#Green Eggs and Ham x Reader

[contentloadingandstuff]

Happy Birthday, Kujou Sara! - Kujou Sara x Male!Reader

AN: Happy birthday to our favorite bird general! Enjoy your little fluffy gift.

You pull on the string, stirring the doorbell to ring out. As you wait for her attendant to open the door, you quickly adjust your wear. Kujou Sara, even if she was your friend, didn't deserve to be treated with anything but your absolute best. Even if the evening was rather stuffy, you chose to prepare your more formal outfit - a blend of dō and hakama, perfect for both official business and casual meetings. 

After a moment, the wooden gate is opened and one of Sara's maids greets you with a polite bow. She motions towards the garden where, just a few steps from her, the Tengu stands. She's wearing clothes one would rarely see adorning her body - a modest kimono, decorated only with the sash and her mask. The smile on her lips is as uncommon as her attire. 

“Hello! I’m glad you're here.” She speaks, approaching you. “Thank you for coming.”

You meet her halfway. “It's good to see you too, Sara.”

You bow slightly, Sara returning your gesture. Your eyes meet for a moment. Her golden pupils gleam in the red light of the setting sun. You smile. Sara’s lips shift as well, but her demeanor turns a little sheepish as she averts her eyes. 

You can't help but think the slight red tint on her cheeks might not be makeup. 

Observing the situation, the maid steps in, bowing cordially. “May we invite you inside for a meal, my Lord?”

Sara shakes her head, suddenly brought back to reality. “Of c-course. Please, Y/N, come inside. I've prepared something for the occasion.”

You nod eagerly. “I can't wait to sample your cooking.”

The maid leads you through the gardens and into the guest room where a small table awaits you. You hand over your katana and equipment, taking a place on the mat opposite Sara. 

The table is full of various snacks. Crisp and plump Lavender Melons and Sunsettia, cut into sizable slices, shine at you invitingly, perfectly complimenting a wide variety of juicy maki rolls and golden brown tempura. Before you can even reach for one with your chopsticks two bowls of steaming ramen are brought to the table. The thick, soft noodles float peacefully inside the broth, the clouds upon which rests a soft boiled egg accompanied with various greens and a few pieces of ham. The sight of the vibrant yolk lazily streaming down into the soup, let alone the scent of the whole meal, hypnotizes you. 

Ironically, it would be a shame to eat such an inviting meal. If it wasn't so delightful, that is. The room fills with quiet, but still enthusiastic clicking of chopsticks as both of you tear into portions. Sara glances at you hopefully from time to time, gauging your reactions. You make sure to nod appreciatively. It takes what feels like mere moments until, amongst comfortable silence, the soup is eaten. 

Wiping the remnants of it from your mouth with a tissue, you sigh with satisfaction. The dish was possibly the best thing for this weather, even if the air was so humid. But now that you've eaten, it was time to give Sara something special. 

“Thank you for your hospitality, Sara.” You say, reaching your hand inside your sleeve where you hid the gift. 

“Don't mention it, please. It's the least I can do to thank you for coming. I'm sure I've distracted you from important matters...” She drifts off when she notices the small, ornamental box in your hand. “What’s that?”

You chuckle. “It is for you, silly. It's your birthday. Surely you didn't expect me to come empty handed?”

“Oh! I…” Her hands move up, covering her mouth in surprise. “T-thank you. I hope the gift wasn't too much trouble…” 

She takes the gift from your outstretched hands and begins quickly unfastening the ribbons. When her fingers lift the lid, a set of jars is revealed. Curious, she picks one up and starts examining the label. 

Seeing her confusion, you chime in. 

“This is, um… that's coconut oil, for your wings. So they remain as pristine as ever.” 

Sara looks up at you, slightly wide eyed. Her silence speeds up your heart. Was this a bad idea? Does she already have some? Did you just offend her? 

You feel blood rushing to your cheeks. 

“I've talked to a scientist from Sumeru some time ago. He told me a lot about the birds of paradise in Sumeru and how they are taken care of in captivity”, you explain hastily. “To keep their wings shining and vibrant, their caretakers use coconut oil to lubricate the feathers. He said that it's better than sesame oil as it helps protect against illnesses and insects. So… I thought of you.” You wave your hands, smiling shyly. “You don't have to accept it if you don't like it though!”

As she listens to you, her mouth opens slightly as if she wants to speak, but closes without a word. She's speechless. 

You sigh as your smile fades. Just as you think of how to apologize, Sara speaks out. 

“This is incredible. I don't have the words to express how… How happy I am.”

Her voice is quiet and slightly trembling with emotion. The Tengu quickly looks back towards you, a small blush on her face. “Nobody has given me such a thoughtful gift before…”

A stone’s weight is taken off your heart as you see her flustered expression. A genuine smile of happiness and relief creeps onto your features. 

After a while of cordial thanks, you finally convince Sara that it wasn't too difficult to get, even if you had to import it from Sumeru. Having received this gift, Sara's mood was only improving as the evening went by, filled with idle chatter. You've shared stories of other generals, funny encounters you've had, as well as more genuine hopes for the future. 

The night came long ago, and it was time to go home. Sara, although clearly tired, insisted on walking you at least to the estate doors. But as you were walking through the garden, unbeknownst to you, Sara discreetly dismissed the maid following you. She quietly disappeared behind the nearest corner, leaving you two alone. 

You pull the door, opening one of its wings enough to slip through. Your turn to Sara. 

“Thanks for inviting me. They say you're stiff, but they don't know just how enjoyable hanging out with you really is.”

Sara shakes her head. “No, no, I’m the one that's more thankful here. I couldn't even begin to imagine what this day would look like without you. Had you not come, it would simply be another lonely evening.”

“Signing yourself off to the grave already, Sara?” You chuckle. “I hope next year's celebration is even better than this one.”

She snickers as well. “Impossible. Nothing will best today.”

“I surely hope not!” Your turn back towards the door. “See you tomorrow-”

“Wait!” Sara says hastily, grabbing your sleeve. You stop dead in your tracks. 

“Yes, Sara?”

“I know it might be inappropriate of me, seeing as you've given me so much already…” Her eyes shift between the pavement and you. “But, if I may have one more wish to ask of you.”

“Of course. It's your day, after all.” 

Silence. 

“So what would you like me to-”

She steps up and embraces you. You let out a surprised sigh, but quickly welcome her gesture. Her arms wrap around your torso as her face buries in the crook of your neck. 

“Thank you”, she whispers. “Thank you so much.”

Thanks for reading!

[pinkthrone445]

~I'd do it all over again if you're with me~

Pairing:Melissa Schemmenti x Reader

Gender: little bit of hurt, a lot of fluff.

Warnlings : (+18) strong words, mention of period blood, Fertility Treatments .

Summary:You and Melissa had been married for a while and you decided to have a baby, but things weren't as easy as you thought.

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It was an open house season at the school where your wife worked, you were fascinated to see her talking to parents and some children, her love for them was natural, there was no one who brought out a more loving side of her than the children. Which made you wonder what she would be like with a child of her own, you knew what she would say, that she was very old to have children and that the stage for that in her life had already passed, but she said the same thing about marriage months before proposing to you.

When Christmas came, you decided to pop the question while she was playing with your nephews

-"THEY ARE SO GOOD, SO GOOD, YOU SEE!

SO I WILL EAT THEM IN A BOX.

AND I WILL EAT THEM WITH A FOX.

AND I WILL EAT THEM IN A HOUSE.

AND I WILL EAT THEM WITH A MOUSE.

AND I WILL EAT THEM HERE AND THERE.

SAY! I WILL EAT THEM ANYWHERE!

I DO SO LIKE GREEN EGGS AND HAM!

THANK YOU! THANK YOU, SAM I AM."-she finished reading the story doing funny voices while the children laughed, bewitched by your wife's charms, just like you were watching her.-"Now go wash your hands so we can eat dessert"-your wife said to the children as they ran laughing, one of your nephews got up and walked over to where she was sitting, the redhead gave him her full attention-"everything all right, little one?"

-"Yes Aunt Lissa"- Your nephew responded and played with his little hands looking at your wife with eyes that would conquer anyone - "Someday you will invite me to your house to eat green eggs and ham? My aunt says you cook very well... Pleaseeeee?"-He pleaded and the redhead laughed, hugging him and kissing his forehead

-"Of course, kiddo, but first go wash your hands so we can eat what we all prepare for today"-the little boy smiled from ear to ear and ran off happily. Carefully you approached your wife and sat on her lap running your hands down her neck, she hugged your waist smiling

-"Hello gorgeous"-she whispered and gave you a brief kiss on your lips

-"Hi... You know, you're always beautiful, but especially when you're with kids, I love to see you interact with them... You look so happy. I wish we had one of our own..." - You whispered against her lips and the redhead let out a big laugh

-"I think it's a little late for that... Instead of a son I'll have a grandchildren if I try to have kids now" - she continued laughing but when she saw your seriousness, she stopped- "oh, you're being serious..."-she looked you in the eyes and you nodded- "love... I'm too old for this, my body isn't the same, I can't have children anymore..."- she whispered so as not to attract the attention of your family who were in the house

-"But we are both women and I'm at a very good age to have children... Tell me this is everything you imagined for our life... Tell me that you didn't imagine a family for us, because I have, many times, I want to have a babywith you. Imagine what it would be like a little you or a little me running around the house, their laughter filling every room, you teaching them to read and how to make me angry, also teaching them how to get out of trouble. Imagine me pregnant, my hormones will be through the roof, which would make things very interesting... I know you don't quite agree, but I ask you to at least think about it, please, for me... Remember how much you love your family, your nana, your sister even though you fight a lot. You love big and loud families, and I'm loud, I know, but our family it's little. You'd be an excellent mom if we do this, please think about it"- you whispered and kissed her lips.

-"I'll think about it, for you" - she answered and you hugged her

-"Thanks..."-You whispered

That was almost a year and a half ago, after thinking about it for a bit, Melissa tell you that she wanted to have children with you, so you started doing everything to start the fertilization. The more the redhead thought about it, the more excited she was to be a mom, because she was going to be a mom with you, have a family with you.

At first everything was very exciting, the treatment, the changes, the care, your hormones through the roof, the excitement of being a mother. But little by little, when the treatment began to fail, it all felt like too much. It was the third time it failed and your body and mind were tired, you didn't feel the same anymore and you wondered if it would be worth it to keep trying, you didn't know if you could take more disappointments.

You were naked in front of the bedroom mirror, your butt and abdomen were full of marks and bruises from the needles of the treatment. You'd done everything you'd been asked to do, you had done strict diets, Mel helped you prepare meals and ate like you so you didn't feel alone, gentle exercises every day, injecting hormones, consuming vitamins, folic acid, you lowered the hours at work so you didn't get so stressed, you slept more. You did everything you were told and nothing worked. This was the fourth time you were restarting treatment and you didn't know if you would be able to do it again if it failed. Your mood was awful, seeing your body so marked with bruises made you angry knowing that it wasn't giving results, going to see Melissa at school and seeing so many children made you sad and angry, not being able to eat what you liked also made you be in a bad mood, the pain you had in your body and tiredness put you in a bad mood, If the redhead touched you, it bothered you, but if she didn't, it also bothered you. It bothered you that even though you were dieting, you were gaining weight, your breasts and abdomen hurt. Everything bothered you. It bothered you that despite all the effort, nothing was working.

-"Here I have the injection, love"-your wife spoke entering the room and stared at you, carefully she approached you and hugged you from behind giving you warmth and protection with her body, resting her head on your shoulder and looking at you through the reflection of the mirror-"you are so strong and so beautiful"-she whispered and kissed your cheek, your eyes filled with tears

-"If this fails once again, I don't know if I'll be able to keep doing it Mel... Everything hurts and I feel very tired, I don't know if I'll take one more disappointment. I know that at the beginning it was my insistence and my idea that led us to this, I know that you have also been excited about being a mom and I still think that you will be an excellent mom, but my body is not working and I don't know how much strength I have left to keep trying"-you whispered crying and your wife hugged you tighter, she didn't like to see you sad or in pain

-"It's okay, I still appreciate everything you've done for us, you're very strong... If this doesn't work, we could look for other alternatives, maybe adopt or we can think about it later, but for now let's focus on finishing this treatment, yes? Let's not get too far ahead of ourselves, let's live the present love." - She whispered and you nodded letting her give you the daily injection, closing your eyes because of the pain it caused you. Carefully, she knelt beside you, her lips rested on your skin, kissing each and every mark that was on your body, paying special attention to those in your swollen abdomen making you smile a little, you delicately stroked her hair and sighed

-"Thanks Mel, you always know what to do..."-You whispered and she got up hugging you again

-"It's my pleasure, baby. What do you say if before we leave for work, you get dressed and let's get one of those waffles that you miss so much?"-the redhead commented and your eyes shone with excitement nodding and kissing her happily.

