#AT THE END OF THE DAY HE IS A GOOD DAD!!!!!!

[reikoinoue]

warnings: manipulation; caleb is a red flag but i’m color blind.

thinking about the first day you ever met your new big brother in the wake of your mother’s remarriage.

his name was caleb, and he was the only child of your new father. standing at least five inches taller than you, you were only 8 while he was 10. his magenta eyes and chipped tooth grin made your heart skip beats, making you hide your face further into your mother’s leg. still feeling so shy despite celebrating her marriage, you constantly hid behind her each time your new brother or father appeared.

your mother always found your shyness to be endearing, yet she knew that you would need to get used to your new family members eventually. this is what lead to her and your new father going out on a nice date, leaving caleb alone with you. the panicked expression on your face when you tried to convince her to take you with her fell on deaf ears, yet you were too upset to care.

you didn’t see caleb’s hurt expression, but even if you did, you were too young to make sense of it.

yet still, your mother remains achingly gentle with you, promising you that your big brother was a good kid who will always take care of you. in the end, you were left alone with your big brother who always made you nervous, watching with wide as your mom left with your new dad to go on a much needed date.

you stand frozen in the middle of the foyer, eyes going wide when you felt a pair of arms wrap around your front.

“c’mon, pipsqueak, mom and dad left us some money to order pizza. don’t ya want to order some pizza?” you look back at your brother and his crooked grin, feeling a strange heat settle across your cheeks when you manage to give him a tiny nod in response.

he playfully ruffles your hair before leading you back into the living room, ordering your favorite cheese pizza as you found yourself slowly warming up to caleb and his crooked smile.

when your parents came home later that night, they found you and caleb asleep on the couch with the television on and a half empty box of pizza. caleb’s tiny fingertips were interlocked with yours, and your parents couldn’t have been happier at how much closer the two of you had gotten in such a short amount of time.

♡ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ♡

you are 14 years old, just barely starting your first year of high school while caleb was in his junior year. you twirl your hair and frown at your reflection in the mirror, not liking the few acne spots that appear across your cheeks and forehead.

still frowning at your reflection, you move a bit closer to it, wondering if you should pop all of these annoying zits-

a sudden knock on your door breaks you out of your daydreams as you gasp, looking behind you to see your big brother step into your room. he wore a plain white shirt with a pair of basketball shorts, doing little to hide his muscular physique as you felt the familiar heat dye against your cheeks.

puberty has blessed caleb in all of the right places. he had some muscle mass, and had grown a few feet in height as well, now managing to tower over you with ease. meanwhile, you were left with the pain of monthly menstruations and skin that was prone to developing acne.

“it’s rude to come in so suddenly, caleb.” you turn your back to him, ignoring the strange fluttering in your heart as you went back to assessing yourself in the mirror.

“what’s gotten your panties in a twist, pipsqueak? and why are you glaring at your reflection?”

you sigh and rub your hands against your cheek, “with all of these pimples, no one is going to even want to kiss me.”

from your periphery, you saw the way caleb stiffens suddenly, catching sight of the way his fists clench and unclench from the mirror. “someone caught your eye at school, pipsqueak? if so, what’s his name?”

you swallow thickly and immediately shake your head. “t-there’s no one, caleb. i was just-“

“just what?” your brother suddenly takes quick strides closer to you, turning your seat around so that you could face him. anger paints his handsome features when you felt his fingertips run down the side of your face. you shiver in response to his almost reverent touch, swallowing thickly when he sweetly whispers to you, “if you wanted to be treated like an adult so badly, why didn’t you just say so?”

that was his final warning before you felt caleb descend upon you, capturing your lips in a kiss that makes you gasp. being inexperienced, you felt your teeth clashing together with his, unsure of what to do the moment you felt your big brother sliding his tongue across your bottom lip. the sensation of his saliva coating your lips makes you gasp, opening your lips without meaning to as caleb slides his tongue inside of your mouth.

your mind was screaming that this was wrong, that your brother shouldn’t kiss you like this-

yet why did such a sinful act make your heart soar?

your whimpers and the way you pound your fists against his chest was what made caleb pull away from you, his eyes going hazy when he sees the string of saliva that connects you to him. licking at his lips, caleb harshly grips at the top of your head, “no boy will ever be good enough for you. and if you tell mom and dad about our little secret, i’ll simply call you a liar. now, who do you think they’ll believe? a little girl who fills her head with silly daydreams, or their son who’s the perfect student that makes all a’s?”

you remain silent, yet the fear in your eyes was more than enough proof that you had understood your big brother.

“good girl.” he coos at you, pressing a lingering kiss against your forehead while promising to bake you a nice apple pie for your good behavior. and as he leaves your bedroom while silently closing the door behind him, you realize that your big brother had more twisted desires than you could have ever imagined.

♡ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ♡

you had just turned 19 and pretended to be the obedient daughter, cleaning up all of the dirty dishes with caleb before excusing yourself after drying the plates.

still feeling caleb’s gaze burning at the back of your head, you quickly ignore the lingering sensation as you ran back into your room, closing the door for good measure as you waited for the hours to go by.

taking out your phone, you see a text from your best friend, confirming your plans of sneaking out so that you could meet her at the party. even with having an overbearing and protective brother like caleb, you were determined to start living your own life-

without the need for caleb to taint everything.

so, you sat in bed waiting for the perfect moment, not daring to move when you heard your parent’s footsteps return back to their room. watching the time on your phone, you didn’t hear caleb’s lumbering footsteps until it was close to midnight-

and that was the moment you made your move.

stuffing a few extra pillows beneath your comforter, you made sure to make it look believable before sliding open your window, with you climbing out of it as your ballet flats hang precariously over the ledge before you let go. you prepared your body for the impact of the ground below you, only to gasp when you felt a strong pair of arms wrapping around your waist, capturing you as a harsh voice whispers within your ear, “where do you think you’re going, pipsqueak?”

“caleb!” you fight against him, but every movement was met with resistance (with your pathetic punches barely making a dent in his demeanor). with his eyebrows furrowed, your brother carries you back into your shared home, eyes filled with a determination and another expression you couldn’t quite identify.

you keep writhing against him, only to feel caleb’s large hand cover your mouth when he locks the door and carries you back to your room. he finally releases you, causing you to land unceremoniously back in bed. “what is your problem, caleb? why can’t i go out and have fun with my friends?!”

“because they’re no good for you.” caleb’s voice was even when he turns the latch on your door, securing it as he locks himself inside the bedroom with you. “i told you before… if you wanted to be treated like an adult, why didn’t you just say so?”

he faces you, gripping at your ankles as he forces you to lay back in bed. your heart begins to pound, yet you were unable to fight against him any longer.

lately, he had been busy at the academy. he had big dreams of working at the farspace fleet military, which meant that he seldom came home anymore besides the occasional weekend visit. knowing that he was due to be home this week, you set up your plans and made sure to make it seem like you were sneaking out to go to a party-

and your big brother fell for it- hook, line, and sinker.

his large hands grip at your miniskirt, tearing it off of you in one swift motion before spreading your legs. you felt him slide off your panties, allowing it to hang against your ankles while caleb tosses aside your shoes before diving into your wet heat.

you felt his tongue tracing around your pussy lips, making you cry out as your hands automatically delve themselves into his hair. his groans vibrate around your cunt as you trapped your legs around his head, practically grinding yourself against his lips. when he manages to add a finger inside of you, capturing your swollen clit within his lips, you nearly screamed in response, forcing yourself to bite down on your bottom lip to keep your parents from finding out.

seconds later, you felt the familiar snapping sensation within your abdomen, releasing yourself into caleb’s awaiting mouth as he willingly drinks up all you had to offer. letting out a grunt of your name, he presses a kiss against the side of your thighs, making you feel his clothed erection as it brushes against you.

with a haze expression, you sit up and pull caleb closer to you, hands shyly going into the confines of his shorts as you stroked at his shaft. you felt the way he shudders from your touch, but manages to grip at your wrist, stopping you from stroking him any further. “later, baby, right now, i need to feel what it’s like to be inside of you.”

his sinful admission makes you shiver in response, with caleb picking you up before setting you on your bed. he takes off the rest of his clothes, taking out a foil package from the pockets of his shorts while pushing up your shirt. with his proud erection settled between his legs, caleb tears open the condom with his teeth, sliding the ring of rubber down his shaft before settling himself between your legs.

he hides his face within the curve of your neck, holding your legs wide open for him with a free hand before guiding his cock within your entrance. when you felt something large and thick intruding inside of you, you cling to the sheets while tears dotted your vision. your brother was just too big!

he softly coos at you, whispering sweet nothings within your ear before fully sheathing himself inside of you. not liking the sight of you in pain, caleb keeps your hips still before switching positions, somehow managing to lay back in bed with you now straddling him.

“ride me whenever you’re ready to, babygirl.”

you clench your legs around his waist, letting out a soft moan when you felt some of your fluids trickling down his length. this was the first time caleb had ever done this to you, and he had filled you so completely that you swore you could see the outline of his cock settled against your abdomen. you had no idea how much time had passed, but when there was a sudden ache coupled along with the need to chase the same high your big brother had given you with his lips-

you began to sloppily bounce up and down his cock, gasping and mewling softly at the new sensation while planting your hands against his broad chest. throughout it all, caleb whispers words of encouragement to you, praising you for taking him in so well and how you were always going to be a good girl for him.

due to how you were both each other’s first times, you came within a few minutes of riding caleb, feeling an unfamiliar twitch when he releases his seed inside of the condom, sitting up to give your lips a searing kiss, “good girl, you’re always going to be my good girl, isn’t that right?”

you were given little choice but to drunkenly agree with him, leaning into the palm of his hand as you were certain you held hearts in your eyes for your big brother alone.

♡ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ♡

you are 23 and caleb is 25 now, with him purchasing an apartment in skyhaven while allowing you to live with him under the pretense of attending university-

while in all actuality, you remained locked in caleb’s bedroom, with him taking care of your every need as you were finally allowed to bask in the forbidden love you shared.

your moans and the sounds of the king-sized bed squeaking in tune to caleb’s passionate thrusts makes your eyes roll to the back of your head. his large hands were felt gripping at your bouncing breasts as he pounded his cock into you. “you’re mine, baby, all mine. you’ve been mine ever since the moment i first laid my eyes on you.”

you had no idea the amount of times caleb had made you cum, filling your womb with his seed as your mixed arousal sticks to your walls and his cock. yet even when he had taken you over and over again throughout the night, it seemed as though your big brother would always have an appetite for you-

a fact that you didn’t mind one bit.

a.n. - an unedited and unhinged, hedonistically sinful thirst post.

all stories are written by reiko; no plagiarizing, reposts, or translations are allowed.

[elryuse]

Tainted Desire

Yandere Jennie X Male Reader

Tags : Obsession, Dangerous Romance, Slight Smut, Dark, Gritty, Forbidden Romance

Words : 2,908 Words

Requested by My Mate @hijack711

You never expected your marriage to end like this.

Sitting in your dimly lit office at the university, you run a hand through your disheveled hair, staring at the half-empty bottle of whiskey on your desk. The silence of the night wraps around you, broken only by the distant hum of the city beyond the window.

Your phone buzzes—a message from your wife. Soon-to-be ex-wife.

"We need to talk about the divorce papers. Call me back."

You don’t.

Instead, your mind drifts back to a memory—a moment from years ago when your life was different. When you were just a substitute teacher, and she was just a rebellious high school girl.

Jennie Kim.

The name alone stirs something dangerous inside you.

You hadn’t seen her in years, not until recently, when fate cruelly entangled your lives again. But before she became the ruthless, calculating woman she is now—before she set her sights on you—she was just a teenage girl trying to escape the suffocating grip of her father’s ambition.

It was supposed to be an ordinary day.

The school hallways were empty, students tucked away in their classrooms as you made your way through the corridors, checking your schedule. You had been a substitute teacher for barely a month, filling in for an absent literature professor. The job was temporary, a stepping stone in your career before you moved on to greater things.

But then you smelled it—faint yet unmistakable. Cigarette smoke.

Your brows furrowed. Smoking was strictly forbidden on school grounds, and yet, someone had clearly broken the rules.

Following the scent, you turned a corner and found her.

A girl sat on the rooftop stairs, one leg bent, the other stretched out lazily. A cigarette dangled between her fingers, wisps of smoke curling into the air. Her uniform was slightly unkempt—tie loosened, skirt hiked up just enough to break the dress code. Her dark eyes flicked up to meet yours, and instead of guilt, there was only defiance.

Jennie Kim.

Even back then, there was something untamed about her.

“You know smoking is against the rules,” you said, stepping closer.

She took a slow drag, exhaling smoke before responding. “So is skipping class, but here you are.”

You sighed. “I’m the teacher. I don’t have a class right now.”

“Then you should be grateful. If I were in class, you wouldn’t have found me,” she murmured, tapping ash onto the floor. “Lucky you.”

You folded your arms, intrigued despite yourself. “Is there a reason you’re up here alone?”

For a moment, she was silent. Then, with a casual shrug, she muttered, “Needed to breathe.”

Her voice was steady, but there was something beneath it—a weight she tried to hide.

You glanced at the cigarette in her hand. “That won’t help.”

Jennie scoffed. “What would you know?”

“I know that whatever’s bothering you won’t go away just because you’re filling your lungs with smoke.”

She studied you for a long moment, then sighed and flicked the cigarette away. “My dad’s an asshole.”

You didn’t react, waiting for her to continue.

She hesitated, then muttered, “He wants me to be something I’m not. To follow his rules, live by his standards, become the perfect heir. He thinks Jane—” she spat her sister’s name like a curse “—is the good daughter, the obedient one. But me? I’m nothing but a disappointment to him.”

You leaned against the wall, watching her. “And what do you want?”

Her lips curled into a slow, almost bitter smile. “To take everything from him.”

You didn’t know it then, but that conversation would plant a seed in her mind—a thought that would grow into something far more dangerous than teenage rebellion.

And years later, when you crossed paths again, you would realize that Jennie Kim always gets what she wants.

Even if what she wants… is you.

Years later, Jennie is no longer a rebellious schoolgirl. She’s the new chairman of Odd Atelier, a powerful empire built on ambition and ruthlessness. When she sees you again, the hunger in her eyes hasn’t faded—it’s only grown stronger.

And this time, she won’t let you go.

Even if it means destroying everything in her path.

Even if it means tearing apart your already crumbling marriage.

Even if it means striking a deal with your son.

Because you belong to her.

And Jennie Kim always takes what’s hers.

You always knew that the past had a way of creeping back.

You just never expected it to return in the form of Jennie Kim—not as the rebellious high school girl who once defied her father’s control, but as the ruthless woman who had finally dethroned him.

And now, she’s standing right in front of you.

The gala is extravagant, a display of power and wealth, where the elites of the business world gather to celebrate Odd Atelier’s new chairman. It was your son who dragged you here—his university connections granting him an invitation. You weren’t supposed to stay long, just enough to make an appearance before slipping away.

But then, the moment you locked eyes with her across the ballroom, you knew escaping wouldn’t be that easy.

Jennie moves toward you with the same calculated grace you remembered. But she’s changed. No longer the rebellious teenager on a school rooftop, but a woman in full control.

Her black silk dress clings to her body in all the right places, her dark eyes sharp yet filled with something far more dangerous. Possession.

“Professor,” she purrs, her voice dripping with amusement.

Your throat tightens. “Jennie.”

A smirk tugs at her lips. “I wondered when we’d cross paths again.”

You swallow, keeping your expression neutral. “Congratulations. You finally got what you wanted.”

Her smile doesn’t falter. If anything, it deepens. “Not yet.”

The weight of her words settles between you. She’s not talking about power.

She’s talking about you.

You try to leave the gala early, but fate is cruel.

Your son—eager to make connections—introduces you to his employer at Odd Atelier.

You freeze the moment you see her.

Jennie stands before you, her gaze dark with amusement. She looks at your son, then back at you. There’s a cruel irony in this situation.

She knows.

She knows your marriage is dying. She knows your son admires her. She knows that you’re vulnerable.

And Jennie Kim has never been one to let an opportunity slip.

“I never expected to work with your son,” she murmurs, tilting her head slightly. “But life has a funny way of bringing people back together.”

Your son is oblivious, grinning. “Jennie has been a great mentor.”

Mentor.

You clench your jaw. That’s what you once were to her.

Jennie smiles, slow and knowing. “Your father and I go way back.”

Your son frowns slightly. “Really?”

Jennie meets your gaze. “Oh, yes.” She steps closer, lowering her voice so only you can hear. “He was the first man who ever made me feel alive.”

Your pulse spikes.

She’s doing this on purpose.

Testing you.

Toying with you.

And you’re ashamed to admit that it’s working.

Her Terms, Your Weakness

Later that night, when you finally manage to slip away from the gala, she’s waiting.

The hotel bar is nearly empty, dimly lit. You don’t know why you didn’t just leave, why you let yourself be drawn to this place like a moth to a flame.

But when Jennie slides into the seat across from you, you know exactly why.

“You ran away so quickly,” she muses, swirling the dark liquor in her glass. “Did I make you nervous?”

You exhale, rubbing your temple. “What do you want, Jennie?”

She hums, tilting her head. “I could ask you the same thing.”

You don’t answer.

You can’t.

Because the truth is—despite knowing how wrong this is, how forbidden this is—there’s still something undeniable between you.

Jennie leans forward, her voice dropping to a whisper. “You belong to me.”

Your hands tighten into fists. “I’m married.”

She smiles. “Not for long.”

Silence.

Then, she says something that changes everything.

“I struck a deal with your son.”

Your blood runs cold.

Jennie watches your reaction carefully, savoring every second of your unease. “He wants my sister, Jane.” Her voice is soft, almost teasing. “So I gave him a chance. In return, he’ll look the other way when I take something for myself.”

Your breath hitches. “Jennie—”

She reaches out, trailing a single finger across the back of your hand. The touch burns. “You should be grateful. I could’ve had you the moment I turned eighteen. But I waited.”

Her nails lightly drag against your skin, sending a shiver up your spine.

“Now I’m done waiting.”

You pull your hand back, your chest tightening. “You don’t get to decide that.”

Jennie chuckles darkly, standing from her seat. “Oh, but I do.”

She leans in close, her lips brushing the shell of your ear.

“I always get what I want.”

And then, just like that, she’s gone.

Leaving behind the weight of her words—of her promise—settling deep into your bones.

Because you know Jennie Kim.

And when she sets her sights on something…

She never lets go.

You should’ve walked away.

You should’ve turned your back on Jennie Kim and never looked at her again.

But now, you’re trapped.

The realization settles deep in your chest the moment you step into your home—your marriage of fifteen years hanging by a thread. The air is thick with tension, your wife’s absence a reminder of everything that’s already crumbling.

You’re trying to hold on, to fix what’s left. But the truth is, your hands are already slipping.

And Jennie knows it.

She’s watching, waiting. A predator savoring the moment before she strikes.

You don’t sleep that night. You don’t think you ever will again.

The next day at the university, you try to focus. Lectures, meetings—anything to keep your mind off her.

But then, a message lights up your phone screen.

Jennie: Miss me?

You exhale sharply, ignoring it.

A second message follows.

Jennie: You’re pretending, aren’t you? Acting like you don’t think about me. Like you don’t want me.

Your grip tightens on the phone. You shouldn’t reply.

But you do.

You: Stay away from me.

It’s a weak attempt. A meaningless warning.

And she knows it.

Because Jennie doesn’t listen.

Minutes later, your office door swings open without warning.

And there she is.

Wearing a black silk blouse that clings to her body, high heels clicking against the floor as she steps inside.

You stand immediately, tension coiling in your muscles. “Jennie, you can’t just—”

She shuts the door behind her, locking it.

A smirk plays on her lips. “You told me to stay away.” She cocks her head. “So why am I here?”

Your breath is uneven. “Because you don’t understand boundaries.”

Jennie laughs softly, stepping closer. “Or maybe…” Her voice drops into something dangerously low. “You just don’t mean it.”

She moves around your desk slowly, her fingers grazing the wooden surface as she invades your space.

You take a step back. She takes another forward.

It’s a game—a dangerous one—and she’s winning.

“Jennie—”

Her fingers trail up your chest, her touch featherlight. “You don’t belong here, Y/n.”

Your jaw tightens. “This is my life.”

She leans in, her lips barely inches from yours. “No,” she whispers. “This is your prison.”

Your pulse spikes.

Jennie tilts her head, her gaze searching yours. And for a brief moment, you’re terrified—not of her, but of yourself.

Because she’s right.

Because you want her.

Because if she touches you again, you won’t stop her.

And she knows it.

Control Is an Illusion

You force yourself to turn away, to create distance.

But Jennie doesn’t let you go easily.

“You’re miserable,” she murmurs, watching you with unwavering certainty. “You’re still trying to fix something that’s already dead.”

Your hands clench into fists. “That’s none of your business.”

She smirks. “Isn’t it?”

Silence.

Then, she delivers the final blow.

“If it wasn’t, you wouldn’t be here, running from me.”

You hate how well she sees through you.

How she knows you.

Jennie leans against the desk, crossing her arms. “Do you even love her anymore?”

Your stomach twists.

