parking lot was empty except for Penny’s beamer. You parked next to her car and headed inside. She was wiping glasses down and stocking the bar when you walked in.

“Hey Pen.” You said, walking up to the bar. “Need any help?”

“Nope, but I’ll accept company.” She said, smiling, “Hop up on the stool, my sweet girl. Do you want a drink?”

“Water with lemon if you have any sliced and handy.” You replied, “So, now that my dad’s back in town, any plans to pick up with dating again?”

“And here, I was about to ask you the hard hitting questions.” She laughed, “Our relationship is… complicated. I love him but I’m hesitant to take the leap. I have Amelia to think about. I need consistency, not on again off again.”

“I love my dad, Penny, but he’s got the emotional maturity of a toddler sometimes.” You laughed, “I know he loves you though, if that helps. Don’t accept anything less than 100%. You deserve someone who will put you first.”

“The same holds true for you, Kiddo.” She replied, gently. “I know last night was rough on you. I don’t know what was said between you and Rooster, but I saw the pain in your eyes when you left. I also saw the look on his face as he watched you leave, and the way he lit out of here after you left. Don’t write him off just yet, but like you said don’t accept anything less than 100%.”

“I think for now, I’ll just focus on trying to fix things with my dad.” You said, lowering your gaze, “I also just want to spend time with my Uncle and soak up as much of him as I can, while I can.”

“I understand.” She said, “When are you getting together with your dad?”

“I plan on calling him later tonight.” You said, “I know he started instructing at Top Gun today, so figured I’d wait until he had time to relax before calling him.”

“He would be more than happy to hear from you whenever.” She replied, “He misses you, but I don’t know how good he is at communicating that.”

“It’s not all his fault.” You admit, “I am my father’s daughter afterall. Stubbornness seems to run in the genes.”

“Knowing is half the battle.” Penny teased, “Aside from all of that, Amelia was asking about you. You should come out to the house sometime. Maybe come over on Sunday for dinner? The bar is closed.”

“I’d love to see her!” You said happily, “Sunday sounds good. Just let me know what time and what you’d like me to bring.”

“I’ll text you a time, and just bring yourself.” She said, “Amelia will be excited.”

“I can’t wait.” You replied, “I miss her. I can’t believe how fast she’s growing up.”

“You and me both, Kiddo.” She replied, “You and me both.”

“I should head back to the house. Uncle Tom had an appointment today. I know it’s been really hard on Aunt Sarah, so I want to hear how that went.” You said, “I’ll apparently be here tomorrow night with Shay though. She needs a wingman… she promised to run interference and protect me from unpleasant interactions with Bradley.”

“I will help as I can too, sweet girl.” She replied, “I’m happy you and Shay are able to spend time together.”

“It’s been great to catch up.” You replied, “I love you, Pen. For what it’s worth, I’ve always rooted for you and my dad to find your way back together.”

“I love you too.” She smiled gently, “Regardless of what happens or doesn’t happen between your dad and me, I’m always in your corner.”

You headed out to the Jeep and, checking the time, decided to send your dad a quick text.

You: Hey Dad… I hope your first day went well with the aviators. If you’re free tonight or have time… can you give me a call?

You took a deep breath and set your phone down before putting the key in the ignition and headed home.

The house was quiet when you walked in. You went up to your room to set your purse down and kick your shoes. Your phone notified you of a new message, sitting on your bed you pulled the phone to check.

Dad: Firecracker, I will never turn down talking to yout. It’s been… a rough day. How about I come get you on the bike and we take a ride?

You: It’s been awhile since we’ve done a ride on the bike… I think I’d like that. I’m sorry you had a bad day.

Dad: Nothing that time with my favorite girl won’t fix. :)

You: I’ll see you later, Dad.

Dinner that night was pretty quiet. Your uncle’s appointment, not being the greatest news. The cancer was progressing faster now that he was no longer receiving any treatment. Time really was running out. You were glad you made plans to see your dad later that evening, giving your aunt and uncle time with the kids to process and adjust to the new timeline.

Once everyone was done eating, you took over cleaning up for your aunt. You rinsed all the dishes and placed them into the dishwasher before wiping down the counters and putting away the leftovers. Once the kitchen was back to its immaculate state, you went upstairs to change into warmer clothes for the ride with your dad. While Southern California was generally warm, it still got cooler at nights, and on the bike it would be even cooler.

You got a text from your dad letting you know he was on his way so you made your way downstairs.

“I’m heading out in a few minutes with Dad, he texted to say he’s on his way.” You let your aunt know.

“Tell him to stop by tomorrow after he’s done teaching.” Your aunt requested.

“Not asking,” Tom rasped, looking up at you.

“I will let him know. I love you both.” You replied, understanding what wasn’t said.

“We love you too, sweetheart.” Your aunt said, “Enjoy your time with your dad.”

You hugged them both before heading outside. You didn’t have long to wait, he pulled on the motorcycle a couple minutes later.

“Hey, Firecracker,” He said, smiling warmly. One thing about your dad, his smile lit up his whole face and you always knew he was genuine. “I’ve missed your face, Y/N.”

“Hi, Dad.” You smiled back, seeing him face to face made you realize how deeply you’d missed him. “I’ve missed you too.”

“Hop on.” He said, handing you a helmet. “Let’s drive up the coast a bit.”

You took the helmet and pulled it on, securing the strap under your chin before getting on the bike behind your dad and wrapping your arms around him. His familiar woodsy scent mixed with the faint scent of jet fuel was comforting.

You enjoyed being on the bike, feeling the wind on your face and the warmth of your dad. You traveled up the coast, for several miles, taking in the sights. After about a half hour, your dad pulled off into a beach parking lot and parked the bike. You climbed off, stretching your muscles and removing the helmet. You set it on the seat of the bike, turning to look at the view.

“It’s beautiful here. Peaceful.” You commented, surveying the deserted beach, the sun starting to set over the horizon.

“That it is.” Your dad agreed, “Come on, let’s take a walk down to the water.”

The two of you headed towards the wood boardwalk that would lead down to the sand. Once at the sand you paused to kick off your shoes, preferring to walk barefoot through the sand.

You walked in comfortable silence before you stopped and plopped down onto the sand. Your dad followed suit, settling in next to you.

“How’s Ice?” He said, starting the conversation.

“It’s not good, Daddy.” You replied quietly. “The cancer is progressing really fast now that he’s stopped treatment. We’re going to lose him too soon.”

He reached over to wrap his arm around your shoulders, pulling you gently into his side. He turned his head and dropped a soft kiss on the top of your head.

“There’s never enough time, is there?” He asked, not really expecting an answer.

“That’s what Uncle Tommy told me” You replied, “Time is the enemy.”

“He’s a very wise man,” He agreed, “Much wiser than your old man.”

“I dunno,” You said, “You were wise enough to make him my Godfather.”

“Touche, Firecracker.” He laughed.

“Aunt Sarah said to stop by after you’re done with work tomorrow.” You relayed your aunt’s message, “And Uncle Tommy said, and I quote, ‘Not asking’”

“I know I need to…” He replied, staring out at the horizon, “Would you think less of me if I admitted that I’m afraid?”

“No.” You replied, “Because you’re being honest. I get it… we avoid what we’re afraid of. It’s why I kept putting off this conversation. But Uncle Tommy, Aunt Sarah and Penny said I needed to stop being hard headed so here we are.”

“You come by that honestly,” He admitted, “Sorry for that.”

“It’s ok to be afraid, Dad” You said, “I’m scared too. I don’t know how to navigate a world in which I can’t call Uncle Tom when I need him. But, if you don’t go see him, if you wait until it’s too late, you’re going to have to live with that guilt and it could eat you alive.”

“When did you get so smart?” He asked, smiling over to you.

“I come by it honestly.” You smiled back at him.

“What about this conversation scared you, Firecracker?” Mav asked, changing the subject.

“I’ve spent the majority of my teenage years into adulthood being angry at you…letting feelings of resentment stew.” You admitted, “I was mad at you for what you did to Bradley. I didn’t understand. I still don’t understand. I was angry that in doing what you did you ripped my best friend away from me. I’m angry as hell at him for leaving me behind too, don’t worry.”

You could feel yourself on a roll, all of the emotions and thoughts you’d pushed down over the years bubbled out now. Your dad, thankfully, just let you get it all out.

“When you were home, and it was us against the world, it was great. I could convince myself that I meant more to you than flying and the Navy. But then another call would come, new orders would arrive, a new mission would pop up and you’d leave. You looked relieved to be leaving. It felt like you wanted to leave. I’d get sent to Carol, or flown out here to Uncle Tom and Aunt Sarah and you’d go off and do what you loved….without me. As an adult, I figured it was just easier to make myself scarce so you didn’t have to choose and I didn't have to feel unwanted anymore.”

You hadn’t realized you’d started to cry until you felt a teardrop land on your hand in your lap. You brought your hand up to wipe away the unwanted tears. Staring, unseeingly across the ocean, trying to reign in the emotions and to calm your breathing.

“Y/N,” Mav said, voice thick with emotion, “I have never not wanted you. From the moment your mom told me she was pregnant I have wanted you with every single fiber of my being. I was beyond happy about being a dad…being your dad. I had absolutely no fucking clue what I was doing, how to be a good dad, but I wanted to be good. While your mom was alive, I could follow her lead, learn about how to be a good parent. She made it seem easy. After she died, I was scared shitless. I no longer had someone else to soften the blow or pick up the slack where and when I failed. I had this beautiful, intelligent, firecracker of a little girl that I now had the sole responsibility to raise. I’m not excusing my lack of parenting or minimizing your feelings. I just need you to know… you were wanted. I just didn’t know what I was doing.”

He paused, taking a few cleansing breaths, before continuing.

“When you were little, I could hide the fact that I was clueless. You were happy to travel with me, you saw it as an adventure. We had a home base, and that worked for us. As you got older, and you needed to be in school, Carol quickly pointed out you needed stability. So we formed a new plan. When I was gone you’d stay with her or with Ice and Sarah on longer deployments. You’d get the stability, the female role models you needed. Someone who knew what they were doing and wouldn’t screw it up. It may have seemed like it was easy to leave you… truth is… it killed me every time. I left a huge piece of my heart behind every time.”

You gave up wiping the tears away at this point, allowing them to fall freely from your eyes. Your heart, which had been broken for years, was starting to mend. The gaping hole decreasing with your dad’s words. Just hearing that you were wanted and loved going a long way to fix what was broken inside.

“I am so sorry, Y/N that you spent even a second believing I didn’t want you. That I didn’t love you.” He said quietly, wiping his own eyes. “Flying… the Navy… neither can hold a candle to you, Firecracker. You are my world. The most important part of my life. Don’t ever forget that or doubt that.”

“I don’t remember much about mom.” You said, your voice rough from crying, “But I bet she’d probably be knocking both our heads together huh?”

“Absolutely no doubt about it.” He agreed, chuckling, wiping the remaining tears from his eyes, “Carol too. She’d call me an idiot and slap me. She’d have slapped Bradley too…”

“How is that going?” You asked.

“It’s been…icy” Mav responded, “He’s definitely still holding a grudge.”