Mel had faith that this time it would work, but her hopes were dashed when her cell phone alarm rang off to work, she quickly turned off the alarm and turned on the bed to hug you and give you a few kisses, so you would wake up in a good mood. But when you moved your body to hug her, a red stain was seen on the bed sheets. It was already the fourth time you had seen this in the time of the treatment, that meant that your period had started and that the fertility treatment was not successful. You sighed, Melissa tried to hug you but you got up quickly to go to the bathroom and got into the shower closing the door behind you. Quietly but quickly, she changed the sheets by putting them in the wash and putting new ones on the bed, she also prepared a change of clothes for you, and then she walked over to the bathroom door. Even though the door wasn't locked, she knocked softly, asking for permission to come in

-"Amore? Can I come in?"-She asked and when you didn't answer her, she came in closing the door behind her. She silently removed her clothes and came in with you, taking the soap and washing your body with a lot of love, so much so that you couldn't help but start crying

-"I'm so sorry Mel, I'm sorry. I really wanted to start a family with you, but I don't know what's wrong with my stupid body" - You said in a trembling voice and she hugged you tight

-"Don't say that, ever. Your body is perfect and you are very strong for doing this. I wanted it too, but there are other ways to get it. I know you're very tired mentally and physically, so let's take some time off and then we'll see how we decide to continue. Do you want me to stay home with you today? We can call your work and mine and stay here, sleeping, watching a movie or whatever you want... I can cook anything you want, Yes?"-You really wanted to stay home, but the next day you had a doctor's appointment. Even though it was a check and you already knew what you were going to be told, you would need your wife's help to do it because you didn't know if you could do it alone.

-"I really want to, but tomorrow I'll need it more, we have the doctor's appointment... And I don't know if I'll be able to miss two days in a row at work... So I'll leave it for tomorrow" - You whispered and she nodded, helping you finish the bath.

Throughout that day, Mel kept an eye on you with messages, brought you food, and also picked you up at the end of work. You were so grateful for her care, but you didn't even feel like breathing at the time, so when you got home you just went straight to bed and stayed there. The redhead lay down next to you and hugged you throughout.

You knew it was difficult for her too, she was as excited as you were and that had hurt her too, and if it were up to her, she would have put her body to keep trying, if only it had been possible. But she saw firsthand how much the treatment had affected you, hurt you, so she would be supporting you through everything even if she was hurting too.

That night the two of you hugged each other and cried yourself to sleep.

The next day Mel tried to wake you up with a delicious breakfast, but your appetite was still non-existent, and you had a lot of nausea and abdominal pain, so you didn't eat. With great heaviness and sadness you got up, your eyes were swollen from crying and the nausea from the treatment had worsened more than other days. You almost burst into tears when you went to the bathroom and saw that you were still getting your period.

Upon arriving at the hospital, the redhead held your hand at all times whispering sweet words while caressing your back with her free hand. When the doctor called you, you were sure that if it wasn't for your wife's help, you wouldn't have been able to get out of your chair, even walking felt too heavy for such a dreary day. You already knew what they were going to tell you, but having it confirmed by a doctor made it more real. You and Melissa explained what had happened the day before, but the doctor insisted on continuing with the tests. When he took out the gel and put it in your stomach, a shiver ran through your body and Melissa squeezed your hand tighter. She couldn't take her eyes off the screen, but you didn't want to see or hear anything, you didn't want the weight of reality to crush you.

-"Can you repeat it?"-Mel's voice brought you back, Why did she want the doctor to repeat something as painful as that the treatment had failed? You looked at her confused and then at the doctor

-"Congratulations, you're going to be moms" - he pointed to the screen, showing a bean-shaped dot-"The treatment worked and your baby is growing as it should, now you will have to have different types of controls and diets, but we will see that later. Congratulations moms!"-the doctor told you and Melissa looked at you while you looked at the doctor

-"B-but what about my period? It started yesterday and it's still going on, I was told by previous attempts that when my period came it meant that the egg wasn't fertilized and that I had to try again or end the treatment definitely" -You spoke nervously, trying not to get your hopes up

-"Was it darker blood than normal? "-He asked and you nodded-"thicker?"-you nodded again-"It's something normal, when the baby settles down to start growing, he lets out what no longer serves him and that's what you're letting out now and seeing on your pads, it doesn't always happen but it's normal. That's another sign that the baby has already gotten comfortable to continue growing"- the doctor spoke and you looked at Mel excitedly, the redhead was smiling from ear to ear and crying

-"We're going to be moms" - you whispered in disbelief

-"We are!" - She said excitedly and hugged you tightly.

The next few months were both exciting and tedious, but it was all worth it. Vomiting, nausea, pain in your back and feet. But you started eating more things you liked, sex was much more pleasurable, your breasts grew bigger, and your abdomen started to grow. Mel couldn't keep her hands away from you, let alone when the baby started to move. Even though it was the sixtieth time the baby had done it, she was as excited as the first time. The two of you took advantage and bought a thousand things to pamper the baby, even the other teachers of the school when they found out, they made a babyshower party for you two.

When the baby was born, you both were happy to see a healthy baby girl, she had your eye color and her hair color, big red hair like your wife. If you thought Melissa looked lovingly at you, she looked at your daughter with love and adoration. The two decided to call her Lissa, because of the end of Melissa's name and how much she looked like her.

Despite everything you two had to go through, it's something you'd do again to see her this happy again and for your daughter to grow up with siblings.

You were certainly not wrong when you said that Mel would be a great mom, nothing made her happier than coming home to be with you and the baby, or when you surprised her and went to see her at school.

Melissa was the one who got up the most times at night to attend to her and the one who changed her diapers the most often. You loved the days when the 3 of you would take a bath together or watch Melissa make up songs to sing to your daughter

-"You know, I know you know, how much we expected you, how much I wanted you, I know you know. You know that sometimes there are disagreements, but when there is a union of two souls, it brings light, light like you. You know that when you arrived you changed the color of my mornings, and the smell too."-you laughed listening to her -"How can I explain to you the love I have for you, it cannot be compared, it is a love that has no limits. I watch you as your mother rocks you, it makes me feel strong to see you grow. The love I have for you, I let it show in this song"-Melissa sang to your daughter every time she came home from work and she could hold her in her hands, your daughter watched her intently every second, touching your wife's face with her little clumsy hands. That was one of your favorite songs. Seeing Mel happy with your daughter, it was your favorite thing.

~Years Later~

-"Here comes mommy! Go say hello to her"-you said to your little three-year-old daughter as she watched your wife leave school. Her little red ponytail moved back and forth as she ran to her mother. Your wife opened her arms and lifted her up, hugging her tightly against her body. Barbara smiled at her friend and showered your daughter with kisses making her laugh

-"Mommy I missed you so much! Auntie Baba! You all(are) making me ticklee!" - she laughed between the two women. Carefully you approached your wife laughing

-"Leave my princess alone, she's already drunk two boxes of apple juice and she's going to pee" - Your daughter nodded and made little hands to Barbara who picked her up with pleasure. Your wife kissed you smiling and put her hand on your big belly, giving him a kiss as well.

-"I missed you all... How are you feeling?" - she whispered over your lips before kissing you again

-"The little guy is kicking like crazy but I feel good, I think this one will look more like me but he will have the Schemmenti character without a doubt, he is not born yet and he is already hitting everything he can"-you laughed seeing her surprised face

-"Our daughter looks like me and has your humor, but when she gets angry, she also has your character"—she laughed as you gently punched her arm-"and that's why I love her so much" - She kissed you again and you laughed-"Let's go home? I'm planning to make those gnocchi that you and the baby like so much, what do you say?"

-"Mommy! Can we invite auntie Baba fol dinel? She told me that next yeal I'll be with hel in school! And she can teach me now all the cool games! Pweeeease?" - she begged you two with big puppy eyes

-"Of course, my love, Aunt Barbara can go home with us to eat and while she teaches you all the games, Mommy and I will do some things together... We have to take advantage of having a free nanny to have some alone time before this one arrives"-Melissa whispered touching your belly and Barbara gave her a bad look, making you laugh.

[ddejavvu]

hi lovely!! 💓 could you write about aaron hotchner x reader and he’s just admiring her with jack and proposes the idea of another baby hotchner or something along those lines??

have a good day xx 💓💓

hi sweet baby! i hope you enjoy :D

--

"Mama," Jack's sweet voice rings through your kitchen and without skipping a beat you pipe up.

"Yeah?"

"Can I have green eggs today?"

"Have you been reading Dr. Seuss in class, by any chance?" You peer suspiciously at him with an amused smile on your face.

"Yes! We read about green eggs and ham, and-" Thus begins Aaron's son's chattering about breakfast. He goes on to tell you, in vivid detail, that Alex from his class said his mom gave him green ham once, but that it made him throw up because it wasn't green-colored ham, it was ham that had grown some sort of fungus. You try stifling your laugh behind your hand, courteous to Alex.

Aaron watches as you drop green food coloring into Jack's eggs for the morning, and while you're not preparing ham as well, he knows his son will brag about the meal to his entire class. You serve up the steaming plate to the boy and remind him sternly to cool it down first. He hasn't quite mastered the art of blowing on his food quite yet, most of the air funneled towards his lap instead of at the eggs on his fork.

"Not yet," You chide gently, watching Jack lift the unchanged eggs to his mouth with the plastic fork, "They're still steamy, Jack."

"Oh." He frowns down at them indignantly, "I blew on them, though!"

"Green eggs are tricky." You fib, and it brightens him again. Aaron marvels at your quick thinking, because he was just going to explain thermodynamics to the boy.

You blow quickly on the forkful of eggs, and Jack watches the steam billow away from your breath. Once you deem it safe for him to eat you guide it to his mouth, patting him on the head as you duck back behind the counter.

Aaron's sure his eyes are in the shape of hearts. You have a more-than-natural way with children, and dote on his son like he's your own. And, he supposes, Jack is your own child. You're not his birthmother, and you never will be, but you're his mom, and Jack loves you for it.

He admires you every day for the way you manage his hyperactive toddler. Jack had dragged you outside the other day for six hours of soccer practice, and you'd made popsicles for the family afterwards. You're a wonder to him, because he feels like passing out after Jack asks why one too many times. He loves his son, with every fiber of his being, but he's not always the most equipped to entertain him.

"Oreos in your lunch today," You pat the transformer on the front of Jack's lunchbox, tucking it into his backpack of the same brand, "Don't let Ashley steal them again!"

"I won't," Jack speaks through a mouthful of green eggs, tongue already turning colors, "She said her mom's bringing her some too."

"Good." You huff, and Aaron has the sudden mental image of you giving the evil-eye to a five year old girl. He doesn't like that she's been stealing his son's lunch either, but he'll refrain from intimidating her, and you will not.

He vows to pick up Jack this week, for Ashley's sake.

The doorbell rings and you're abandoning your own breakfast, rushing to greet Amy's mother. She takes Jack to school on Wednesdays, giving the two of you a break.

"Sasha!" You grin at the woman on the other side of the door, "We'll be right out! He's just finishing up his breakfast."

Aaron vaguely hears her say 'Awesome!' but he's too busy monitoring your breakfast to care. He gives Jack the pointed, 'time to go' look, and his son shovels more green eggs into his mouth.

"I'm ready," He shouts triumphantly, egg flying out of his mouth and onto the tabletop. Aaron lets out something between a good-natured scoff and a chuckle, leaning forwards to pluck the food off of the table and set it on the edge of his own plate. Jack grins sheepishly at him, and he remembers how intensely he loves his son.

"Bye buddy," He offers the boy, squeezing him in a tight hug, "No red cards today, right?"

"No! I won't get any." Jack swears, intent on staying on top of the disciplinary system for the day. He never causes trouble, it just seems to find him.

"You can do it," You've made your way back over to them, ruffling his hair and apologetically setting it back in place afterwards, "Remember, no red cards for a week and you get ice cream!"

"I know!" Jack's excited at the prospect, as if he isn't given a heaping bowlful of the treat every night after dinner while you snuggle up on the couch to watch a movie. The boy's racing out the door to join his friend as soon as you let him go, and you both watch him with a fond smile.

"He remembered to close the door this time," You congratulate your son on repairing his rather lax habits, though you wish he wouldn't slam it, "What do you want for breakfast, Aaron?"

"Green eggs." He jests, a soft smile on his face.