You don’t answer.

And that silence?

It’s all she needs.

Jennie smiles. Slow. Satisfied. Dangerous.

“You’re mine,” she whispers.

Then, just as effortlessly as she arrived—she leaves.

And you’re left standing there, heart pounding, knowing that you’ve already lost.

Because Jennie Kim isn’t going to stop.

And the worst part?

You don’t want her to.

You should’ve walked away.

But now, it’s too late.

Jennie Kim has dug her nails into your life, and no matter how much you try to resist, you’re already caught in her web.

She isn’t just dangerous.

She’s inevitable.

You come home that night, expecting the usual silence, the usual avoidance.

But your wife is waiting for you.

Seated on the couch, glass of wine in hand, she barely glances up when you step inside.

“How was work?” Her voice is hollow, indifferent.

You hesitate. “Fine.”

A bitter laugh escapes her lips. “You always say that.”

You’re exhausted. From her, from yourself—from Jennie.

“You’re late,” she continues, swirling the wine in her glass. “Again.”

Tension coils in your chest. “Meetings ran over.”

Another lie.

Your wife exhales, shaking her head. “Y/n… I don’t know how much longer we can do this.”

And there it is.

The inevitable conversation. The slow, agonizing death of your marriage laid bare between you.

You don’t respond. Because what is there to say?

Jennie was right.

This isn’t a life.

It’s a prison.

And you’re already looking for the key

The next day, you see her again.

Jennie waits for you at the entrance of the university, leaning casually against her car, wearing a silk blouse that clings to her frame and a knowing smirk on her lips.

You stop in your tracks. “What are you doing here?”

She shrugs. “Thought I’d drop by. Say hello.”

You glance around, paranoia creeping in. “You can’t just—”

“Relax,” she interrupts, stepping closer. “No one’s watching.”

That’s a lie. She’s always watching.

Jennie tilts her head, studying you. “You look tired.”

You don’t respond.

She takes another step forward, her voice dipping into something soft, intimate. “What is it, Y/n?”

You inhale sharply, hating how easily she reads you.

Hating how much she’s already inside your head.

Jennie leans in, just enough for you to feel the warmth of her breath. “She’s slipping away, isn’t she?”

Your jaw tightens. “Don’t.”

Her fingers trail up your arm, slow and deliberate. “You don’t love her anymore.”

You grab her wrist, stopping her touch. “Jennie.”

She smiles, her gaze burning into yours. “Say it.”

You shake your head. “I—”

Her lips brush against your ear. “Say it, Y/n.”

You close your eyes, fighting it, fighting her.

But it’s useless.

Because the truth is already there.

Because Jennie owns you now.

And she knows it.

It starts subtly at first.

The way she replaces your thoughts, your routines.

Your phone buzzes during lectures.

Jennie: I wonder what you taste like today.

At night, she sends voice notes—soft, slow whispers that unravel you from the inside out.

"I want to break you, Y/n. I want to ruin you until there’s nothing left of you but me."

You shouldn’t listen.

But you do.

And then come the nights when you can’t stop thinking about her.

When you wake up gasping, her name tangled in your breath.

When you see her face instead of your wife’s.

Jennie is patient.

She doesn’t force.

She waits.

Because she knows you’ll come to her.

And when you finally do—when you finally break—

She’ll be waiting with open arms.

It happens on a night you’ll never forget.

You leave your home, your wife calling after you, but you don’t look back.

Your hands are shaking when you arrive at Jennie’s penthouse.

The door opens before you can knock.

And there she is.

Barefoot, wearing nothing but an oversized silk robe, looking at you like she’s been expecting you all along.

You exhale sharply. “Jennie, I—”

She steps forward, pressing a finger to your lips. “Shh.”

Then she smiles.

“Come inside, Y/n.”

And just like that—you surrender.

Because there’s no running anymore.

Because you were always meant to be hers.

And now, you are.

Tainted Desire

The door clicks shut behind you.

And just like that, you’ve crossed the line.

Jennie watches you, dark amusement flickering in her eyes as she takes slow, deliberate steps forward.

You don’t move. You don’t stop her.

Because this was inevitable.

Because you were always meant to end up in her hands.

Her fingers trace up your jaw, tilting your face toward hers. “You finally stopped running,” she whispers, satisfaction dripping from every syllable.

Your breathing is uneven. “Jennie—”

She silences you with a kiss.

Soft. Slow. Lethal.

And you fall into it. Into her.

Because she owns you now.

Her lips part against yours, her tongue sweeping into your mouth as she devours you whole.

You should feel guilt.

But all you feel is her.

Jennie pulls away, a cruel smile curving her lips as she studies her masterpiece.

You—ruined, broken, hers.

Her voice dips, sultry and commanding. “Leave them.”

Your stomach clenches. “Jennie—”

She cups your face, her nails pressing against your skin. “Leave your wife. Leave your son.”

Her thumb brushes over your lower lip. Soft. Possessive. Unyielding.

“There’s nothing left for you there.”

Your heart pounds, your mind spiraling.

But Jennie’s voice is all you hear now.

Jennie is all you know.

Her grip tightens. “Say it.”

You close your eyes, the weight of your old life crumbling around you.

Jennie leans in, whispering against your lips. “Be mine.”

And when you finally exhale—finally give in—

You whisper the words that seal your fate.

“…I’m yours.”

Jennie smirks.

Because she’s won.

Because you belong to her now.

Forever.

[requiemforthepoets]

the proposal ⟢ FA14

⟢ part four of this time, i’ll love you much better

𖤓 series masterlist ⟢ playlist ⟢ part five ☽

PAIRINGS: fernando alonso x ex-wife!reader

SUMMARY: the twins thought that they have all the time in the world to devise a plan on how they would get you and fernando back together. that is until fernando had told the news to jullianna, prompting to put their plan in motion.

REMINDERS: this is purely fiction, the way how the character is portrayed in my story does not reflect the person that is portraying my character in real life. always separate fiction from reality, and do not repost or copy my work in any way.

WARNINGS: no use of y/n, named character (except for reader), parent trap inspired fic + plot, google translated spanish and french, single dad!nando and single mom!reader (for the time being), evil fiancé, twin switching, inaccuracies with information, and minor typographical errors.

WORD COUNT: 5.1k

AUTHOR’S NOTE: part four of the series!! i have a lot of things going on, so that’s why it always takes a long time for me to update my series/post new parts to fics. as always, this series is open for taglist, so just comment or message me if you wanted to be tagged, and your comments/reblogs are highly appreciated, i hope you’ll enjoy this new part of the series! :)

The sunlight filtered through the curtains as Jullianna pulled her hair into a sleek ponytail, already dressed in a crisp white tennis outfit. She glanced at her reflection in the mirror, adjusting the collar of the polo shirt she wore. Jullianna’s focus, however, was more on the bubbling frustration in her chest. It was not just about the day ahead or the tennis session with Fernando—it was about everything Sofia had dropped into her lap without any warning.

As if on cue, Jullianna’s phone buzzed on the bedside table. She picked it up and saw Sofia’s caller ID flashed on the screen. Narrowing her eyes, she swiped to answer, voice immediately sharp.

“Well, it’s about damn time,” Jullianna began, tone clipped. “I’ve been waiting for you to call, and now you finally do.”

Sofia’s tone was light, almost too casual. “Why good morning to you too, Disney princess. How’s it going?”

“How’s it going? How’s it going?” Jullianna repeated incredulously. “Comment ça va? Vraiment? Tu es sérieusement en train de te moquer de moi?! Sofia, do you have any idea of what you’ve put me through?”

There was a pause on the other end. “What are you even talking about? You know how I can’t understand any of what you’re saying, right?”

“Oh don’t you play innocent with me,” Jullianna snapped. “Karting, Sofia. Karting! You didn’t even bother to tell me how to drive the freaking damn thing! I had to watch youtube videos just to figure out what I was supposed to do. Do you know how embarrassing that was?”

Sofia chuckled nervously. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry! I didn’t think it would be a big deal, papá would’ve helped you.”

“He did,” Jullianna admitted begrudgingly. “But that’s not the point! You could’ve warned me!”

“Fine, I’ll make it up to you,” Sofia said, tone placating. “But seriously, Jules, it’s only karting. You survived, right?”

“Barely,” Jullianna muttered, crossing her arms. “And you’re lucky I did, because I would’ve switched back and made you deal with the mess.”

The line went quiet for a moment, and then Sofia’s voice softened. “I’m sorry, Jules. I didn’t really mean to make things harder for you. I’ll give you all the details next time, okay?”

Jullianna exhaled, some of her frustration easing. “Fine. Alright. But that’s not all we need to talk about.”

“Oh?” Sofia sounded wary. “What now?”

“Stephanie.”

“Stepha-who now?”

“Exactly,” Jullianna said, dropping onto the edge of the bed. “She’s some woman papá had apparently been seeing, and she keeps on coming over to the house like she owns the place. I had to deal with her the other day, and let me tell you, she’s awful.”

Sofia’s voice hardened. “I haven’t heard of her before. When did this start?”

“Eh, probably while we're at camp,” Jullianna said bitterly. “Alejandra told me this woman had been coming around, and from what I’ve seen, she’s trouble. Fake, loud, annoying—you name it, she got it. The worst part? Papá seems completely oblivious to it.”

“Well that doesn’t sound good,” Sofia said. “Keep an eye on that woman. If she’s really as bad as you say, we’ll figure something out. But don’t let that woman get to you, okay? She’s not worth your energy.”

“Easier said than done,” Jullianna muttered.

The twins were so engrossed in their conversation that Jullianna barely registered Fernando calling out for her downstairs. “Sofia! ¡Vamos! It’s time to go!

Jullianna jumped up, glancing at the clock. “I’ve got to go, papá’s waiting for me. We’re going to play a few rounds of tennis.”

“Alrighty. Good luck, Sofia,” Sofia teased.

“Oh shut up.” Jullianna rolled her eyes.

“But seriously though, keep me updated about Stanley.”

“Fia, it’s Stephanie,” Jullianna replied, and Sofia just blew raspberries at her. “And will do. Talk to you later, ugly.”

“Hey! We look just th—” Jullianna ended the call before Sofia could even respond.

Jullianna stuffed her phone into the tennis bag and grabbed Sofia’s tennis racket from where it leaned against the wall, and headed downstairs. Fernando was waiting by the front door, dressed in an equally sporty outfit like Jullianna and holding his own tennis racket.

“Finally,” he said with a smile. “You ready?”

Jullianna nodded with a smile. “Ready.”

The sun was high overhead when Jullianna and Fernando stepped onto the private tennis court—air was warm but pleasant, with a light breeze that rustled the nearby trees. Jullianna adjusted the grip on the racket, movements fluid and confident. Playing tennis was her forté, and it was surely worlds away from the stress and confusion of karting or dealing with unwelcome houseguests like Stephanie.

Fernando took his place on the opposite side of the court, bouncing the tennis ball a couple of times before looking up at Jullianna with a grin. “You ready, chiquita?”

Jullianna smirked. “Yup!”

Fernando laughed, tossing the ball into the and served with precision. The ball zipped over the net, and Jullianna moved quickly, her racket connecting with a satisfying thwack! as she returned the shot.

The rally began, and for the first few minutes, the only sounds were the rhythmic hits of the ball against the racket, quick and hurried footsteps against the clay surface, and the occasional grunt of effort. Jullianna found herself smiling as she played, thoughts drifting briefly to when her and Sofia had shared a match back at camp walden. It was an intense match, filled with playful trash-talking and endless determination to outdo each other.

But then, Fernando broke the silence, tone casual yet curious. “So,” he began, returning a particularly fast shot, “what do you think of Stephanie?”

Jullianna hesitated, her focus briefly faltering before she sent the ball back over the net. “Stephanie?” she repeated, trying to buy herself some time.

“Yes, Stephanie,” Fernando said, voice light but persistent. “You’ve spent some time with her now. I just want to know what you think of her.”

Jullianna tightened her grip on the racket, her mind racing. She couldn’t very well tell him the truth—that she finds Stephanie insufferable, fake, and most certainly not the right woman for Fernando. Instead, she decided to tread carefully, masking her irritation with forced politeness.

“Well,” she began, returning another shot, “she’s…very put-together. Always dressed nicely, very stylish.” she paused, muttering just loudly enough for herself, not my style, though. Mamá’s much better.

Fernando chuckled, clearly amused by Jullianna’s side comment. “So, you think she’s stylish. That’s good to hear, and it seems like you two are getting along.”

“Mm-hmm,” Jullianna murmured, keeping her tone neutral. She didn’t elaborate further, focusing instead on the ball.

Just when Jullianna thought that the conversation about Stephanie is done, turns out that it’s not. Fernando wasn’t done. As the rally continued, his tone shifted slightly, becoming more serious.

“Sofia,” Fernando said, eyes following the ball as it sailed over the net, ���I’ve been thinking about the future, and you know that I’m not getting any younger. Sooner or later I’m about to retire soon from Formula 1, and I want to know what you think about Stephanie joining the family.”

Jullianna froze for a split second, the racket nearly slipping from her hands. The words hung in the air, heavy and unmistakable. She knew exactly what he meant, but she decided to play dumb, her voice laced with forced confusion.

“Joining the family? What do you mean, papá? Are you planning to adopt her or something?” Jullianna said jokingly.

Fernando let out a hearty laugh, clearly amused by Jullianna’s sarcasm. “No, chiquita. Not adoption.” he hesitated for a moment before continuing, tone filled with quiet excitement. “What I mean is that I proposed to her.”

The words hit Jullianna like a freight train. For a brief moment, she stood frozen in place, staring at her father as if she had not heard him correctly. Then, as the reality of his statement sank in, something inside her snapped. Jullianna’s next hit was ferocious, with the ball rocketing past Fernando so fast that he barely had time to react. He turned to watch it bounce out of bounds, a look of surprise on his face.

“Wow,” Fernando said with a laugh, jogging to retrieve the ball. “That was quite the shot, eh?”

But Jullianna was not done. Her hits became more aggressive, each one more powerful than the last. She was not just playing tennis anymore, she was channeling all of her anger and frustration into every swing. Fernando was struggling to keep up, missing shot after shot as the intensity of the game escalated.

“Sofia, mi vida,” he called out, tone now tinged with concern. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”

Jullianna didn’t answer, her jaw clenched, and eyes burning with a mix of anger and betrayal. Finally, after one last blistering shot that Fernando couldn’t even attempt to return, she threw the racket with force—destroying it in the process and turned on her heel.

“Sofia!” Fernando called after her, voice filled with confusion as to why his daughter was acting up. “Where are you going?”

But Jullianna didn’t look back. She walked briskly off the court, chest heaving with unspoken words, and tears of frustration stinging her eyes. When Jullianna reached the front door of the house—still angry and frustrated, she grabbed the handle and turned it open, but in her haste and anger, she twisted it the wrong way. The door didn’t budge.

“¡Por favor!” she hissed, shaking the handle violently.

When it still refused to open, Jullianna growled in frustration, yanking the door with all her strength. Finally, it gave way, and she stumbled inside, muttering to herself. She glanced at the door handle, relieved to see it hadn’t broken. Once inside, she marched into the living room, pacing back and forth, her sneakers squeaking faintly against the floor.

“Comment peut-il penser que c’est une bonne idée?” she muttered, throwing her hands in the air. “Who even is she? Elle est insupportable!”

Jullianna’s rant alternated between languages—English, French, and Spanish, as her thoughts tumbled out uncontrollably. “He proposed? To her? ¡Dios mío, papá, estás loco!”

She stopped pacing momentarily, pressing her hands to her forehead. “This is not happening. This cannot be happening. I can’t handle this alone, I’m only one kid.”

Lost in her tirade, Alejandra peeks around the corner of the armchair she’s been sitting in with a cup of coffee in her hands. Alejandra initially assumed Sofia was in one of her usual moods, but the erratic pacing and the odd blend of languages caught Alejandra’s attention.

When Jullianna finally turned around, Alejandra cleared her throat gently. “¿Tienes algo que quieras compartir con la clase, mi chica?”

Jullianna froze mid-step, head snapping up—to which she immediately regretted because of the strain of her action. Her eyes widened in shock, the usually composed façade already slipping. Her heart was racing so fast, and quickly straightened her posture, smoothing her tennis skirt and forcing a smile.

“Alejandra! I didn’t see you there, you gave me a fright!” she said, tone overly bright.

Alejandra sat her coffee cup down at the side table, her eyes narrowing slightly as she stood up from the armchair and slowly approached Jullianna.

“You didn’t see me? Gave you a fright? I’ve been sitting here the whole time, chica. You were so lost in your own thoughts, or rather, in frustration, that you didn’t notice.” Alejandra folded her arms, studying Jullianna closely. “¿Qué está pasando? En serio.”

“Nothing, I swear!” Jullianna replied too quickly, smile tightening. “Just…a lot on my mind lately.”

Alejandra tilted her head, gaze sharpening. “¿Seguro que no hay nada de lo que quieras hablarme?” she asked for the second time. “You’ve been acting strange, mi niña.”

“Strange?” Jullianna echoed nervously, the forced smile on her face faltering. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Alejandra took a step closer, expression skeptical. “Sí, extraño. For one, you’re acting too proper—using expressions like you gave me a fright, the way you eat—you barely touch your food now, and even the way you speak sometimes, it’s different. I didn’t even know you speak French.”

Jullianna opened her mouth to respond but found herself at a loss for words. She tried to come up with some silly excuse, anything to divert Alejandra’s growing suspicion, but her mind went completely blank.

“Alejandra,” she trailed off, “I changed a lot over the summer, that’s all.”

Alejandra’s gaze softened, though her tone remained firm. “Si no lo supiera, diría que es casi como si estuvieras…” she paused for a little bit, “Ay dios mío, no importa, eso es demasiado imposible.”

Jullianna hesitated, the weight of the secret she had been carrying threatening to crush her. “Almost as if I were who, Alejandra?”

“Nadie, nadie. Chica tonta, olvida que lo mencioné.” Alejandra chuckled. “Why don’t I make your favorite food, huh? I think that tennis session with your papá had made you hungry.”

Finally, Jullianna sighed, her shoulders slumping in defeat. She couldn’t take it any longer, so she’ll take the chance now. “¿Casi como si fuera Jullianna?”

Alejandra’s eyes widened. “What?” her breath hitched. “You know about Jullianna?”

“I am Jullianna.” Jullianna breathed out.

For a moment, silence hung heavy between them. Alejandra stared at her, mouth opening and closing as she’s trying to process what was happening. Then, tears welled up in Alejandra’s eyes.

“¿De verdad eres Jullianna?” Alejandra asked, voice trembling.

Jullianna nodded, her own eyes glistening. “Yes, it’s me.”

Alejandra’s hands flew to her mouth as a sob escaped her. “¡Mi niña!” she cried, rushing forward to embrace Jullianna.

The hug was tight, almost crushing, but Jullianna didn’t mind. She wrapped her arms around Alejandra, feeling an unexpected wave of comfort.

“No puedo creerlo!” Alejandra said through her tears. “The last time I saw and held you, you were just a baby—barely a year old. You and your mother left for France after the divorce. I thought that I would never see you again.”

Jullianna blinked back tears. “I’ve missed you too, Alejandra.”

Alejandra pulled back slightly, cupping Jullianna’s face in her hands. “¡Oh, mírate!” she said, voice filled with awe. “All grown up, but still the same little girl that I used to hold in my arms. But why are you here in Spain? Where is Sofí?”

Jullianna hesitated, unsure how much to more of her and Sofia’s plan she could reveal. “It’s…complicated,” she said finally.

Alejandra nodded, sensing that Jullianna wasn’t ready to share everything just yet. “Alright,” she said gently. “But you have to be careful, mi niña. If your papá finds out—”

“I know,” Jullianna interrupted, voice firm. “That’s why I need you to keep this between us. Please, Alejandra.”

“Of course,” Alejandra nodded. “Haría cualquier cosa por ti.”

Fernando stepped inside of the house, chest heaving as he called out, “Sofia! ¿Dónde estás?” his voice echoed through the house with urgency.

The sounds of Fernando’s footsteps grew louder as he entered the living room, and Jullianna stiffened, her arms instinctively crossing over her chest. Alejandra had sensed the tension, so she placed a comforting hand on Jullianna’s shoulder.

“Está bien,” Alejandra whispered gently. “I’ll leave you two to talk, I’ll be at the kitchen and prepare you some snacks.”

Jullianna nodded, watching as Alejandra quietly exited the living room and headed towards the kitchen. She barely had a moment to collect her thoughts before Fernando appeared in the doorway of the living room, looking left and right for Jullianna. When he saw her, he paused, hands on his hips, exhaling deeply as though trying to steady himself.

“Sofí,” he said softly, tone coaxing. “Come, sit with me, princesa.” Fernando gestured to the couch.

She hesitated but eventually walked over and perched on the edge of the couch, arms crossed defensively over her chest. Jullianna’s gaze stayed fixed on the floor, refusing to meet her father’s eyes.

Fernando sat beside her, leaving a careful distance between them. “Why did you run off like that mi vida?” he asked, voice gentler now.

Jullianna did not respond, jaw tightening.