“Dad… can you blame him?” You asked, “How would you feel if someone you loved and looked up to was responsible for blocking you from the Naval Academy? From standing in the way of following your dreams?”

“I’d probably be pretty pissed at them.” he reasoned, “I’d like to think I’d at least let them try to explain though.”

“Have you?” You asked, “Have you tried to tell him the real reason for standing in his way? Or do you just give him the response ‘he wasn't ready’?”

“It’s bad enough he hates me, Firecracker.” He sighed, “I couldn’t live with him being angry at his mom.”

“Maybe it’s time to come clean and let him decide who he is and isn’t mad at.” You offered, “He’s not a kid anymore, Dad. He’s a grown ass man, who, despite being set back, set him mind to achieving his dreams and became one of the top aviators in the US Navy. He might be an asshole that I seriously want to throat punch, but you can’t take the rest away from him.”

“Between the two of us, I’m so damn proud of what he’s accomplished.” Mav admitted.

“So you won’t just wash him of this mission?” You asked. Despite it all, you wanted Bradley to succeed and become everything he always dreamed of.

“He’s got just as much of a shot as the other aviators.” Mav said, “If he isn’t selected though, it’ll be because of his own lack of confidence and playing it too safe. He’s a damn good pilot but he gets in his own head too much. He thinks too much.”

“As long as he has a fair shake at this mission, that’s all I can ask.” You said. “And Brad’s always allowed himself to be in his head too much. He’s always been cautious.”

“You’re still in love with him aren’t you?” Your dad asked, watching you closely in the fading light.

“How did you know about that?” You asked, “Who ratted me out?”

“Nobody had to rat you out, Firecracker.” Your dad laughed, “You’ve had hearts in your eyes in regards to that boy since you were still in pigtails. It’s obvious to anyone who see you and knows you.”

“Great” You groaned, “That’s not at all embarrassing.”

“If it helps, I should have said it’s obvious to anyone except Rooster.” He clarified. “However, I used to see the same look in his eyes whenever you were around.”

“Well that look is long gone then.” You confirmed, “The message I got from him the other night was that I was no longer even worthy of friend status.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure, Firecracker.” Mav said.

“We’ll see.” You hedged, then decided to turn the tables, “hey, Dad?”

“What’s on your mind?” He asked

“What are your intentions towards Penny?” You asked.

“I don’t know how to answer that.” He sighed.

“Well, then… maybe until you do know… don’t do anything to get her hopes up.” You said. “Penny deserves more than on again off again.”

“I can tell you that I love her.” He admitted, “I just don’t know if I’m any good at relationships.”

“Well… if it helps, I love her too.” You said, “And I think you can do anything you put your mind to.”

“Thanks for the vote, kid.” He laughed, “I’m glad you love her.”

“Amelia too.” You said, “Wouldn’t mind a little sister.”

“Slow down, Firecracker.” He nudged you playfully, “One step at at time.”

“I can live with that.” you replied, nudging him back.

The ride back home was as pleasant as the ride to the beach. Mav stopped at an diner at the halfway point and bought the two of you milkshakes before driving the rest of the way home.

You hopped off the back and secured the extra helmet the back of the bike.

“Thanks, Dad” You said, leaning down to hug him, where he still sat on the bike. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Firecracker” He replied, “I’ll call you tomorrow after training and please let Ice and Sarah know I’ll be here.”

“I will.” You promised, “Be safe tomorrow. Don’t do any crazy pilot stuff.”

“Says the girl who does crazy pilot stuff in her own plane.” He said, smirking at you.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about” You feigned innocence. “I’m a very safe pilot.”

“Maybe we should change your name to Pinocchio.” he teased.

You stuck your tongue out and turned to head inside, your dad’s laughter following you. You turned to wave before heading inside.

“I take it, it went well?” Your aunt asked, smiling as you walked through the kitchen.

“Yes.” You confirmed, “Thank you, Aunt Sarah… you and Uncle Tommy pushing is definitely what was needed. I should have talked to him a long time ago.”

“You’re more than welcome Sweetheart.” She said, “You’d have come around eventually. We just didn’t want you to lose any more time. And… we both knew you’d need your dad, and he’d need you.”

“The world is going to suck when Uncle Tommy isn’t in it anymore.” You whispered, your emotions lodging in your throat.

“It won’t be as good, that's for sure.” She agreed, her eyes misting over. “The sun won’t shine as bright.”

You walked over and hugged your aunt tightly. You knew she was doing her best to stay strong for everyone else.

“We’ll get each other through.” You assured her

After saying goodnight, you headed upstairs to shower and crash. The emotions from the last 48 hours had been a lot. You needed a good night's sleep to refresh for tomorrow.

#bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #top gun fanfiction #miles teller

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shibaraki · 2 years

Text

A crooked pinkie finger twitches as you try to move, accompanied by the tell-tale sound bite of a character dying from above, flecks of dust crumbling briefly from the outer case of Tomura’s console. You huff when he tenses around your shoulders to keep you held in the crook of his arm, feeling his disdained grumbling against your crown where you remain pressed to his front. Limbs entangled, cramped together as if there is no other space on the large bed.

You murmur his name in complaint, tilting your head back to meet his gaze, pulsing red and curtained by stray hair. The bun must’ve come loose. “Tomura, baby. You gotta let me walk around a little. My legs are full of static”.

Chin ducking into the material of his hoodie, his eyes narrow. “Fine,” he says, slacking his grip just enough that you can slip away while keeping both hands either side of his switch. “Just hurry up. You’re my lucky charm and I need to beat this final boss”.

“Pretty sure I just heard your player die,” you tease, scooting to the edge of the mattress where feet finally meet carpet and glancing back to flash him a smile. The space is dim, light leaking steadily through the bowed gaps in his blinds just enough for you to see how his face contorts.

“Because you were leaving,” his voice rasps harshly into a choleric hiss. Again, you hear the mocking tune of his player being defeated, and the right stick cracks. “See?”

You laugh, interrupted by the slight buckling of your knees as you stand. Your legs are still somewhat numb, and you feel your body subconsciously startle at the lack of sensation with each step. Blood slowly returns to your toes and prickles up your ankles to your calves. From one end of the room to the other, you grimace through it.

“I don’t know how you can sit at the computer all day without moving,” you whine, bending to massage your thumb along your thigh, “it's like I've aged a decade”.

The buttons continue to click rapidly. He ignores you in favour of sounding out his combination moves — “Down back, forward , three KB... forward, forward three...” — and in your next step towards the bedframe you put a spin onto your heel, a hum vibrating between your lips to form a familiar tune. Edges blur together as you are momentarily awash with vertigo, stumbling to avoid the corner of his desk where it meets your hip.

“What’re you doing?” he mutters, watching you in his periphery with eyes flickering back and forth across his screen.

“Dancing,” you coordinate yourself better, arms extended to curl awkwardly toward your stomach as you turn once more to increase the velocity of your spin. It dampens some of your restlessness; it feels good to seek normalcy and indulge in a little silliness — something you thought Tomura should do more often.

“You look like you’re rag dolling,” he snorts. The quiet synth music pouring from the switch speakers abruptly stops as he pauses his game, dropping the console onto his sternum to reach for you. “If you’re done being weird come back to bed. Now”.

His expression wanes, shifting with his emotions no matter how much he tries to remain stoic. Faux authority, then agitated, then beseeching. You understood the power at his fingertips, knew the harm he was capable of, but still you never feared him. You were weird for that too, he’d said. Like a captive animal with no instincts, helpless without even knowing it.

You take the hand he offers to you, threading fingers into the spaces between his knuckles. His pinkie remains hooked, kept away from your precious skin regardless of his mastered control. Tomura took no chances when it came to you.

His demeanour softens at how seamlessly you touch him, only to twist in bewilderment as you begin to pull him toward yourself. Hesitant curiosity guides him to the edge of the bed, where you then encourage him to stand in your embrace.

Tomura goes without resistance, reflexively sinking into your warmth until you’re close enough to kiss away the slant in his mouth. He follows your backwards walk into the centre of the room and you fashion his arms around your waist, then smoothing your hands over the curve of his shoulders to rest them on his chest.

“Why’re you…” you feel his body stiffen once you attempt to sway him, rooting himself to the floor at the realisation. His fingers twitch irritably by the base of your spine. “I’m not doing this,” he protests.

“Please?”

He casts a glance toward his game, abandoned between the sheets. “This is a waste of my time. You’re distracting me and I’m gonna forget my combos”.

“For me?” he tips his head back to avoid pleading eyes and the pout in your lips. You lean to feather light kisses against his pulse point, scarred and scratched pink. The refusal was all for the sake of maintaining his fraying dignity, to retain the lie that he was capable of saying no to you. That, and pure embarrassment.

Tomura didn’t like to be bad at things.

“There isn’t even any music,” he says, jaw shifting as he grits his teeth. Still, he doesn’t move away from you. Nosing gently at his jugular, you feel him shiver against your exhale, breath cooling over the small wet pecks left across his throat.

“We don’t need any,” you tell him, “just wanna be close to you like this”.

Visibly, you see him swallow. Your affectionate touches assuage the tension in his muscles enough that he begins to yield, and you smile through the hesitant rock of his weight between each foot as you move.

You guide him and he takes to it like a lamb, no witness aside from the sun peeking through his crooked blinds. In your mind four simple chords play in a universal melody that puppets your rhythm; he mimics it cautiously, bottom lip caught between teeth.

Completely intertwined, the two of you slowly begin to turn as your bodies sway in tandem. There isn’t an elaborate routine or set of steps to adhere to, and you continue like this in harmonious silence, wrapping you in a blanket of comfort. Chest to chest, eight fingers curled into the back of your shirt with pinkies lifted, he stares at you in an anxious bid for approval.

“Thank you Tomura,” you murmur, hearing your own contentment bleeding into the words, “for always indulging me. You picked it up quicker than I thought”.

The tentative oscillation of your bodies hardly needed to be measured by skill but he corrects his slouch all the same, standing impossibly taller with you in his arms. Betrayed by the proud inflection in his voice he replies, “Like it’s hard”.

#m.tomura

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the12thnightproject · 3 months

Text

Chapter 44: A Better Offer - The Winter’s Solstice brings with it a new offer for Katsuko.

Mitsuhide x OC; Hideyoshi x MC (Mai)

All Chapters Archived on Ao3

Logline - With Mai, Hideyoshi, and Aki missing, Mitsuhide and Katsuko reluctantly team up. Disguised as a merchant and his concubine, can they outsmart the man known as the God of Deceit?

Warnings - M rated chapter, minors DNI

The weather forecasters were correct after all. When we left the hospital (after a very awkward conversation with the police – thankfully smoothed over by Shingen’s fast-talking), the early evening had ushered in a cold front and a thunder snow squall that was probably sending meteorologists into raptures across the country. By the time I returned to the Mikumos’ house, it was snowing pretty steadily.

Sasuke suggested I spend the night in his place, guessing accurately that I was upset, and inaccurately that I would want company. But with Aki once again AWOL (this time voluntarily) I had some decisions to make… but only after allowing myself an evening of indulgence that included putting the turquoise streaks back into my hair, eating an entire bag of potato sticks, then for the grand finale:

Solo K-Pop Dance Party.