"I just gave the last of 'em to a little boy that came in a few minutes ago," You scoff dramatically, "Get up earlier next time, maybe you'll get first pick."

"Coffee's good." He decides, though he knows it's not for you. Sure enough, when you sit down at the table with your own breakfast, you slide potatoes onto his plate.

"Eat." You command, and Aaron thinks love has never sounded so scary before. He complies so that he doesn't face your wrath, chewing on a potato wedge while he mulls his thoughts over.

"You look like Bert," You giggle, smoothing a thumb over the crease in his brows, "Any reason you're mad at Ernie today?"

Aaron rolls his eyes, but any insult he'd taken to the comment is washed away by your sweet laugh. Instead he's almost happy you're comparing him to a puppet, because he gets to hear your giggie.

"Not mad," He promises you, "Just.. thinking."

"About?"

"Having children. Or- I mean, a child. Maybe just one. I dunno."

His admission shocks you, but it doesn't drive you away. Instead a blinding grin spreads over your face after you're over your surprise, and you nearly launch yourself into his lap.

"I thought you'd never ask!" You squeal, mouth too close to his ear to be comfortable. Though, he supposes, if he's going to lose his hearing, the last sound he wants to hear is your voice.

"I'll take that as a yes, then." He chuckles, clutching you tight so that you don't fall to the floor. You readjust yourself in his lap so that you're not teetering on the edge of the chair, staring at him with wide, shiny eyes.

"Yes!" Your hands grip the collar of his polo tightly, "Oh my god, Aaron, we can have so many little ones!"

"How many?" He glances at the staircase, "We've only got three rooms."

"Bunk beds." You propose with a sly grin, "Kids love those."

"Bunk beds," He agrees, a giddy smile on his face as he realizes how committed you are.

"Wait.." Your eyes shift and he's worried he's lost you on the idea, "You have the day off today?"

"Yes," He chuckles, staring down at his casual dress.

"Let's get started!" You cheer, springing off of his lap and racing up the stairs. He hasn't even processed your absence yet, but sees your blue bra fly down the stairs behind you, and suddenly his legs are moving on their own. They lead him up the stairs and he finds your panties just outside the door, lacy and perfect.

"Don't come in yet!" You shout, voice muffled from the closet. Aaron bends at the knee to pick up your panties, finding a barely-there wet spot from when you'd straddled him in a hurry.

It makes his stomach knot tight, and he leans against the bedroom door, "You have twenty seconds. After that, I don't care what you're wearing, you won't be wearing it for much longer."

[acaaai-t]

resurface, my love

00. eyes on you

[fem! reader x villain! scaramouche]

cw: mentions of bombs, terrorists attacks, dead bodies, a tiny sprinkle of both fluff and angst, kissing scene, mild cursing

Where did it all start?

When did all this happen?

Why you?

…

Scaramouche is pretty.

Yet his prettiness doesn’t match up with his aggravating personality. It was no wonder why he was always seen alone by himself.

In a way, you pitied him. Maybe that’s what drove your 8 year old self to approach the lone boy.

Grasping your boxed lunch in your tiny hands, you hopped onto the available seat next to the purple hair boy and set your bento down. He gave you a weird look, but said nothing.

You clasped your hands together and muttered a quick thank you before opening your lunch, revealing a row of egg and ham sandwiches neatly tucked against each other.

You picked up a sandwich and offered it to him. “Want one?”

He wrinkled his nose and shook his head. “I don’t like ham,” he said.

“Where’s your lunch? Won’t you be hungry?”

“I don’t bring lunch, and no, I won’t get hungry,” he grumbled, annoyed by your questions.

You rolled your eyes and stuffed a bite of the sandwich into your mouth. “Whatever,” you muttered.

The next day, you brought in two separate lunches, each wrapped up in a different color cloth— one in royal purple, one in a sage green. When lunchtime finally came around, you immediately set out to find Scaramouche.

It took a bit of searching, but eventually you found the grumpy little boy hiding up on a tree secluded from others.

“Hey!” you shouted, waving to the small figure sitting on the tree.

No reply.

“Hey I brought you lunch!” you tried again, yet it was as if he was purposefully ignoring your presence.

“Oh whatever, I’ll just leave it here,” you said, setting down the purple bento by the base of the tree. “Just make sure to return the lunchbox to me by the end of the day.”

And with that, you ran off, nearly tripping over the sticks that litter the grass.

Scaramouche kept his eyes trained on your figure as you run off, all until you disappear under the blinding sunlight. It was only then did he slowly climbed down from the tree to retrieve the lunch you left him.

He hesitated. Nobody had ever treated him this nicely before, there must be a catch to this. There’s always a catch. His grip on the lunchbox tightened.

It would be a pity to let the food go to waste, but what if it’s all a trap? he stood there, his thoughts running wild. His self-consciousness— and his stomach, called for him to accept the food, yet another part of him screamed for him to throw it away.

In the end he gave in and took a seat under the shade of the tree, the cloth already unwrapped and folded neatly to the side. A slip of paper sat upon the bento— a note from you.

“HI. I wasn’t sure what you liked, but I did put some of my favorites in there. Enjoy your lunch :D”

He set the note aside and opened his lunch. His heart skipped a beat and his face flushed a light shade of pink.

You had made him a bento lunch art. Never in his life did he ever received something like this. It was so childish and so embarrassing.

It was a bunch of miniature rice pandas scattered about with egg rolls acting as flowers. Diced strawberries drizzled with dark chocolate sit in a small plastic container in the corner. There were tiny sausages sculpted in the shape of a octopus right next to the pandas. Sliced cucumbers laid aptly to the side, paired with two cherry tomatoes cut in half.

He nearly teared up. Despite how the art looked like it was made not by your parents but by yourself, he realized that nobody had ever put so much effort into him before.

He almost didn’t want to ruin it.

When classes had finally end, you skipped back to your seat with your friends still chattering as they followed. There sitting on your desk was your other bento box, neatly wrapped in the royal purple cloth. Laying on top of the bento was a folded piece of paper. You picked up the note.

A small thanks was hastily scribbled on with terrible handwriting. You smiled.

From then on it became a routine.

Everyday you would come in to school with an extra lunchbox to give to him, and everyday after school he would return the empty lunchbox back to you. Sometimes you’ll find a snack with a note, sometimes it’ll be a keychain.

Scaramouche never approached you directly to give his thanks, but you felt that an empty lunchbox and his small gifts was already more than enough.

This habit continued all the way through elementary and into your last year of high school. By then your collection of keychains had significantly grew. From a cat keychain to a air conditioner keychain— whatever it may be, there’s a chance that Scaramouche had gifted it to you already.

“Yoi look at what he gave me this time,” you giggled, dangling a badly drawn George Washington keychain in your hands.

Yoimiya stared at the keyring, dumbfounded. “That… how did he even find that? No, where did he even find that?”

You laughed. “He has his ways.”

Fire. Screams.

The sound of the late bell echoed through halls. You found yourself running around different classrooms, searching for Scaramouche.

“Where did Scara go?” you muttered angrily.

“Oh Scaramouche? He left early today,” your seatmate, Lumine, said.

“Already? He hasn’t given me my lunchbox yet…”

…

Where did your title as a hero come from?

“Hurry this way!” your voice hushed, urgency laced within.

Another explosion rocked the entire building, and you stumbled, just barely catching yourself. Your felt the grip on your hand slackened. Fear took a hold of your heart when your hand closed around nothing but the ashy air.

Immediately you turned back, adrenaline coursing through you as you search amongst the rubble and corpses. A faint glint of a jewelry caught your eyes. Nearly tripping over yourself, you scrambled over, taking a hold of the little girls hand once again before running for the exit. You didn’t dare look back, for you knew what awaits you. The walls collapsing one after another as the roaring flames blazes through.

A fiery death.

Shredded newspaper littered your room. Remnants of articles lay in the corner of your room in a pile of ash. Angry slashes marked the walls. Clothes a-strewn, curtain torn apart— the window shattered and boarded up. Noises of a news report filled the silence of your room, its voices blurring into static.

It mimicked your feelings.

A torrent of unquelled fury, one that screamed, raged.

A terrorist attack.

That was what the media called it. It was still unsure who was behind this attack despite the many claims as to who had done it. Proofs in form of photographs or surveillance videos of said suspect were all either too blurry to fully depict or it was just really badly edited.

During the attack, you had stayed behind while the bombs shook the building and the fire raged. And you ran, covered in ash and debris, carrying a unconscious girl in all the while leading a group of survivors— all the way until the promise of a safe haven was in sight.

Perhaps that rescue was what gave you the title as a hero, although for you— you didn’t deserve all that fame and glory.

In fact you hated it.

It was the media’s fault.

They had painted you as a hero, yet they had washed Scaramouche as the one that was behind the attacks. It was because of them that the public now flamed him as a villain.

They had painted an innocent bystander in red all because they needed a scapegoat, someone to shift the blame to because the police couldn’t do their damn job properly.

Had you known this would’ve been the outcome, you would’ve never cared for the lives still ghosting the halls.

Had you known, you would’ve just let them burn.

“Eye witnesses claimed that it was this… boy, who had done such atrocious acts. Any word on it, Ma—”

Click.

“It was terrifying… the look in his eyes. It.. was murderous, like he wanted everyone to burn. If it wasn’t for her, I would’ve have been able to escape…” her voice broke off into a sob. You switched the channel again.

“WANTED ALIVE—”

You threw the remote control at the television in a fit of rage, the screen immediately going blank. You didn’t care. It only adds on to your canvas of unfolding bitterness.

Your phone rang again. A string of calls and messages you chose to ignore. It’d been days since you’ve stepped out from your house, let alone answer any of the calls and messages.

A loud abrupt knock to your door jolt you out from your trance. You draped a light blanket over yourself and went to answer the door.

There standing in all his former and glory, was none other than Scaramouche himself.

Your breath hitched and the blanket slipped.

“Hey idiot,” he smiled, something he claimed to reserve only for you. “Mind letting me in?”

…

You pushed the piles of dirty dishes from the counter into the sink, not caring whether it breaks or not. The once quiet house was filled with the noises of dishes clanking against each other and Scaramouche— who was rummaging through the pile of buildup items.

“Quite the mess you’ve got,” he muses, holding up a piece of a broken mug.

“Where the hell have you been? I was worried sick,” you said, filling up a tea kettle with water.

“Hiding,” he simply replied.

“You didn’t attack the school, so why would you take the blame for it?” you slammed the kettle down onto the stovetop.

Scaramouche shrugged and plopped down on your couch.

“Now everyone is after you,” you continued, turning to face him. “And they even expect me to find you and bring you to the police.”

“They can’t find me, they won’t be able to,” Scaramouche said. “I’d say I’ve been hiding pretty well for these past few days.”

“And you didn’t even tell me? I was worried sick—” your voice broke off, hot tears welling up in the corner of your eyes.

Scaramouche could only sigh as he got off the couch. He came up to you and wrapped his arms around your waist, his body leaning against yours. “I’m sorry,” he said, resting his chin on your head.

A tear slipped.

“Don’t cry,” he mumbled.

You broke, pushing your full weight against Scaramouche as sobs racked through your body. He brought a hand up to your head, gently tussling through your hair— the only source of comfort he could bring for now.

Why me?

Why him?

“I hate you,” you said, your fists weakly hitting his chest. “I hate you so much…”

He swiped a tear away. It was futile. The storm had already begun. “Hey…”

You sniffed, wiping the tears off your face.

“Look at me,” he whispered.

You looked up, his purple eyes meeting yours. His thumb brushed against your lips, his face impossibly close to you. You could see every angle of his face, all the flawless imperfections he tries to hide. A light shade of pink dusted his cheeks.

“May I?”

All it took was a small nod from you for him to capture your lips in a kiss. A slow passionate kiss. Time slowed down. You felt the blood rush up to your head, your heart pounding against your chest.

His lips was soft, you noted, and slightly tasted like chocolate— could it be from the chapstick you gifted him before? It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. It was only you and him and that was enough. You closed your eyes and deepened the kiss, lacing your arms around his neck.

It was electrifying— your back arching against the counter and him pressed on top of you.

It felt so wrong yet so right at the same time.

He was the first to break the kiss. You already missed the taste of his lips against yours.

“It’ll be okay, I’ll be back. I promise,” he murmured.

In the kitchen, just two to-be graduates, confessing their unspoken feelings not through words, but with their action. Feelings that amassed over the years, finally spilled.

“You promise?”

It was on that faithful night that your relationship with him blossomed into something more intimate.

“I promise.”

It was also on that faithful night that he left.

He’d disappeared, no words— he left nothing.

Not a single trace.