“Sofía,” Fernando pressed, leaning forward slightly. “I proposed to Stephanie the other night. It was a very special moment for us—”

“Stop. I’m gonna stop you right there,” Jullianna cut in sharply, standing abruptly. The words struck a huge nerve within her, and she could not hold back any longer. “Just stop, papá, please.”

Fernando blinked, surprised by her sudden outburst. “¿Qué te pasa? Why are you acting like this?”

Jullianna turned to face Fernando, eyes blazing with nothing but anger. “Because it is outrageous!” she snapped, throwing her hands in the air. “You’re marrying her? That woman? Marrying Stephanie?”

He frowned. “And what is so outrageous about that?”

“Oh my god, papá! That woman’s practically young enough to be my sister!” Jullianna shot back, pacing back and forth as her emotions spilled over. “Do you not see how absurd this is? All of it!”

“I never knew you would be reacting like this,” Fernando stood, hands raised in a placating gesture. “Sofía, calm down, por favor. There’s no need to—”

“Je suis calme!” Jullianna shouted like a maniac, clearly not calm at all. She began to switch to French again without even realizing it, her words tumbling out in a torrent. “Comment peux-tu faire ça? As-tu même pensé à ce que cela signifierait pour nous? C’est insensé! Je ne peux pas croire que tu ferais ça. Elle n’est pas la bonne pour toi, papa. Pas du tout!”

Fernando furrowed his eyebrows, stepping in closer towards Jullianna. “What…French? Desde cuándo hablas francés?”

Jullianna stopped pacing, momentarily caught off guard. “I-I um, uh, learned it at camp,” she said quickly, brushing past the question. “But that’s not the point!”

She faced Fernando. Taking a deep breath, she began, voice softening slightly. “I’m sorry for my outburst,” she said, brushing her hair back from her face. “But we need to talk about this rationally.”

Fernando nodded, motioning for her to sit again, but Jullianna preferred standing. “Alright, alright,” he said. “Let’s talk. But in a language we can both understand, por favor mi vida.”

He sighed, patience already visibly thinning. “Sofía, I don’t understand why this is upsetting you so much. Stephanie has been kind to you, hasn’t she? She’s made every effort to—”

“Kind?” Jullianna scoffed, cutting him off. “That’s not the issue, papá. This isn’t about her being nice, this is about you thinking you can just bring someone into our lives and marry them without even considering how it affects everything!”

Feenando’s brows furrowed deeply. “I have considered it. Stephanie is someone I care about, and I thought you would—”

“Well you thought wrong!” Jullianna interrupted, voice rising again. She felt the heat of tears threatening to spill but blinked them back furiously. “You can’t do this, papa. You can’t marry her—or anyone else! It will ruin everything!”

He opened his mouth to respond, but before Fernando could even say a word, Jullianna already turned on her heel and stormed out of the room, her tennis shoes squeaking against the floor.

“Sofía!” Fernando called after her, voice tinged with frustration and confusion. But she didn’t stop despite how many times Fernando called out for her.

Jullianna slumped into the St. Anthony’s face-to-face swing, letting her head fall back against the smooth wood. She exhaled sharply, crossing her arms over her chest, still reeling from what she had just learned. Fernando had proposed to Stephanie. Proposed. The word itself made her stomach churn.

This was worse than she and Sofia had imagined. They had time, or so they thought. But now, with a ring on Stephanie’s finger, the entire course of action had been changed—everything was moving too fast. Jullianna and Sofia had to quickly put their plan into motion if they even want to stop this wedding from happening, they need to act now. But there was only one viable solution: they had to get you and Fernando back together.

Jullianna was deep in thought, brainstorming ways to subtly, but not-so-subtly, bring you to Spain or maybe one of his races so that she and Sofia can just push you both back towards each other, when a sudden knock against the wooden frame of the swing had startled Jullianna. Her head snapped up, and saw Stephanie.

“Mind if I join you?” Stephanie asked, voice light and airy, as if she had just wandered into the garden without a care in the world.

Before Jullianna could even answer, Stephanie lowered herself onto the vacant seat of the swing, facing her directly. Jullianna barely stopped herself from grimacing, just looking at Stephanie made her want to barf.

Stephanie clasped her hands together, tilting her head slightly. “I can imagine how surprised you must have been by the engagement news.”

Jullianna forced a tight-lipped smile, words laced with passive aggression. “Oh, shock doesn’t even begin to cover it, honestly.”

Stephanie just chuckled, completely oblivious to the sharp edge in Jullianna’s tone. She relaxed herself on the seat, movements elegant and poised, as if this were just another casual afternoon chat. Forcing herself not to groan, Jullianna braced herself for whatever nonsense Stephanie was about to spew.

“You know,” Stephanie began, leaning slightly forward, “eleven is such a very wonderful age.”

Jullianna arched an eyebrow. What in the actual world does that have to do with any of this?

Stephanie smiled wistfully, as if she was reminiscing about something so precious. “When I was eleven, I had my first beau.” She let out a soft laugh, eyes sparkling with nostalgia.

“It was the first time I really started to feel like a woman.” she sighed dramatically. “That’s when I realized love was this fantastic, exhilarating mystery, one that takes a man and a woman on the most magical journey.”

Jullianna’s hand was tightly gripping the armrest of the swing, jaw now clenched, and resisting the great force of rolling her eyes. Oh, for the love of all things holy. She kept her expression neutral, pretending to listen, but internally, Jullianna was already pulling her hair out and screaming.

Stephanie continued, completely unaware of Jullianna’s growing irritation. “And believe it or not, you’ll understand that feeling soon,” she said with a knowing smile.

Jullianna just stared at Stephanie, fingers curled slightly now against her arms. She was not sure what was more annoying—Stephanie’s patronizing tone, or the fact that she spoke as if she had somehow unlocked the secrets of the universe. She certainly did not want to sit there, listening to this woman yap on about love like she was some kind of modern day Aristotle.

Before Stephanie could continue her sickly sweet monologue about love and magical journeys, Jullianna lifted a hand slightly, cutting Stephanie off.

“You know, I don’t want to sound all jerky or anything, because, from what I can tell, you’re trying really hard to be all mushy and sentimental.” she tilted her head slightly, letting her eyes linger on Stephanie’s with something close to amusement. “And I think I finally got it.”

Stephanie blinked, caught slightly off guard. “Get what, exactly?”

Jullianna leaned forward slightly, lips curling into a knowing smile. “What my papá sees in you.” she continued, voice still laced with that same passive aggressiveness, but now there was something else woven into it—a challenge. “You’re a beautiful woman. Sexy, even, and my papá? Well, he’s only human, after all.”

Stephanie’s lips parted slightly, but no words came out just yet. Jullianna’s smile widened just a little, though her eyes were sharp.

“But if you ask me, marriage is supposed to be based on something more, don’t you agree?” Jullianna let the question hang in the air for a moment before her smile turned almost innocent. “Something more than just…fornication. If you don’t know what fornication is, it means sex.”

Stephanie’s entire expression shifted. Gone was the light, airy persona. Her posture stiffened just slightly, and the sweetness in her eyes dimmed, now replaced with something sharper, something calculated. Jullianna didn’t flinch though, in fact, she was thoroughly enjoying every bit of it.

She smiled, but it was a whole lot different now. “Oh boy, your papá really underestimates you, doesn’t he?”

Jullianna let out a small, breathy chuckle. “Oh?” she mused, cocking her head slightly, as if intrigued. “And you don’t?”

Stephanie studied her closely, lips still curved, but her eyes darkened. Jullianna could feel it now—she was starting to get on Stephanie’s nerves. It was a beautiful sight and symphony for Jullianna. Good. People always tend to overlook her, underestimated her. People would assume that she was just a kid who did not know any better. She liked it that way. Because nothing thrilled Jullianna more than a good challenge, and judging by the way Stephanie was staring her down, she had just found herself a new one.

She then let out a light laugh, though there was no real humor behind it. Stephanie tilted her head slightly, her eyes narrowing just a bit as she studied Jullianna with thinly veiled annoyance.

“So what if I’m young and beautiful?” Stephanie mused, voice airy but carrying an undertone of sharpness. “Last time I checked, being young and beautiful isn’t a crime.”

Jullianna simply raised an eyebrow, keeping her smirk firmly in place, which only seemed to annoy the hell out of Stephanie even more.

“And for the record, I know what fornication means, thank you very much. I love your father, I adore him. Your father is exactly the kind of man I’ve always envisioned myself marrying. This—” she gestured between herself and Jullianna as if making some kind of grand declaration, “is the real deal, honey. Nothing, and I say nothing, is going to come between us.”

Jullianna barely blinked at Stephanie’s words. She just leaned back against the wooden swing, one arm lazily draped over the armrest, completely unbothered, and yawning out of boredom to piss off Stephanie more.

While Stephanie, on the other hand, was growing impatient. She leaned forward slightly, gaze piercing as she said, “you need to understand something, sweetheart. This is the reality now, you have to accept the fact that you’re no longer the only girl in Fernando Alonso’s life. You need to get over it.”

That did it. Jullianna’s lips curled into an even bigger smirk, one that was almost too smug, too knowing. It made Stephanie’s fingers twitch slightly, as if she were resisting the urge to wipe the expression right off her face. She leaned in slightly as well, resting her elbows on her knees as she stared Stephanie down.

“Oh? That’s the reality, huh?” she drawled, voice dripping with amusement.

Jullianna continued, her smirk never wavering. “So, just to be clear that we’re on the same page here, papá’s money has nothing to do with any of this? No part of you thinks that marrying him just so happens to come with a very very comfortable lifestyle?”

Stephanie’s expressions had immediately tightened, but she quickly schooled her features back into something neutral. “Are you insinuating that I’m marrying your father for his money?” she asked, feigning offense, though her voice was just a little too even to be genuine.

Jullianna simply shrugged, the smirk on her face never fading. “I’m not insinuating anything, but if that’s what you think, then feel free to think of such things,” she said innocently, though her eyes were gleaming with mischief. “I’m just saying, I’ve seen this in a film before. I mean, come on, I’ve watched cinderella more times than I can count.”

Stephanie’s brows furrowed slightly, unsure of where this was going. Jullianna sighed dramatically and shook her head. “And if this whole shazam isn’t about money, then great! But personally? I’d rather not end up scrubbing the floors and befriending the neighborhood birds while you have breakfast in bed, smiling down at me from your throne in papá’s house.”

Her entire face stiffened at what Jullianna just said, lips pressing together tightly as the words settled between them. For the first time in their entire conversation, Stephanie had no response at all, and that? That brought nothing but pure, unadulterated joy.

However, Stephanie’s entire demeanor changed the moment Jullianna’s words sank in. Her perfectly poised expression faltered, just for a second, before her brows furrowed and her lips pressed into a thin, irritated line. It was the exact reaction that Jullianna had been hoping for. She had successfully gotten under Stephanie’s skin, and now? Now she was really starting to see the cracks in the woman her father wanted to marry.

Stephanie inhaled sharply, composing herself before leaning forward again, but this time, her face was mere inches from Jullianna’s. She locked eyes with her, the intensity of her gaze enough to make most people shrink under the pressure. But not Jullianna.

“You are unbelievably out of line, jovencita,” Stephanie said in a low voice, tone dripping with controlled frustration.

Jullianna simply blinked up at her, her smirk never faltering. Stephanie exhaled through her nose, clearly trying to keep herself from snapping. Then, with slow precision, she spoke, enunciating each word carefully.

“Listen to me, and you listen good,” she began, voice dangerously soft. “I’m marrying your father whether you like it or not. So if I were you, I’d quit playing whatever little game you think you’re playing and stay out of my way.”

Jullianna raised an eyebrow, tilting her head slightly as if contemplating Stephanie’s words, but said nothing. Stephanie leaned more closer, voice dropping even more lower.

“You are way in over your head, sweetheart,” she continued, tone carrying a hint of condescension. “So I suggest you don’t tangle yourself up in things you clearly don’t understand.”

There was a heavy pause. Stephanie studied Jullianna’s face, waiting for some kind of reaction, for her to look intimidated, or at least acknowledge the warning, and Stephanie took Jullianna’s silence as an agreement, she leaned back on the swing, arm draping over the armrest.

Instead, Jullianna just smiled. Not a polite smile, not a nervous smile. But a slow, teasing, infuriating smirk. Then, she shrugged, Stephanie’s eye twitching. Before the woman could say another word, Jullianna stood up, stretching slightly as if this whole conversation had been nothing more than a mild inconvenience for her. Without a warning, she bent down so that she was now the one at Stephanie’s eye level.

“Je comprends parfaitement, Cruella.” she said smoothly. Stephanie blinked, momentarily caught off guard.

Jullianna smiled again, that same mischievous, knowing grin that had been pushing all of Stephanie’s buttons. Then, because Jullianna was still eleven after all, and feeling particularly childish, she blew raspberries right in Stephanie’s face, wherein the woman recoiled, visibly appalled. Jullianna giggled, straightening up before giving her soon-to-be stepmother a playful wink.

“Au revoir, Stéphanie,” she said cheerfully.

Jullianna turned on her heel and walked away, leaving the woman completely dumbfounded.

taglist : @qghosty , @seonghwaexile , @linnygirl09 , @tallrock35 , @madnesstaking0ver , @akulici , @scopeiguess , @ferakillia , @exactlycoralfox , @iambored24601 , @mx13sworld , @tibadi , @chainsawangel

[dreamingdormouse]

Back when Mr. Dormouse was in the Navy, he was for a couple years assigned to Pearl Harbor, as a nuclear mechanic on the submarine engines. (My husband is one of the most brilliant people I know, by the way, that's a very difficult job to get. But also it's hard work, long hours, lots of stress, and not very good pay.)

Shortly before I arrived to join him, his gross-motor twitches became more pronounced. They'd started when he was in training, and gotten stronger over time. He would be thinking about something or working on something, and abruptly his arm would flail out to the side, or his leg would kick like you'd found the right spot to tap with the little reflex hammer.

This was not as dangerous as Gallus's Dad without his glasses and with a gun, but still rather hazardous, as Mr. Dormouse quite often had a wrench in his hand, which was wont to go flying if his arm jerked!

His coworkers teased him about it in the friendly/mean way that is common in the military. He began the process of getting it checked out - the military, for all its flaws, has/had an amazing health care system.

The docs on base ended up deciding that

1) It's not Tourette's (which can manifest physically as well as the more well-known version of accidental cussing)

2) It's very similar, though, but, uh... not actually any of the things in our textbook?

3) Stress makes it worse

4) Sorry, Chief Petty Officer Dormouse, there's nothing else we can do for you

5) But you really shouldn't be in the military anymore

Well that was helpful.

Worse, commanding officers didn't care. Wouldn't hear of discharging him early. On the plus side, the submarine he was assigned to was in drydock for a year or more of preventative maintenance (if it was a car, it would've had an oil change, tires rotated, rust inspection, emissions test, the works), so at least he wasn't underwater like that, on multi-week trips, in a crowded environment 24/7.

The other engineer/mechanics around him knew he wanted to get a medical discharge. They began to joke that they should assign him to stand close to the officers, carrying a knife. Not in a threatening manner, oh no! Just as a tool. It wouldn't be anyone's fault if he just... twitched. And maybe then the officers would get the idea that this guy shouldn't be in the military?

Eventually somebody with some ability to sign papers decided to do so, and Mr. Dormouse was assigned to the equivalent of garden duty - a stint in the quartermaster's office. It took another 6-9 months before he got his discharge, because there wasn't a form for "IDK, I think it's Tourette's-adjacent, should we do another brain scan?" like there is for myopia or a heart murmur.

But at last he got out of the Navy and went to college for nuclear engineering, and it's been more than a decade. Not being in the military took away a lot of the stress, so these days he barely twitches at all. Sometimes it just looks like a full body shiver, and it happens a lot less frequently.

He does tell me that it is quite traditional to get stuck with the pin when a medal is being awarded, so it's possible that Captain Redacted lightly stabbed Gallus's Dad on purpose and as per custom. But it also might've been the whiskey. 🥴

The Hummingbird

The Story of my Father’s Very Brief military career.

Content Warnings: Military, guns, hummingbirds, Profanity, Lots of Profanity, spectacular incompotence, catholicism mention, alcohol mention.

As usual, all names have been changed or redacted to protect people’s privacy.

In the fall of 1969, my Dad was hit by a car and suffered a serious concussion, causing him to miss midterms and put his grade in a hole he wouldn’t be able to recover from, as this was the days before a lot of professorial accountability.  Like a sensible person, he decided to Withdraw for the semester and focus on recovering and maybe take a part-time job to pay for spring tuition, because you could do that back then.

“Son,” My grandfather asked, sitting on the couch with Dad shortly after he was discharged from the hospital. “What about your college deferment? I’m worried about you getting drafted.”

“Dad,” Dad said, filling in job applications. “I’m legally blind without my glasses!  I’d be a danger to anyone around me with a gun.  Even if I get drafted there’s no way in hell I’d pass the medical exam.”

“Don’t swear in my house.” Said Grandpa, under the entirely mistaken impression that the US Military was run with any sort of competence.

Literally a week later my Dad’s draft papers came in, and he reported to his local draft board, driver’s license and doctor’s note in hand to prove He Is Legally Blind Without His Glasses, only to be waved through without so much as a sideways glance by anyone resembling a doctor.

“They must be desperate.”  My dad concluded when he got home that night to pack.

The news was devastating to the family, as both his parents had siblings to WWII.  Grandpa was ready to beg, bribe and otherwise compromise his intensely catholic morals to get Dad out, and Grandma prayed to any available saint that would save her son from the fate of her brothers.  She had quite the collection of saints in her sewing room, some forty figurines and dozens more candles and images, along with some stained glass she’d made herself of saints, landscapes and animals, including a large hummingbird that lived on the sewing room window since they’d moved into the house.

Dad pleaded with them to not do anything they’d regret, and returned to the base for basic training.

Dad’s drill sergeant was a man whose real name was “Ross” but insisted on being called “Bulldog” or “SIR!” by everyone depending on rank.  Dad supposed this might have been a defense mechanism as Bulldog had an intensely jowled and acne-scarred face that did greatly resemble a fighting dog well past their prime.  The image was not helped by the fact that he was constantly smoking rose-flavored tobacco in a pipe that had seen better centuries, and consequently smelled like a terrible combination of trailer park and the women’s perfume counter at Macy’s.

Bulldog was also… not great about following protocol, which is a terrible failing in a Drill sergeant, but Dad supposed at that point in the war Bulldog had become horribly depressed by the sheer numbers of young men he was sending to their deaths and had kind of stopped giving a fuck about their safety and his own.

Which lead to an incident about three weeks into Dad’s training camp when in the middle of a Weapons Qualification lesson, Bulldog pulled Dad’s glasses off and bellowed “YOU WON’T HAVE THOSE COKE BOTTLES WHEN THOSE [incorrect slurs, because there’s no such thing as an informed bigot] BLAST YOUR ASS TO KINGDOM COME.” before stomping off to go change the paper targets, leaving Dad standing there with an M-1, squinting in what he hoped was the general direction of the targets.

To give you an idea of HOW bad my dad’s vision is, I once asked him at what distance things got blurry, and he responded by taking off his glasses, putting his hand up to his face, and slowly moving it back.  He stopped about eight inches from his face and nodded.  

“So I can see my hand from here but I can’t distinguish my fingers.  I think that green blob over there is your mother.”

“I’m in the living room.” called mom. “You’re looking at the blender.”

So it should come as no surprise that as soon as Dad heard someone shouting “Ready! Aim! Fire!” He did precisely that.

Hummingbirds are often mistakenly characterized as Delicate Little Rainbows that are a gift Direct from Heaven when the truth is they’re really Vicious Little Bastards thrown out of Hell for being too Nasty.  

You would be too if you could eat nothing but frappuccinos and the occasional chicken nugget, everything around you was at least the size of a pickup truck and regarded you as a tasty snack, and you were forced to defend your fridge from not only equally vicious rivals but goddamn insects that are bigger than you are.  

Being a hummingbird is awful under normal circumstances, and now there are maniacs with loud machines and projecties as big as you are stomping around and yelling and well-

At that exact moment, one of the nesting hummingbirds, having grown progressively more exasperated with the activity on the base, dive-bombed my father, hurling it’s tiny body directly into his ear and slicing the lobe up, and making him jerk slightly as he fired.

He missed Sergeant Bulldog by mere inches. Dad still isn’t sure if the Hummingbird caused him to miss or put him closer to accidental manslaughter, but it mattered little as Bulldog grabbed him by the head, shrieking in spittle-flying fury-

“ARE YOU FUCKING BLIND?”  He roared.

“YES!!” screamed my father, also hysterical. “SIR THAT’S WHAT THOSE ‘COKE BOTTLES’ ARE FOR SIR!”

Bulldog stopped, suddenly and uncomfortably confronted with the nature of causality.  He only let it stymie him for a moment.  “GET YOUR IDIOT ASS TO THE MEDIC, I’LL DEAL WITH YOU LATER!”

At the medical center, an extremely befuddled doctor dilated Dad’s eyes, took pictures because Dad had the worst case of myopia he’d ever seen and wanted to put him in a medical journal, and asked him:

“What the HELL are you doing here?”