The Mikumos might be thoroughly enmeshed in the past, but they did at least own a flat screened television (that I imagined was only used to watch serious academic documentaries, TED talks, and historical dramas that would be highly critiqued for inaccuracies). I felt no guilt over polluting it with K-pop videos. The bands had changed in the years I had been gone, and the dance steps had gotten more complicated (far beyond Gangnam style), but I’d spent seven years in the Sengoku honing my martial arts and parkour skills. I could manage a few dance steps, right?

And even if I couldn’t, no one would ever know.

Nearly an hour later, I’d taken out my filial angst on a makeshift dance floor, singing as loudly as possible (if I didn’t know the lyrics, I made them up), stomping my feet, whipping my newly dyed hair and –

Bang Bang Bang

Could my conception of ‘loud’ could be trusted after seven years in feudal Japan? As the pounding on the front door continued, I hurried to the entry, prepared to beg the pardon of an irate neighbor. With an apologetic smile already on my face and a concessions speech on my lips, I opened the do –

Mitsuhide stood before me, flakes of snow decorating his kimono, and his hair backlit by the neighbor’s Christmas lights.

What? How?

“How did you –“

He stopped my words with one finger pressed against my lips. “Let me go first.”

Like I could stop him. Since his finger was still warm on my mouth, I nodded.

“You were already there.”

Where? Is that supposed mean something?

He took my hand and placed it on his chest… over his heart. “You thought there was no room for you, but in fact you’d already moved in. You’d filled every chamber with your mouth and your rebellions and your passions until I couldn’t turn around without tripping over another thing that I loved about you.”

BSOD

I couldn’t think of anything to say – which was probably for the best, because he crushed me to his chest in a hug so tight I thought we would fuse together. His fingers tangled in my hair, hair that was still damp from my post-dye shower, then he answered the question that had been in my head for the past month. “I believed I didn’t deserve-“

I pulled myself free. “Me? I ought to leave you out here to freeze for such a stupidly clichéd-“

“Deserve to be happy. Hideyoshi already gave me the self-sacrifice lecture, so you can spare your breath.” Then, as if he too had run out of words, he folded himself into me, his arms tight, his hands clutching my waist, breathing me in.

We stayed there, motionless, while once again, my brain struggled to compute the concept of a warlord where I had not expected a warlord to be, and my body opted out of the debate altogether and relaxed into his embrace, and heartbeat, and the scent of sandalwood and cinnamon. I was already there. I am already here.

Finally, the December wind that brought the snow and Mitsuhide to my door intruded with a gust that reminded me we were standing out in the open. I tugged him backward, into the shelter of the house, and secured the door behind him. “I have… many many questions.” Almost too many to organize my thoughts. And my body was just humming along, that prickly sensation of nerves now buzzing along, just overall basking in his presence.

“I expect you do, but again, Brat… Love, let me go first.” He waved his hand toward the back of the house, where the soundtrack of my prior mood played on. “What is that rather painful noise?”

Oh come on, it’s K-pop not death metal. “Music.”

Because at some point he had grabbed my hands, I let him keep them and led him into the living room.

He surveyed the television with curiosity, while I adjusted the volume to low… and after a moment of thought, changed to a satellite radio station that played Japanese classical music. “Better?”

“It will do. I imagine I shall find the progression of culture… interesting.” He took a cell phone out of his kimono, an unusually glittery pink one with a designer pattern on it. The charger cord dangled from the port. “Mai gave me this communication device, with detailed instructions on how to, er, charge and employ it.” He patted the front of his clothing and it crackled with the sound of paper. “And amongst your things, I found a note from Kenshin’s ninja with his ‘cell phone number’ on it and the time and location of the nearest wormhole.”

That’s right. Winter solstice. Honno-ji. Thundersnow.

Ah… I could figure out the rest. After landing in Honni-ji, he’d probably contacted Sasuke and… hm. I looked around the room, and located my own cell, which had been haphazardly flung into the sofa cushion during my dance party. Yep. Missed a text from Sasuke. It had only one word: Incoming. Followed by an eggplant emoji. “Why?”

“Surely you have worked that part out on your own.” He abandoned his examination of the room and pulled me back into his arms. “You are generally more perceptive than that.”

“I want to hear you say it.” I had not expected to hear an ‘I love you’ from him, but now that he was in front of me, I found those three words to be important.

His laugh warmed my ear. “If my memory serves me correctly, I have yet to hear an explicit declaration from you as well.”

“I didn’t think you wanted to hear that.” Not from me.

“As it happens, I find I do.” He tipped my chin up so that he could stare directly into my eyes, as if willing me to speak.

Are we actually arguing over who was going to say ‘I love you’ first?

I was about to offer a count of three simultaneous compromise when he laughed again. “You’re adorable when you’re being stubborn. I’m aware that there’s a part of you that would like me to suffer-“

“I didn’t say tha-“

“Do you still plan to argue with everything I say?”

I considered. “Possibly.”

“Then I’ll have to discover ways to keep your mouth better occupied. This should do it.” He swooped in for a hard and fast kiss, his behavior revealing the desperation I had never gotten from his spoken words. When I was breathless and holding onto him for balance, he whispered. “I love you. I must, for I’ve ceded the high ground and said it first.” He traced the outline of my lips with his finger.

“I love you.” Adding the ‘too’ seemed like it would cheapen my own response. “There is no high ground. Just…” I swirled my hand in the air. “This.”

There was absolutely high ground and we’d likely be jockeying for it for the rest of – “Er, what is next?” Had he come here to live with me in the modern world? Did he come here to take me to Azuchi? This time, I was not against the idea.

He dipped lower, and nibbled the corner of my mouth. “Hm, some of this.” I received another bone-melting kiss. “A bit of this as well.” His hand skimmed over my hip. “I don’t believe I’ll ever want to stop touching you.”

He hadn’t been this urgent, this – almost needy - that night in Sakai. If he had been holding back then, he was not doing so now. I could say that I was more than happy to put my thoughts away for the time being, but the truth of the matter was, they had already fled on their own accord, leaving the rest of me to enjoy the sensation of being sandwiched between Mitsuhide and the wall. “Don’t stop touching me.”

“Your time seems to require a rather excessive number of layers.” He snagged the top of the zipper of my hoodie, and easily figured out how to use it, pulling it down until the hollow of my throat was visible. “Ah, clever this…?”

“Zipper. And no one in this time is require to wear a sixteen layer court kimono.” Because he was taking too long with it, I shrugged out of my hoodie. All I had on underneath was a simple t-shirt and pajama pants that I had intended to sleep in.

“I wasn’t aware that you’d ever been required to wear an imperial kimono either, so the point is moot. And…” He dipped closer to whisper in my ear. “You are arguing again. I shall have to see if I can-“ he bit my earlobe, grazing it with both tongue and teeth, “do something about…” then a hard kiss just under my ear that coaxed a moan from my throat. “That will do nicely.”

He was doing it again. Falling into that pattern of controlled teasing. Granted, I was probably inviting it with my words. As much as I enjoyed these debates – this wasn’t how I wanted things now, not in this moment. I wanted him to lose control. To lose as much as I did.

So when he paused to breathe, while I still had the willpower to do so, I put my hand across his mouth, then ducked away. “Catch me!”

While he was processing that, I scooted past him, knowing that the surprise, my knowledge of the house’s layout, and speed would give me the advantage.

When he reached the bedroom, just a few seconds after me, I tackled him to the bed.

“I was under the impression that I was required to catch you.” He didn’t otherwise protest when I undid his obi and pushed his kimono aside. His body was no less beautiful for being nicked and scarred by various battles, all lean tight muscle that I’d not had a chance to admire last time.

“I lied.” Straddling him, I quickly yanked the shirt over my head, then grabbed his shoulders, hugging him, letting our bodies slide across each other. “Just so you know. This is where the begging starts.”

“You must be aware I could …. reverse this… situation in a moment, should I… desire.” His voice was huskier than normal, and the breathlessness between the words suggested he was ok with the way things were at the moment.

“I know.” I tugged on his hair, just a little. “So I am asking you to take everything you want, except – control.” Though I was still wearing pajama pants, I ground myself against him, and he hardened instantly.

Instead of fighting, or teasing, both of which I had expected him to do, he surprised me by holding me closer, hugging me to his chest. “It seems more apologies are in order.” For a long moment he was quiet, stroking me hair. It felt even more intimate than what we had been doing just a few seconds before. “That night in Sakai. I made you feel as if you were indeed the prostitute you were pretending to be. It was not intentional, but intentions don’t matter. Only the hurt.”

“You didn’t.” I angled my head to look at him directly. “You treated yourself like you were the prostitute.”

His eyes widened and I could see the moment my words registered as truth. He touched his forehead to mine. “I am not comfortable with seeking my own happiness.” His cheeks had reddened somewhat – that might have been the only tell that I had finally found an emotional core. “Knowing that I could bring you to pleasure was enough.”

“Can you credit that I might feel the same way? Or at least that I want things to be a little bit more,” I thought for a moment, trying to find the right word, “balanced.”

He took my hand in his, linking our fingers into a basket. “It seems I am still learning, or perhaps, understanding, more about you.”

“I’m not asking you to completely stop teasing me.” Left unsaid was the fact that I was unlikely to stop fighting with him either. “I can’t deny that it’s fun. Sometimes.”

My comment immediately brought back his smirk. “Hm, yes I did notice that at times you highly appreciate it. I was not aware your voice could reach that pitch.”

I let that one go – given that I’d basically thrown him a fast ball up the middle. “As long as you’re not using it to hide.”

“My automatic response would be to say fair enough.” He closed his eyes and was quite for a long moment. “However I have enough self-knowledge to admit it isn’t something I can easily stop.”

“Take it from someone who has acquired a fair number of physical skills. That, is why we practice.” Then I took the initiative to kiss him first again. We could just see where this ended up going.

Where it went was a short kiss that led to another tiny kiss. Kiss after kiss like a swarm of bright fireflies. Each a little slower and longer until they converged and extended into one deep kiss as he half rolled on top of me and fused his mouth to mine. Still, I was the one setting the pace. It was I who opened my mouth to him first, and my tongue that eagerly encouraged his.

Kissing, touching, we had given each other permission to explore our bodies. I wanted to map out every battle scar I found, pressing a light kiss on each one, knowing that the worst of them were invisible.

I traced a long slash that traveled down his hip, taking the opportunity to remove the rest of his clothes. “Katana?”

“Mm, yes. If I recall correctly, Kyubei half-carried me off the battlefield that afternoon.” When I made a move to kiss the wound, he stopped me. “Careful. I have no major objection to the direction this is taking, but right now I want your face next to mine. Please.”

Ok then. Since he had asked nicely, and since I did want to see his face too, I crawled back up his body. “Hello again.”

He rolled fully on top of me and I reveled in his hot weight pushing me down into the mattress as he poured his desire into a kiss. I don’t know what exactly was the key that had unlocked his desperation, but I rejoiced in the power of knowing that this, this at last, was for me. I wrapped my leg across his, trying to pull him closer. “I take it you approve, Brat?”