You had foreseen this coming, yet you didn’t realize how much it hurts to have him gone. More often than not, you found yourself unconsciously making an extra bento box for him. More often than not, will you take out everything he had ever given you and stare at it for the hours to come.

The painful pang in your heart was a constant reminder that he’s gone.

He’s gone.

Perhaps his disappearance was what encouraged you to major in criminology and criminal justice after you graduated. It was your fuel of both determination and delusions.

Years passed by in a flash, and before you could even process everything that had happened, you found yourself with a position as a detective in Tenryo Detective Firm.

Yet even after all those years, you haven’t seen or heard from Scaramouche. The last time the two of you had ever interacted was when nearly four years ago, when he had promised you that he’ll be back. And even despite the fact that you’ve been waiting for his presence for year on end, your feelings for him never wavered. You still firmly held onto the promise he had made you, after all Scaramouche is a man that never goes back on his words.

Even if you had to keep waiting. But that’s okay— you’re patient.

“Hey hero, got anything?” Heizou asked, poking his head into your office.

You groaned— both at the stupid nickname and the frustration building up. “Heizou stop with that ugly name, and no, haven’t gotten anything yet. I swear, I’m going to bash my head into the wall.”

“Ahah, I don’t think Sara would like that our hero tries to kill herself. Besides, I’ve got good news. You just got a small tip about the case you’re working on.”

You immediately sat upright in your chair. “What?! When? How come I was just informed of this?”

“The tip just came in, come on, Sara’s telling you to check it out it,” Heizou said, disappearing as he turned away.

You got up from your chair and flung your jacket over your shoulder. “Hold on wait for me! Heizou!”

Hero.

That nickname always brought up unpleasant memories.

Hero.

Solving cases, catching criminals, helping people. It’s what you’ve been doing ever since you graduated, long before the Tenryo Detective Firm took you in.

Could you even be considered a hero?

Gaining a position in this type of job was what allowed you to figure who the real arsonist was behind that attack. But even after the truth had come to light, it was by far, still too late. The damage had already been done, the paint cannot be washed away.

A light breeze from your office window blew at your orderly pile of documents, a couple pages fluttering to the side just as the door closed behind you with a loud slam, your voice screaming for Heizou quickly fading away.

It was silent in your office.

Two sparrows flew to perch on your windowsill, their loud chirps indefinitely breaking the silence. They weren’t staying for long before they flew off— perhaps something had spooked them.

A figure emerged out from the shadows. They scanned their surroundings around for any onlookers, and when they’d made sure that was nobody, they slowly approached your window. With quick and precise movements, they unlatched the window screen lock and slipped in unnoticed.

“I’m in, what now?”

“Get all the documents regarding him.”

“On it.”

They moved with ease, gliding around as they searched through shelves, drawers, anywhere for the required documents. A locked drawer in the corner of your office caught their eyes, and it wasn’t long before the lock was popped off— revealing the stack of documents you’d classified as “IMPORTANT.”

A quick sift through the papers confirmed his needs. “Think I may have found it.”

“Good, did you gather information regarding her too?”

“Hold on, let me check… yeah I think I’ve got that too.”

“Okay, now get out of there. She’s coming back.”

“One moment…”

They carefully stored the documents into their bag and began fiddling with the lock before latching it back onto the drawer. To avoid arousing any suspicion, they had also arranged the room to the way it was exactly how it was before. Books were pushed back into the shelves, the documents on your desk were neatly stacked, thick folders filled with random case documents were inserted back into their original drawers.

Your voice traveling down alerted them. Giving the office one last look, they opened the window and hastily jumped out.

A tiny pin with their insignia fell onto the floor with a quiet clink.

The window dropped shut just as you pushed open the door with Heizou trailing right behind you.

“What kind of tip was that?” you exclaimed. “That was a utter waste of time.”

Heizou shook his head and sighed. “Twisted sense of humor, hate them.”

You plopped down on your chair and spun around. “Riddle this, riddle that. Now I have to stay up to decipher that stupid code. If it’s some dumb message like, ‘I like ice-cream,’ I’m gonna strangle someone.”

“I’ll just leave it on your desk,” Heizou hummed. “I have another case I need to catch. Heard they’ve got a new lead.”

“Finally a new lead for you,” you rolled your eyes. “It’s been weeks.”

“I better come back with a closed case.”

“Come back?” you echoed. “Are you going somewhere?”

“Yeah, they found the new lead in the city of Watasumi, so they’re asking me to travel there to further investigate it,” he replied. “I’m going to pack my bags, see you next week!”

“Have fun! Don’t die.”

“I’ll try not to,” Heizou grinned. “Bye.”

“Bye.”

You reached for the small slip of paper Heizou had left on the corner of your desk. Scribbled on it was a string of random code. By no means was this discovery unfamiliar to you. Throughout your career, you’ve dealt with far too many undeciphered codes. And you’ve managed to break through it each time.

This looks easy.

You turned on your monitor and set to work immediately.

When the sun had dipped far below the horizon, when the glow of the moonlight shone into your office— you were still clacking away on your computer, muttering nonsense to yourself as you racked your brain trying to break the code.

The clocked ticked on.

“If delta means this… then hexa should be this… oh shit that’s what it means? Wouldn’t that also change the way hexa is translated? Oh my god… do I really need that again?… fuck I do.”

Groaning loudly, you pushed your chair over to where your locked cabinet is. Your keys clinked against each other as you pushed a small silver key into the lock hole— where all your important files were supposed to be stored.

All the files regarding the disappearance of Scaramouche— and all the documents you’ve written about the various code you’ve solved.

Gone.

Where the fuck did it go?

You stood up, panic prickling at you.

“I didn’t misplaced it right?” you muttered to yourself.

So you searched. Every shelf, every corner, every nook and cranny. You took out folders packed full of other documents and sorted through each one individually, yet even after all the endeavor put into it, you just couldn’t find it.

Dawn was quickly approaching.

You sat back down on your chair— sinking into the plush and took in slow deep breaths in an effort to calm your erratic heartbeat.

Maybe a co-worker took it. But they couldn’t had the keys to it…

You blanked out, lost in your thoughts. A sudden minor detail caught your eyes. You frowned.

When did I close the window?

You got up from your chair, only then a sudden flash of red on your monitor screen recaptured your attention. You sat back down and turned to face the screen, but it seemingly returned back to normal… no, something was wrong.

Your contents had changed, for a canvas of white had replaced the endless amount of tabs you’d opened beforehand. Slowly, words began to format, each letter slowly appearing.

The first rays of the morning sun peeked through your window, consuming the shadows of your office. It was quiet, the only source of sound being your quickened breathing.

Your stomach dropped. You stared at the screen, the cold grasp of fear slowly worming its way into your heart.

It’s over, the eyes watches— it knows.

The clock stopped ticking. The slip of paper on your desk, long forgotten.

series m.list || next

synopsis— [✩]

— you, the hero, disappears overnight, and the only person who looks is the villain. Not your friends, not your family, not the news reporter or any of the people who claimed to love you. Just him, Scaramouche, the very same person who claimed to hate you.

notes— [✩]

— this chapter was meant to be a quick run through from the beginning of you and Scara’s relationship to the “end.” hopefully this hero x villain dynamic makes sense lol 🙏 (the ending kinda sucked ngl)

taglist— [✩`·CLOSED]

@akairaindrops @the-ghost-0f-t0m0 @elernity @shayewrites @angel-suicides @magica-ren @kyouzki @nana-bri @avxntxrine @bleedingwhiteroses222 @rainingduringsummer @darthvada @dan9a-00 @omgblade-starrail @kichiyoshi @inufinuf @vvyeislazzy

[mamaestapa]

The Argument, The Date, & The Disappointment

•pairing: Joe Burrow x reader

•series summary: Y/N Y/L/N moved to Cincinnati, Ohio for a new start. Move in day arrives and she discovers something terrible...the apartment complex gave her the wrong lease. Instead of living with who she originally was supposed to, she's now living with the hottest quarterback in the NFL, Joe Burrow. Y/N is stuck living in the same apartment with him for a year...which the two are not thrilled about. However, as time goes on, they realize that maybe this wasn't the worst thing that could happen to them. Will Y/N and Joe stay enemies, or will they find themselves falling in love?

•chapter summary: You and Joe enjoy a morning together that gets ruined by an argument. Joe tries to make it up to you, but you have other plans

•word count: 4k

•warnings: fluff, arguing, language, mentions of sex, jealous and sad joe, ANGST 

series masterlist

———————————————————

November 4, 2022

You put on your red oversized University of Arizona sweatshirt and went out to the kitchen to make your morning cup of coffee.

You have the day off of work today, so you figured you would stay home and do some cleaning. Joe had some of his teammates over after practice a couple days ago and the apartment was still a mess.

You cant even remember the last time this place was properly cleaned. Gross.

You pulled a coffee cup from off the rack next to the coffee maker. You put the cup underneath it and prepared the coffee grounds. As the coffee started to drip into the cup, the bathroom door swung open and Joe walked out, clad in his black gym shorts with a tucked in black long sleeve that had the bengals logo just above his left pec. Towel in hand, he walked down the hall towards your bedroom. Well he wasn't going into your room, right across from your bedroom was the laundry room. He threw the towel into the laundry basket designated for towels and walked back into the kitchen.

Joe smiled at you as he walked into the kitchen, "Morning Y/n."

You smiled up at him as you grabbed the coffee creamer, "Good morning Joe."

He opened the fridge and pulled out the egg carton, a diced green bell pepper, chunks of ham, and shredded cheddar cheese. As he put the ingredients on the counter he spoke, "How'd you sleep?"

"Pretty good," you said with a nod, "you?"

"Good until my alarm went off," he replied, chuckling lightly.

"You didn't want to work out at five A-M with Ja'Marr this morning?" you asked with raised eyebrows and a smirk.

"It was actually seven this morning."

"Oh, wow seven?"

Joe nodded as he walked over to the stove and got a skillet out.

"Can't believe he let you sleep in?" you said, shaking your head, "Usually he's pounding on the door if you're not out by five."

Joe and Ja'Marr have a very weird work out schedule. Some days they're up before the sunrise, working out for almost two hours before their all day practice. Other days they're up at a more reasonable time, working out for longer.

Joe chuckled, "He was feeling extra nice this morning I guess."

You smiled and let out a laugh, "Yeah, I guess so."

You went back to preparing your coffee as Joe started making his breakfast. As he was whisking the eggs together, he turned to you as you put the coffee creamer away.

"You want any eggs?"

You shook your head. "I'll stick to my coffee for now. But thanks."

He nodded and turned his attention back to making his breakfast. You stood in the kitchen, sipping your coffee and watching Joe make his eggs. He grabbed a plate from the cabinet above him and set it down on the counter, sprinkling cheese over the eggs and letting it melt before he put a large portion on the plate. He turned the stove off and grabbed a fork, setting it on his plate. He walked into the small dining room that was just off to the side of the living room. You followed him, deciding to keep him company as he ate his breakfast.

You and Joe have actually started to get along. You think it's safe to say you’re actually becoming quite good friends. You have learned a lot about Joe and you’ve realized he isn't as bad as you thought he was when you first moved in with him. It's easy to see why every girl loves him.

He's a really nice guy, he's extremely humble, and he has a great sense of humor. And you have to admit, he's not bad looking, at all. He's actually very attractive...

But, you don't have a crush on him, you swear. You’re really happy with how things are going with Evan. The two of you have agreed to take things slow and not rush into anything. Both of you have talked about a possible relationship, but for now you’re just happy with each others company.

You sat down on the chair across from Joe, setting your coffee cup down in front of you. The two of you sat in silence as Joe ate his breakfast. You grabbed your cup and took a sip of your coffee. As you sat the cup down on the table, your stomach let out a loud growl. You clutched your stomach, making Joe chuckle. He stood from his chair and walked into the kitchen, grabbing a plate and filling it with eggs. He grabbed a fork from the silverware drawer and walked back out to the dining room. He set the plate down in front of you.

"Here. Can't go to work on an empty stomach."

You looked up at him, feeling just the slightest hint of butterflies from his kind action. He smiled down at you before walking back over to his side of the table and sitting back down.

You smiled, "Thank you, Joe. I don't have work today though."

He shrugged, "Doesn't mean you can't eat breakfast."

You and Joe made small talk as you ate your breakfast. You have to admit, Joe is a great cook. You don't know what he did to those eggs, but they were delicious.

You and Joe got up from the table and went in to the kitchen to clean your plates off. As you set your plate in the dishwasher, your phone went off. You pulled it out of your leggings and smiled when you saw it was a text from Evan. Your eyes scanned the chat he sent you, your face instantly turning red as you read the words. Joe closed the dishwasher and looked at you as you smiled down at your phone, thumbs quickly typing away.