“Very nearly shooting people sir.”

“Well, we can’t have you shooting people while you’re in the army!  I’ll get your medical discharge started.”

Dad decided not to comment on that statement, thanked the doctor, and wandered blindly back to his bunk.

It took them a full thirty days to process Dad’s discharge, perhaps largely due to the fact that actually FINDING the captain was a task for hercules- The man had an almost phobic aversion to his office and a tremendous love of whiskey so actually locating the man and early enough in the day that he was still sober enough to sign anything was a race against time and a battle against the wits of a man determined to get out of work, which is when humanity is at its peak intelligence.

In the meantime, it simply wouldn’t do to let dad bike the five miles back to his home and come back for the paperwork, nor let him sit quietly and not accidentally maim anyone, so he was put on garden duty.  

Supervised by recently-suspended-from-instruction Sergeant “Bulldog” Ross.

By the second day Bulldog had mostly run out of steam, perhaps out of a sense of really, whose fault was that? So He would mostly stand in Dad’s general vicinity, waxing philosophical on the nature of war, government and whatever else he could be crotchety about that day while continuously smoking his rose-flavored tobacco in his pipe.  Dad planted a frankly absurd number of flowers, trying to make a planted display that would spell out the name of the base in eight-foot letters, just in case someone has managed to miss all 824,594,359 signs beforehand.

On day five, perhaps attracted by the bright colors or the stench of artificial rose, the Hummingbirds found the new garden.

At first, it was timid little trips to the edge farthest from Dad and Bulldog, testing this new territory for both risk and bounty, but upon finding it full of sugary goodness, they became bold, getting closer and closer to Dad, zipping in as soon as he got up to get the next flat of flowers, then not waiting for him to finish planting them before they were up in his face, squeaking angrily for him to get out of the way of their lunch.

One male objected to Dad and Bulldog’s presence particularly strongly, dive-bombing and buzzing angrily at them, an ounce and a half of glittery impotent rage.  After a month, he’d gotten quite aggressive, and one day flew directly up to Bulldog’s face to chitter curses at him eye-to-eye, only for Bulldog to take out his pipe and blow a cloud of smoke at him, laughing as the bird tumbled over backwards in midair.

Agitated with the sudden noxious cloud, or perhaps merely a violent psychopath in its own right, the bird flew back, then straight up into the air for a good fifty feet before going into a dive, aimed directly at Bulldog’s face.

Dad doesn’t recall actually moving, only a sense that he ought to do something, and launched himself out of the dirt, arms outstretched to clap and force it off course-

“SHIT! What the hell was that for?”  Demanded Bulldog.

“Well, the hummingbird looked like it was going to attack you, Sir.  So I stopped it.”

“How noble.  What are you standing there like an idiot for?”

“…I think I caught it sir.”  Said Dad, staring at the tiny bill poking out from between his gloves.  The two of them leaned in close as dad very slowly opened his gloves and peered inside.

The hummingbird immediately forced it’s tiny head out to peep furious profanities at them both.

“How is it,”  Bulldog wondered aloud as the hummer continued to curse the both of them for the next seven generations. “That you can’t see to hit the broad side of a barn but can pull a shitty little bird right out of the air?”

“I’m wearing my glasses, Sir.”

Bulldog looked up at him, glaring with such intensity his face ceased to be a face at all and transformed into a dali-esque collection of wrinkles.

“Fuck you. Now go take that damn thing to the other side of the base so it doesn’t come back.”

“Yes sir.”  Dad nodded, nearly saluting out of reflex before remembering that he was holding a live and very angry bird.  It took him several hours to get to the other side of the base, with literally everyone stopping to ask him what the hell he was doing, well I have this bird sir and I was told to release it on the other side of the base- how in hell did your blind ass catch a hummingbird, well I had my glasses on- Fuck you, go ditch that thing already.

At three o'clock on the dot the very next morning, two MPs woke up my dad and told him he needed to report to the front office right away, no time to get dressed, right away right now.

They marched him directly to the main office, barefoot and in his Pajamas to be greeted by not only Sergeant “Bulldog” ross, but nearly every officer on the base, including the lieutenant and the Captain, all of whom were… attempting to stand at attention with varying degrees of success, most weaving slightly, some snorting with poorly-concealed laughter, and the entire room reeking of booze.

“GENTLEMEN!”  hiccuped the lieutenant, before shaking himself and continuing, “WE ARE GATHERED HERE TODAY TO HONOR OUR ‘COMRADE’ -snort, giggle- IN ARMS -louder derisive laughter- FOR HIS BRAVERY AND SERVICE IN THE FACE OF EXTREME DANGER-”

“IN THE BEAK OF EXTREME DANGER!” Howled one of the assembled officers.  

“-AND FOR HIS SERVICE IN DEFENDING AN OFFICER OF THE UNITED STATES ARMY.  I AM ~SO~ PLEASED THAT WE HAVE CAPTAIN [REDACTED] HERE WITH US TO PRESENT THIS MEDAL.”

He turned to the Captain, who took out a small box and motioned Dad forward.  Upon closer inspection, it turned out to be a chocolate box from See’s Candies.

“[REDACTED], in honor of your brave and frankly improbable service in the defense of Euge- sorry, Sergeant Ross, and the capture of a dangerous wild animal, we award you this medal-  The Flying Purple Bastard.”

He opened the chocolate box to reveal this*:

(Image Description: A piece of cardboard cut out approximately in the silhouette of a hummingbird, by someone with only a passing familiarity with what hummingbirds look like.  The cardboard has been haphazardly covered in tinfoil and cartoon eyes drawn on.  It’s attached to a scrap of ribbon and a safety Pin.)

Which was then pinned crookedly to Dad’s nightshirt, after accidentally stabbing him a bit, saluted him as someone attempted to play the bugle but made a rather melodious farting noise instead, then slapped Dad in the face with a manilla folder full of papers and shouted. “DISMISSED!”

“Dismissed, sir?”

“Those are your discharge papers.” Said Bulldog. “Get the fuck out of here.”

“Yes, Sir!”

At which point Dad biked home in the rain, and thus ends my father’s military career.

*Pictured here is actually The Flying Purple Bastard 2.0, as the original was destroyed when partially eaten and fully regurgitated by one of the cats.

If you’ve enjoyed this story, please consider donating to my Ko-Fi or Paypal, as due to health concerns, telling funny stories on the internet is my ONLY means of income.  Thank you!

[weeewooobitsfallout]

Companion rambles: could they operate a vehicle + other random assortment of headcannons

Curie:

Knows every single part of a car. Knows every driving safety rule. Do not let her near a vehicle. Her driving style is mad-max levels of fear. She will giggle and comment about how much fun she’s having, and how she wishes she did this sooner. Danger level: 9/10. You won’t die but you’ll never look at a corvega the same.

Cait:

In trying to hotwire it, will either blow it up or will turn it on for just enough time that the alarm goes off. If she did find a functioning one, it would probably end up in a ditch. Danger level: 7/10

Deacon:

He can drive, but in the same way that a elderly person would: you don’t know if he should be behind the wheel, but goddamn it if he’s not going to Tokyo drift into the last parking spot in front of the super-duper mart. Danger level: 5/10

Danse:

Why concern himself with pre-war ruins that aren’t even technologically interesting? He *technically* can fly vertibirds, but also…heights get to him sometimes. If he did have a car, he would dive super safe and basically act like a midwestern dad. Do NOT try and merge without signaling in front of him. Danger level: 2/10

Mac:

Really good at taking cars apart. Only knows about driving from comics. TBH I think he would be the type to only learn how to ride a bike at 10+ years old. He can’t even start the car. Danger level: 0/10

Hancock:

Would try to drive but would get either lost or just confused after about a half hour. Would probably try to add a bunch of stuff on top, like a missile launcher or a turret. It would be so decked out that it wouldn’t even be functional anymore. Would take joy in doing demolition derbies with Mac. Danger level: 3/10

Piper:

She knows how a car works, but like, only from reading 4 pages of a really old manual when she was board. She claims to defunct know how they work, but has no idea what to do when she lifts the hood. Either causes an explosion or ends up breaking at least one part. Never gets it moving. 6/10

Gage:

He can probably figure it out after about a day or two of trying to compare it to a coaster. When he does start it, I think he would actually hate driving. He’s the sole one in control, with his foot on the gas the whole time, and there is no way in hell he is ready for that. Would probably make up some excuse about how raiders don’t need to use cars to make their points. 2/10

Preston:

The safest driver in the world at first, but then he starts going after bigger things. Trucks would help with transporting supplies to settlements, he argues. If we had a garrison of tanks, imagine how many people we could protect, etc. He’s not wrong, and not bad at driving, but he really needs to stop adopting every bubble-top he comes across. 3/10

Nick:

Can drive. Will drive. Then will have to confront the reality of his muscle memory being from a person he never really was. He’ll still take a spin now and then, especially if going long distances, but he prefers to walk. It’s more….him. 1/10

Longfellow:

Cars, no. Boats? Hell yeah. He’s taught just about every sailor far harbor has. But try to get him to drive on land and he will straight out refuse. It’s not who he is. 0/10

Strong:

No. Car for throwing. Inside small, only for weak human. No need metal shell to go fast. 0/10

Dogmeat:

Sticks his head out the window. Can honk the horn. 0/10

Codsworth:

Listen, somewhere in his programming is knowing how to drive a car. Also how to assemble one from 4 cans and a high powered magnet. Can drive it either completely normal and safe or in a way that would make vin diesel scared. 7/10

X6:

Danger level: 10/10. He would succeed in the way Hancock could not. He turns it into a weapon. Stuff of nightmares. Avoid at all costs.

[slvthrs]

ALL THE THINGS WE COULDN'T SAY | v.hacker

— MINORS PLEASE FUCK OFF FOR UR OWN GOOD —

No matter what, seeing him all over again feels like the inch has given you, spans the entire seas.

OLD BSF!VINNIE X FEM!READER

WARNINGS: NSFW CONTENT MINORS DNI, some angst, some fluff, unprotected sex, alcohol ment, making out praise kink, degradation kink, cheating, possessiveness, angry sex, slapping, face pushing, begging, choking, mean vinnie!!

word count:  2.5k <3

a/n: lil apology for the disappearance mls :(

Ever since that fateful day, I haven’t spoken a word to Vinnie.

It’s not like we were best friends, chatting everyday- at least not best friends in LA. But having sex whilst he had a girlfriend proved too much for me.

I ignored every text, every call, every attempt to get in contact despite what I really wanted. However I knew that any form of interaction between us would end up the same way our last one ended.

And I was very right.

It had been 2 months, it was all going good. I was starting to forget the feeling of his lips on me. Starting to forget the way he made me laugh, held my body close whispering sweet nothings. 

I started spending more time at the gym, and spent more time with my friends. Went out clubbing, shopping, anything that would help me forget. 

But in the back of my mind, only one thing actually made me crumble in the middle of the night, only one thing I thought of when I fell asleep, the one thing I craved.

He had given me an inch and I imagined it to be a mile- the same mistake I kept on making.

So when I heard that Vinnie was throwing his birthday and I had received the coveted invitation- I imagined it to be the world.

Vinnie’s birthday was always something I looked forward to back home. Maria’s cooking, Nate on the grill, and Reggie playing silly board games with Vinnie and I.

***

“YOU FUCKING CHEATER” I yelled, jostling Poncho in my lap.

“Oh c’mon it’s not my fault you suck at Uno” Vinnie laughs moving to pet Poncho.

“Absolutely not! I had Uno, I was about to win!” I grumble, my head falling onto the coffee table table.

Reggie’s hand rubs my back, “Hey we all know Vinnie cheats don’t worry,” He teases sticking his tongue out at his big brother.

The two boys start bickering, laughing, and yelling curses as I cradle Poncho, “Shh baby ignore em their just two stinky men” I whisper

Their words quickly turn into playful rough housing until Maria breaks them up bringing out Vinnie’s cake.

His face is illuminated by the soft glow of the candles, as the cake is set in front of him. His big signature toothy grin covers his entire face as he watches us start to sing ‘Happy Birthday’ to him.

One of his hands wraps around my waist and my world just stops- at least for a moment before I’m jostled by him blowing out the candles in one big huff.

“What did you wish for Vin?” Nate asks, smiling at his newly adult son

His face turns to look at me giving me a smile before turning back to his dad, “Can’t say unless I don’t want it to come true.”

My world just died right there before starting all over again.

That was a day before he left for LA.

***

I had spent the night getting ready with my friends. I was adorned in pretty jewelry complimenting my hair. I was wearing a pretty white tie-in-the-front white cropped top with long sleeves and a low-rise white mini skirt. I had matching waist chains with some strappy white heels. 

Vinnie’s favourite perfume of mine sprayed on my skin in an involuntary action as I packed up my little purse with some needed essentials and some non-essentials.

I stared in the mirror, Was I really doing this?

“Babes Tyler is here!” My friend Kylie shoots in my direction.

Tyler- the only reason my friends thought I should go to this party was if I brought a guy, so Tyler had to do.

I guess I am.

My friends and I walk out to Tyler’s car, not before a shot for pure confidence, and slip into the passenger seat driving down the same way I went two months ago.

We arrive at the house around 10:30, right around when most people are trickling in. I fix my dress as we walk through the door and all of a sudden the wave of anxiousness washes over me and I want to run.

I don’t however run away, despite how much I want to, I still hold it together.

Kylie pulls me aside to check up on me and hands me a drink, telling me to ‘get some!’ Despite the fact that we both have very different people in mind. 

Jordan, one of Vinnie’s friends walks up to me engaging in mindless conversation that's so clearly an attempt to find out who Tyler is or if “I’m seeing anyone.”

Despite that fact we have a pleasant conversation whilst I feel a pair of very familiar eyes burning into the back of my skull as I hug Jordan goodbye as people get ready for midnight.

Two blonde dudes come in holding a large sheet cake with 22 candles placed ever so gently on top.

Vinnie’s hand is wrapped around Allison who stares at him as if he’s the sun and the stars and his eyes stay on me, causing me to sweat. He grins as the cake is placed in front of him, straightening out his stupid little suit as everyone begins to sing.

As the song finishes everyone bursts into cheers as he blows out his candle as Allison grips onto him, his eyes leave the cake finding his girlfriend’s as she asks, “What did you wish for baby?”

He smiles, not saying a word as he looks back at me, “It’s a secret.”

That’s too much for me.

I maneuver around the drunk crowd, sprinting up the nearest stairs and into the first room, walking out onto the balcony and sitting down on the ground.

My world feels like it's out of orbit, everything just stopped. My head tips back on the glass balcony as I try to recollect my thoughts.

Stray tears fall onto my face, if he can do it for her, why couldn’t he have done it for me, is the only thought that swirls in my mind.

“Hey are you okay?” No no no.

I shut my eyes praying he’ll just go away, but he doesn’t, he never could. He sits down next to me, his body heat slipping on to me.

His hand rests on my shoulder, “Open your eyes” Vinnie’s voice whispers and like a marionette, I obliged.

My bloodshot teary eyes meet his as I turn my head as I move to wipe away my tears.

“Yes?” My voice breaks.

“Why are you crying?” He whispers, his gaze soft and his words even softer.

“Don’t do this, Vinnie.” I whisper, desperation evident in my voice.

“What pretty girl?”

And I cry all over again. I take in staggered breaths as his arms wrap around me. His hands soothe my skin as I crumble into his dumb suit.

I melt into his touch. I want to die like this, in his arms.

“I can’t do this, I don’t know why I came” I whisper as tears fall on my face and into his shirt.

“It’s my birthday… didn’t you want to be here?” He asks, his voice breaking a little as he pulls my face away, lifting up my chin to look at him.

His gaze drops to my lips for a moment as I snap out of it, immediately rising to my feet stepping into the room.

“No no we can’t do this” I whisper-yell at him, my hands crossed over my chest

“We’re not doing anything?” He looks bewildered, his eyebrows knit together

“We can’t be friends.. I-I can’t be here alone with you, your girlfriends downstairs!” My voice rises a little

His expression is the picturesque definition of pain, “Why not?”

“Because I spent years loving you and you threw it all away!” I yell my hand pointing at him

“I didn’t throw it away!” He raises his voice, stepping closer to me

“Oh yes you fucking did, and I was doing so good! I was forgetting about you!” I cry out, I step closer to him.

“I don’t want you to forget about me” His voice is expressionless, as he steps closer as we’re practically chest to chest

“I want to! You have a girlfriend” I slam my fist on his chest as his grabs my wrist

“Jesus were you always this fucking bossy when we were kids?” His eyes narrow, eyeing me

I roll my eyes and scoff, “Fuck. You.” 

He has the audacity to laugh, “You can try and forget me, get with that idiot you got here with- But never, tell me I threw us away, I loved you! I love you.” 

His voice softens ever so slightly, “I will never not love you, tell me to break up with Allison, I will, tell me to kick everyone out right now, I will. Whatever you want, tell me. I’m yours”

“I hate you. Leave.” I huff

He shakes his head, “Anything but that.” 

“Leave me like you left me 3 years ago and 2 months ago” I whisper

“No.” His voice is harsh and commanding

“Vinnie…”

“No.” His grasp on my hand doesn't falter and in fact his other hand grasps my other wrist.

My eyes narrow, please whatever scraps of self respect I have please kick in.

His pushes me back against the wall, my hands pinned either side of me as he places a kiss on the birthmark on my neck, “I’m never leaving you”

I shut my eyes, tipping my head back, please kick in, I beg.

“Open your eyes.” His voice rough and ragged

My eyes flutter open, meeting his blown out brown eyes.

Oh no.

His lips meet mine in a desperate kiss, his hand moves to grasp my waist as mine tangles in his hair. 

“We can’t” I whisper despite still kissing him back

“Just shut the fuck up” He groans as he bites down on my bottom lip

“You’re my worst addiction” He mumbles moving to kiss my neck

I whine, nails digging into his curly brown locks, “I hate you”

“I know my love” I murmurs against my skin, kissing every spot of my neck he can find before dipping down to my tits.

“Vinnie-”

“Yes.” His voice cuts mine off, his head tipping up, looking up at my eyes.

I shut my eyes, “Need you”

“What? Where? Tell me” He begs

“Need you to fuck me, rough” I whisper

He stops his kisses, moving to cup my face, “Whatever you want doll”.

He meets my lips in a rough kiss guiding me to the edge of the bed, pushing me down to sit.

“God you're so pretty, it makes me wanna ruin you sometimes” He whispers out, his voice rough as he moves a strand of my hair away from my face as he looks down at me.

He moves me further up the bed as he leans over me, pulling the buttons of his waist coat down but as he’s mid way he gets frustrated he just rips it off along with his shirt as he kisses me again.

His lips move in tandem with mine as he pulls the knot of my shirt, causing it to fall down.

“Mine” He whispers into the kiss, “Say it princess”

“Yours” I whine as he shuffles my skirt and panties off and unclasped my bra

“My perfect girl” He mumbles as he flips me over, smushing my face into the pillows

I can hear his belt clinking open and he shuffles out of his constricting dress pants and boxers

“S gonna hurt darling girl, just be good for me” He whispers as he kisses my spine as he slowly stretches me out

His hand pushes my head down into the pillow as his other hand rubs circles on my clit.

My toes curl up and my eyes roll back as he starts to slowly rut into me, “There she fucking is”

His grunts echo in the room as my muffled moans coat the pillow, “Cmon, you can take it won't you? You're just so good for me.”

His words tease me as he speeds up his pace, he pushes down my head to thrust deeper into me as his muscles flex around me.

“So fucking tight, s’ like you were made for me” He grits as he pulls my hair up as a ragged moan leaves my mouth

“Such a whore, so good for me aren’t ya?” He chuckles

I whine nodding my head as my mind is too cloudy to form words.

He slaps my ass illciting another pitchy moan from me, “Asked you a fucking question” 

“Mhm all for you” I mumble biting down on my lip

“God you don’t even know what you fucking do to me darling” He groans as his hand speeds up around my clit

“M close, Vin m close” I ramble like an idiot shutting my eyes

He slaps my ass again causing me to yell, “Beg for it gorgeous girl” 

“Please Vinnie” I crumble whining

He laughs at my sad attempt, “My good girl can do better than that can’t she?” 

“Please please I need it so bad, need you so bad” I mewl under him

His pace speeds up, “Yeah? Take it baby”

I cum with a loud moan as my eyes screw shut. I can feel Vinnie kiss along my spine, caressing the sides of my body.

He flips me over so I’m looking at him, his flexed biceps on either side of my face and his dumb chain dangling over my face.

He sinks in again as I whimper, “Can’t Vin” 

“Yes you can, you're so good, aren’t you?” His voice teases

I succumb to his words mindlessly nodding my head.

“That's right, you can take it and you fucking will.” He punctuates with a sharper thrust

The headboard slams against the wall against Vinnie’s impossible strength rutts into me.

One of my hands wraps around his bicep and the other holds onto his wrist as I pull it on to my neck.

His eyebrows scrunch together in confusion.

“Please?” I whisper

He chuckles as he squeezes around my neck using the grip to pound deeper into me as my eyes roll back as my cunt clenched around him.