“Yes, please.” If that was begging, I didn’t care anymore. His need, the sharpness and frantic movements, yes please.

His sweat slick body glided over mine, as he settled between my legs, not to thrust inside, apparently not yet, but his erection sliding across me set those firefly sparks humming along every nerve ending.

“So perfectly formed.” His mouth latched onto my breast, sucking just hard enough that I shrieked and tugged his hair again.

Each tiny flick of his tongue had me arching against him. My hands, fingers, dug into his shoulders and he continued to lavish attention on my breasts. Each time I thought I’d hit the point where I couldn’t stand it any longer, he would switch to the other breast and the cycle would begin again.

“I could dine on you all day. And night.” His words were rough. Short. He’d lost that slightly removed from things smoothness that usually categorized his speech. I could believe that in this, he wasn’t trying to please me, he truly wanted to keep the taste of me in his mouth, on his tongue, a tongue that usually noticed no flavor.

If he did that, I’d probably pass out from overstimulation. I poked his forehead lightly and just pointed to my lips.

He laughed. “As you wish.” Then his mouth was on mine again.

As the infinite kiss continued, our bodies naturally came closer together, His hand rested on my hip, leisurely drifting to between my legs. I was so close…

“You did claim the high ground.” The murmur was soft in my ear, before he flipped onto his back, the movement carrying me over. In no time, he guided me on top of him. I was already so wet that it was easy to take his length inside.

For a moment, I didn’t move – I looked down at his face, those sharp cheekbones softened slightly by his blush, and that amber gaze warmed by affection, by love. That snarky knowing grin now replaced by a smile. Oh I knew that the wicked tease was still in there, and I knew there would be many times that I would welcome that man into me as well, just as I knew that there would be many times that he would purposefully bait my internal rebel.

But for the moment, both of those people had stepped aside – our worst impulses had been tamed, as we found a new rhythm, mutual sighs and groans signaling that we had tamed each other.

Later…

I awoke from a semi-daze as something feathery tickled my nose. I opened my eyes to discover it was a lock of my own hair. “Oh. For an instant, I thought you had brought one of those peacock feathers through the wormhole.”

“I did not. However if that is something that would be of interest, I’m certain your time has birds, does it not?” From the expression on his face, I understood that to mean that if he could find a feather, he would tease me with it everywhere, and the thought made my nerves zing with a ‘sounds fun, let’s try that.’ He laughed. “I take it that’s a yes.”

“I could be persuaded.” I batted his hand away though when he swooped in with another tickle.

“Interesting shade your hair has become.” He held it up to the light, and the turquoise streaks looked brighter in the glow of the hundred watt bulb.

“It’s temporary. Should wash out in a couple of weeks.” I’d learned my lesson from the last time – even though there would no longer be a Fume ready to chop my hair off. Not everyone appreciates bright blue-green streaks. Which, reminded me… I still needed to clean up the bathroom. I’d left it looking like a slaughter on the Vulcan home world.

“It suits you somehow. Hints at a bit of chaos below the surface.” He linked his hand with mine, then lifted our hands up to the light. “Or more accurately, it warns of the chaos.”

“That’s not fair.” I poked him with my free hand. “I always had a reason and a logic behind everything that I did.” Even if sometimes that reason was to provoke him. Still counts, right?

“I stand corrected. I might not have always agreed with what that logic was, but I cannot claim you were completely heedless.” He was quiet a moment, long enough to pause for me to recognize he was holding something back.

Taking the opportunity to toss his favorite words at him, I asked, “What aren’t you telling me?”

“One of those dark moments of self-reflection – acknowledging that your calculated risks allow for a high degree of that risk to your person than I am comfortable with, because I don’t like seeing you in danger… which was followed by the knowledge that I have and likely will take greater chances with my own safety.”

“We could take them together.” Before he could immediate reject that, I added, “Remember, you got two for one with me. Well, now that you’ve taught me how to pick locks, you get a concubine, a spy and a thief all in one person. Really, I should ask for a raise.”

“If you move your hand a bit lower, you’ll find one.” While I was still deciding whether to react to the pun, he guided my hand to his shaft, and when I lightly stroked him, I received an enthusiastic twitch in response. I should have guessed that he’d have excellent powers of recovery. “In all seriousness am I to understand that you do wish to return the next time the wormhole makes it possible?”

“In about a month, it should be possible, and yes, I had planned to go back with… er, Sasuke.” Hm, perhaps not the best idea to mention that Shingen had offered me a job.

Of course Mitsuhide, being Mitsuhide, noticed my hesitation, and immediately rolled on top of me. With one hand, he easily pinned my wrists over my head. “You’re hiding something.”

“Many things, probably, but-“ my words ended on a squeak when he started nibbling on my throat playfully, then tickled inside of my elbow, the one place I am vulnerable. In moments, I was squirming and laughing hopelessly. “Stop. Stop. I swear if this is the secret of your interrogation techniques, then I want to watch the next time you – eek!” He’d swiped the spot with his tongue.

“I seem to recall you telling me that you’re not ticklish.”

“I lied about that too.”

No escape now. Even though I tried to roll away, he had me cornered. “I believe I have not yet received an explanation, Brat.”

“Oooh. Downgraded back to brat.” I didn’t actually mind the nickname, but there was no way I would let him know that.

“I do mean it in the most affectionate of ways. Now. Stop trying to divert my attention. What. Aren’t. You. Telling. Me?” Each word was punctuated by a kiss.

“So, um, well, Sasuke is actually here with Takeda Shingen.” There was no surprise on his face. Huh. I guess he’d already known that. “And he offered me a job. I was thinking of seeing if I could upgrade that to an apprenticeship, and then, at some point, when I think I am ready, I would take over Aki’s network.” I mean, he’s got a network in every timeline, I suppose, and I would be taking away some of his workload. Besides… technically, I stand to inherit the family business someday anyway.

Mitsuhide stared down at me. “You are a terrifying woman. If I didn’t love you so much, I would be thoroughly intimidated.” No he wouldn’t. But it was nice to hear him say it. “I do hope you have abandoned this idea.”

“Make me a better offer.” It was a bluff since I hadn’t really had a chance to counter-offer Shingen’s initial job offer, but I’m certain he would have agreed.

“I offer this…” He kissed me long and slow, powerfully moving his lips over mine, this time demanding a response. When I was gasping and breathless he continued, “And this –“

He brushed his hand down the side of my body, all the way past my hips. For one tantalizing moment, he kept it there, just long enough to warm my inner thigh…

… then he drifted upward, long, lazy strokes … he’d already learned my body so well that he knew just how much pressure and rhythm would have me arching off the bed and pressing up into him.

“But, most importantly, my love,” he gazed down at me, amber-gold eyes glistening with something I didn’t recognize, something I had never seen from him, “you may have my heart. All of it. To do with as you wish.”

I couldn’t speak – only nod, and he squeezed me tighter as he slowly pushed inside me again. Less frantic. More wondering… exploring this new world.

We moved together, reveling in each other’s touch, in that oh you are here… it’s you… it’s me… it’s us… something different.

Wait, who is crying? Were those tears? His tears were more frightening than his anger, frightening in a ‘with great power comes great responsibility’ kind of way, but I never planned to run from him again. I hadn’t thought it possible, but I loved him more in that moment than ever before.

It’s ok. I’m here.

Our extended, intimate embrace finally crested and crashed into the night, then softly drifted into a cozy warmth. We were home.

The sound of snow against the window woke me just before sunrise. Mitsuhide was still asleep – not in that vampiric pose (I knew that had been just to freak me out), but on his side, arm flung over his face… oh, we never had managed to turn off the light. I got up and did so, not that it mattered as a soft glow from outside infused the room.

With a sudden urge for a glass of water, I pulled on my pajamas, then as I turned to leave the room, something crinkled under my foot. I had stepped on Mitsuhide’s kimono, which had somehow been flung to this side of the room.

What was crackling though? Sounded like paper. I knelt to see, and found Mai’s instructions. Curious to know what she would tell someone who was about to suddenly go into the future, I started to pick it up, then paused. Mitsuhide and I had both read each other’s mail before, and I doubted he would care if I read this letter. However, for my own sanity, I needed to stop being afraid of what Mai meant to him. I set it on the edge of the bed for him, then picked up his clothes, folded them, and put them on the bed too.

When I caught sight of the fat snowflakes swirling across the garden. I upgraded my plan for a cup of water to a cup of hot tea, and once it was ready, I settled on the couch to watch it pile up outside.

I could hear Mitsuhide padding around upstairs, but I figured if he needed help finding anything (or how to work them) he would call for me. I wasn’t ignoring him, or anything. It was just that I was pleasantly sore all over and at present too comfortable to move.

Indeed, when Mitsuhide did emerge, he was already dressed and holding the turquoise robe. “Yoshimoto gave me the things you’d left at Genba.” He smiled as I shrugged myself into it. “It pleases me to see you so happy in something I had made for you.”

“Do you want breakfast? Or tea?” There was still plenty of hot water in the kettle. But when I made a move to get up, he shook his head.

“Not at present.” He looked over the couch with the curious eye of someone cataloging the future, before scooting in behind me. In one fluid motion, he’d lifted me onto his lap, without spilling a drop of my tea.

We sat there, completely comfortable, watching the snow sweep through the garden. The neighbor’s Christmas lights were (of course) still on, glowing softly against the growing drifts. There would be things to figure out later, but for the moment it was to just sit here, and zen out at the sight and sound of snow, in the warmth of each other’s presence.

He put his hands on my feet. “You never remember your socks.”

“Well, I had meant to come back to bed after I got a cup of water, but- oh, you don’t have to do.” Too late to protest. He’d taken off his socks and put them on my feet.

“I told you before. I don’t feel cold like some people.” He gave my toes, now warming up in the soft material, a little tweak.

I wiggled my feet inside the socks. “Probably ought to at some point get you some modern clothing. Or at least a coat and boots.”

“Hm, that was in fact included on Mai’s list. She thought I should go shopping first and appear at your door dressed in a, hm, what did she call it, a nice designer suit.” He shifted around, then handed me the letter. “I must admit to some disappointment that you didn’t even attempt to read this one. Is the mystery already gone in our relationship?” He punctuated the teasing with a light kiss under my ear.

“Um, technically, I read Aki’s mail, not yours, Mr. I-Kept-a-Letter-for-weeks.” Did I want to probe his feelings for Mai? Now? When we were feeling so cozy and relaxed?

“Your ability to rationalize matters never ceases to astound me.” His arms snaked around my waist as he held the letter open. Even without reading it, I could see that it was indeed a list of how-tos and instructions, complete with very detailed drawings. In her how to recharge the phone, she’d even drawn a map to where the most likely free outlets would be with little tab A/slot B arrows to demonstrate what went where.

There was even a little Sasuke chibi answering his phone, with his familiar expression of blank-face intent, but a thought bubble over his head revealing his inner fanboy was nerding out over a call from Mitsuhide.

Wow. I had known Mai was a good designer, but I had not been aware that translated so well to her drawing skills. “She’s very good.”