"What's got you so flustered?" Joe chuckled, running a hand through his damp blonde hair.

You shook your head, "Nothing that concerns you."

Joe clenched his jaw and nodded slowly, "Sooo, it has nothing to do with shooter?"

You furrowed your brows in confusion, "Shooter?"

"Evan."

You shrugged, picking up your coffee cup and taking a sip of the hot liquid before you replied. "Maybe."

Joe crossed his arms and just looked at you with a deadpan gaze and clenched jaw. It almost seemed like he was jealous?

"What?" you laughed, "would it be a such a big deal if it has to do with him?"

Joe scoffed and let out a laugh of disbelieve, "Yeah it would."

"Oh come on, no it wouldn't."

"Yes it would."

You rolled your eyes, "Fine. Why would it be such a big deal?"

"Because he's my teammate, Y/n! I told you early on that my teammates are off limits."

Oh.

You forgot all about that chat the two of you had after you met Logan and Ja'Marr that first week. After the guys left you mentioned something about thinking Ja'Marr was hot and Joe gave you this whole spiel about how his teammates were "off limits for you to hit on". You told him you understood because you truly did see where he was coming from. Coming home to see your roommate making out with your teammate would be extremely awkward.

But it's not going to stop you from talking to Evan. You care about what Joe thinks, but at the same time, you want to be happy here in Cincinnati. And you know Evan can make you really happy.

"I never said I was going out with him." you said, shrugging your shoulders, "we're simply just talking to each other."

Joe rolled his eyes, "Oh don't bullshit me Y/n."

"Excuse you?"

Joe scoffed, "I'm not an idiot, sweetheart."

"Don't call me that. I have a name."

"Fine. I'm not an idiot, Y/n."

You crossed your arms and kept your jaw clenched as Joe spoke.

"I think you're forgetting that Evan is my friend and my teammate. I see him basically every day of the week. I hear the things he says about you, Y/n. I see the posts on your stories, I hear about the text messages, I know about everything, You're not just talking to him! And I specifically told you not to get with any of my teammates. And what did you do? You got with one of my teammates!"

"You are unbelievable."

"Oh I am?"

You scoffed and let out a laugh of shock, "Yeah, yeah you are! It's none of your business who I date or who I talk to. You don't control me, Joe."

He ran his hands through his hair and sighed, "I never said I did!"

"It shouldn't matter to you if I date Evan or not! Don't you want him to be happy?"

Joe stayed silent, clenching his jaw as you spoke. You rolled your eyes and shook your head in annoyance. He was being so unreasonable.

You decided to hit him where it hurts.

"And," you continued, "It's not like i'm going to bring him over here all the time and have sex with him when you're here if that's what you're so worried about!? Because unlike you I have respect for my roommate."

Yep. You’re referring to that time when you walked into the apartment and saw Joe hooking up with a girl on your couch.

He rolled his eyes, "Oh my god," he mumbled under his breath, "that was one time!"

"Yeah, one time too many!"

Joe shook his head and huffed out a sigh of annoyance. He looked at me and crossed his arms, the look on his face was extremely hard to read. He seemed annoyed, but almost disappointed, too.

"You know what Y/n? Fine, you win. You wanna date Evan, go right ahead. I thought maybe you'd respect my wishes, but clearly I was wrong. Wrong about you."

You felt your heart drop to the pit of your stomach. All of your anger towards Joe turned into confusion. What does he mean wrong about you?

"Joe, I-."

He shook his head, "Save it."

"Joe, just let me explain-."

"Just get out!"

You furrowed your brows in confusion, looking up at him with concern. You gulped as you struggled to find the right words to say to him. You opened your mouth slightly, trying to think of what to say. You struggled to form a sentence as tears began to well up in your eyes. You were so confused. Where was this coming from?

"Go be with Evan or some other guy on my team. Clearly they're all pretty important to you."

You shook your head, trying to hold back tears. You grabbed your phone and stormed out of the kitchen. You quickly slid your tennis shoes on and grabbed your car keys. You needed to get away from here for a bit. You were hurt and extremely confused. Joe has never spoken to you like this before.

And here you thought the two of you were starting to actually become friends. Clearly you were wrong.

You grabbed your keys and as you opened the door to leave, you turned to face Joe who was still standing in the kitchen with crossed arms and a clenched jaw.

"Screw you." you said to him, rolling your eyes and slamming the apartment door behind you.

~time skip~

"Maybe I'm just being dramatic, but I don't get it. This came out of nowhere?!" you exclaimed, throwing your hands up in the air as you ranted to Macee, who was folding and displaying new t-shirts.

After storming out of the apartment, you decided to drive downtown to CincyStyles to talk to Macee. You knew she'd be able to give you some advice and talk you through the situation with Joe.

Macee frowned. She knew why Joe was being harsh, but she knew she couldn't say anything.

"I'm sorry hun," she said, reaching out to place a hand on your shoulder, "he shouldn't have made such a big deal over something so small. So what if you date one of his teammates? He should be happy! You're a wonderful girl, any of those guys would be lucky to have you."

You smiled, "Thank you Macee. I guess I see where he's coming from. I did promise him I wouldn't go out with any of his teammates."

"Well I mean, technically you haven't gone out with any of them, right?"

You shook my head, "No."

Macee smiled softly, "See? He's just being dramatic then. You didn't go against your word."

You grimaced slightly, thinking about how to break the news to Macee. You did go against your word to Joe...

"I'm going on a date tonight. With Evan." you said, pulling your lips into a straight line. Macee's eyes widened as her mouth fell open in shock.

"Like a date, date? Not just a get together at the gym and work out kind of thing?"

"Yeah, like a date, date."

"Y/n," she beamed, "that's awesome! Aren't you excited?"

You were very excited for your date with Evan, yes. But after the argument with Joe this morning, something just feels off. You almost feel a little guilty? You get butterflies just thinking about your date with Evan, but, you have this other feeling that you can't quite explain. You feel guilty for going out with Evan, but you don't why.

You know you shouldn't feel guilty, but you do.

You shook your thoughts away and smiled, feeling your cheeks burn at the thought of your date later, "I'm really excited. Evan is such a great guy."

"He is, isn't he?" Macee asked, a sweet smile on her face. She walked over to the rack of jeans, re-organizing the sizes as she continued speaking, "You didn't hear this from me but," she paused, looking over at you with a playful smirk on her face, "Evan's got a pretty big crush on you."

"Yeah, he does."

You turned around at the new voice that had joined in on the conversation.

"Hey Alisa!" Macee said with a smile as she hugged the brunette woman.

"Hey! Trey and I were out, so I thought I'd stop by and say hi." The woman, Alisa, said. She turned to you with a kind smile.

"You must be Y/n?"

You nodded, smiling at her. She held her right hand out and you shook it, the two of you introducing yourselves.

"I'm Alisa, Trey's wife. You're Evan's girlfriend right?”

Your eyes widened. You were not expecting that.

"Oh, uh," you let out an awkward laugh, "No, we're not dating."

She covered her mouth with her hands, pulling them away to say, "I am so sorry."

"You're okay, don't worry about it," you smiled, "you're technically not wrong. We aren't official yet, but he and I have been seeing each other, I guess?" you said with a hesitant tone.

You don't really know what you and Evan are. You guess that's why you’re going on a date tonight. To figure out what label to put on your relationship.

She smiled, "Evan is a sweet guy and I've heard he has nothing but good things to say about you, Y/n."

You blushed as Alisa said that. You have nothing but good things to say about him, too. Macee, Alisa and you continued to talk for a bit until Alisa decided to meet back up with Trey. You said goodbye and you and Alisa exchanged phone numbers. It was good to have another friend here in Cincinnati.

Once Alisa left, Macee decided to close the boutique for the night.

You furrowed your brow in confusion. We never close early, especially on a Friday.

"Why are you closing up?

Macee smirked, "Because you Miss Y/l/n, have a date to get ready for," she grabbed your hand, "so come on. I'm going to help you get ready."

meanwhile

Joe's pov:

God you're such an idiot, Joe. I thought to myself as I let out a heavy sigh.

I really didn't mean to start some stupid argument with Y/n. I just let my jealousy get the best of me.

I want her to be happy, I really do, but not with one of my teammates. Hopefully you all don't think I'm crazy and you can see where I'm coming from when I told her my teammates are off limits.

I just don't want things to be awkward. I don't want to come home one night and find my roommate on the couch with one of my best friends. Am I so crazy for NOT wanting that to happen?

I walked into the living room and plopped down on the couch. I couldn't shake the guilt that was building up inside me. My mind wandered to the moment before Y/n walked out. It broke my heart to see her upset. Especially since I was the one that caused it. I said things to her that I shouldn't have said. I wish there was something I could do to make it up to her.

I felt my phone buzz in my pocket. I pulled it out and cursed to myself as I saw it was Ja'Marr. (Ja'marr is in bold, Joe is in italics).

Hey Ja-

Burrow, where the fuck you at man?

What?

I'm at Hubbards, we're waitin' on your ass to get here

Shit, *sigh* I totally forgot that was today

Man how the hell did you forget?

I'm sorry! My mind has just been elsewhere today.  Y/n and I got into a fight and-

Oooh, trouble in paradise

Oh, shut up.

*laughter* I'm just messin' with you man. What'd you get in an argument over?

It doesn't matter

Uh huh.

Look, I need to come up with a way to make it up to Y/n

That bad huh?

Yeah.

Hold on *silence* Hey Joe!

Hey Emma

Ja'Marr said you needed my help with Y/n. 

What do girls like as an “I'm sorry gift"? I’ve never fucked up this bad before, Em.

Well, anytime Sam and I argue we usually just have make-up sex and then -

Yeah nope.

*laugh* You didn't let me finish. Sam will get my favorite takeout and we stay up late watching our favorite movies. That always gets me to forgive him, maybe you should try that with Y/n?

Yeah, I think I can do that. Thanks for the help, Em.

Anytime, Joey. Good luck!

Thanks.

*silence* Aight Joey B, you comin' with us or...?

No, I've got a movie night.

With?

Who do you think?

Lucky you. *smirk* Don't tell shooter

*Eyeroll* Whatever. Well, I gotta go. You and Sam have fun, but not too much fun.

I should be saying that to you. We don't need Joe and Y/n babies .

Good lord...see ya Ja'Marr.

Bye Burrow, be safe while you fuc-

I ended the call and put my phone down on the couch with a sigh. My mind wandered to Y/n. It's been a couple hours since she left. I knew she had to come back at some point, but I wasn't sure when. I wanted the takeout and movies to be ready when she got here, so I figured I should get everything prepared now.

I remembered Y/n telling me that her favorite takeout is bar food, so I ordered a variety of appetizers from my favorite bar in downtown Cincinnati. I'm confident that she will like it as much as I do.

As for the movie, I rented her favorite: How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days. RomComs aren't my favorite, but I'm willing to watch it with Y/n if it makes her happy.

I don't ever get nervous. I like to think I'm a very confident person. Right now though, I am very nervous just thinking about Y/n coming back. I never get this way, about anyone. It feels foreign to me.

But now, all I have to do is wait and hope Y/n will forgive me.

Wish me luck.

~time skip~

Joe's Pov:

I was sitting on the couch fiddling with my thumbs when I heard the apartment door open. I stood from from my spot, gulping when I saw Y/n.

She was wearing black leather pants with a red tank top. Her lips matched her shirt, and her curled black lashes made her Y/e/c eyes pop. Her Y/h/c hair was softly curled, framing her face perfectly.

She looked absolutely beautiful.

No, NO. You cant think like that. I scolded myself internally. I sucked in a breath and stood from the couch, giving her a soft smile as I looked at her.

"Hi."

She smiled, "Hey."

"I uh," I cleared my throat, knowing that my cheeks were now slightly flushed, “you look nice."

"Thanks Joe."

I nodded. It was somewhat tense as Y/n and I just stood looking at each other.

"I'm sor-."

"About earl-."

I chuckled as she let out a laugh.

"You go first." She said, gesturing to me.

"I'm sorry about earlier. I overreacted and was a complete dick. I'm really sorry, Y/n." I rubbed the back of my neck awkwardly as I continued, "I uh, I rented some movies. You're more than welcome to join me, if you don't have other plans."

Y/n frowned, "I have a date Joe, I'm sorry. I just stopped by so I could grab my heels."

I felt my heart drop. I tried my best to hide my faltering smile at the news.

She was going out with Evan.