“M’ gonna cum, can’t hold out, you just feel too fucking good” He whispers

I whine at that cumming around him without warning as I clench around him he finishes inside me.

We take a second to catch our breaths just lying there for a second.

He pulls out maneuvering us on the bed as he kisses my neck, “Not too much my love?”

“Never” I hum

He nuzzles into my neck as my back meets his chest, “Want me to break up with Allison?”

I take a second to process his question.

“Yes… but I don’t want to date you right now” I whisper

“I'll stay alone forever if it’ll make you happy princess” He hums 

“Good” I giggle

“God should've known you were heartache from the moment I met you” He chuckles as he falls asleep in the crook of my neck.

An inch? A mile? As long as it's Vinnie, for you its enough.

[bybobbysbeard]

Cooldown

Day 3 for @bucktommyfluffebruary: spiderman kiss. read on ao3 read other days here

Buck opens his eyes to the familiar view of his boyfriend’s bedroom’s popcorn ceiling. Morning sunlight slants across the walls. Buck stretches, reaching out, but the sheets beside him are cool. The house is quiet. 

Tommy's home is tiny. It’s a two bedroom bungalow, set on a pie-shaped lot in a friendly Van Nuys suburb. Tommy’s put a lot of work into it. Maybe not the same way Buck would have, if he owned a house, but he can still appreciate what his boyfriend has prioritized. The eat-in kitchen is still very 90s, with golden oak cabinets and a tiled backsplash in a pale dusty rose, but the appliances are newer. The bedrooms are done up in warm tones, and the living room is dominated by a massive sectional and a giant TV. Most of the furniture is secondhand, worn and scratched, but well taken care of. 

Buck likes to call the house cozy, just to see Tommy smile. 

The backyard and garage have had more effort put in. There's the brickwork patio Tommy laid himself, a nice BBQ setup that even Bobby would be jealous of, and a couple of mature sycamore trees dotted around. Tommy told him how he ripped all the sod out years ago, and spent a few incredibly sweaty days planting frogfruit starters for groundcover. Now the lawn is lush, and fully native. The fences are edged with hardy, drought-friendly perennials and long grasses. 

The garage is a snapshot into Tommy’s hobbies. One half is mostly taken up by Tommy’s car lift, a long stainless steel work bench with half a dozen projects in various states of completion, and two giant Stanley tool chests. The other side has Tommy's home gym setup, including a few different pieces of equipment, and a clear area with mats for sparing. 

He takes his time getting going. It's a peaceful morning, and although Tommy has a shift in a few hours, Buck doesn't have anywhere to be until 8:00 am tomorrow. One of the hazards of dating another first responder is the conflicting schedules, so being able to lock the house up behind him when he has to leave at ass-o’clock in the morning has been great. Tommy told him the code to the garage door a few weeks ago. 

The knowledge that he’s welcome in Tommy’s space makes something warm curl in his belly.

There’s a pot of coffee waiting for him when he makes his way to the kitchen, and the pre-workout mix and protein powder sitting on the counter gives a clue as to where his wayward boyfriend is. He pours a mug, slips on a pair of slides, and enters the garage. 

The big door is lifted about a foot, showing a strip of sun-drenched driveway on the other side. There’s music playing, some guitar-heavy ‘Dad Rock’ Buck will mock him for later. Tommy notices his entrance, giving him a quick grin before finishing his rep. Buck opens his mouth to say good morning, but gets stuck. He just woke up, so he’ll blame the goofy record-scratch sound effect he imagines on his half-asleep brain. 

Tommy’s doing bicep curls, dressed in that damned grey sleeveless hoodie and a pair of baggy athletic shorts. That shirt haunts Buck. He flashes back to that fateful basketball game, when he was so jealous. Desperate for something he couldn’t even name. Naturally, Tommy’s worn it since, and every time Buck has a visceral, gut-deep reaction. More than once, it’s ended with them tangled up together, in bed, on the couch, on the floor, or the backseat of one of their cars. Once, on Buck’s dining room table. Nothing between them but sweat. The fact that he’s wearing it now, when he knew Evan would be up soon, sends a shiver racing up his spine, despite the heat in the garage. 

Tommy exhales, lowering his arms and moving towards the weight rack. The gaping arm hole offers a tantalizing glimpse of skin as he re-racks the dumbells.

“Morning baby. How’d you sleep?” 

Buck forces his attention away from Tommy’s chest and back up to his face. The smirk that’s waiting tells him his staring was not subtle. He takes a sip of his coffee. His ears feel hot. “G-good morning. I slept great. I was just going to start breakfast. Any requests?”

“Whatever you feel like making sounds good to me. I’m almost done. Just going to use the bench and then cooldown.” Sweat makes one curl stick to his forehead. 

This Clark Kent looking motherfucker.

Buck carefully sets his mug down. “You want a spotter?” He’s holding onto his pokerface by the skin of his teeth. Sure, he wants to make sure his boyfriend is exercising safely, but damn, he also wants to ogle. Tommy quirks an eyebrow. His teeth flash when he smiles.

“Sure. Help me load the plates?”

Some 250lbs of steel later, Tommy is laid out on the bench and gripping the bar. He looks up at Buck, hovering needlessly close, and hums thoughtfully. He releases the bar, sits up, and grabs the hem of his hoodie. He pulls it off in one smooth move, before balling it up and throwing it towards the door. For the second time in five minutes, Buck’s brain fuzzes out, TV static replacing every thought that isn't TommyTommyTommy. All that pale olive skin is on display, shiny with sweat, making Tommy’s chest hair curl in the humidity. Tommy lays back down, muscles rippling as he settles and rolls his shoulders. Buck’s gaze chases that tempting happy trail, leading under the damp waistband of Tommy’s shorts. 

“Evan, you good?” Tommy grabs the bar again.

Buck has to swallow, or risk drooling on his boyfriends grinning face. Not fair. Ah, fuck it. 

“No. I am not good.”

He swoops down, pressing his lips to Tommy’s upside down, but too desperate to care about circling around the bench. One hand lands on top of Tommy’s where it's still wrapped around the bar, but his other dances down that broad chest, tweaking a nipple to make Tommy jump. It’s a little strange, kissing like this. But it’s Tommy. Tommy’s mouth, Tommy’s stubble, Tommy’s tongue meeting his and deepening the kiss. It's so easy to get lost in it. 

Eventually, they have to breathe. Tommy’s other hand has wound into his curls, keeping him close. His voice is low, a promise that settles deep in Buck’s core, “If I didn’t have a shift…”

Buck hums in agreement, pressing a smacking kiss to Tommy’s forehead. He straightens up, and smiles down at his boyfriend. There’s a flush across his lovely cheekbones and stubble burn on his upper lip. They both stare at each other for a minute, cooling down.

“So, pancakes?” 

[paperstorm]

The final chapter is up! We had so much fun writing this all season and thank you every single person who commented or kudos'd or just read this fic. Here's a tease from the last chapter. If you're looking for both morning sexy times and the happiest of endings for this little family, we got you covered 😉

Jonah flops against him and Carlos moves in closer on his other side, the two of them bracketing him like protective bookends.

“How’d you sleep?” Carlos asks him.

It might be too complex a question for a three year old, but Jonah grins up at him and brightly answers, “I have a race car bed!”

“You sure do!” Carlos agrees, reaching down and smoothing stray hairs out of Jonah’s eyes.

Jonah looks to TK and asks, “When is Daddy coming home?”

For a moment, the question twists like a GI infection in TK’s gut. He exchanges a sorrowful glance with Carlos, who sadly shrugs a shoulder. They have so much to learn, so many things to figure out on this new adventure together, and how to talk to someone this young is something TK knows he hasn't mastered just yet.

Carefully, he answers, “I don’t know. It might not be for a long time.”

“Oh.”

“But,” TK continues, slouching further down onto the pillows and snuggling in closer, “you’re gonna live here, now, with me and Carlos. And we love you so much. And everything’s gonna be okay.”

“Okay,” Jonah answers, easily accepting his answer, at least for now.

TK breathes a sigh of relief. TK knows it isn’t the end of the conversation. Jonah’s so little, he has to be so confused, and that makes TK’s heart hurt. But it’s a conversation they don’t need to have this morning. He looks at Carlos again over the top of Jonah’s head. Carlos nods at him reassuringly, moving in closer from the other side so they can cuddle Jonah together.

“Can I have breakfast?”

“Of course you can. What do you want to eat?”

“Pancakes!” Jonah decides.

“Pancakes it is,” Carlos replies. “You two hang out for a bit, I’ll get them started.”

“Stay?” TK asks Carlos quietly, circling his wrist with his fingers over Jonah’s body. “For a few more minutes.” 

Carlos pauses and looks between the two boys in his bed. He must be feeling what TK is feeling, the overwhelming emotion that comes with experiencing their first morning together as a family of three, instead of two. Carlos nods quietly and settles back against the headboard. He lets his arm drape over the pillows that have flattened during the night until TK is curled under it and Jonah is snug between them again.

“I’ll get started on breakfast soon, okay? Unless you’re so hungry now that your stomach is turning into a monster.”

Carlos tickles Jonah’s belly and he giggles. “No,” he says confidently, like a monster could never hurt him. 

TK observes quietly, feeling like he’s in a dream. He knows nights of crying and fear are around the corner, where Jonah wakes up confused and scared and missing his dad. TK knows that it’s not all smooth sailing from here, but right now he looks at Jonah’s resilience in wonder, and Carlos’ natural ability to bond with him, and he feels like the luckiest man in the world.

“Good,” Carlos tells him. “Because you know what the best part about today is?” 

Jonah looks up at Carlos in wonder, four big brown eyes staring at each other. TK is in so much trouble with these two. He could let them get away with anything. 

“What?” Jonah asks, hanging onto every word Carlos says like Carlos is already his hero. TK knows the feeling. 

“We don’t have any plans. Which means we get to sleep in and then do whatever you want.”

Jonah’s eyes grow even wider and his head whips over to TK as if to confirm Carlos’ words. “Whatever I want?” 

TK smiles, squeezing Jonah’s arm. “Whatever you want,” TK confirms. Maybe he and Carlos can be the fun brothers for one more day and spoil this boy beyond belief. He deserves it. Tomorrow, they’ll begin to figure out how to be parents that say no and set limitations, but today, Jonah can get whatever he wants. 

“I want ice cream!” Jonah cries out, and both TK and Carlos laugh. 

Carlos meets his gaze over the top of Jonah’s head, and TK nods. 

“We can do ice cream,” Carlos agrees. “But maybe this afternoon, huh? It’s supposed to be hot.”

“Hot!” Jonah repeats. 

TK chuckles. “Yeah, you’re not used to this, bud. It gets way hotter here than it does in New York.” 

“It does?” 

“Mhm. Think summer all the time.”

Jonah’s grin goes wide. “Yay,” he cheers. “Can we bring Lou-Two with us?”

TK laughs again. “To get ice cream? Probably not, he likes staying here. But you can help me feed him some red peppers later.”

“Okay!”

They fall into silence for a few blessed moments and TK’s gaze naturally drifts to Carlos again. Carlos is already looking back, and his fingers dance along TK’s neck. 

‘Love you,’ Carlos mouths, and TK smiles. 

‘Love you too,’ TK mouths back, and then puckers his lips to ask for a kiss. 

brighter in the morning

co-written with the lovely @paperstorm <3

Sometimes nights together are hard to come by, but TK and Carlos find ways to connect as husbands in the morning. A series of 12 mornings together for each of the 12 episodes in season 5 (plot permitting …)

Chapter One: 5x01 - 7.0k

Chapter Two: 5x02 - 3.8k

Chapter Three: 5x03 - 3.9k

Chapter Four: 5x04 - 2.4k

Chapter Five: 5x05 - 4.2k

Chapter Six: 5x06 - 6.6k

Chapter Seven: 5x07 - 5.7k

Chapter Eight: 5x08 - 2.8k

Chapter Nine: 5x09 - 3.2k

Chapter Ten: 5x10 - 5.3k

Chapter Eleven: 5x11 - 4.6k

Chapter Twelve: 5x12 - 5.4k

[simari]

Good Ol' Days

The sun hung high in the sky, casting a warm glow over the patio where Enzo and Alessandra had spent the morning setting up for Easter. Spring flowers filled the tables, and the air carried the aroma of roasted chicken and empanadas. As Enzo stepped onto the patio, he felt a wave of excitement wash over him.

“Querida,” he said, pulling Alessandra into his arms, “I’m so excited to see our families and spend time with you.”

Alessandra looked up at him, her eyes sparkling with affection. “Me too, Sweetheart. It feels just like old times, doesn’t it?” Before they could linger in the moment, Enzo spotted his parents across the yard. “There’s my mom and dad!” he exclaimed, breaking their embrace. He made his way over to them, a broad smile lighting up his face. Jose and Lori greeted him with open arms. “Enzo! It’s so good to see you!” Jose said, clapping his son on the back. “I’ve missed you guys,” Enzo replied, his tone warm and genuine. Lori turned her attention to Alessandra, who had followed Enzo. “Alessandra, darling!” she exclaimed, rushing to give her a hug. “You look wonderful!” “Thanks, Lori! It’s so great to see you!” Alessandra replied, returning the embrace with equal warmth. As they shared their greetings, Alessandra noticed her own parents nearby. Angelo and Mirabella were chatting, their faces lit with joy at seeing their daughter. Alessandra approached them, feeling a familiar wave of love. “Papa!” she exclaimed, wrapping her arms around Angelo, who lifted her off the ground with a bear hug. “Look at you, my little girl! So beautiful!” he said, setting her down gently, his pride evident. Mirabella smiled, giving her daughter a softer hug. “You’re doing so well, Alessandra. Your new house is stunning!” “Thanks, Mom! I’m still decorating, but it feels like home,” Alessandra replied, feeling grateful for her parents’ support. “Okay, everyone!” she called out, gathering everyone’s attention. “Let’s eat! Enzo and I prepared roasted chicken and empanadas. For dessert, we have strawberry angel cake!”

The family settled around the table, laughter and chatter filling the air as they enjoyed the feast. Alessandra glanced over at Enzo, who was talking with his father. Memories of their childhoods danced in her mind—family gatherings filled with joy and love. As dinner wound down, Mirabella and Lori began reminiscing about their high school days, laughter bubbling up as they recalled old stories. Alessandra watched them with a smile, grateful that her mother had her best friend Lori over the years. After dinner, the music began to play softly in the background, and the family gathered around the patio, mingling and enjoying each other’s company. Lori approached Alessandra, a warm smile on her face. “It’s so nice to see you, Alessandra. It’s been too long. How have you been?” Lori asked, her voice filled with genuine concern. “Lori, you look great! I’ve been doing well, actually. I’m sure you saw the article about Enzo and me,” Alessandra replied, a hint of laughter in her tone. Lori nodded, rubbing Alessandra’s back gently. “Yes, I saw. I was sad to find out about your relationship that way, but it happens when you’re in the spotlight. Your mom and I always pictured you and Enzo together, but we never pushed it. You bring out a warmer side of him, Sandra, and for that, thank you.”

With that, Lori enveloped Alessandra in another hug before returning to Jose. Alessandra took a moment to chat with her parents, enjoying the warmth of their conversation. Mirabella continued to rave about the new house while Angelo inquired about her artwork and upcoming projects. As the evening wore on, the families said their goodbyes; the sun dipping below the horizon. Alessandra ended her night with a glass of wine, savoring the sweetness of the day. Yet as she settled into bed, an eerie feeling crept over her—a sensation of being watched. Despite the unsettling thought, she brushed it aside, closing her eyes and drifted to sleep.

[pencil-n-pen]

I’M STILL TRYING EVERYTHING

⋆° 𐙚 ₊🧦☕🧸₊°⋆ ೀ₊°⋆

previous | kofi | masterlist

post prison!spencer reid x fem!reader

₊ ⊹

I'm still trying everything to keep you looking at me.

-mirrorball, taylor swift

₊ ⊹

summary: you’ve never had a date or a relationship that either didn’t work out or end in disaster. now that you have spencer, you’re determined not to let it happen again

cw: referenced bad past relationships, very very vaguely referenced past domestic abuse that honestly could be taken a different way, referenced child abuse (readers parents are STILL not it) again this is a criminal minds fic so references to graphic violence

tags/tropes: hurt/comfort (do i even need to say this? you all know who i am) insecurity, like one line of misogyny and it’s in the past and not brought up again, spencer being soft n worried, HEALTHY COMMUNICATION, spencer is just as gone for reader as she is for him honestly he's just a sap

a/n: back by popular demand !! seriously guys, you have no idea how much the support and comments and reblogs and asks means to me 🥹 the overwhelming amount of love for the first fic made me so happy when people started asking about a sequel i knew i had to !!

read the crossword on the collage for a surprise :)

this one goes out to all my girlies who’ve ever felt like they needed to be less in order to get a boyfriend or keep one. we’ll have our soft love just the way it was meant to be

⋆⭒˚.⋆

Spencer is a really good boyfriend.

Like… a really good boyfriend. You’re not sure if this is how having a real boyfriend is or if Spencer is just like this.

He’s so good to you. He’s just so- so him. You can’t explain it. Can’t put it into words.

He’s very patient with you. You’ve never explicitly stated it, but he’s picked up on your previous relationship experience- or more accurately, your lack thereof. The morning after you’d gone home with him, night consisting of nothing but easy sleep and warmth, he’d asked you out for real. Asked you if you’d go on a date with him, and you’d agreed, a giddy smile fixed firmly on your face.

But you still worry.

All it takes it one conversation with your parents to push things over the edge.

“Yes, dad. He’s very good to me.”

A laugh crackles over the line. “I tell you, your mother and I never thought we’d see the day.”

The words twinge uncomfortably in your chest. “Hey, I’m not that bad. I’ve just been focused.”

“More like uptight.”

“Dad—“

“You know, you still haven’t come out to visit your poor old parents since getting this so-called cushy job. And now you’ve got this boyfriend. You’re too young to settle down. Don’t you think we should meet him?”

Sometimes conversations turn so quickly they leave you stranded— scrambling to pick up pieces of what you thought was going to happen and piece them together to make something new. Something for the new route the conversation has taken.

You couldn’t hold back your sigh if you tried. “We haven’t been dating for that long dad, I don’t want to spring this on him—“

“Sweetie, if we don’t meet him now, why might never meet him. Who knows how long he’s gonna stick around?”

(Sometimes, in moments like these, for just a split second, you wonder how a father could say something like that, to his daughter. You wonder why, wonder what you did wrong. And then, you imagine Hotch saying those same things, and you can’t, and it almost makes you feel a little better.)

Your blood runs cold. “What could you possibly mean by that?”

“Well, you know how things have ended in the past. I’m just saying I’d like to meet him before he’s gone."

You don't dignify his words with a response.

"Come on, honey. I'm just joking with you."

"It's not funny."

"Don't be like that--"

"Goodbye."

You hang up, snapping the phone shut with a sigh.

The older you've gotten, the more conversations with your parents end up like this. You suppose it's the way you 'wasted your potential' or 'never made something of yourself.' They've always held resentment ever since you decided to become an agent. So you know not to take what they say to heart, because their words only come from a place of disappointment and displeasure. It's not a reflection of who you really are or what you've really accomplished.

Or at least, that's what Hotch told you when he'd overheard one of your phone calls. It meant more than you'd let on.

But your Dad's words linger in your head. They're irritating and sharp where they claw around in your head because they're true.

You can count on one hand the amount of romantic endeavors you've had. And from those, they all ended horribly. Your parents lost sympathy towards the end of your attempts, muttered words of needing to try harder to keep them, that you should be satisfied that somebody wanted you at all, that you should try to be less... you.

Try to be less... you, dear. The books and the facts- nobody wants those. Put some more effort into your appearance. Otherwise you'll end up all alone.

You'd tried to take their advice, of course. But the relationships that were fathered your parents direction were not loving. There was nothing soft or gentle or warm about them. You'd never felt more unlovable.

So when the incident with the shooter happened and you were lying on the lecture hall floor, blood coloring the carpet deep scarlet, you'd vowed to never let it happen again. That you were going to use your intellect and wit and passion for what you wanted to do- you'd promised yourself that if you survived, you would try to make your life your own, one step at a time.

This, of course, is easier said than done.

It's easy enough to refuse to let yourself get involved with men who are clearly only interested in your for your badge or your body --though the latter happens so rarely you really don't have to worry about it-- because you don't care about them. They're blips on your radar.

But Spencer? Sweet, sweet Spencer who makes you hot-cocoa and binge watches Doctor Who with you, even the later seasons, which you know he doesn't like as much but you love. Spencer who always has a grounding touch to offer, or a quiet command when you need him. Spencer who puts you first.

But there's a limit to these things, right? As far as you've seen, romantic relationship's are transactional, or conditional. Sometimes both. He can't just... keep doing this forever. It's too kind. Too sweet. It'll come to an end soon. Like, like the honeymoon era in early relationships. That's all it is. Plus, he's older than you, and you have no illusions about your unavoidable impulsiveness and naivety.

You've been told that your standards are too high before. "Struck by the hopeless romantic's arrow," your brother had said once, back when you were still in school, crying over a boy who'd told you that he didn't want to date you because you were too smart for a girl.