“Indeed. Were she not only the Azuchi chatelaine but also a seamstress, I could use her as a scout.” He set his chin on my shoulder.

“No, you wouldn’t endanger her like that. She’s too precious.” Easier to approach the question from the side.

“True. Hideyoshi would very likely dismantle me for the thought.”

Agreed, but that wasn’t what I meant. “To you.”

“My love, you may someday acquire the skills of a very good interrogator, but not yet, and for the purposes of this conversation, you will have better luck simply asking me what you want to know.” He softened the statement by pulling me backward until I was resting on his chest. He brought his hand up and began smoothing out my hair.

“Are you in love with her?” It seemed I had the ability to ask that after all.

“Dear me, haven’t I just spent the past night proving that it’s you I love?” That… didn’t exactly answer my question, something he must have immediately realized, for he continued, “Mai is very loveable and she awakened feelings I didn’t not know I was still capable of. I also believed that the Iife I led required a sacrifice. But in the end, I discovered that the person I could not sacrifice was you. I’d rather condemn my soul to darkness than give up even one more day with you.”

Where to begin to unpack that? I’d wished for reassurance, and gotten an entire monologue. “I don’t really agree that you’re the dark side, but thank you for being willing to face it.” I hoped he knew now that he’d never have to face it alone. It wouldn’t just be me helping him face it. It was clear that Hideyoshi and Mai would also be at his side.

Idly I flipped to the next page of Mai’s instructions, in which a cartoon labelled ‘Grand Romantic Gesture’ portrayed chibi Mitsuhide, wearing a modern suit, kneeling in front of a chibi version of myself. He held jewelry sized gift box in his hands. “She has very specific ideas about romance, but I’m more than happy with the lockpick set.” And with him. To punctuate that, I gave him a kiss.

“Dear me, that is rather a disappointment, for I do have another gift for you – however, it’s waiting in Sakai.” I caught a rather unusual amount of repressed emotion in his tone, and wondered at it.

I knew him well enough to know there was no use asking for details, although… “What would you have done if I’d said I planned to stay here?”

“Gone back in time to Sakai, picked up your present, and brought it to you at the next available opportunity.” He tapped on his lips with his finger. “Because it is a very good gift, if I do say so myself.”

Almost, I asked if it was a pony, but… that had been a private joke between myself and Aki. Which reminded me. “Aki’s gone again.” While I was safely cocooned in his arms, sheltered from my father’s actions, I brought Mitsuhide up to date with what had happened after I disappeared from Genba.

“When you and Iekane went over the edge-“ He trailed off, then rested his face on my shoulder. I could feel a tremor go through him, and that told me more than words could. That this man, known for his cool, dispassionate conversation, could be at a loss for words, was humbling. Maybe no words were necessary anyway. I closed my eyes and breathed him for a while.

Eventually he asked me. “Are you upset that he left you here?”

“More angry that he didn’t leave a note… but I sort of expected him to leave. It’s what he does.” And now that I knew there was only one of Aki, and he was trying to keep several Katsus alive, to prevent several Hikos from being murdered, to find several Toshiies and trying to keep an unknown number of timelines from crashing into each other… I understood.

But he still could have left me a damn note.

“I can’t promise that I’ll never have to leave you behind – temporarily – but I promise I will always come back.” His voice was so quiet I could barely hear him.

“You could always take Katsu with you.”

“We shall discuss that later.”

“Oh, you can be sure of that.”

Artwork by Butterfly n'' Lace: https://www.facebook.com/butterflynlace

@lorei-writes @selenacosmic @bestbryn @lyds323 @akitsuneswife @tele86

#10things #10 things I hage about mitsuhide #ikemen sengoku #fanfic #fan art #ikesen fanfic #mitsuhide monday #mitsuhide akechi #ikesen mitsuhide #oc katsuko #katsuverse #slow burn payoff

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shuxiii · 1 year

Text

Everyday pt. 8

Hanni Pham x reader pt1, pt2, pt3, pt4, pt5, pt6, pt7, pt8, pt9, pt10, pt11, pt12, pt13

a/n i am dying, credits ''every day'' david levithan

TW: homophobia

a/n me messing i saw hanni in edits today and pictures I had to make chapter 8, still credits all to ''every day'' by David levithan, edit: I'm losing my sanity

Day 6006

The phone rings.

I reach for it, thinking it’s Hanni.

Even though it can’t be.

I look at the name on the screen. Austin.

My boyfriend.

“Hello?” I answer.

“Hugo! This is your nine a.m. wake-up call. I will be there in an hour. Go make yourself purdy.”

“Whatever you say,” I mumble.

There’s a lot I have to do in an hour.

First, there’s the usual getting up, getting showered, and getting dressed. In the kitchen, I can hear my parents talking loudly in a language I don’t know. It sounds like Spanish but isn’t Spanish, so I’m guessing it’s Portuguese. Foreign languages throw me—I have a beginner’s grasp of a few of them, but I can’t really access a person’s memory fast enough to pretend to be fluent in any of them. I access and find that Hugo’s parents are from Brazil. But that’s not going to help me understand them better. So I steer clear of the kitchen.

Austin is picking Hugo up to go to a gay pride parade in Annapolis. Two of their friends, William and Nicolas, will be coming along. It’s marked on Hugo’s calendar as well as his mind.

Luckily, Hugo has a laptop in his room—since it’s the weekend and a school computer isn’t an option, I am going to risk checking in. I quickly open my email and find something that Hanni sent only ten minutes ago.

Yn,

I hope it went well yesterday. I called her house just now and no one was home—do you think they’re getting help? I’m trying to take it as a good sign.

Meanwhile, here’s a link you need to see. It’s out of control.

Where are you today?

I click on the link beneath her initial and am taken to the home page of a big Baltimore tabloid website. The headline blares:

THE DEVIL AMONG US!

It’s Haruto’s story, but it’s not only Haruto’s story. This time there are five or six other people from the area claiming to have been possessed by the devil. Much to my relief, none of them besides Haruto are familiar to me. All of them are older than I am. Most claim to have been possessed for a time much longer than a single day.

I would think the reporter would have been more skeptical, but she buys the stories uncritically. She even links to other stories of demonic possession—death-row criminals who claimed they were under the influence of satanic forces, politicians and preachers who were caught in compromising positions and said that something very uncharacteristic had come over them. It all sounds very convenient.

I quickly run Haruto through a search engine and find more coverage. The story, it seems, is going wide.

In article after article, there is one person quoted. Essentially, he says the same thing every time:

“I have no doubt that these are cases of demonic possession,” says Rev. Anderson Poole, who has been counseling Watanabe. “These are textbook examples. The devil is nothing if not predictable.”

“These possessions should come as no surprise,” says Poole. “We as a society have been leaving the door wide open. Why wouldn’t the devil walk right in?”

People are believing this. The articles and posts in the comments sections are legion—all from people who see the devil’s work in everything.

Even though I should know better, I shoot off a quick email to Haruto.

I am not the devil.

I hit send, but I don’t feel any better.

I email Hanni, telling her how it went with Jiwon's father. I also let her know that I’m going to be in Annapolis for the day, and tell her what T-shirt I’m wearing and what I look like.

There’s a honk outside, and I see a car that must be Austin’s. I race through the kitchen and say a hurried goodbye to Hugo’s parents. Then I pile into the car—the boy in the passenger seat (William) moves into the back with the other boy (Nicolas) so I can sit next to my boyfriend. For his part, Austin takes one look at my outfit and tsk-tsks, “You’re wearing that to Pride?” But he’s joking. I think.

There is conversation around me the whole car ride, but I’m not really a part of it. My mind is completely elsewhere.

I shouldn’t have sent Haruto that email.

One simple line, but it admits too much.

From the moment we hit Annapolis, Austin is in his element.

“Isn’t this fun?” he keeps asking.

William, Nicolas, and I nod, agree. In truth, the Annapolis Pride events aren’t that elaborate—in many ways it feels like the navy has turned gay and lesbian for the day, and a ragtag assortment of people have come along to cheer it on. The weather is sunny and cool, and that seems to cheer everyone further. Austin likes to hold my hand and swing it like we’re walking down the yellow brick road. Ordinarily, I’d be charmed. He has every right to be proud, to enjoy this day. It’s not his fault I’m so distracted.

I’m looking for Hanni in the crowd. I can’t help it. Every now and then, Austin catches me.

“See someone you know?” he asks.

“No,” I say truthfully.

She’s not here. She hasn’t made it. And I feel foolish for expecting her to. She can’t just drop her life every time I’m available. Her day is no less important than mine.

We come to a corner where there are a few people protesting the festivities. I don’t understand this at all. It’s like protesting the fact that some people are red-haired.

In my experience, desire is desire, love is love. I have never fallen in love with a gender. I have fallen for individuals. I know this is hard for people to do, but I don’t understand why it’s so hard, when it’s so obvious.

One of the protestor’s signs catches my eye. HOMOSEXUALITY IS THE DEVIL’S WORK, it says. And once again I think about how people use the devil as an alias for the things they fear. The cause and effect is backward. The devil doesn’t make anyone do anything. People just do things and blame the devil after.

Predictably, Austin stops to kiss me in front of the protestors. I try to oblige. Philosophically, I am with him. But I’m not inside the kiss. I cannot manufacture the intensity.

He notices. He doesn’t say anything, but he notices.

I want to check my email on Hugo’s phone, but Austin isn’t letting me out of his sight. When William and Nicolas make a move to get some lunch, Austin says he and I are going to go our own way for a little while.

I assume we’re going to get lunch, too, but instead he pulls me into a hip clothing store and spends the next hour trying things on, with me giving my outside-the-changing-room opinion. At one point, he pulls me into the changing room to steal some kisses, and I oblige. But at the same time, I’m thinking that if we’re inside, there’s no way Hanni is going to find me.

While Austin debates whether the skinny jeans are skinny enough, I find myself wondering what Jiwon is doing at this moment. Is she unburdening herself, going along with it, or is she defiant, denying that she ever wanted help in the first place? I picture Beomgyu and Soobin in their rec room, playing video games, not having any sense that their week was disrupted. I think of Keeho later tonight, preparing his clothes for church tomorrow morning.

“What do you think?” Austin asks.

“They’re great,” I say.

“You didn’t even look.”

I can’t argue this. He’s right. I didn’t.

I look at him now. I need to pay more attention.

“I like them,” I tell him.

“Well, I don’t,” he says. Then he storms back into the changing room.

I haven’t been a good guest in Hugo’s life. I access his memories and discover that he and Austin first became boyfriends at this very celebration, a year ago this weekend. They’d been friends for a little while, but they’d never talked about how they felt. They were each afraid of ruining the friendship, and instead of making it better, their caution made everything awkward. So finally, as a pair of twentysomething men passed by holding hands, Austin said, “Hey, that could be us in ten years.”

And Hugo said, “Or ten months.”

And Austin said, “Or ten days.”

And Hugo said, “Or ten minutes.”

And Austin said, “Or ten seconds.”

Then they each counted to ten, and held hands for the rest of the day.

The start of it.

Hugo would have remembered this.

But I didn’t.