“No, no that’s okay,” I shrugged, “I was going to watch movies with Ja’Marr anyway so…”

She smiled softly and nodded, “Well, have fun.” She walked past me and to her room, grabbing her shoes and then walking out of the apartment.

“Yeah, you too…” I frowned, disappointment evident in my tone.

I could tell she was still upset about earlier by the way she was quick to leave the apartment. I sat down on the couch, exiting the page that had How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days open. Y/n didn’t even notice the movie on the TV or her favorite takeout sitting on the counter with a note.

So much for my movie night and takeout apology.

hey loves!!

i apologize for how long this chapter is, i got a bit carried away lol

poor joe, right? he’s trying so hard :(

i hope you’re all continuing to enjoy this book!! i’m having a blast writing it!

also, prayers for anybody that has been affected by the severe storms that went through the midwest<3

i love you all and thank you for much for your continued support with this book! more updates coming soon:)

tags:

@jackharloww @ilovejoeburroww @dandelionwrites8 @ijustcrypretty @sinners-98-world @a-moment-captured @stainednailpolishremover @spooky-stoner

[coconutcordiale]

For your 500 followers celebration I'd love to request a ficlet with Hangman and the girl next door!! ❤❤

pairing- hangman x female!reader

warnings- none idt?? Jake baking? guys there's no smut, no allusion to smut, no angst this is literal fluff (nauseating fluff at that) i don't even know who i am anymore i'm having an identity crisis

length- 0.6k

an- @dempy & anon i hope it's okay i combined y'alls requests :) thank you both sm!!!

we have officially moved away from these fics resembling anything to do with top gun and basically just using jake seresin as a face for my own stupid rom com ish

i probably took the girl next door thing a little too literally but...whatever. also i grew up in suburban california (not lemoore) and we definitely had block parties but is that a thing anywhere else? (someone told me they'd never heard of them idk)

You’re pretty sure the boxes in Jake’s house are still packed since he’s been in Lemoore for all of three weeks, and yet the neighborhood already adores him. You want to find it in you to be irritated that they’ve taken to a single man living alone much faster than they did with you.

You bet Jake never gets any questions about why he’s bought a house before getting married.

Cue eye roll.

To further your annoyance, you’re just as taken with your next-door neighbor as everyone else. You just hope you’re better at hiding it than they are.

(You’re not. But in your defense, you're the only one that comes home to see him vying for neighbor of the year by raking the leaves in your front yard, still in his flight suit.)

As if the dads need to be any more on edge, as if the moms need to trip over their words more frequently around him, Jake brings a pie to the neighborhood block party.

An actual fucking peach pie, that he made from scratch and it’s his mother’s recipe isn’t that so darling?

You briefly wonder if there was any merit to your sixth grade teacher telling you your eyes might get stuck given the amount of time that you spend rolling them.

Jake, the ham that he is, takes it all in stride. Lets the moms, grandmas, and teenage girls fawn over him, lets them pull him all over the party. Spurs it on, really, leaning in so they can get the full effect of his charming smile.

It’d be nauseating if he wasn’t so damn charismatic.

It’s maybe a little embarrassing that you’re so observant of Jake that you can tell when he gets a little uncomfortable, when Mrs. Wilkins runs her hands a little too firmly up his arm, fingers playing with the hem of his shirt where it strains around his bicep.

You’d like to think that his grin is extra warm in your direction when you appear at his elbow, making excuses about how he’s wanted over by the grill.

You try not to laugh as you hand him a beer. “You looked like you needed a save.”

He nods, looking grateful. “Thanks, darlin’.”

“Nice of you to agree to this.” You gesture to the tables of food and endless games of cornhole set up along your street. “They were pretty excited to have a welcome to the neighborhood get-together for you.”

“Walter just wanted an excuse to use his Big Green Egg, I’m sure.”

You snort. “Yeah, probably.”

Jake looks over your shoulder, panic curling in his tone. “Quick, kiss me!”

It’s a testament to what good friends you already are that you don’t even question it, instead leaning into the hand he gently places on your cheek and allowing yourself to be pulled into his hard chest.

His lips are surprisingly soft and you bite back a moan as his hand tangles in your hair. You're a little breathless as you pull back, trying not to let your mind spiral at the gossip storm you're certain you've just started.

“Where is she?”

“Where’s who?” He asks, widening those green eyes in feigned innocence.

“Whoever was coming over here? Was it Mrs. Wilkins again? She isn’t very subtle.”

He grins, eyes sparkling with trouble. “Nowhere, darlin’, just wanted you to kiss me.”

Your lips part in surprise, slapping him on the chest to reprimand him for that sneaky little trick.

“Better stay close though. I think Mrs. Wilkins might have it out for you now,” he continues, snaking an arm around your waist and tilting his sunglasses down so you can see him wink. “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you.”

[pillow-anime-talk]

make out session with albert.

request: hello there! could i maybe request albert moriarty with a male reader getting caught in a make out session by his brothers or moran? it’s alright if it gn reader too tho- if you don’t write x male reader

# tags: scenario; secret current relationship; hot romance; fluff; a bit of comedy; wet kisses; suggestive

includes: male reader ft. albert james moriarty & sebastian moran in the background {kny}

author’s note: sorry, anonnie, that you waited so long :( and ofc, i also write for male readers!

It was a very quiet night; though the sky was dark and full of stars, it was one of the warmer nights of that terrible March. You and Albert were at your favorite cafe that day, like every Friday. Your weekly meetings have become something of a tradition since you started dating. Although at the beginning your relationship was purely friendly and without major obligations, you have been in a full-fledged partnership for three months, not only in a relationship existing out of human curiosity.

Until now, you’ve spent Fridays and Saturdays at your apartment if the opportunity arose, but tonight, due to bad weather, Albert took you to his house, which was much nearer than your small place in the middle of the city.

“Would you like something to eat or drink?” The man asked as soon as you crossed the threshold of the great house (or rather villa) of the Moriarty brothers.

“Well...” You looked at him with a slight smirk as you took off your shoes. “Since you’re asking...” You added cheerfully, hanging your brown coat on the hanger.

“Then I’ll suggest a ham and vegetable sandwich or a cheese and tomato omelette.” He also responded by taking off his outer clothes and shoes, and then together with you he went to the saloon, and next to another, slightly smaller room. “I can also make fried fish or eggs benedict.”

“Omelette sounds very delicious.” You admitted smiling slightly and your partner nodded.

“So go to my bedroom and get some clean clothes, then come back to me. We will eat supper together and drink some hot tea with honey.” He instructed you and you nodded this time. However, before you went to the dark-haired man’s bedroom, you approached him for a short while, snuggling into his rain-scented body and clothes. A few seconds later you looked into each other’s shiny eyes and connected your lips in a light but long kiss.

The tenderness you showed each other very quickly turned into a lustful act; Albert’s hands were on your hips and you wrapped your arms around his warm neck, pulling him even closer to you. You just wanted to get into his skin and feel its pleasant softness and taste. 

The kitchen got warmer, and a drop of saliva ran down your chin. For almost half a minute, you didn’t break even an inch from each other, all the time touching each other’s bodies and faces, as well as hands and hair.

Only after a while (which for you was a pleasant eternity) did you both hear a light cough combined with laughter and you immediately turned to the source of the noise. Your cheeks blushed almost immediately, and your eyes turned to the painting hanging on the wall, showing a woman in a green meadow.

“...It’s okay, I only came for water and an apple.” Sebastian laughed once again as he walked towards the small refrigerator. Albert forgot that both his younger brothers and also Sebastian with Fred were at home for the weekend. “Albert, I didn’t expect this from you, but don’t worry. I’ve had plenty of experience with men too, though not as hot as yours. Remember about the long foreplay so that it doesn’t hurt. Have a nice night, guys.”

After a short monologue of the black-haired man, you both awkwardly scratched your head or chin.

“I’ll just go to the bedroom...”

“... Maybe... Let’s skip our supper. I’ll make us breakfast tomorrow morning...” Your lover whispered and you nodded.

“Good idea.”

[fantasyqueen502]

Mrs. Miller: Chapter 5

Summary- (Before the infection/apocalypse) A look into the Mrs. Miller finale moments with the ones she loves. How does Sarah remember her mother many years later?

Relationship: Joel Miller X Female Reader

Rated: PG Mentions and depictions of terminal illness/death

Word count: 1913

Author’s note: The finale to the Mrs. Miller series. I loved writing this series and thank you all.

Jolting awake from his head falling out of his hand perched on the arm of his seat, he groans from the pops and aches from the extended time in the not most comfortable chair in the world. Fishing for his phone, he flipped it open to his ear, silencing the piercing ring that woke him.

"Yeah?" he groans, rubbing the crust from his eyes in annoyance. "Put ‘er on." he nods, waiting a few moments. "Hey, baby girl," he smiles, hearing the voice of his entire world. "Are you being good?" he asks. "What kind of pizza?" he hums. "Fish on pizza?" he gasps. "Uncle Tommy is pretty gross," he chuckles, hearing an objection from his brother in the background. "Mommy’s still pretty sick," he explains the best he can.

"She’d like that very much." he chuckles, blinking away the tears of Sarah’s plan to visit Y/N in the morning with soup she and Tommy made so she could get better.

"Night, Night, Baby."

"I won’t." He hangs up, looking up at the sound of violent vomiting coming from the joined bathroom. "Y/N!" He calls receiving a toilet flush as an answer that she was alright. The door opens to the shuffling of feet, lifting up the blanket on her side of the bed, climbing in as best he could behind her, embracing her with warmth. She was smaller now. Thinner. Haven't managed to keep any food down for almost a week. "Hopefully get some sleep," he mumbles into her temple, punctuating the sentence with a lingering kiss.

"You 'member the fraternity party. Sophomore year." she asks.

"The valedictorian said yes to the wait list."

She slapped his arm that securely held her close. "You were so soft-spoken, it was sweet." She laughs. "Your face when I said yes. That Colgate smile," she swoons.

"I unfortunately remember," he grumbles.

"You sang with the guitar." She reminisces. "Joel 'Johnny' Cash." She hums, rubbing his forearm with her thumb.

"Mmmm."

"Sing for me."

So Joel ended the night with the soft southern lyrics "I keep the ends out for the tie that binds," he trails off, resting his chin on her shoulder. She giggles. It’s soft and breathy, but it still held the joyest wind chimes he could never forget. "Because you're mine, I walk the line," he mumbles. She reaches back, patting his head.

"Love you, Y/N."

"Love you, Joel." holding his clasped arms securely wrapped around her middle.

A month later…

Talking to some doctors Joel walks into the room where Sarah is reading "Green Eggs and Ham" to Y/N. Both were comfortable as Sarah was held snugly to her mother's chest. Raspy sounds for her to continue wincing at the tube in her throat while bearing open her eyes to take in her baby girl. Her hand feeling a messy braid between her frail fingers. She looks at her mom after reading each page. She nods, signaling for her to turn the page. "Looks like Daddy's breakfast he made." She laughs. "Once you get better, we can make banana pancakes."

Tears well up in her eyes. Struggled gurgles alert the small girl, her eyes wide with worry. "Daddy!" She calls.Y/N tries reaching to take the child's arm to tell her everything would be okay.

"It's okay, baby." He coos, lifting the girl into his arms. "Take her, Tommy." He orders, placing her in his brother's arms, and the two exit the room. Sarah's screams down the hall broke his heart. Joel rushes over, holding Y/N's cheek and trying to read her eyes, which fluttered and rolled unconsciously. Pushing the red button next to her bed for a doctor.

"I'm right here, Mama." He coos, holding her hand. "I'm right here." He chokes out. She grips his hand like a lifeline, he kisses the back of it. Her grip loosens. He doesn't look up even when the swarm of doctors rushed in, hauling him away and out of the room. He couldn't breathe after spotting his daughter and brother at the end of the hall. She slipped out of her uncle's hold and ran to her dad. He collapses to his knees, taking her into his arms. Sobbing into her hair.

"I want to see Mommy." She sniffles. "Is mommy okay?"

"I'm sorry, baby girl. I'm so, so, so…" he whimpers.

A couple of years later-

Gripping her pillow that soaked up her tears. Lifting her head, eyes meeting a picture of a family portrait at some department store. Sears she thinks the name was. In ugly Christmas sweater attire. The picture was taken unexpectedly. A half smile from Joel looking at the photographer. Tommy joked that he was held at gunpoint. She was small in a surprise frilly green dress and a big red bow on her head as she was the gift. And there was her mother. Mouth open, the moment was caught mid-sentence. Glaring at Joel, a blur of her hands, preparing to take Sarah back into her arms. She took the picture frame, tears falling onto the glass, and held it close to her heart.