"That's not being hopeless romantic. There's no such thing as being too smart for a girl."

"There isn't," He'd amended, "But you're not going to have an easy time finding a guy. You of all people can't really afford to be picky."

He'd been right, in the end. So you're just... having a hard time figuring out how genuine Spencer's actions are. Guy's don't really act all romantic in the context of you. You've been told your whole life to be happy with what you get, and what you've had in the past is decidedly not lining up with how Spencer treats you.

It's a nasty little thing in your ear. Is it real? Does it matter as much to him?

When is it all going to end?

--

Rossi make's an offhand comment during a mission that you talk a lot when you're excited about the subject at hand.

JJ agrees. "It's a little unnerving when the subject is the bruising patterns of strangulation."

That little voice comes back.

Too much too much too much too much too much--

"It's useful," You protest, mouth dry.

JJ snorts, "I'm not sure about that. We need to know that the victim was strangled, not what happens to the body during blunt-force asphyxiation."

You'd grown quiet then, let the chatter and musings of the rest of the team wash over you.

Is that something Spencer finds annoying? You have always found things other's view morbid and disturbing fascinating. But JJ is right. No one wants to hear about that.

You brush the comment off, square your shoulders, get back on with the case.

Be better. Try harder.

You don't seen the furrow of Spencer's brows from where he's been watching you, or the quick look he shares with Hotch.

--

You'd never really thought about how clingy you can be before Emily makes an offhand comment about it while the two of you wait in line at a coffee shop. There's a couple in front of you, the girl all over her partner, kissing and giggling and hugging them close.

"Ugh," Emily groans once the two get their coffee and move on. "I could never understand the appeal of all that. I mean doesn't it feel stifling?"

A little stab of ice in your stomach.

"I don't know. I think it's nice."

"No, thank you. If I were her partner, I'd feel smothered."

You think about that conversation every time you take Spencer's hand or lean into his simple touches. They're invasive little things, the thoughts. It's not hard to pull back on all the touching. You never really ask for them in the first place- always too nervous to come off clingy. But you suppose just taking, taking, taking is just the same.

A quick shake of your head, not leaning in, a quiet "I'm fine." and that little nagging fear of smothering begins to quiet. It doesn't leave, but it does get quieter. For a little while, at least.

--

The hard part is trying to be less without noticeably being less. Spencer's smart- and he's a profiler. If you pull back too much too quickly, he'll notice, and you don't want to talk about this yet. You just need to make sure he'll stay. That things won't—

That you won't find out too late that you don't mean as much to him as he does to you.

That's the kind of thing that can't happen again. But ascertaining his true feelings and desires is difficult, because this is all kind's of new territory for you. You want to believe it's real. You really, really want to believe it's real.

But it's never been real before, so why would it be real now?

--

You've asked around (subtly and carefully, of course) about the type of girl Spencer's dated or drifted towards in the past. You know he said he wanted something soft and sweet, but you can't help but think that you're not really either, nor are you in line with his type. All things considered, you're a mess. Something tired-eyed and hollow is how you feel most days. Some sort of creature perhaps? You're honestly not sure what you are. You've spent your entire life being singled out or otherwise othered- always too smart or too different or too weird or too much or too loud or too quiet or too shy or too, too, too. Always too something. You have never been called soft or sweet. In a demeaning way, sure, but never with the quiet reverence that Spencer said it with that night.

It feels like a balancing act, a bit. Holding all those too much parts so close to your chest with one hand and shoving the ones you think Spencer wants with the other hand.

You could probably drop the one hand. The one holding the bad parts. But you're just not convinced he'll stay. You're not sure that he won't look at them with some form of disgust or pity or something else terrible.

You know the balancing act isn't sustainable— you'll fall eventually, and everything will come crashing down, but until then, you just keep trying. Trying to see if he'll stay, trying to see what to do if he won't. How to ensure he will, if that's something that's possible.

--

The act does not hold up for as long as you hoped it would. It comes crashing down with a glass. Literally.

You and Spencer are in the kitchen on a rare weekend off, cooking and drinking wine and swaying to some little old love song.

It should be perfect, except you're worrying that you look ugly while you're dancing, and you're probably singing off-key, and he maybe wants you to shut up so he can hear the song or dance in peace.

He reaches towards you and you just— your brain shrieks for a moment, all senses going into overdrive and you jerk backward, and your elbow knocks into your wine glass, and it falls, shattering behind you with a deafening crash.

Your entire body tenses, waiting for yelling or sighing or something, because you broke the glass, there's crystalline shards everywhere, the wine red and it looks like blood, maybe it is, maybe you're bleeding because the glass was really close to your foot when it fell but you're not sure because you can't really feel your feet or your fingers or—

"Don't move," Spencer says, voice serious, and tears well in your eyes, because this is when it all ends isn't it? "I don't want you to— honey?"

"Yes?" You croak.

His eyes are swimming with concern as he takes in your hunched shoulders, shallow breaths, and scared expression.

Understanding flickers in his features, and you resist the urge to hold your breath.

"Nothing is going to happen to you because of the glass, okay? Everything is fine. We're fine. I'm not mad. See? I'm not mad. I just don't want you to cut your feet on the glass. I'm going to clean this up and get your slippers, okay?"

"Okay." You breathe, voice hoarse. You wring your hands nervously as he leaves to retrieve the necessary supplies to clean the mess, heart beating so fast and so hard you're shocked you can't see it through your shirt.

He's not mad. He's not mad. You're not in trouble. Your parents aren't here. You're not grounded. You're not in trouble. He's not mad.

You're silent while he cleans, focused on getting your breathing under control while he babbles quietly about the history of glass making and the significance of types of wine glasses. The facts and history wash over you in steady waves, easing the tension in your shoulders bit by bit.

"I didn't think you were going to hit me, Spencer."

He continues cleaning. "It's okay if you did. I would never blame you for that."

"But I don't," You say, suddenly desperate, "I know you wouldn't, I've never been hit, not like that."

He's quiet for a few minutes. "Does this have something to do with how you've been acting recently?"

You freeze. "What do you mean?"

He looks up, leaning back on his knees. Making himself smaller, you realize. He's trying not to scare you again.

"You're dating a profiler. Also, I speak fluent you, and you've been chewing all your hangnails again. You only do that when you're stressed and pretending like you're not."

Your finger's twitch at your sides.

His hands come up slowly, and he rubs the length of your waist and hips. "We don't have to talk about it right now, but I think we should soon. I don't want you hurting all by yourself. You've had enough of that. That's what I'm here for."

He finishes cleaning up the glass, and finishes cooking dinner- he'd assured you he'd turned off all burners when the glass hit the floor, so nothing's burnt.

Once you've both eaten, he steers you towards the couch and wordlessly puts on Doctor Who.

The Pandorica is just about to open when you finally decide that if you don't start talking, you never will.

"My parents think you're going to leave me."

Spencer makes a wounded noise in his throat. "Why do they think that?"

"Because it's happened before. I'm, um. I'm not very good at getting into relationships. Or keeping them."

"But that's not your fault."

You sniff hard, rubbing your face with your sleeve. "It is though, isn't it? At least a little. I know I can be a lot. I know I'm not easy to—"

You cut yourself off, but the words hang in the air anyway; unsaid.

I'm not easy to love.

"Anyway," You say, pushing through the lump in your throat. "I just thought. I don't know. I was worried that you'd get fed up with me."

"No," He whispers, voice raw and full of something a lot heavier than fond. "No, no baby. I like that you're clingy and you ramble when you get excited, because it means that we get to talk about something together."

He shifts on the couch, sitting criss-crossed, ducking his head down to catch your gaze. "You know what else I like?"

You scoot over, mirroring his position. "What?"

"I like that you always know when I need you. Even when I don't think I do, you're there. Because I do need you. This isn't a one-way street."

His words hit you straight in your chest. "Oh."

He smiles, brows a little scrunched, brown eyes a deep pool of fondness and a splash of concern. "Yeah. And I'm thinking you need me a little more than you want to let on."

The seam of your pajama pants suddenly becomes the most interesting thing in the world. Amazing, the wonders of a sewing machine.

"Maybe."

"Mmm," He hums, "So if I need you, don't you think that you're allowed to need me?"

Your fingers pick and twirl a loose thread around. "...Yes?"

A large, firm hand covers your thigh, giving it a quick squeeze. "Yes. Not only are you allowed to need me, I want you to need me. Cause you know how you're always worried about being the best girlfriend? Well, I'm always worried about being the best boyfriend."

That makes you look up. "Really?"

He chuckles again, a little puff of air fanning your face. "Yes, really. I assure you, contrary to your past experiences, this is one of those bare minimum things in a relationship."

"That does not," He continues, immediately catching the brief flicker of doubt and shame on your face, "Mean that it is your fault at all for how you were treated in the past. You wouldn't expect me to suddenly become an expert in veterinary medicine just because I've been to the vet's office a few times, right?"

"When did you go to the vet's—"

"Shh, I'm being a good boyfriend," He holds up a hand, lips quirking up when you can't suppress a tiny giggle, "But seriously. You had no frame of reference, right? And you were being told it was your fault. But it wasn't. You didn't deserve that."

He lets his words hang in the air for a little while and allows you time to process this new information.

"What do I do now?"

"Well," He leans in, brushing his nose against yours, curls tickling your forehead, "You've got a pretty sweet deal here. Just three things. You have to keep letting me need you, let yourself need me, and one last little thing."

"What?"

You're so close your breaths are mingling.

"Let me show you what this is supposed to look like. How a man is supposed to treat a pretty girl. His pretty girl."

"Oh, well," Heat rushes to your cheeks, your stomach doing flip-flops, "That sounds pretty hard. I don't know how I'll hold up."

His hand comes up to hold the side of your face, his thumb sweeping strokes under your eye.

"You say that now, but I know what happens to you when I get romantic. You swoon."

You laugh. "I do not swoon."

"You will."

He leans down, capturing your lips in a soft, gentle kiss. It isn't a kiss-kiss. He's kissing you just to kiss you; just to let you know that he's here, that you have him.

It's sweet and perfect and exactly what you need.

--

Letting yourself need Spencer is marginally easier now that you know he needs you. Now that you know you're not going all in for someone who isn't.

He also starts needing you a bit... louder.

It's late evening, and most people have gone home except you and a couple other members of the team, all still working on paperwork.

Except Spencer, who's decided to drape himself over your shoulders like a cat, his chin resting on your head.

"Don't you have work to do?"

"Either finished it or it can be done later."

You shift your shoulders, smiling at how his grumbles vibrate against your back.

He moves his head, pressing his cheek to your head instead of his chin, heaving a deep sigh.

"Your hair smells good."

"Like what?"

"You're shampoo. Yours always smell better than mine."

You continue to work through your paperwork, Spencer a continuous and solid weight against your back.

"Is this even comfortable for your back at all?"

"Doesn't matter. Need girlfriend time."

He can't see it, but you're sure he knows how hard you blush.

--

Spencer's cooking the two of you a late breakfast in the kitchen of his apartment, hair still all mussed from sleep. He's quite the sight. You can't stop staring.

You're sitting on the counter, still dressed in your pajamas, legs swinging.

"You wanna know something cool?"

"You know it,"

"Butterflies and moths can drink blood and tears. There's nutrients in them. Purple Emperor butterflies are especially known for this. It's called mud-puddling."

"So you're telling me I should make sure I bandage any open wounds before I go to a butterfly house?"

"I guess. I can't imagine they'd be able to drink enough blood to actually cause any damage."

"Maybe we'll have to go to a butterfly house. For research."

"Should we get dinner afterwards?"

"We'll deserve it, you know, for all the hard research we'll have done."

"Hmm. Yes, I suppose so."

--

Spencer's bed is infinitely more comfortable than your bed. You're pretty sure it's a combination of the fact that it's the only thing in the entire world that smells so much like him and the fact that he spent part of his large FBI paycheck on a fancy mattress. Back support is very important to him.

You're doing a little reading before bed, shamelessly sprawled all over him while he does his own reading. You've got a leg hooked over his hips, the other tangled with his legs, and your arms and head pillowed on his chest. You move a little every time he takes a breath, and more than once you've paused in your reading, mesmerized by the feeling.

He shifts under you, setting his book down on his night stand and making himself more comfortable.

"Should I move?"

"No," he says, voice deep and gravelly with sleep. He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you flush to him, face pressed to the crook of your neck. He breathes deep, scruffy stubble scratching against your skin. "Like you close. Good for sleep."

Even with the lamp on, and your book in your hand, you fall asleep soon after him.

--

It's an ordinary evening for the two of you. Discarded dishes sit on the coffee table in front of the teeth, neither of you paying them any attention, wrapped up in each other and eyes glued to the T.V.

You look up at Spencer who's watching Doctor Who with the focus of a man who's never seen it, even though you know for a fact he's seen it before, several times in fact.

"I want to know the things you like," He'd said simply, the one time you'd asked why he takes your nightly Doctor Who watching so seriously.

And tonight's no different. Tonight, he looks... well, he looks like Spencer. His face illuminated by the TV screen, his hair all mussed from you running your hands through it earlier.

And it just kind of all hits you at once. You know.

"I love you."

He looks down at you, his expression soft and surprised. When your words register, his expression is so sickeningly fond and happy you can't help but lean in, burying your face in his chest. He rubs your back consolingly, then presses a little kiss to the crown of your head.

"I love you too."

⋆⭒˚.⋆

taglist: @topsecret101 @slowdownpal @leeknowpegger @sunbl3achedfly @hiireadstuff @paige0103 @private190104 @beautyb1ade @coraline-jones353 @pleasenter-sandman @sttvrdustt @gluchie @thomasintheshadows @dessamira1001 @bbleeeeh @hufflely-puffly @bippityboppityboob1tch @buggys-space @redxfangirl @liauchiha147 @dreaming-potato @meandyoulollz @jobrosimp

[rejectedbytheempty]

from the dirt we rise, ch. 5

pairing: farmer!john price x reader, no use of y/n

word count: 2k

cw: none

synopsis: when your car breaks down in the middle of the english countryside, a tall, dark stranger comes to your rescue

masterlist

the sound of the stairs creaking startles you from your sleep, and for a moment you forget where you were. it all comes rushing back to you when you open your eyes and realize that you’re in john’s guest room.

you groan softly and roll over, checking your phone to see what time it was. the clock read 6:08, and you were careful to not let your eyes drift downwards to your notifications. you weren’t sure if nathan would have even reached out, but you didn’t want to ruin yet another day with his antics and were loath to look at your texts to check.

in fact, you were fine with never speaking to him again, happy to let it all fade to an unpleasant distant memory. you were sure, however, that nathan would find some other way to fuck up your life, but for now you needed to get out of bed and find some coffee. you rolled out of bed, already missing the warmth of the blankets as you headed to the bathroom to freshen up.

after you had managed to make yourself look somewhat acceptable, you headed down the stairs. the smell of freshly brewed coffee hit you as you stepped into the kitchen, and you spotted the coffee machine with a full pot sitting on the counter, along with a bowl of sugar and a container of milk.

john was already sat at the table, coffee cup in front of him as he read the paper. his hair was still ruffled from sleep, some ends sticking out in small tufts. he was in a worn t-shirt and a pair of grey sweatpants, eyeglasses once again perched on his nose.

the scene felt all too homey, like you were interrupting his morning routine somehow. shame crept over you, unwarranted as it was, and you turned to head back upstairs when john called out your name.

“you headin’ back upstairs already?”

you turned back around sheepishly, “i didn’t want to bother you.”

he gave you a look over his glasses like a stern professor admonishing you, “nonsense, you could never bother me. ‘sides, already heard you come down the stairs, no sense in sneaking off now.”

you smiled appreciatively at him, nodding at his words, “you’re right, i’m-“ you stopped yourself before apologizing, something you found you did all too much, “do you mind if i have some coffee, too?”

he gestured to the cabinet above the sink, “there’s some coffee cups up there, take what you like, sweetheart.”

you hated how quickly he could make your face flush with just a simple nickname, and you turned away from him as you grabbed a random cup from the cupboard, trying to hide the evidence of your flustering.

as you poured out your coffee, you noticed that the mug you had chosen was one of those “#1 dad” types but the dad part had been crossed out in sharpie with the word captain written in messy handwriting beside it.

once you put your preferred sugar and milk in your coffee, you turned around to sit at the table with john, who was now nose deep in the crossword puzzle.

he glanced up when you sat down, taking a note of the mug you chose he said, “good choice. the boys made me that one when i announced my retirement.”

you smiled softly as you took a sip of the coffee, but you did notice the faraway look in his eyes after he spoke, like he was remembering something. “you miss it, then?” you asked, and he blinked back to the present, looking over at you again.

“every day. it’s strange, practically my whole life was dedicated to it, and one day it just.. all went away. reckon that’s why i like to keep busy on the farm,” he admitted.

you nodded, “i understand, well.. i don’t exactly, but i do know what it’s like to dedicate yourself to something and even though you know it’s bad for you, you don’t remember life without it, so you stay..”

the room went silent, and you looked abashedly at your coffee, afraid you said too much.

“i promised you yesterday i’d take you to see the animals, right?”

you looked up at him with a puzzled expression, “yes, you did.”

he smiled, “well, i don’t intend on going back on my word, and if you’re up for it, maybe you could help around the farm today?” you gave him an appreciative expression, “that would be lovely.”

after you had finished your coffee and john had done around half of his crossword, you both headed upstairs to get ready. by then, the sun had settled on top of the horizon, lighting the sky with hues of pink, orange, and yellow.

you were able to find some clothes that you packed that might be suitable for farm work, or rather, clothes you were willing to get dirty. john thankfully had some boots from when one of his work friends, kate, came to visit, as she accidentally left them behind but couldn’t be bothered to go all the way to england from the states just for a pair of wellies.

john was definitely dressed more appropriately than you, wearing a flannel and a pair of overalls along with his own pair of boots.

“ready?” he asked and you shrugged, “as i’ll ever be.”

he chuckled, “i’m sure you’ll be a natural at it.”

then the two of you set off along a dirt path toward the animal pens. although you had seen cows from the roadside, you had never been close enough to one before to realize the sheer size of them.

while you were helping john refill their water, one ambled up to you, staring at you with its big brown eyes, tail swishing slightly behind them. you looked to john, to ask for help? you weren’t sure, to be honest but he was just smiling.

“she wants you to pet her,” he said, and you turned back to the cow who was patiently waiting. you slowly reached towards her and began scratching under her neck, she let out an appreciative grunt and moved her head back to expose more of her neck for you to pet.

“like this?” you asked back to john, eyes still trained on the cow.

“yep, just like that” he answered, and even though you were facing the other way, you could hear the smile in his voice as he talked.

he tried to teach you how to milk them but you could only coax a few drops out, much to your chagrin. he shrugged, “takes lots of practice, ‘sides, you didn’t get kicked, so there’s clearly some talent in there.”

your eyes widened, “they’d kick me?”

he laughed, “just messin’, i’d stop you well before they got around to kickin’.”

safe to say, that didn’t reassure you very much and you let him milk the rest by himself.

next were the chickens, he had you spread out the meal on the ground and they all came running from their roosts to peck the pieces from the dirt.

he gestured to the empty nests, “see? now it’s easier to get their eggs without them fighting back. protective things til it’s breakfast, then they’d abandon their eggs for a kernel of corn.”

you frowned, “that’s kind of sad.”

he waved you off, “you’ll feel bad til one of them comes flying at you to peck your eyeballs out, then you understand why humans started eatin’ eggs.”

you smelled the pigs before you saw them, your wrinkled nose making john have a good chuckle, “not the smell you expected?”

“i mean, i knew they smelled bad but, not that bad,” you said as you plugged your nose.

he shrugged, “after the first few years of living in the barracks, i think i went nose blind, or at least my smell tolerance was greatly improved.”

you shook your head, “don’t think i could ever get used to this.”

“fair enough,” he admitted, “why don’t you head on back to the house and get cleaned up, i can finish up here.”

you looked at him, “are you sure?”

he shook his head with a grin, “honey, i’ve done this everyday by myself, don’t think i’d be dead in the water if you left.”

you laughed, “you’re right, didn’t really think that one through, did i?”

“at least you’re pretty” he joked, heading down the path towards the pig pen, leaving you to bask in his words.

you thought about what he said all the way up to the house, in your head, you knew it was just a saying and he was just joking around. in your heart, well, your heart was still pounding something fierce as you walked in the house and took off your muddied boots.

your movements were so robotic that it wasn’t until he spoke that you noticed a man sitting in the living room.

“you’re not john” he said, which was rather obvious, you hoped.

you stopped in your tracks, looking him up and down. he was.. well to put it rather blunt, a beautiful man. he had a cap on with a worn insignia of the british flag on it that just shadowed the area above his dark, brown eyes. he was wearing a blue windbreaker, a pair of jeans, and a confused expression.

“i.. am not. who are you?” you asked, although you know you should be scared of a random man being in john’s house, you figured he had to know the captain. because why in the hell would he be waiting around in his house if he wasn’t supposed to be there, or at least, you hoped that was true.