Austin senses something has changed. He comes back from the dressing room without any clothes in his arms, looks at me, and makes a decision.

“Let’s get out of here,” he says. “I don’t want to have this particular conversation in this particular store.”

He leads me down to the water, away from the celebration, away from the crowds. He finds a somewhat secluded bench and I follow him there. Once we sit down, it all comes out.

“You haven’t been with me once this whole day,” he says. “You aren’t listening to a word I say. You keep looking around for someone else. And kissing you is like kissing a block of wood. And today, of all days. I thought you said you were going to give it a chance. I thought you said you were snapping out of whatever it is that’s been afflicting you the past couple of weeks. I am sure I recall you saying there wasn’t anyone else. But maybe I’m mistaken. I was willing to bend over backward, Hugo. But I can’t bend over backward and walk around at the same time. I can’t bend over backward and have a conversation. I guess when it all comes down to it, I’m just not that damn flexible.”

“Austin, I’m sorry,” I say.

“Do you even love me?”

I have no idea if Hugo loves him or not. If I tried, I’m sure I could access moments when he loved him and moments when he didn’t. But I can’t answer the question and be sure I’m being truthful. I’m caught.

“My feelings haven’t changed,” I say. “I’m just a little off today. It has nothing to do with you.”

Austin laughs. “Our anniversary has nothing to do with me?”

“That’s not what I said. I mean my mood.”

Now Austin is shaking his head.

“I can’t do this, Hugo. You know I can’t do this.”

“Are you breaking up with me?” I ask, genuine fear in my voice. I can’t believe I’m doing this to both of them.

Austin hears the fear, looks at me and maybe sees something worth keeping.

“This isn’t the way I want today to go,” he says. “But I have to believe that it isn’t the way you want it to go, either.”

I can’t imagine that Hugo was planning to break up with Austin today. And if he was, he can always do it tomorrow.

“Come here,” I say. Austin moves in to me and I lean into his shoulder. We sit like that for a moment, looking at the ships on the bay. I take his hand. When I turn to look at him, he’s blinking back tears.

This time when I kiss him, I know there’s something in it. When he feels it, it may come across as love. It is my thanks to him for not ending it. It is my thanks to him for giving it at least one day more.

We stay out until late, and I am a good boyfriend the whole time. Eventually I lose myself a little in his life, dancing along with Austin, William, Nicolas, and a few hundred other gays and lesbians when the parade organizers blast the Village People’s “In the Navy.”

bsp; I keep looking for Hanni, but only when Austin is distracted. And, at a certain point, I give up.

When I get home, there’s an email from her:

Yn,

Sorry I couldn’t make it to Annapolis—there were some things I had to do.

Maybe tomorrow?

I wonder what the “things I had to do” were. I have to assume they involve Minji, because otherwise, wouldn’t she have told me what they were?

I’m pondering this when Austin texts me to say he ended up having a great day. I text him back and say I had a great day, too. I can only hope that’s the way Hugo remembers it, because now Austin has proof if he denies it.

Hugo’s mother comes in and says something to me in Portuguese. I only get about half of it.

“I’m tired,” I tell her in English. “I think it’s time for bed.”

I don’t think I’ve addressed her questions, but she just shakes her head—I am a typical, unforthcoming teenager—and heads back to her room.

Before I go to sleep, I decide to see if Haruto has written me back.

He has.

Two words.

Prove it.

#Hanni x reader #Hanni Pham #Pham Hanni #Hanni Pham x reader #newjeans #newjeans fanfic #hanni pham #new jeans #nwjns #NewJeans Imagines #Newjeans imagine #Newjean Fanfic #NewJeans Fanfic #newjeans fic #newjeans imagine #Newjeans x reader

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sagemonsters · 9 months

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@atlasthefallen has a blind date with...

Imara the Gnoll

Imara is a happy gnoll (a bipedal and intelligent spotted hyena) who loves the African metal scene. She dresses from head to toe in black leather and lace adorned with silver spikes and chains. She wears a lot of silver jewelry and has dyed some of her fur black as well.

Imara is dedicated to metal, and is always excited to go to concerts and music festivals. She can talk about her favorite bands for hours on end, and loves discovering new music. She’s always down to talk about music with you, and is starting to build a vinyl collection while hunting down the perfect turntable.

Imara is an incredibly cheerful person, and isn’t nearly as angry as her music taste would lead anyone to believe. She always has a hug and a few words of encouragement at the ready. She tends to look on the bright side of things and expects the best out of people, which some folks mistake for childishness—to their downfall!

She’s a carnivore first and foremost, and her powerful jaws can crunch through bone when need be. She won’t hesitate to defend you from any threat, and doesn’t allow bigotry of any kind to pass unchallenged.

Thanks to her thorough immersion in the metal scene, Imara is a bit of an outlier in her pack, but her large extended family supports her interests and is always ready to back her up if things go south. Once you’re introduced, the family is eager to welcome you into the fold for however long you’re a friend or partner of Imara’s, and is always happy to dispense advice or aid if you need such things.

Imara is very feminine and loves makeup and jewelry. Her tastes tend toward the macabre, although she identifies more as a metalhead than a goth. Her wardrobe is 99% black, and she watches a lot of makeup tutorial videos on YouTube. She’s always happy to loan you articles of clothing and help you with buying and/or putting on makeup.

“Okay, so you don’t have Desecrated Deeds to Decease,” the gnoll said, leaning her leather-clad elbow on the glass countertop. “What about Intellectual Metamorphosis by Wrust?”

“Rust like iron?” the salesclerk asked.

The gnoll huffed and reached over to grab a pad of sticky notes from next to the ancient-looking computer monitor in front of the cashier. She scribbled something on it and showed it to him.

“Oh, I see,” the cashier said as he looked. “That’s a Botswana-based group, right? I don’t think we carry anything from Africa.”

“And you call this place a record shop,” the gnoll grumbled. Her black, pierced lips peeled away from her fangs in a grimace of frustration. “Can you order the vinyl from your supplier so that I can pick it up?”

“Uh, let me talk to my manager…” the cashier said, and fled through a door in the back of the shop. The gnoll looked over her shoulder at you, her kohl-lined eyes softening and her grimace turning more embarrassed than frustrated. “I’m sorry this is taking so long,” she said. “I know you’ve got your own stuff to buy; I wasn’t expecting this much hassle.”

You smiled back at her. “No worries. I’ve been here a lot; their catalog system is from the Triassic and takes forever to look anything up. I’ve been in your position plenty of times, and with longer lines behind me! It’s cool.”

The gnoll let out a burst of cackling laughter. “It’s a relief to hear that,” she admitted. “I hate making people wait when they’re in a hurry. Who’re you?”

You told her your name, and the gnoll nodded as she looked at the stack of records in your arms. “Nice picks there,” she said appreciatively, and grinned. “Say, is African music really that exotic to people around here? I want to get my vinyl from local indie record stores, but so far nobody in this city has carried the stuff I want.”

You shrugged. “I suppose it depends on what you’re looking for? Tell me what in particular you like, and I’ll see if I can help you find it.”

The gnoll’s eyes lit up. “Really? That’s real sweet of you. I’m a big metal fan, if you couldn’t tell, and my name’s Imara. I try to find music that’s kinda, you know, off the beaten track. I think you’ve got pretty good taste, so let’s swap phone numbers, yeah?”

“Awesome!” you said, and shifted the stack of records into the crook of your arm so that you could pull out your phone.

see here if you'd like your own blind date with a monster!

#monster romance #monster lover #terato #x reader #gender neutral reader #monster x human #monster girlfriend #sage's monster matches #reader insert #gnoll

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emoprincey · 1 year

Text

Hello besties, I desperately needed to write some dukexiety yesterday (other than the longform dukexiety fics I’m already working on) so I scribbled this down. I might do more with this au, but not right now bc my dissertation proposal is due at the end of the week (and I still have no idea what I’m doing). Anyway, enjoy!

Relationships: Pre-romantic dukexiety, platonic LAMP with familial Virgil and Logan.

Warnings: Swearing, video game violence, very brief mention of underage drinking.

Writing taglist: @iclaimedtobethebetterbard

Word count: 1231

“Motherfucker!” Remus yelled at the screen, slamming his headphones down. He glared as the words “You died” popped up on the screen. He knew perfectly well that his character had been shot in the head by the AI, thank you very much, and he didn’t need the game to taunt him about it.

After a moment of deliberation, he decided not to click the little “play again” button, and locked his computer before he stood up and stretched.

He’d been holed up in his room playing the game since he got home from school, and now it was nearly 5pm. No wonder his back was aching.

It was probably about time to take a break, and he was feeling kinda thirsty anyway, so he headed downstairs to the kitchen. He could hear Roman and his loser friends shouting excitedly behind the closed living room door, probably playing some boring game like scrabble.

Ignoring them, he headed for the cupboard where they kept the fizzy drinks. His mum had just confiscated his last can of Monster Energy, saying that it made him too hyper, so a bottle of Mountain Dew would have to do.

He was walking out of the kitchen, whistling a slightly off-key jaunty tune, when he nearly bumped into someone.

The living room door had opened as he walked past, and out had walked-

Virgil Angelo.

Remus froze as Virgil looked up at him through his dyed purple fringe, his dark brown eyes rimmed with striking black eyeliner, pale olive-toned cheeks flushed pink with embarrassment.

Remus opened his mouth to apologise, but no sound came out.

Fortunately, Virgil beat him to it. “Shit, sorry- I’m so fucking... I didn’t mean-”

“It’s fine,” Remus said quickly, hoping his words didn’t sound as erratic as his heartbeat. “I was just, um-”

He nodded up the stairs.

“Oh, right. Sure. Sorry,” Virgil said, stepping out of his way. “I’m going...”

Virgil gestured to the kitchen, slipping past Remus.

Remus nodded, his mouth feeling drier than before. “Right. Of course. Um, I’ll just... see ya later,” he said, as he hurried up the stairs.

As soon as he was out of Virgil’s sight, he leaned against his bedroom door and groaned. Could he have been any more awkward? He knew the shy, gorgeous emo with flawless make-up and such soft-looking hair had become friends with his brother recently, but he didn’t realise Roman had actually invited Virgil over.

He ran a hand through his tangled hair and sighed. It was like a rats nest, if the rats decided that copious amounts of grease and cheap hair gel was the most effective thing to hold their nest together with. When was the last time he even used a hairbrush? Did he even know where his hairbrush was? He was going to have to ask Roman which of his friends were coming over each day, so he could at least look presentable if Virgil came over.

Fuck, Remus never cared about looking presentable. What was this emo doing to him?

Groaning again, he went back to his game, making a mental note not to yell at the screen so much now he knew there was a cute boy downstairs.

-----

Virgil closed the living room door quickly once he’d returned with his can of Diet Coke. He flopped down into his spot on the floor by the living room table, where a game of scrabble was set out. Logan was already winning by a million points – Virgil should have known better than to play this game against him.

As soon as Virgil had got himself seated, he leaned over to Roman. “You didn’t tell me Remus would be here,” he hissed.