~.~

"Sarah breakfast!" Joel calls up the stairs.

"Tommy!" He shouts catching his brother piling bacon onto his own plate.

"What?"

"This isn't for you."

" 'cuse me, big brother. Thought this was a family meal."

"It's for Sarah; now make yourself useful and help me."

"Help you what?" He says through his mouthful.

"It's Mother's Day." He reminds, a look of sadness washing over both their faces.

"Hurry up before Uncle Tommy eats it all."

"I'm coming." A voice returns. Coming down the stairs, there was a sort of gloom about the normally bright and sunny teen.

"Made your favorite. Banana pancakes." He smiles, placing a plate of three cakes before her.

"Thanks." She mumbles. Taking a seat, she began to take small nibbles, slowly picking the syrup-soaked breakfast around her plate with her fork.

"Here's the plan for today." He claps his hands together. "We're gonna do all the things Mama loved to remember her."

"What about school?" She mumbles.

"You're on the honor roll. Take a day to play hookie with your dad and uncle."

"Plus there's something we gotta show you."

~.~

Taking the tape from Tommy, playing it on the TV. The screen comes to life.

The camera turns on, pointing to the same couch the family of three were seated at. Y/N casually sitting cross-legged mirrors Sarah's same sitting position. Like mother, like daughter.

"Is it on?" Y/N asks the person off screen.

"I think so." Joel answers.

"The red lights are blinking." She points.

"You're so--"

"Young." Joel chuckles.

"Not old." She snickers.

Rounding the camera, young Joel plops down next to Y/N. Laying an arm across her shoulder.

"Hey, baby girl, it's dad."

"Still deciding on a name, hopefully we've chosen a perfect one." Y/N hums.

"This was two days before you were born." He reminisces.

"Got a CamQuarter from the baby shower and thought it would be great to capture memorable moments."

"Can't wait to finally meet you." She stands, turning to the side to show off her impressive baby bump.

"Eleven pounds, eight ounces." He hums. "Chunky Monkey."

Sarah snorts, pinching his arm.

"Ow." He wails dramatically.

"Why have we not seen this before?" She asks, looking between the two men.

"Wasn't ready." Joel says. "Hurt too much, but then I remembered you were so young. Thought you could get reacquainted."

Now in the car. Y/N points the camera at herself.

"Won't be long now until we see you, Sarah. Finally!" She laughs, sniffling with joy. "How many false alarms? Five."

"Five." Joel nods.

"Awww, sweetie." She coos, wiping away a tear from his cheek.

In the hospital room, the camera walks over to Y/N with a bundle in her arms.

"Here is Mama and baby Sarah." He says.

"Don't," she says, dropping her head to look at their sleeping baby. "I look awful."

"You look beautiful and did amazing." Leaning in for a kiss. "I'm so proud of you."

"Welcome to the world, Sarah Miller."

Joel coos zooming in on the contented face of the sleeping infant.

The camera pointed to the ground at fuzzy pink socks. Panning up and rounding the door frame into the nursery. Where Joel is being filmed unknowingly. Baby talking Sarah as he changes her diaper. She shrieks and coos, grabbing at her feet and shrieking happily up at her father. "All clean." He babbles, blowing raspberries on her stomach. The baby laughs again and again. Lifting her into his arms and turning, he freezes at the sight of the camera.

"How long were you standing there?"

"Enough to think you got lost on the way up here. You got daddy wrapped around your finger." She baby talks taking her into her arms. "Daddy's girl." She mumbles while kissing her cheeks.

Tearing his eyes away from the screen to his heart that sat beside him. Her laugh, how she smiled with her eyes. He swallows the lump in his throat. He didn't realize how much of

Y/N, Sarah possessed.

Filming over Joel's shoulder as he places a tower of cupcakes on the table and lights one cupcake with a candle.

Sarah bounces excitedly in Y/N's lap at the head of the table.

"Happy birthday, dear Sarah!"

"Happy birthday to you!"

"Blow out the candle." Y/N kisses her child's curly brown hair. She looks at her mama, then back at the candle. Opening her mouth wide, she took a deep, dramatic breath before blowing a wet raspberry onto the flame.

"Aaaawweeeewwwww!" Sarah exclaims in a mixture of awe, surprise, and disgust. Joel and Tommy chuckled at the captured memory.

Sarah grabs a fistful of pink frosting and shoves it into her mouth, in the process smearing it all over her face. Taking another handful, she smeared pink frosting across her mama's cheek. She grins down at the child who giggles at her work.

"This is my favorite part." Tommy bounces excitedly.

"What about Pop Pop, Sarah bean?" Tommy gets the camera ready as Joel takes a seat next to his girls. Sucking on her fingers, she looked up at the call of her name. Looking at her dad, who makes faces at her. "Pop Pop wants some birthday cake." He points to his brother. She squeals, giving a two-tooth grin. She wiped her frosting- and spittle-covered hand across Joel's face.

"Yay!" Everyone cheers.

~•~

"C'mon!"

"'ey!" Joel scolds out of breath reaching the tail end of the hiking trail. "Have some respect for the elderly." He pants. Looking up to Sarah handing him a water bottle. He takes it, guzzling it without complaint.

"You can't quit when you're so close to gaining bragging rights." She grins. "We can both rub it in Uncle Tommy's face."

The thought of Tommy sitting in the comforts of an air conditioned car. "Father daughter time" his ass he sneers, wiping the sweat from his brow, falling in step with his daughter.

"C'mon, you gonna check out this view."

"Wow." Joel gasped, looking out at the edge of the horizon.

"Thanks dad." She says catching him off guard.

"For what sweet pea?"

"You know." She shrugs off. Lifting his arm, pulling it over her shoulder. "HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY, MOM!" She shouts at the top of her lungs. She cupped her hands around her mouth like a megaphone. "LOVE YOU!" She laughs, catching the wide-eyed expression on her dad's face.

"Jesus." He breathes, holding her heart.

"I feel loads better." She smiles, gesturing with her eyes for him to follow suit. He takes a huge breath.

"HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY, MAMA!" He shouts. "I LOVE YOU SO MUCH!" He chuckles sadly.

"What would mom say right now?"

"That she loves us, we are crazy, and to stop screaming, before someone calls the cops."

Sarah laughs, smiling out at the setting sun.

(Let me know if I missed anyone)

Tag list:

@impala1967666

@minaxcarter

@blairfox04

@pedr0swh0r3

@thomasshelbee

@scoliobean

@starkleila

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Series Chapter order:

Mrs. Miller

Mrs. Miller: Chapter 2

Mrs. Miller: Chapter 3

Mrs. Miller: Chapter 4

Mrs. Miller: Chapter 5

[toomanyrobins2]

The Kent Farm

Summary: An orphan all her life, Y/N is simply too old to remain at The Bowery Home any longer. That is where an anonymous patron has swooped in to send her off to college and all he requires…a monthly letter of her academic progress.

Based off the book and musical “Daddy Long Legs”

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x Reader

last part // series masterlist // next part

Notes: I'm finally getting around to updating this fic! If you would like to catch up and get more consistent updates to this story and others I would go to by AO3!

Saturday night

Dearest Man of the Bats,

I've only just come and I'm not unpacked, but I can't wait to tell you how much I like farms. This is a heavenly, heavenly, heavenly spot! The house is square and old. A hundred years or so. It has a veranda on the side and a sweet porch in front. A picture couldn’t do it justice. That is the way Kansas goes, in a series of Marcelle waves; and the Kent Farm is just on the crest of one wave. The barns used to be across the road where they obstructed the view, but a kind flash of lightning came from heaven and burnt them down. The people are Mr. and Mrs. Kent and a hired girl and two hired men. The hired people eat in the kitchen, and the Kents and I in the dining-room. I have always been a kitchen person and I am unused to being served in any way. We had ham and eggs and biscuits and honey and jelly-cake and pie and pickles and cheese and tea for supper—and a great deal of conversation. I have never been so entertaining in my life; everything I say appears to be funny. I suppose it is, because I've never been in the country before, and my questions are backed by an all-inclusive ignorance.

The room that I occupy is big and square and empty, with adorable old-fashioned furniture and windows that have to be propped up on sticks and green shades trimmed with gold that fall down if you touch them. And a big square mahogany table—I'm going to spend the summer with my elbows spread out on it, writing a novel.

Oh, I'm so excited! I can't wait till morning to explore. It's 8.30 now, and I am about to blow out my candle and try to go to sleep. We rise at five. Did you ever know such fun? I can't believe this is really mylife. You haven give me more than I deserve. I must be a very, very, very good person to receive this . I'm going to be. You'll see.

Good night,

Y/N

PS. You should hear the frogs sing and the little pigs squeal and you should see the new moon! I saw it over my right shoulder.

12th July

Dear Batman,

How did your secretary come to know about the farm? (That isn't a rhetorical question. I am awfully curious to know.) Listen to this: Mr. Bruce Wayne used to own this farm, the bank tried to take it but he bought it and returned it to the Clarks. Have you ever heard of such a funny coincidence? Mrs. Kent calls him 'Master Brucie’ and talks about what a sweet little boy he used to be. Apparently, he was school friends with their son, Clark, and he even attended  

 Since she discovered that I know him, I have risen very much in her opinion. Knowing a member of the Wayne family is the best introduction one can have at Kent Farm. And the cream of Gotham is Master Bruce—I am pleased to say that Harriet belongs to an inferior branch.

The farm gets more and more entertaining. I rode on a hay wagon yesterday. We have three big pigs and nine little piglets, and you should see them eat. They are pigs! We've oceans of little “baby chickens and ducks and turkeys and guinea fowls. You must be mad to live in a city when you might live on a farm.

It is my daily business to hunt eggs. I fell off a beam in the barn loft yesterday, while I was trying to crawl over to a nest that the black hen has stolen. And when I came in with a scratched knee, Mrs. Kent bound it up with witch-hazel, murmuring all the time, 'Dear! Dear! It seems only yesterday that Master Brucie fell off that very same beam and scratched this very same knee.'

The scenery around here is perfectly beautiful. There's a valley and a river and a lot of wooded hills, and way in the distance a tall blue mountain that simply melts in your mouth.

We churn twice a week; and we keep the cream in the spring house which is made of stone with the brook running underneath. Some of the farmers around here have a separator, but we don't care for these new-fashioned ideas. It may be a little harder to separate the cream in pans, but it's sufficiently better to pay. We have six calves; and I've chosen the names for all of them.

Sylvia, because she was born in the woods.

Lesbia, after the Lesbia in Catullus.

Barbara.

Harriet—a spotted, nondescript animal.

Y/N, after me.

Batman. You don't mind, do you? He's pure Jersey and has a sweet disposition. 

I haven't had time yet to begin my immortal novel; the farm keeps me too busy.

Yours always,

Judy

I've learned to make doughnuts.

If you are thinking of raising chickens, let me recommend Buff Orpingtons. They don't have any pin feathers.

I wish I could send you a pat of the nice, fresh butter I churned yesterday. I'm a fine dairy-maid!

Sunday

Dear Batman,

Isn't it funny? I started to write to you yesterday afternoon out on the porch, but as far as I got was the heading, 'Dear Batman', and then I remembered I'd promised to pick some blackberries for supper, so I went off and left the sheet lying on the table, and when I came back today, what do you think I found sitting in the middle of the page? A real true bat!

I picked him up very gently by one leg, and tossed him into he air and he flew off. I wouldn't hurt one of them for the world. They always remind me of you. We hitched up the spring wagon this morning and drove to the Center to church. It's a sweet little white frame church with a spire and three Doric columns in front (or maybe Ionic—I always get them mixed).”

This is Sunday afternoon.

Jackson (hired man) in a purple tie and some bright yellow buckskin gloves, has just driven off with Carrie (hired girl) in a big hat trimmed with red roses and a blue muslin dress and her hair curled as tight as it will curl. Jackson spent all the morning washing the buggy; and Carrie stayed home from church ostensibly to cook the dinner, but really to iron the muslin dress. In two minutes more when this letter is finished I am going to settle down to a book which I found in the attic. It's entitled, “On the Trail”, and sprawled across the front page in a funny hand:

     Bruce Wayne: if this book should ever roam, Box its ears and send it home.

He spent the summer here once after he had been ill, when he was about 18 years old; and he left “On the Trail” behind. It looks well read—the marks of his hands are frequent! Also in a corner of the attic there is a water wheel and a windmill and some bows and arrows. Mrs. Kent talks so constantly about him that I begin to believe he really lives—not a grown man with a silk hat and walking stick, but a nice, dirty, tousle-headed boy who clatters up the stairs with an awful racket, and leaves the screen doors open, and is always asking for cookies. (And getting them, too, if I know Mrs. Kent!) He seems to have been an adventurous little soul—and brave and truthful. I'm sorry to think he is a Kane; he was meant for something better.