“i’m gaz, who are you?” in that moment you remembered the conversation you had yesterday with soap and john where they had mentioned a fourth person in their task force, one that was still in the military and was now a lieutenant.

you sighed out a breath of relief, “oh, you’re gaz, the lieutenant, right?”

he nodded but was still cautious of you, “yes, uh, how do you know that?”

as you were about to explain what was probably a long winded and over-described story, you heard the door behind you open behind you as john walked in, one boot pulled off and the other in the process of being taken off.

once he freed his other foot and looked up his face split into a grin, “gaz! i didn’t know you were comin’!”

you looked back to where gaz was standing, his face now in a similar expression to john’s, “yeah, that’s the point of a surprise, cap’n.”

they both walked forward and settled into a heavy embrace, john clapping gaz on the back, “good to see you in one piece, kyle.”

then, his attention shifted back to you and he motioned you over to the two of them. he introduced you to kyle, the latter taking your hand in a firm grip, “sorry i was so rude earlier, didn’t know price got himself a bird. been too busy to tell me, i guess, or maybe he’s forgotten about me since starting this farm.”

you felt your face heat up, “oh, i’m not-“

“she’s not-“

you and john launched into similar protests, both stopping to allow the other to explain.

gaz broke the silence, “right, well, sorry for assuming then. christ, we got off to a good start didn’t we?”

gaz looked at you sheepishly but you waved him off, “i-it’s okay, i mean, it’s not like you knew.”

john nodded his head, “honest mistake, really. she’s just been staying here while her car gets fixed, and she just got out of a relationship, so nothing happened,” john rambled. you had never seen him so flustered, always seeming like he has a handle on the situation.

and you weren’t really sure why he was in such a hurry to dismiss the thought of being with you, were you that repulsive to him? maybe all those flirty remarks were just jokes, maybe he couldn’t stand you.

gaz broke the silence in the room, looking between the two of you stuck in your thoughts before clearing his throat, “so, you had breakfast yet?”

a/n: just wanna get it out there first and foremost, i am not a farmer, i have never done farm work a day in my life and so i just wanna say that this is all based on google searches and like.. little house on the prairie, so i apologize if its wholly inaccurate.. next, i am so sorry this took so long to get out, but with me accidentally deleting my og blog and school, i literally could not find any energy to do this lmao. but it’s here, yaaay!! also, i did take some liberties on reader, kind of projecting my lack of farming experience on her so i do apologize for her being kind of oc-y..

taglist:

@the-disaster-in-waiting

@night-girl-301

@darkangel4121

@valeissocute

@dneicjefx

@liidiaag

@lilynotdilly

@sleep101

@yellow-cat

@snailss

@nellabear

@eternallyvenus

@bookishthoughtss

@lunerbitch

@horny-bish

@sunna-fangirls

@nexthyperfix

@princeofnonsense

@supernova2205

@beebeechaos

@appl3-0rchard

@shadowwolf8002

@mismatchsposts

@dragonbe-writing

@honestlymassivetrash

@krispymagazinepizza-blog

@skeletonsucker

@readgoods

@rip-cod-brainrot

@anticipayosbot

@cyaniderainfall

@theclassicvinyldragon

@watermelontidewater

@frangiipanii

[haveihitanerve]

Green Leaves… On A Summer’s Day? …it went by pretty fast…

this play is a train wreck on square wheel and i loved every second of it. you know the drill:

“Its gonna have a beginning, a middle, and quite possibly an end, if we have time.” Big fan of whatever those hand movements were Tom, love it. Also Luke enjoying it, while Aj throws a thumbs up at the audience, lovely :) 

Genre???? Have they done this before or am i tweaking-

“Green leaves on a summers day?” YESSS!!!! YES YES YES!!! The tntl video!!! Luke you icon, yes person in the audience!!!

The audience members cheering because they know is amazing- meanwhile I think Sam might know and is explaining to Luke who is confused?? Maybe he knows, maybe he’s just guessing along… we’ll never know 😔

“This is beautiful-” “for a horror?” Sam is judging. “With like tinges of horro-” “tinges???” Sam is just being a hater today, love to see it lol

Oh he made Tom fully turn around to address him lmaooo 

“It might go *thrusts hand forward* full horror, it might be lightly horror *draws hands back again* i don't know, *frustrated with sam and turns to audience for support while Luke is just watching him with literal hearts for eyes* its fucking improvised.” that got a chuckle from aj and a clap laugh from luke, love it!!!

*genuine lightning* the gods hear you, and they approve boys 🫡

Ok so I had a bingo card going with my friends while watching this premier and evil Luke was on it and I was so teetering on the edge of marking it off right here and now but refrained and im still upset because Luke had so many chances to be evil and decided to be a nice old man ugh 🙄 XD

“I was being careful when coming over the hickory fence.” Luke's slow grin. “I have got a hickory fence. *laughs*” idk why it delights him so that Sam called it that, but loveeee

“Thats right i was a QUARTERBACK!.” Silence. “The one that throws it-” thanks for clarifying Luke XD

“My dad never has time to play with me.” oh no, another sad SFTh child, cant they ever be not traumatized guys????

“Whys that, hes working all the time-?” “Hes dead.” fuck! sam really??? I guess none of them can be happy ok…

“You've been eyeing up my hickory bush?” Luke has the cutest smile, i don't know why this hickory joke delights them so, but its phenomenal

“Thats mama.” FEMALE AJ!!! LETS GOOOO!!!!

“D’you know why?” Luke looks like hes genuinely questioning whether he knows the answer or not. “Because her husband died???” Sam contemplating making this darker or not. “Thats right.” ok so we’re keeping it normal level sad, for now…

why is aj shoeless. why is he without shoes. where are his shoes.  what. 

“From home all- mama..” Aj’s posture and his hands omg- XD

“Hello there old man.” SO AJ does sneak in a few old jokes from time to time, nice, very nice

“why don't you keep it, i don't think ill have much use for it anymore.” sam stop im actually gonna cry-

“My knees really hurt-” now you know how Tom feels playing so many child characters lol

“He wont be.” Line so cold and ominous AJ had to break the fourth wall to laugh with the crowd lmaooo

“I swear i will do terrible things.” I mean i love protective mama aj, gorgeous, but why is he shoeless and also what is his accent lol???

“Im gonna go now but… 👿i hate you.” goodness AJ went into his depths to summon that wow

Tom and sam chatting off stage 😭

Toms arm emerging in the light is terrifying gonna be honest

Tom is slouched so uncomfortably low and is only now equal heights with Luke 😭

“Just the hamptons mildred.” “The hampto-” Tom has never been so insulted in his life- “call me Mother!!”

“I tell you agaaiiiinnnn.” the weird creepy crawling hand up his arm is traumatizing but Luke doesn't even flinch does tom do this often????

“But you're a little baby boy to me.” Little cheek tousle. 

Luke's eyebrow raise of judgment. ‘Really dude? Really??”

“I-” tries to defend himself but no siree, tom will not let that slide. “My little boy boy with a lil baby face.” poor luke XD “cant even grow yourself no little beard-” POOR LUKE XD

“You look me in my good eye now.” sees the joke, has to take it. “Its here in my pocket.” the little hiccupy laugh luke does before covering it, at the same time that Tom lets out a slightly laugh as hes speaking 🫠

“Little st- little little-” *breaks* Tom cant let that slide- “why are you laUUughing?” Tom is also laughing but thats besides the point lmao

“Cause I forgot his name.” dang it! I had AJ forgets a name on my bingo card!!! Not Luke!!! (also im fairly certain Sam is never given a name, so you're good luke)

“You don't get no friends.” why is Tom just bullying him???😭 this feels very personal, but at the same time hes currently performing with three of them so…

I have no clue what Tom is doing with his little stomping and catching of nothing, but it delights me

“Shouldn't be hafta look after you all day.” Thats not grammatically- y'know what its wtv

“AAAAAAAAAAAAhhhhhhhh well if im being a *voice crack* burden! Let me just sit down and die!” I love dramatic mother Tom, yes queen, yes

“Oooh! Here we go! Here i come! Jesus im on my way!!!” Luke is so done lmaoo

“Ready the gates! Ready your gates jes- here i come! Strappin in for death!!” Sam is grinning off stage, glorious. Also Luke is honestly done, hes not even enjoying Tom’s monologue lmaooo

“Cause my little boy says he doesn't wanna care for me no more.” *DRAMATIC last breath* also im fairly certain tom just casually slipped in a short joke, but we love

“You know i cant get past the hickory.” Tom breaking the fourth wall to smirk at the audience. ‘Oh so thats where this story is going, ok!’ lol!

“I plumb forgot!” Luke is already fighting a smile. “*deep voice* you cant go past the hickory fence” makes Luke laugh, sam cackle, and Tom himself fight a smile 😭 cuties

 Tom, knowing it made Luke laugh once, now trying to do it again just to make him laugh, is sooooo fucking cute omg-

Also what are his hand movements what

“These fingers have seen a lot of things.” what does that mean- “but they've never seen you *one finger snaps out* go past the *starts air crawling towards luke* hickory fence.” Tom please put them away thats actually petrifying-

“Hickory dickory dock.” Sam, can see Tom is just spewing nonsense now, ends the scene XD

AJ’s little grab of Luke’s arm as he brushes past to grab a chair 🫠

Luke slipping off stage to stand next to Tom and be out of the scene… cuties

“Look at those green leaves *chuckles lightly* on a summers day!” The audience appreciated the input of the title sam, even if aj didn't 🙂‍↔️

“Did he?” Aj’s nonchalant book flip. “..y-yeah.” Sam confused

Luke’s explosion of laughter and Tom having to turn away from the ridiculousness XD

“The bayou.” AJ’s lips twitch. Sam notices. “*voice changes to try and get him to laugh* the bayou.” theyre so fucking cute

“Jambalaya!” “some- jumbo lion, is that what you said?” AJ i cant- XD

Luke folding with his laugh, while Sam just agrees lmaoo they’ve decided to play along for once instead of being mean XD

“Pppppppwease. Pppppppwease mama.” The way Luke has to cover his mouth in shock- XD

“All you need to know-” Sam forgetting he’s a child being scolded by his mother and slipping back into this is just Aj yelling at me- “WOAH WOAH, lower your FUcKING TONE!!!” DAMN!!!

“Hey!” AJ’s finger almost smacking Sam’s face. Also he totally would have genuinely slapped him had he been at a better angle and i fully believe that lol

Casually beating each other up??? What is going on😭

“How have I changed?” “you lost all your hair.” (hey bald joke was on my bingo lets go!!) AJ’s lips twitch XD

Luke dying in the background and Sam physically has to cover his mouth to keep from laughing- i swear they make so many jokes about it but still every time they laugh like its the first lol

“You used to siiiing!” He really wanted to sneak in an AJ singing bit didn't he lol!! I wish he had succeeded…

“Like a nerd!” Hey! Also atp i think sam is just trying to make aj laugh lol and thats it

“Go to your room!” “Im already in my room!” (your mother reads in your room??) “Then stay in your room!!!” “I WILL stay in my room!” “I HATE YOU!!” “I HATE YOU TOO!” “I HATE YOU!! I WISH YOU’D DIED!!” Woah there- damn

“That may have been too harsh…” Sam waiting for someone, anyone to end the scene and take it away from him lmaoo

Luke and Tom just laughing and ignoring him. “Didn't finish my homework..” Sam dropping the child's voice XD

“I don't want you going near that family-” Aj has had enough of waiting for the scene to end lmaooo

“Woah! Ok-” Sam was genuinely startled and AJ’s little quick grin

“I shouldn't have kneed you in the stomach.” Smiles and glances over at Tom and Luke, who both fold and laugh and lean back together in sync like omg-

“I shouldn't have slapped you in the titties.” “yeah…” “that was weird.” LMAOOO Ya THINK????

Sam making Aj come up with the plot 😭 oh no…

“Can you come into the room? I don't like it when you looom.” XD

“Mama if we just ignore bad things, bad things keep happening.” ok i think we sometimes forget because its mostly funny little dumbass stories but they have like really good quotes and morals and ideas in their skits and you don't always notice because its in the middle of a funny scene but damn if that isn't a cold true line

“Every day. Every day before he tucked me in- *starts laughing, aj breaks lightly* he used to loom over the bed and go: *oh sam is committed now okay* evil triumphs when good men do nothing”

“I've grown so much.” LMAOOO

“Like shaggy and scooby doo!” luke finally ends the scene. Sam: :0 bye!

Side note: AJ joined the live chat and everyone was going crazy saying hi so he went “GUYS FOCUS ON THE EPIC STORYTELLING” anyway thats all, ill try to add in all his comments if i can lol

Luke with the epic stagecraft even tho even he’s not so sure where its going lol

“Stupid old bitch *laughs at his own insult* always hears when i go through the front squeaky door.” XD luke i love you

theres no way hes turning this into one of those old romcoms where hes throwing rocks at the window… Luke that is a child

Sam climbing on a chair was not on my bingo card, i put Tom, dang it

Every single one of them is sooooo good at the weird storytelling that a child does, dancing all over the place, saying everything in one breath, ending it with a question and oversharing and i love it sooo much

“Is there evil things going on over there? Luke: 👀🤷‍♂️ Audience: yes..

Toms snoring noises help- XD

“I cant do that.” “Whyyy.” “Because i physically cant do that.” luke looks so pained that he was the cause of this plot reasoning lmaooo

“Fit as a moose!” “look just- *pause* are mosses particularly fit?” yeah luke they kinda are- also why is he looking off in a different direction than where Sam is, they’re standing next to each other just on opposite sides of a fence lol

“They're the largest natural fauna.” Luke having to short joke himself😭 “well i am not the largest natural fauna.” smile of disappointment and annoyance

Sam casually going on a nerd rant 

“oooOOOOoooooOOoohhh!” “A police car!” Sam once again not letting Tom be the character he wants to be lmaooo

I don't know what kind of demon ritualistic wake up that is, but pop off Tom ok

“Oh my fuck-!” he sounds genuinely concerned lmaooo

Tom being curled backwards and yet still taller than luke 😭

Old lady margaery 2.0????

AJ in the chat: TOM VILLIAN ALERT

“I remember when mooses where the biggest fauna in the world.” love when they throw old jokes back at each other, its delightful XD

The way tom goes behind luke and cradles his waist and luke lets his arms gently sway back to touch him 😭🫠

“Stop being so cryptic what the fuck are you?” Sam really wants to genuinely know for the plot lol

“He had talent for throwing ball.” “He was even better at being a daddy.” Sam im gonna cry-

Tom’s finger wiggles and his shuffle forward are gonna be in my nightmares-

Sam seems actually put off- “i feel like those fingers have seen many things!” oh delightful he throws toms words back too!

“Thats why you had the growth spurt.” oh. Oh oh oh OHHH OH!!!! Damn that was a good plot connection wow

What is tom’s movements???? 😭😭😭

“MAMA! MAMA i've made a horrible mistake! *laughing*” the fear is real XD

“The power of christ does *draws back* nothing to me *strikes a pose*” “ah shit!” 

“Don't you know your daddy’s voice?” Tom making Aj a different character than he intended, lovely, but does help the story better than why sams mom is there all of a sudden lol

“Was that your daddy's voice?” *looks skyward* AJ: *uhhh* Yes.

“Or the offspring to get past us.” Tom, i see what you did there, but unfortunately Sam does not catch on, because like- your son(luke) was technically the quarterback- not linebacker, for the miami dolphins, but it still works because you said “like” and you and luke stole his dad’s talent to be… wait no time wise that doesn't work… tom… sorry man that doesn't make logistical sense, the way all your other plays most definitely do

“Oh you are on board now?” Tom sounds affronted lol

Tom stroking Lukes hair🫠

“You wanna stay with Mama, don't you? Do you wanna stay with your Mama?” holds him😭

“Who would you suckle on?” Audience: *disgust* Tom: *satisfied* Luke: *dissociating* AJ: *walks into frame with purpose*

“Its been a terrible year, mum beats me now.” LMAOOO

Tom: *fingers AJ*ewewewweeewewewewewewewew whatt *slurps aj’s juices????* Audience: *louder disgust*

Sam: no no- Tom: *exasperated* No it makes you younger.” AJ: ah ok! :) 

AJ in chat: EW (im guessing this is in reference to tom eating his juices but i could be wrong idk)

“Thats right. I have achieved my potential.” LMAOOO SAM!!!

Sam: Hey mama. Tom: *turns around* *getting fucking decked* LMAOOOO

“Daddy! We’re the same age!” “oh thats awesome!” *high five* lmao what??? What is even going on???

“Are you still a dolphin?” Luke: *squeals* what is going on😭😭😭

“Daddy do you still love the dolphins?” because thats the important question right now AJ: *attempts to replicate Luke’s sound and fails* ehhh- n-u- yes!

Tom: *even more done* the sports team, the dolphins AJ: *ahhh* oh i love the dolphins! Tom: *my work here is done, returns to his fetal position* Lol he just had to clarify for aj 😭

AJ in chat: LETS GO (i have no idea what this is referencing, maybe his agreement of the dolphins, maybe sam decking tom, i have no clue)

“STOP beating on women!!!” *continues to get beat on* LMAOO

Toms genuine fear as they start to lift him- XD

“NOT SO FAST!!!” “... it went pretty fast.” “it went pretty fast yeah..” XD i love them so much omg

AJ HAVING TO PLAY TWO CHARACTERS IS EVERYTHING TO ME

“Daddy its so good-” *notices how Aj has to play two characters* “you have your scene :)” ASS!!! XD

Sam not even bothering to act and just watching AJ with a grin

“They've been feeding on my juices.” *surprisingly no sounds of audience disgust* “i've been thinking about your juices” *accent change, still no audience disgust noises, although one slightly quailed “no!”*

“No we are here-” *Tom’s hand appears as a replacement, catches AJ off guard and makes him laugh* oh i know how this ends and i cannot wait

(btw on my bingo card the scene was viewed by me and my friends as “sexual tension with a tree” but y'know im not even mad that this was the turnout)

AJ in chat: things are about to get weird if i remember correctly

“Im gonna give you the most passionate kiss.” *Toms hand: *Shaking encouragingly in a nod**

Tom’s grin slowly fading to disgust as he looks away while AJ makes out with his hand lmaooo

AJ having to pause to laugh and wipe his mouth XD

“Open your mouth baby!” yesss!! Clever aj, clever lmaooo

AJ dipping Tom’s arm- excuse me while i faint omg-

AJ coming up for air before switching positions- poor Tom XD

AJ dipping himself and the way Tom immediately jumps to stabilize him 😭my heart-

AJ in chat: yep i remember correctly LMAOO

Also- im so sorry Luke and Sam, but i have no idea what you guys have been saying and probably wont know until the end of the play either because aj and tom are captivating-

Tom’s hand giving Aj head…

Ajs helpless grin as he puts his hands behind his head

Whoever the woman is in the crowd who screamed i love you

Luke and Sam trying so hard to focus, but both just watching AJ and Tom instead

The way Tom and AJ are making eye contact while Tom is miming being Aj’s wife who is also him giving him head 

Aj kneeling and losing it, Tom’s disappointed head drop as they both just die 

Luke having given up and just slouched, tongue in his cheek as he grins watching them😭- as sam tries desperately to end the scene XD

Tom and Sam both lunging to call SCENE

Tom’s supportive hand on Aj’s back while Sam just stands above him, hands on his hips, waiting for him to look up so he can see the disappointment XD

And luke just laughing :) 

AND SCENE

WOW. and i mean WOW. that was incredible. Watched this live with a friend and we lost our mindssss

Absolutely incredible. Loved it so so so so sooooo much. Amazing. Spectacular. I need a dictionary and a thesaurus to properly convey how much i enjoyed that. 

Anyway hope you found it as entertaining as I did

Side note, checked the comments: Aj here. I've only just noticed how long it took Luke and Sam to get out "nothing more beautiful than green leaves.." cause we were having too much fun on the side of the stage hahaaaa

God i love them. Anyway, this was a riot. Enjoy :) 

@snek-of-eden @dawn-speckled

[neminomnom]

Arcane characters favourite seasons

Im sorry i havnt posted my motivation has left me 🫶

Includes: Vi, Jinx, Caitlyn, Sevika and Ekko

Violet

-Vi loves early summer, where it isn’t too hot but it’s still decently warm

-Vi doesn’t like it when it gets too hot because when she works out or does boxing, she gets really sweaty too fast, same when it’s really humid, but if it’s like sunny but there’s a light breeze then Vi loves it.

-you WILL go outside and see her cooking a barbecue in a vest with dad shorts on if it’s anything above 13 degrees with her feet in a bowl of ice water, I don’t make the rules.

-Violet doesn’t like winter very much, when it’s icy outside and freezing it reminds vi of the prison cell, so summer it is.

Jinx

-like her sister, jinx loves the summer, but when it’s more hot like July and August time, her hideout is really cool because it’s underground and no light can get to it, so when it’s humid and sticky, laying on the cold floor is her new hobby.

-Jinx would get really bright coloured fruits, crush them up and stick them in the freezer to make ice lollies then just live off of them for the rest of the summer when it gets boiling, it’s probably the only way she somewhat remembers to drink/eat, crazy coloured ice lollies

-She also likes summer because she doesn’t get cold when she goes outside, hates winter with every bone in her body because her hideouts cold and so is everywhere else.