Roman looked up from his letter tiles – which, judging by the expression on his face, he was arranging to spell rude words, although Patton had banned anything dirty from the actual game – in confusion. “He’s my brother, of course he’s going to be here. He lives here too.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t think- ugh!” Virgil picked up a cushion from the sofa, screaming into it in an attempt to hide his red cheeks.

When he looked up again, Roman had narrowed his eyes at him.

“Look, if you don’t like him, whatever,” he said, in a surprisingly protective tone. “But he’s my brother, and- what are you smirking about?”

Roman turned to Logan, who was indeed smirking behind the mug of coffee that Roman had made for him earlier.

Virgil shot Logan a death glare, hoping the message of “If you tell him, I will tell every embarrassing secret I know about you. And I know a lot” would come across.

Logan hesitated, but he still glanced slyly at Roman. “Oh, I could never betray my cousin’s secrets. All I’ll say is that I don’t think the problem is that Virgil doesn’t like Remus... rather, it’s the opposite.”

Virgil threw the cushion at Logan, but thankfully Roman just looked perplexed.

“What do you mean?” Roman asked.

Patton was also looking confused, tilting his head to the side, until realisation dawned on his face. “Oh, Virgil!” he squealed. “Oh, and you’re blushing as well, that’s so cute!”

Roman raised an eyebrow at Patton. “What are you saying, Pat?”

Patton grinned, ignoring the glare Virgil sent towards him. “I’m saying, Virgil doesn’t dislike your brother. He likes him. As in, like-likes him.”

As Roman’s face lit up with realisation as well, Virgil threw another cushion at Logan, who made a noise of protest.

“Hey, Patton told him. Not me,” Logan objected.

“He wouldn’t have figured it out without you,” Virgil grumbled. “This is worse than when you told on me for sneaking some champagne at Aunt Patty’s 50th birthday party.”

Patton gasped. “Virgil, you drank alcohol?”

“It was not worth it,” Virgil muttered, pointedly not meeting Patton’s eyes. “Champagne tastes like ass.”

“Wait, you have a crush on Remus?” Roman asked, raising his eyebrows. “Why?”

“I don’t know, he’s... hot,” Virgil said, waving vaguely with one hand as if the gesture could encapsulate all the reasons Remus made him tongue-tied.

“Why didn’t you tell us you had a crush?” Patton said, practically bouncing where he was sitting from excitement.

Virgil groaned. “Because I knew you’d react like this. It doesn’t matter, it’s not like he’ll ever like me back.”

“Are you talking bad about yourself?” Patton asked, his expression suddenly turning stern.

“No, I just... I don’t see why he would,” Virgil said.

“Look, Virgil,” Roman said. “My brother may not have the best taste in clothes, or food, or... anything really, but if he has any taste in guys, I’m sure he won’t be able to resist you.”

Virgil felt his cheeks flame again, and he covered his face with his hands. “Thanks, Princey,” he mumbled. “Now, can we get back to the game?”

“No, we have to hear all about this crush of yours,” Patton said, poking him playfully in the arm.

Virgil felt despair settle in his stomach. When Roman and Patton found out someone had a crush, they were like dogs with a bone. He wouldn’t be able to escape from this for the rest of the evening. Unless...

“Logan has a crush on Janus Hayes!” Virgil blurted, and he let Patton and Roman devolve into squeals while Logan spluttered in indignation.

Virgil just sent a smirk towards his cousin. Revenge was sweet.

#sanders sides #dukexiety #remus sanders #virgil sanders #ts remus #ts virgil #high school au #sanders siders fanfiction

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milkberryroll · 1 year

Text

in a heartbeat.

She wants to blame herself for making him worried sick, for this. But, if he knew, he'd tell her she's the pot calling the kettle black.

also in AO3

Two gunshots ring in the middle of the night in Karakura. Hitsugaya Toshiro closes his eyes and accepts his fate.

Silence follows.

When he opens his eyes, expecting a bullet to hit him, he sees Kuchiki Rukia, gun in hand, and the shooter down, bullet to and through his skull. And his partner, in a sea of scarlet, holding him down to the ground.

The eerie tranquil is torn by a flurry of voices, panic and chaos.

"Officer down! Send an ambulance here to Mashiba Sakurabashi Intersection, near the middle school! Hurry!"

Toshiro becomes painfully aware of the blood soaking into his clothes, his hands painted red, and his partner's weakening grip on his shirt wth every passing second.

Applying pressure on her back, where the bullet came in, he tries to staunch the bleeding. It's working, barely.

"Kurosaki, you can't die on me. I've got you. Hold on. Please."

He thinks she shouldn't be this weak, her hands shouldn't feel this cold, and she shouldn't be dying here, in his arms, because he was about to get shot.

He shouldn't have had to see Karin, red spilling from her back like a waterfall, unable to breathe — bullet hitting lung, hitting her.

She shouldn't have gotten in the line of fire just to shield him from a bullet.

It should've been him.

Kurosaki Karin tries to reassure him, tell him she's fine. But her body betrays her, and everytime she opens her mouth to speak, she loses more air and blood.

The whole time he's waiting for an ambulance, he feels like it's torture.

She survives. But the doctors say she's lost too much blood. They don't know when she'll wake up, or if she'll be herself when she does.

It's a waiting game.

Yuzu places snapdragons in the vase of Karin's room. She says it's to give her room some color, and as a symbol of strength, much like her dear Karin.

Isshin and Ichigo arrange and rearrange the room, only allowed due to their connection to the hospital director. Karin can't have her room looking too plain, too sad, the two men say.

He asks Yuzu if he could do something, anything, to help. To make his sin lighter. He can't keep standing on one corner, doing nothing, again.

She tells him it's fine, and he needs to rest too. He needs to get a doctor's evaluation, too. He's got wounds and bruises, too. But he knows, she can only keep straining a smile for long. The dark circles under her eyes suggest everything else but fine.

All he wants is to apologize. To Yuzu, her brother, and father. Maybe they could ask him to pay for damages, at least.

Instead, Isshin invites him out of the room for a cigarette. He refuses the nicotine stick, but obliges to his offer for a walk.

"My daughter being someone who could sacrifice to save someone dear to her, son, it makes me proud. You shouldn't feel any guilt." Isshin tells Toshiro, gaze piercing, bringing him back to when he was a new officer under the older man's captaincy. Funny how the man has been retired for years and himself, now a lieutenant, yet the thought of him as his higher up feels as right as before.

"But, Sir, I—. I am to blame for this. No one else. It's only right that you do."

"Why would I? Even if I wanted to, I know Karin herself wouldn't.” Isshin takes a drag of his cigarette, lets the smoke fill his lungs, and lets it out.

Her family doesn't blame him. He wishes they did.

Toshiro types away forms after forms, fills paperwork after paperwork in his office desk. Stares at his computer monitor until his eyes water in retaliation.

His chief, Shunsui, delegates him to desk work. Says he's not fit for his usual suspect searching, criminal chasing work. He thinks its funny — he's not the one who got shot, and he's fine.

Much unlike Karin.

Breaking his thoughts, Rukia plops down a mug of warm, black coffee, along an egg and vegetable sandwich, beside his hand. Another one to the growing collection on his desk.

She knows she can't keep on feeding into his coffee binging, but he doesn't need berating now.

"That's with one sugar. Drink up."

"How'd you know?" He takes a sip, silently thanking the younger Kuchiki, soon to be Kurosaki, courtesy of Ichigo.

"Karin's mentioned it in passing before. Never thought her stories about you would come in handy." Rukia chuckles, while gathering her things, calling it a day.

She takes a glance at the younger man, looking tired and soulless. He's been working for 72 hours straight, only taking bathroom and coffee breaks. He looks. Unkempt.

"I'll visit her on the weekend." Toshiro says after a brief moment of silence.

"Sure, I'll tell Ichigo. You two should get some proper meals together. Please. Both of you need to eat." She taps on his shoulder to say goodbye.

"Oh, and. Take a rest. She wouldn't want to see you like this."

His hands stop moving. She leaves without him saying a word.

It takes months before she manages to open her eyes.

The first thing she sees is white. The walls, the ceiling, the gown she'd wearing, the blanket on her.

His hair. His lashes. His hands on hers. Pale, she notes.

Him.

Move, her brain commands her hand and all she manages was a twitch of a finger.

He doesn't miss it.

Scrambling, Toshiro immediately stands up, making sure she's awake, alive. She's alive.

"Kurosaki?" He calls her.

She manages to croak out his name, voice like sand and throat scratchy from disuse.

It's the happiest he's felt in weeks.

"You look. Disheveled." Karin comments.

"It's an image change." He strikes back, smirking. An attempt to keep himself from tearing up.

She laughs.

He's scared he's almost gotten used to him talking all by himself. Only her breaths and the beeping of the machine monitors greeting him back.

He's missed this — her candid quips, their banter. He's glad he can hear her now.

She coughs and chokes on her own saliva from laughing after weeks of disuse. He more than gladly fetches her a glass of water. She drinks it up like its her saving grace.

"Thanks, Toshiro." She places the glass on the desk beside her, watching as Toshiro sits on the chair beside her bed.

"I should be the one thanking you." He says as he helps Karin sit back down on the inclined bed.

"What for?"

"Saving me."

"I only did what I had to do, Toshiro. It's nothing special."

He places a hand on her hers. She feels it trembling.

"I... was scared to lose you, Kurosaki. You could've —" It dissolves in his throat, her and that word in the same sentence just doesn't sit right with him.

"Died?" She finishes it for him.

He takes her into his embrace, and suddenly all feels right in the world.

She's here, she's alright.

He nods in confirmation, and buries his head in the bend between her neck and shoulder.

Her chest tightens, and her breathing quickens. Her wounds ache, but she pays it no mind.

"I know." She squeezes him back, accepts and receives him.

I'm still here. She leaves them unsaid, and rubs circles on his back for comfort.

Toshiro mumbles words of apology with his lips grazing her skin. She ignores the feeling of warmth spreading on her neck and asks him why.

"You're here because of me. It should've been me."

Karin breaks herself free from his hold, and grabs his collar, pulling him close.

"You weren't the one who shot me, Hitsugaya Toshiro. So shut up, and listen to me."

She holds his face and seizes his lips with her own, chapped as they were.

He doesn't hate it.

"I did it not only because I had to. I wanted to, Toshiro. My only thought was to protect you." She says after she breaks the kiss. Toshiro immediately misses the feel of her mouth on his.

“And I'd do it all over again in a heartbeat.” She caresses his face and smiles at him, driving her point home.

Toshiro dives in to take a taste of her lips again, vowing himself to her, from this point on. He feels whole, like she was the missing piece to his self and he can never let go.

He holds her in his arms tighter, and listens to her little noises as she tries to breath with her mouth locked with his, and their tongues tangled.

He has half a mind to stop with his ministrations, reminding himself his partner is currently in recovery. He very much wishes she was in perfect health, though.

He settles for a hug, with her head on his chest. She clutches onto him like a lifeline, trying to hide the rouge warmth of her face.

With her in his nuzzle, she notices how much thinner he's gotten. She wants to blame herself for making him worried sick, for this. But, if he knew, he'd tell her she's the pot calling the kettle black.

"Do not do this again, Toshiro. Stop blaming yourself. No one would want to see you beat yourself over this."

Not me.

"Don't hope for a repeat of this, Kurosaki. Just stay alive."

Please.

Karin only smiles at him without a word, despite waves crashing on rocks — his eyes locked onto hers, pleading, asking.

She doesn't make promises she's not sure she can keep, after all.

#BLEACH #hitsukarin #hitsugaya toshiro #kurosaki karin #fic

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euryalex · 1 year

Text

Resident Evil: Genesis

After her partner is brutally murdered in front of her, Joey Hudson is transferred to Raccoon City, leaving Great Falls, Montana, where she’s lived her entire life. Turns out, she asked to be transferred after following a lead about her partner, Danny's, murderer. While Danny’s death was covered up as an accident, despite Joey’s report that he was attacked, she only grew more suspicious and decided to dig deeper. Her search led her to Umbrella Corporation – based in Raccoon City, Illinois, which is why she transferred: to get to the root of the problem.

Series Masterlist

Let me know if you want to be tagged when the next chapter releases!

Major thanks to @cobb-vanthss and @inafieldofdaisies for your help, and to everyone who replied to the WIPs I posted 💖

Chapter 1: Welcome to Raccoon City

Joey Hudson never liked driving at night, especially during the hot summer weather when the aircon in her car was broken. The headlights of her dad’s old rusty Honda did nothing to light up the road, which formed a dark wall surrounding her. There was no traffic due to the time, but despite that, she drove way below the speed limit anyway. The heat made her dizzy, and the last thing she wanted was to faint behind the wheel.

According to the map, now resting on the passenger seat, the motel she’d booked a room in was close, and she could finally sleep. Then, she could wake up early and continue her trip to Raccoon City. She had it all planned out: She’d focus on her career, but not too much so that her coworkers still invite her to after-work drinks at a nearby bar called Atlas Raccoon. She’d be designated driver – not that she didn’t like drinking, but she liked living, thank you very much – and arrive home around eleven PM in her already furnished apartment. She enjoyed planning things out.

Once she found her footing in the city, she’d look for friends outside the police department, get to know the people, and maybe – a hefty emphasis on maybe – find someone to settle down with.

She was ready to leave her past of Great Falls behind and everyone she used to know along with it.

The welcome sign of Sunshine Motel awaited her in the distance, one of its two lights flickering. The parking lot was largely empty and ominously silent. Joey didn’t know what to expect, but something felt off.

She brushed off the feeling, blaming it on anxiety due to her new job. The street lamps lighting up the parking lot were nearly dying, only filling Joey with more dread. There was something – no, someone, and she could feel their presence. Yet, when she looked around, there was no one to be found.

Hesitantly, she pulled out the black duffle bag, which was resting on the backseat, before she took immediate steps to the reception.

The warm summer air did little to cool her down, and the reception wasn’t much better, despite a fan at the desk cooling the room at its highest setting. A radio on a drawer unit near a window played a slow jazz song. Random clutter filled the desk, and posters of Raccoon City, either showcasing its new businesses or asking for help, covered the walls. A dusty computer at the desk showed the screensaver, showing that someone hadn’t been there in a while. Judging by the desk chair, which was shoved backwards, Joey came to the conclusion that someone might’ve left in a hurry.

Nonetheless, she tapped on the call bell and waited. And waited. And waited...

She blinked to stay awake as a yawn overtook her. Annoyed, she tapped the call bell a few more times, this time more aggressively. She just wanted to sleep – was that too much to ask?

A door, tucked away in a hallway away from the reception, creaked open, and Joey sighed in relief.

“Finally,” she breathed, “Sorry, I just want to get to my room...”

She trailed off as her gaze fell on the figure approaching her. The woman had brown, graying hair. She wore a lilac V-neck cardigan sweater covering a white floral t-shirt and a purple skirt that reached below her knees. But that wasn’t what Joey was focusing on.

Instead, she took note of the glazed-over, pale eyes, the blood covering her otherwise neat clothes, her dishevelled hair... The woman’s arms were raised, reaching for Joey. Her left shoulder reached lower, probably due to a part of her neck that was bit off.

Joey recognized the look. She’d seen it only a few weeks prior before she’d been transferred to Raccoon City. But she’d never forget it.

“Hold on, I’ll take a look,” Danny said, unbuckling his seat belt and opening the door of the patrol cruiser. Joey looked up from her milkshake, ready to put it down in the cupholder, as she looked at the body on the road with worried eyes. She mentally cursed her partner – she liked working with him, but clearly, they needed to work on, well, working together.

He kneeled next to the lifeless body, putting two fingers on their neck as he checked for a pulse. A moment that seemed like an eternity passed, and he stood up, turning to Joey with a blank face. He shook his head and Joey sighed. Another poor unfortunate soul whose death would need to be solved.

Joey took the radio and gestured to him, letting him know she’d call 911.

“Dispatch? This is four-Alpha-Alpha-Foxtrot-seven-five, requesting-”

But she couldn’t finish her sentence.

She looked up briefly, but that was enough to see the once-lifeless corpse stand up on shaky legs. It struggled to balance until it latched onto Danny’s shoulders, swiftly biting into his flesh at the jaw. Danny met Joey’s gaze as she looked in horror. Danny fell to the ground, his body hitting the asphalt, but that didn’t stop the corpse from feasting on his flesh.

Joey got out, the sounds of the car door opening alerting the killer. Its cold, empty eyes met Joey’s, and she didn’t hesitate to pull out her gun. There was no hesitation that this was no mere human, but she still ordered the person to stand back.

It stood up, stumbling over Danny’s body instead, and Joey shot, the bullet flying through the shoulder. But, unfortunately, that didn’t stop it either. She fired again, hitting its chest, and it fell. For a brief, fleeting moment, Joey felt relief, but the moment was quickly cut short when it somehow got up again.

Joey’s eyes widened, and she forced herself to aim for the head.

Now it stayed down for good.

But Danny didn’t.

As the thing that killed him fell on him, he seemingly awoke. His neck cracked as he turned over, crawling out from under the body. He was fixated on Joey, crawling as he struggled to stand up like a newborn deer.

“This can’t be happening...” she muttered to herself as she stepped backwards.

Danny’s once hazel eyes were now a sickly white color, with its veins more apparent. Every bone and joint in his body made a crunching noise, and Joey had to take deep breaths to keep herself from vomiting. The missing part of his face, which showed off how part of his denture was missing, didn’t help either.

She had to do something, but she couldn’t.

“Hello? Hello?! This is Dispatch, requesting communication!”

Joey returned to the car, slamming her door shut before crawling into the driver’s seat. Danny always left the keys in the ignition, something Joey always scolded him for – but this time, she was glad.

Danny – or what was left of him – had finally found a way to stand up. The headlights lit up his disfigured features. She couldn’t let him live. It was too dangerous, but how could she be the one to kill him?

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When she opened them again, she pressed her foot down on the gas pedal.

She had to run.

Stumbling backwards, she shoved open the door. Over the shoulder of the undead woman, she saw another similar figure stalking towards her.

The bell above the door chimed, and Joey’s attention was caught by something hitting the window – or rather, someone. A man with short, blonde hair slammed against the window, his jaw unhinged as it swung back and forth.

She ran, clutching her car keys in her hand, the metal digging into her skin as she secured her duffle bag on her shoulder. Once she reached her car, her hand shook as she tried desperately to unlock it. Finally, after missing the keyhole, she successfully entered her car and turned on the ignition, watching as the undead only came closer.

She was wide awake now. Sleep would have to wait, no matter how much she wanted to close her eyes and rest.

As she let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding, her trembling hand reached for the radio. She needed a distraction, and anything would do. Some Johnny Cash song played, comforting her as she drove into the night.

Her hands tightened their grip on her steering wheel as she yawned, her eyes tearing up. Her mind was screaming to get some sleep, but she couldn’t. Her only hope now was to get to her new apartment and wake up before noon. For a moment, she considered looking for a payphone to call the station to let them know what happened, but the dark roads made it impossible to see.

Her apartment had a phone, or maybe it’d be easier to find one in the city.

As the trees surrounding the road slowly started to thin, a city came into view, its skyscrapers reaching the skies as the summer sun began to rise over the horizon, peeking out between the buildings.

“WELCOME TO RACCOON CITY – HOME OF UMBRELLA”, the sign greeted her. She slowly rolled her window open, letting the fresh air in to keep herself awake. The city still seemed miles away, but the fact that it was in sight reassured her.

Her apartment building, according to the map of Raccoon City chief Irons had e-mailed her, was located on Fox Street, close to Ennerdale Street, which, in turn, was where the police department was located. The street itself was empty and quiet. The sounds of distant traffic were the only thing Joey could hear as she unlocked the front door of the building.

The small entrance hall smelled weird, but she ignored it and went straight for the elevator, where she was greeted with an ‘Out of order’ sign.

Just her luck.

There was a cramp in her knees as she walked up the stairs. At this point, she was seconds away from dropping onto the floor and sleeping right there, but she powered through and reached the third floor. She heard a television playing loudly from one of the apartments, the news was on, and she decided that, at that moment, she couldn’t care less.

The next thing she remembered was her loud alarm clock waking her up. Joey groaned, trying to block out the noise with her pillow, although it did little to silence her alarm. She slammed her hand blindly on her nightstand, stopping when she hit her clock. The blinding sun shone through the windows, and she mentally made a note to buy some curtains.

Stretching her arms as she got out of bed, she made her way to the windows and stared for a moment. The view from her window, which was marketed as a ‘beautiful view of the city skyline’, was probably copied from another advert, Joey realized, as she stared at the wall of the neighboring building. What she hoped would be a new start had already left a bad first impression on her. With a deep sigh, she walked over to her bathroom and, as she passed the small kitchenette on the way, realized she had to get groceries.

Technically she didn’t have to go to work yet – the letter stated they’d expect her at two in the afternoon. However, Joey had just planned on getting started early. She shook off the thought – groceries would wait until after work.

She approached her suitcase, which she had left open near the bathroom so she could change into her sleepwear the night before. Digging through it, she retrieved her toiletry bag – filled with essentials to last her a few days – and some clothes. The hinges of the bedroom door let out a high-pitched squeak, loud enough to catch Joey’s attention, but instead of stopping to check it out, she turned on the bathroom light and got ready for the day.

For a day like this, she picked easy clothes that wouldn’t be too hard to take off, so she could change into her uniform at work quickly.

In another compartment of her suitcase, she kept all her paperwork, which included a map of the city that she’d drawn a route from her apartment to the police station on. The way to the station was simple, really, as it was right in the centre of the city and, if the silhouette on the map was anything to go by, the building was huge.

The city had a whole different feel during the daytime. Where the city was dark and deserted at night, the day showed how alive it could be. Parents were walking their kids to school, people in suits were busy talking on the phone as they walked to work, other people were opening their stores …

As Joey turned the corner at the movie theatre, she could see the police station in the distance, the letters ‘R.P.D’ rising above the busy road. For the first time since she left Great Falls, she felt relief wash over her.

This was the new beginning she needed.

#WTFE: Genesis

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