Caitlyn

-spring time is the best time of year in caitlyns eye, it’s when all the flowers are blooming and when piltover looks like something out of fairytale, not that it already doesn’t on a normal day, but it just looks more lively.

-Spring was also Cassandras favourite season before she died, they had a huge garden what has all sorts of flowers in, Caitlyn loves to sit on a bench and just watch all the flowers bloom over time.

-temperature wise, Caitlyn likes it when it’s cool, spring is the best time for that, it’s never too hot or too cold, like the sun is shining but it doesn’t give anyone sunburn, caitlyn loves weather like this.

Sevika

-Autumn all the way for sevika

-It’s the season where you can throw anything you have into a pot, boil it and call it soup, so it’s easier to make meals somewhat and she likes how cozy it is, but Sevika is out all the time running errands so she doesn’t have the time to get all cozy and warm most the time.

-Her cape is the coziest thing ever in autumn, it just feels different at this time of year, Sevika has a fluffy one.

-in summer it gets too hot, spring is boring and is a hit or miss and in the winter, her metal arm rusts if it’s raining and it’s just annoying, so autumn is Sevikas favourite time of year.

Ekko

-Ekko likes late spring early summer.

-The atmosphere around the firelight tree is just better, and it’s when the tree is thriving the most in spring. It’s also when it’s not too hot, so everyone isn’t sweating and it’s sticky, but you could still get a decent tan if you wanted.

-Ekko loves to lay or sit down somewhere with good view, some snacks and a doctor pepper and just stare out into the distance, he could do it for hours and hours on end.

-watergun fights and cold fizzy drinks are the things he survives on during the summer, it’s the best thing ever

[queenshelby]

The Peaky Role (Part 18)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Age Gap, Best Friend's Dad

That same night, after a long day of filming and watching you kiss Barry on screen, Cillian struggled to come to terms with the swirling of intrusive thoughts.

The weight of jealousy gnawed at him as he paced his apartment, hands buried in his hair.

"Why does it bother me so much?" he muttered under his breath, unsure why he even acted the way he did.

There was nothing rational about his behaviour that day and he knew that he had to put it at rest.

After a glass of wine, he almost managed and went to bed early as usual during filming. But, it was a night of restlessness, the kind that taunted him with thoughts of you, which were thoughts he did not want to have.

Cillian tossed and turned, the sheets tangling around his legs, his mind a labyrinth of emotions. The way you had looked at him, the way you had kissed him, the way you had whispered his name in the heat of the moment—it all replayed in his mind, an endless loop of memories he couldn't escape.

He knew he had to stop. This was ridiculous, he told himself. You were too young. You were his daughter's best friend and he was a fool to let his heart get involved. But the more he tried to silence the thoughts, the louder they became, a chorus of whispers echoing through his mind.

Had he actually fallen in love with you? Surely, not. There was no way, he thought.

As the hours crept by, sleep eluded him, and he found himself staring at the ceiling, the moonlight casting a soft glow across the room. He thought of you again, your smile, your laughter, the way you had looked at him with those eyes that held a world of secrets.

"Stop it, Cillian," he muttered under his breath again, frustration creeping into his voice. "This is madness."

But even as he said the words, he knew they were hollow, an attempt to deny the truth that pulsed through his veins. He was jealous. He was jealous of Barry, a man he actually had befriended many years ago when working together on another movie.

In the end though, at around midnight, he pulled himself together and, eventually, sleep came.

He had a few hours of rest at last and, the next morning, Cillian managed to arrive at set on time as usual even as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

He spotted you near the coffee station, animatedly chatting with Barry, laughter brightening your face once again and, again, it bothered him.

Cillian clenched his jaw, battling the urge to intervene. This was just a job, he reminded himself. As he poured himself a cup of coffee, he caught snippets of your laughter—soft, inviting. Just then, Barry leaned in closer, his hand resting lightly on your shoulder, and Cillian's stomach tightened at the sight.

"Excuse me," Cillian said to you both, reaching for the milk which he usually did not drink with his coffee.

"Morning, Cillian," you greeted, glancing at him over your shoulder, a smile breaking through the tension.

Barry turned, an easy grin plastered on his face. "Jesus, you look tired man," he teased and Cillian shot him a tight-lipped smile, his eyes narrowing slightly.

"Long night," he replied, tension creeping into his voice as he fixed his gaze on you.

"Right," Barry chuckled, oblivious to the storm brewing. "Join us for a coffee?"

Cillian glanced between you and Barry, tension curling in his gut.

"Not today," he replied, his voice clipped, as he turned back to the coffee machine, trying to mask the jealousy flaring inside him.

"Busy with work already, huh?" Barry quipped, misreading the atmosphere.

"Yeah," he grunted, pouring the coffee with precision, letting the steam rise between them before wandering off just to, minutes later, running into Shaheen who was buzzing with energy.

"Good morning sunshine," she chirped, her eyes sparkling with mischief and Cillian forced a chuckle, the tension squeezing his chest tighter.

"Morning," he replied, eyeing the coffee pot as if it held the secrets to the universe.

"Rough night?" Shaheen inquired, her brow quirked, amusement dancing in her eyes.

Cillian shrugged, his lips pressed into a line, weighing his words. "Just thinking too much."

"About work?" she asked and Cillian frowned, stirring his coffee absentmindedly.

"More like personal matters," he muttered, glancing across the set where you laughed with Barry, the playful banter filling the air.

Shaheen narrowed her eyes, sensing the tension that had settled over him. "Right, well...I better get these to Steven. He made some changes to the script and wants to run through them before filming starts."

"What are the changes?" Cillian asked and, seeing how he was a producer of the show, he had every right to know.

"Nothing major," Shaheen replied, her gaze flicking between him and your animated figure across the set. "Just some tweaks to some of Y/N's scenes as the director wants to amp up the tension."

Cillian tensed, fingers gripping the coffee cup tightly. "What sort of tweaks?" Cillian asked, a sharp edge creeping into his tone as he searched her face for answers.

"Something about heightened emotions and conflict," Shaheen replied. "There is going to be an intimate scene between Y/N and Barry, where her character manipulates him," she explained and Cillian's heart raced, and he clenched his fists, the taste of bitterness flooding his mouth.

"You are joking, right?" Cillian demanded, his gaze locked onto Shaheen, fury bubbling beneath the surface.

"No, it's in the script," she replied, unfazed, her brows arching in surprise at his reaction.

Cillian pressed his lips together. "That's not necessary. It undermines everything we've built." Shaheen crossed her arms, disbelief flickering in her eyes. "It's just a scene, Cillian. It's meant to highlight their relationship and, despite, it's not for me to make a call on. It's up to Steven so go and talk to him about it if you like," she retorted and Cillian exhaled sharply, frustration heating his cheeks.

"Fine, I will," he muttered, his gaze hardening but, before Shaheen handed him the new transcript of the script, she had something else to say.

"You know that she is a grown woman, right?" she asked, chuckling slightly.

"Who?" Cillian queried, playing it cool and feigning ignorance.

"Y/N, of course," she replied, her tone light but with an edge of seriousness.

Cillian narrowed his eyes, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. "What are you saying?" he asked and Shaheen laughed lightly, folding her arms.

"Well, you seem awfully protective of her and I know that she is a good family friend of yours but you need to let her breathe, Cillian," Shaheen explained and, again, Cillian's jaw tightened, although she had a point.

"This has nothing to do with being protective, Shaheen. I am just concerned about the movie," Cillian said and his tone sharpened as he ran a hand through his hair, frustration radiating from him.

"So, her and Barry getting close off camera doesn't bother you?" she queried further, knowing very well already that it did.

"No," Cillian snapped, crossing his arms tightly as he glared over at the coffee machine, the steam swirling like the turmoil inside him.

"Really? Because it sounds like it does," Shaheen pressed, tilting her head.

Cillian turned, eyes fierce. "This isn't about that. It's business and, for what it's worth, I am fairly sure that she knows the rules," he went on to say, causing Shaheen's eyes flicker with amusement as she leaned closer, arms crossed also.

"The rules?" she chuckled.

"Yeah, the rules," Cillian snapped back, fingers drumming against the counter. "No personal relationships at work," he clarified. "It's about keeping things contained, not letting personal drama spill onto the set," he went on to say before making another somewhat surprising comment. "Despite, she is too young to be involved with, well, Barry...," Cillian's gaze hardened, an edge creeping into his voice causing Shaheen to break out in laughter.

"Cillian, you sound just like her father would," Shaheen remarked, her laughter bubbling over. "It's pretty funny how protective you are, but you need to loosen up."

Cillian scowled, shaking his head. "Just give me the script," he grumbled, reaching for the papers in her hand.

Shaheen chuckled again but did not argue. "Sure, here you go," she said and Cillian snatched the script, eyes scanning the pages as he fought to maintain focus.

"Page 12," she prompted, pointing at the corner of the sheet.

Cillian's gaze flickered back to the script.

"Thanks," he mumbled, eyes scanning the page where their characters shared an intimate moment before walking off.

"Good luck with Steve," Shaheen called out, her voice laced with amusement as Cillian strode away, fists clenched around the script, fury simmering beneath the surface.

He stormed toward Steven who was working through the latest notes, oblivious to the storm brewing behind him.

"Cillian, everything okay?" he glanced up, his brow furrowing at the sight of Cillian's clenched fists and fierce expression.

"This scene on page 12, with Y/N and Barry—it's not happening," Cillian replied, the tension charging the air.

"Why's that?" Steven glanced up, surprise flickering in his eyes.

Cillian leaned closer, intensity radiating from him. "It's unnecessary. We don't need cliché drama like this."

Steven's brow furrowed. "You think people won't relate to it?"

"No, it's...too much," Cillian leaned in closer, determination etched on his features.

"It's outrageous though and I think it will create a jaw dropping moment. I mean, think about it, Cillian. This character is playing Tommy by engaging with his son for payback and information. It's brilliant," Steven barked, the frustration seeping into his voice but Cillian clenched the script tighter, resisting the urge to shout.

"Perhaps, but we don't need another sex scene in the movie. Just hinting on what this character is capable off will keep the audience hooked. Trust me, it's all about tension, not just skin," Cillian explained as he leaned closer, his voice low and firm and, after some more arguing, Steven finally relented, his shoulders dropping in resignation.

"Fine, we'll rework it," he muttered, scribbling notes on a pad. "And I will talk to Y/N again, telling her she won't need to be involved in that scene after all."

"Good," Cillian muttered, a flicker of relief sparking in his eyes as he stepped back, the weight on his shoulders easing slightly.

"You know, you've got a knack for this," Steven remarked, studying him closely, his brows raised in amusement.

Cillian shrugged, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Just looking out for the story," he lied, not knowing that you would soon find out that he had killed your scene with Barry.

Tags:

@sunbeamseas @saint-ackerman @oatmealisweird @naxxsstuff @amanda08319 @r-m-cidnah @elysiannook @cillshot @infireddabdab @tastycakee @harrysbestiee @lilybabe22 @adalynlowell @henrywintersdearestgirl @ietss @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @ryiamarie @axionn

@nela-cutie @futurecorps3 @delishen @nosebleeds-247 @thirteenis-myluckynumber @gills-lounge @hjmalmed @lost-fantasy @tiredkitten @sidechrisporn @smallsoulunknown @charqing-qing @hopefulinlove @aporiasposts @shycrybaby @me-and-your-husband @hjmalmed @lacontroller1991 @galxydefender @aporiasposts

@galxydefender @hunnibearrr @saint-ackerman @lunyyx @gentlemonsterjennie1 @ihavealotoffandomssorry @nadloves @lost-fantasy @nolucesn@mcavoy-girl @hjmalmed @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @richiesgroupie @blushykiss @tatumrileyslover @teawithsatanx @orijanko @rhaenyra4ever @xcinnamonmalfoyx @budugu @nadloves @kmc1989 @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @richiesgroupie @smailaway @sophiaaguirred @blondie-22 @meadows5 @randomcreator-09 @hagarsays @kikimurphys

[idciminlove]

FIGHTER.

Part Six - Six

Kang Dae Ho x f!reader

Cinnamonacid on AO3

Warnings - death, misogyny, slightly androgynous themes, anxiety, blood, etc.

You participate in the next game, the six legged pentathlon.

Six Legged Pentathlon. You will be chained together by the ankle, and each member will complete a game in order to move on. You must finish the race within five minutes, or else all players will be eliminated. The mini games are as follows:

Game 1 - Ddakji

Game 2 - Flying stone

Game 3 - Gonggi

Game 4 - Spinning top

Game 5 - Jegi

One of the men in your group let out a small sigh of relief. “Ah, so it’s good that we got a girl on our team, after all. You know how to play Gonggi, right?”

“Not really, no.” You admitted.

You never cared for girly stuff when you were younger. Never played any games like gonggi or anything like that. All you wanted to do was what your father did. Your mom would always be busy, working long shifts at the hospital as a nurse, so you spent most of your time with your Dad, and you liked it that way. Hanging out at the ring, getting to watch him train, and being able to train once you were old enough. You thought it was the coolest.

At school, you didn’t fit in anywhere. The girls thought you were too boyish, and the boys thought you were too girlish. The girls would whisper mean things about you behind your back, and the boys? They just said it to your face. It never ended well, always turning into a fight with someone getting hurt and crying. You only had a few friends throughout those years, and they never stayed. No best friends, no forever, only strangers that came and went.

“Seriously? What are they teaching you kids these days?” He scoffed. “Just when we thought you could be useful.”

You clenched your fist, gritting your teeth together, resisting the urge to punch him in the face. Deep breaths. No matter how badly you wanted to hurt this prick, you knew it would only make everything worse. The guards would probably kill you this time if you did. Stay calm and focus. Work with these assholes so you can win and get out of here alive.

“It’s alright, I can play gonggi. My daughter and I play it all the time.” 246 interjected. You smiled at him thankfully. He smiled back.

After some brief discussion, your teammates selected their roles. You picked Jegi. You’ve always been good at Jegi. Your Dad would have you play it to improve your footwork, coordination and balance. It’ll be easy. Everything will be okay.

And then, the first two teams went.

It was a complete mess, each players’ movements sloppy and uncoordinated from the adrenaline and fear running through them. One of the men even pissed himself from how afraid he was, failing the flying stone game multiple times before finally getting it. The timer ran down, and neither team made it.

You flinched, squeezing your eyes shut, unable to watch as the two teams were killed. The sound of their screams and flying bullets echoed around in your brain. You grabbed your pant legs, feeling your hands begin to shake, and your heart begin to race. Your chest got tight, and you tried to focus, tried to breathe. You couldn’t panic. Not again. Not in front of these men. But how could you not when it all seemed so hopeless?

Then, the next teams went. 120, 095, an elderly woman and her son: 149 and 007, and that creepy shaman lady, 044. It didn’t look good at first, the teams panicked in a similar way to the previous ones, but this team did something different. Instead of yelling and putting pressure on one another, they encouraged each other, motivated each other, telling each other exactly what they needed to hear. As they completed game after game, the players watching started to cheer, growing more and more eager.

They made it. All the players watching celebrated, reinvigorated and optimistic. They showed that these games were achievable. You could win and make it out. All you needed was to work together.

–

45 seconds remaining.

Your team had done well, managing to pass the games with little to no trouble, overcoming the obstacles when you did fail. Even though they were all bastards, the men on your team worked well together, but now, it was up to you, and you were running low on time.

You picked up the Jegi from the box with shaky hands, taking a deep breath and centering yourself. Blood stained the rainbow patterned floor beneath you, a daunting reminder of what would happen if you failed. 246 nudged your arm slightly, offering you a reassuring smile. “You got this.”

You nodded, dropping it onto your foot, kicking it up into the air. You counted under your breath.

“One, two, three, four-”

“-Fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty!” You jumped up and down, beaming with excitement. You threw open the door, running inside to your father, who was standing in the kitchen, making dinner. “Papa, papa, look! I got a new record! I got twenty!”

“That’s wonderful, sweetheart.” He ruffled your hair. “See if you can get it to forty next time. Who knows, maybe you can break my record.”

On the counter beside him was a press release, a picture of him and another fighter on the front, facing off against each other. You picked it up, gazing down at it. “Is this your next fight?”

“Yeah, he’s a big guy. They call him Goliath.” The man did appear much bigger than your father, almost dwarfing him in size, even with your father on his bulk, his body rather large itself. You skimmed the article, reading the predictions projecting him to lose.

“Are you scared?”

“Nah, don’t you know how the story goes? David beats Goliath. He might be bigger and stronger, but my trainers helped me find his weakness. So, even though nobody believes it, I think I have a pretty good chance. You remember that, okay? No matter what anyone says, don’t give up. Don’t quit. Keep fighting, always.”

You nodded. He leaned over and pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “Go wash up, it’s time for dinner.”

–

As you kicked the Jegi for the fifth and final time, everyone cheered. Your team crossed the finish line with five seconds to spare. You did it. You won. It was a nice feeling, to have all those people rooting for you, to have all those people care. Amongst the crowd, you saw Dae-Ho, shouting at the top of his lungs and holding onto 222, both of them cheering for you. After everything you said to him, everything you did, he still rooted for you, so happy to see that you made it out, safe and sound.

You can’t help but hope that he makes it out of this game okay too.

[blondphobic]

in celebration of my 1st anniversary as a lads player, i’m sharing my ranking of the current love interests and some random thoughts on them, not that anybody asked or care about

1st place of course comes Rafayel, I wouldn’t be exaggerating saying he’s everything I like in a otome character, he’s SO charismatic, caring, funny, passionate, a switch (jeez who wrote that?), endearing and more, he caught my eye the moment I started playing the game, I adore his dynamic with mc, I’m very fond of flirty banter and they delivered.

he’s so complex and by coincidence I wrote this quite-long-but-not-as-long-as-the-original-draft post yesterday about how people simplify his character’s internal conflict and that he’s much MUCH more than most fans seems to give him credit, I didn’t even know today was gonna be my 1st anniversary, I found out because they sent me celebrative messages, I wrote that just because I fucking love Rafayel. I love you, Rafayel!

2nd place comes Xavier, I’ve been in a Xav phase recently, I can’t really say why because I actually don’t know, I’m just in a Xavier mood, I like his personality and his interactions with MC, he’s very tender, friendly and sweet, I really like that, the jealousy thing kinda activates my fight or flight but I chose to overlook it since he isn’t my main and another LIs gonna step into the 2nd place next month anyway.

3rd place is Zayne, I almost put him on 2nd because I really really like Zayne but it’s more in a “we’re besties” way, love his personality, he’s very kind and considerate, I unaronically think he’s really funny and he’s such a sweetheart with MC, ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ love this guy.

4th place’s Sylus, he was actually 2nd place for some months but somehow ended in 4th here, proving that except for Rafa, my ranking changes constantly, I really appreciate him tho, he’s a very charismatic character. like Zayne he just wouldn’t work for me at long term, he’s too daddy dom archetype for my personal taste, every time he calls MC “kitten” I get the ick.

5th place and surprising no one, comes Caleb for a bunch of reasons (but not the reasons people imagine I would have), not only he just got added to the game and we barely got time to grow attached to him yet but because being honest (and controversial), I find him kinda boring.

I’m not very fond of childhood friends to lovers so this end up influencing my opinion on him, I dislike how this trope relies on fake nostalgia over moments the characters shared together and forget the fact that I, the real person playing the game, wasn’t there and therefore have no emotional connection to this character. He always going “remember when you did that?” “remember how we use to do that?” no, I don’t.

Caleb was on scream for like 5 minutes then fucking exploded now he’s back acting psycho, Infold is giving me zero to none time to build any fondness for him so for me he’s just a rando who’s trying to kidnap me, I get he went through some brainwashing shit but since I don’t know him his betrayal just doesn’t hit like it suppose to hit. I didn’t felt betrayed, I felt disgusted.

also I can’t lie, overprotective men aren’t for me, even before being brainwashed Caleb was already too much for my liking, I already have enough people in my real life who think they know what is best for me more than I do, I don’t need this energy in my silly lil hot men game, if I wake up one day feeling like spending time with a man who’s overprotective to the point of being overbearing I can just hang out with my dad.

that being said I don’t hate him, my heart is forgiven when it come to characters if they’re well-written, Infold made a good job with all of them to this point so there still hope for Caleb, Sylus was lowkey a cunt in the beginning too and everyone seems to have forgotten by now

as a bonus, my expectations to the 6th LI: I want him to be related to Ever but I don’t want him to be a ceo because that would be very boring, there’s nothing sexy about making money by exploiting workers and Sylus kinda already fill the ceo archetype, I would prefer a guy who is/was a scientist working for Ever but he discovered things he didn’t suppose to discover and now wants to leave, something along those lines, we also need a sub character because the girlies who aren’t into the dom daddies are clearly in disadvantage, give us someone even more needy than Rafayel, give us a man who’s so pathetic. He having colored hair would be cool too.

also I want to propose we start referring to the LIs as “the lads” because refereeing to them as “LIs” sounds cold to me and calling them lads is goofy so it’s makes me laugh