We're going to begin threshing oats tomorrow; a steam engine is coming and three extra men.

It grieves me to tell you that Buttercup (the spotted cow with one horn, Mother of Lesbia) has done a disgraceful thing. She got into the orchard Friday evening and ate apples under the trees, and ate and ate until they went to her head. For two days she has been perfectly dead drunk! That is the truth I am telling. Did you ever hear anything so scandalous?

Sir, I remain, 

Your affectionate orphan,

Y/N Abbott

[ceb721]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: NWT 📚 DR. SEUSSE’S BEGINNER BOOK COLLECTION | Boxed Set of 5 Hardcover Classics.

[yandere-toons]

Requests open, my time has come. Since you watched Green eggs and ham recently, may I ask for (yandere) hcs for Sam-I-Am? 👉👈 Please?

Yandere Sam-I-Am (Platonic & Romantic Headcanons)

A.N. - Watching season 2! All the new characters are open to requests.

Platonic:

For Sam, it is less about how the relationship truly is and more about how he wants it to be. He is never without his rose-tinted glasses when he looks at his friend and talks about them to others who most likely did not ask, seeing only their ideal version and performing mental gymnastics to find the bright side of any flaws.

Sam fears the concept of having a serious argument and giving them a reason to not want him around, so he falters at the earliest signs of a disagreement and makes his preferences take a backseat to his desire for intimacy.

Faced with a life where most people have wanted nothing to do with him, Sam has doubts about his self-worth and is quick to change his opinions and repress some of his more energetic mannerisms if he believes it will earn the favour of those who he admires.

He likes to mimic his friend in social settings both because he views them as infinitely more impressive than himself and because he thinks it will reduce the chance of conflict. Sam pretends that any harsh language in the relationship is nothing but banter, and he deflects it with playful remarks that sidestep the actual issue.

Sam ties together a series of elaborate stories about how the friendship is deeper and longer-lasting than it is in reality, which he distorts and defends to avoid considering that the affection may be one-sided or at least unequal.

The basis for these tall tales is often as simple as a mildly kind gesture or any moment when he shared something with his friend, whether it was a laugh, a seat on the bus, or a plate of green eggs and ham. If Sam has to be away from them for whatever reason, he spends more time thinking about what their next meeting could involve than he does living his own life.

Romantic:

The people who find themselves in the company of Sam, be they friend, foe, or stranger, are subjected to constant speeches about the alleged greatness of his partner and just how mutual the connection is.

He gushes about the adventures that he claims to have planned with them, and his genuine enthusiasm makes the delusions seem all the more real until the moment Sam returns to his partner with a packed suitcase and is met with confusion. To avoid admitting that he misunderstood a previous conversation in his eagerness to go on a vacation with them, he acts as if the trip has merely been postponed.

Sam devotes so much of his energy to building up the idea of the relationship that he tends to mistake his fantasies for the truth. He sets no boundaries because Sam expects the mere presence of his partner to fill his lifelong craving for companionship, and he is so desperate for this dream to come true that he makes it true by interpreting even the most basic politeness as proof.

While a string of no's will begin with him searching for loopholes in anything that his partner says or does to confirm that they secretly care, frequent refusals to spend time with him leads to Sam losing much of his pep.

Sam has trouble respecting the boundaries of his partner because he sees any limitations as a sign that he has not tried hard enough to prove his trustworthiness. He bears every aspect of his life to them without shame or delay, hoping that they will find something about him to be likeable.

If they reject him, Sam continues to appear multiple times a day and attempts to erode their resolve by asking the same questions about going to lunch with him and buying random gifts from street vendors until one elicits a positive reaction.

[dumbduckfan]

🍳Dating Pam I Am headcanons🍳

A/n: Tbh I'm on my GEAH phase so if you have a request, go ahead (it doesn't have to be dating headcanons)

- Mommy 😳

- It's been a while since her previous relationship. She wasn't completely out of practice, but she had to remember what it was like.

- She is busy with her work a lot, so sometimes you may not see each other for a long time.

(Unless you were a spy too, then things would be a little different.)

- I honestly feel that there were missions on which you would slightly compete.

- Of course, she almost always wins.

- Okay, this woman wasn't always the best mother, but she eventually left Sam to protect him, which caused a slight self-resentment and the pain of thinking about the past.

- That's why she spent a whole lot of nights talking to you, sometimes even crying about things.

- When Pam is with you, there's no way anything will happen to you. NO WAY.

- I'll be completely honest. This woman can be very jealous. Of course, she won't admit it.

- Sometimes she will just watch from the side, and sometimes she will go into more... direct action.

- She is not afraid to come over and flirt with you in front of a stranger.

- To be honest, cuddling with her is complicated. She's not eager to just cuddle for no reason, or at least that's what she tells you.

- Sometimes, when you fall asleep and she makes sure you are asleep, she covers you with a blanket and embraces you lovingly for a few moments.

- When you have a worse moment, she will cuddle up to you and stroke the little circles on your back for reassurance.

- Pam will do anything to cheer you up. If nothing helps, she will let you be alone.

- Pam doesn't like to show weakness. It doesn't matter whether to the enemy or a loved one. She doesn't want anyone to think she's weak.

- But the longer you stay together, the more she starts to trust you and open up to you.

- The advantage of your relationship is that you talk a lot.

- Pam is trying not to keep any secrets from you. She's a spy, of course, so there are many things she can't tell you. Even so, she tries to be as honest as possible.

- Okay, okay, okay. You can be whoever you want to be, but you have no chance of dominating this woman.

- She's a dominant in this relationship and you can't do shit about it :)

- Sometimes Pam doesn't sleep at night worrying that you might get hurt because of her.

- You know very well that in fear for Sam she left him.

- She wouldn't forgive herself if because of her work you would get hurt.

- Sometimes on a mission something will happen to her. After such missions, you bandage her wounds telling her that she should be more careful, and she thinks how attractive you are when you get nervous.

- Physical contact wasn't her favorite thing at first, but with time she became a little convinced of it.

- She loves to kiss you. It doesn't matter how long or where.

- She's not fond of pet names, but she likes when you call her Pam Pam.

- After she reconnected with Sam, she'll be sure to introduce you to him.

- You need to be ready for breathless hugs and lots of questions.

- Maybe it was a little weird for him at first, but in the end he ships you like no one else does.

- Your own small family.

[my-sweet-intoxication]

Send in your requests!

And I’ll write them!

Also, uhh, I’ve never done this before so please go easy on me ,,

[keylimeimagines]

quick announcement!!

i've decided that i'm going to write for the new Transformers : Botbots!! and since my inbox is open now, you can send some stuff in if you want!!

also also, im writing for green eggs and ham since i love that show to death <33

[cherry3point14]

I am Sam, Sam I am

Pairing: Sam x Reader, Sam!Dean x Reader (brief) Warnings:Crack, crack, crackity crack. Also kinda sweet in the beginning. Imagine dipping your crack in sugar? Word Count:2,773. Prompt/Summary:You and Sam are secretly dating behind Dean's back. And that’s all fine until one day you see who you think is Sam, alone. (Prompted by @hoeofnjadaka on Ao3 - I mean I’m just assuming your username is the same here. If not, sorry friend!) A/N: ANOTHER BODY SWAP?!? Yeah, yeah. I know. Played out much? Get off my case guys it’s Sam x Reader this time and also kinda different. Don’t look at me like that, just appreciate this pure, uncut crack for what it is. 

Ao3 if you prefer

You’d just finished killing a pack of werewolves. It’s never an easy task and even with the three of you, it had been an evening full of close calls. You’re surprised none of you are injured beyond some minor cuts and grazes. But since no one is injured Dean goes into town to pick up some food, read: a woman, and that leaves you and Sam alone. The lights are low and the beers are cold. His arm is wrapped around your shoulders and you’re curled into his body, only a little. It’s just comfortable, that’s all. He’s so long anyway, perfect for you to hide away inside his tall frame while you watch movies. Friends definitely do that. Friends sit this close and breathe deeply enough to taste the smell of him in the back of your throat. Being attracted to him had been an accident. You’d just always been close, a leaning post for each other. When he couldn’t, or wouldn’t, talk to Dean you were there. And when you had trouble opening up, or were afraid of losing another friend, he was patient. Over weeks, months and years you’d kind of become each other’s everything. Or at least, he’d become yours. There’s nothing remarkable about tonight. There’s no big conversation or argument that sparks action. It's not a straw that breaks the camel's back. It’s the normal quiet you have during movies. Comfortable and calm. The Zodiac Killer, the film from the seventies, is playing on some late night horror channel and Dean isn’t around to tease Sam about his 'serial killer thing'. So, Sam is safe to lean in and tell you facts about the real case. Parts that the movie got wrong and parts that he’s surprised they got right. Every time he does you’re watching his lips, how carefully they sound out his words. He always speaks precisely when he cares about a topic, never wastes a syllable. “Sam?” He stops mid-sentence and turns to you more fully. Where before he’d been whispering facts while still looking at the screen now he’s looking right at you. Even in the dark, you can see the intensity of his eyes as the light from the TV continues to flicker in them. He has no idea what you’re going to say, you have no idea what you’re going to say, and yet he’s looking at you with the same concentration he does an important book. As if whatever you might say is gospel. “Yeah Y/N?” You don’t know what pushes you except you’re wondering if he’ll kiss you as carefully as he speaks. It’s not the first time you’ve thought it but it is the first time the question has consumed you so completely. It’s a risk. It could ruin your friendship. It could ruin your entire life. That’s if he rejects you and things become awkward. For some reason tonight confidence outweighs doubt. Maybe he’ll kiss you back is louder in your head than you’re just his friend. You slide an arm around his neck, pulling him into you and once you make contact with his skin everything speeds up because there’s no going back now, even if you saw disgust on his face you’d have to go through with it. How would you write this off as anything but trying to smash your face to his? Then your lips touch and that’s the call to action Sam apparently needed. In the blink of an eye, he’s kissing you back with a depth you hadn’t expected. There’s nothing slow or patient about this kiss. It’s fast and dirty. It’s bruising and when his tongue swipes over your lips you imagine it’s as much to soothe them as it is to ask for entry. He rolls you both as his tongue slides into your mouth, he has a hand on your hip and he’s leaning on his other arm, the perfect amount of Sam weight pressing you into the bed. You’re not sure if you kiss him for a second or a lifetime but eventually, he pulls back, keeping his forehead on yours, both of you panting and this smile on his face. It’s wide and happy and utterly heartstopping. You quickly accept that you’ll do anything for this smile as if you wouldn’t have done anything for Sam already. “So, um, you agree?” You ask with your own grin that you’re sure is breaking your face. He laughs down at you, “completely.” And then he’s on you again, kissing the little air you managed to capture straight back out of your lungs. There’s a scream as the zodiac killer begins to kill a woman. It’s a stark enough contrast against the muddling, quiet dialogue of the film that you break apart like it’s a case. Laughing some more when you realize it isn’t and ultimately breaking apart completely when you hear a key in the door. Dean had to have been drunk. It’s the only explanation for why he doesn’t see how red and swollen your lips are, or how tousled and messy your hair is. He confirms his state when he falls messily onto the other bed. You’re somewhat frozen in shock, luckily Sam doesn’t miss a beat. “Dude, where’s the food?” Sam’s voice is convincing enough that even you believe he’s hungry. Dean waves a hand in the air like he’s batting a fly, “her name was Gina.” “Considerate of you,” you finally catch up enough to chastise him. Not that it makes a lick of difference considering quiet snores that start coming from the Dean shaped mass on the bed.

Four Weeks Later  

There’s something nice about having the place to yourself, although you’ll never admit that to Sam and Dean. You may just break their little hearts. There’s a peace in it though. You can cook whatever you want without Dean barking at you to make sure you clean up properly this time. You can read any of the books in the library without Sam reminding you to put it back in the right place. Wait, were you a nightmare to live with? Whatever. The boys are gone and life is good. You know Dean is going to find some mess when he gets back, there was an incident with the blender that you’d rather not talk about and you know he’ll sniff out a stray drop you’ve missed like the bloodhound that he is. So, you’ve preemptively baked him an apology pie. It’s only Pillsbury pie crust, you’re not that good a baker, but you made a pretty great apple filling all by yourself, which should earn you some pretty sweet brownie points. And Sam? Well, he may or may not find some books missing from his room and you may or may not have lost his place in every single one. Although you had some very different ideas on how to make that up to him. Ideas that may require sending Dean away somewhere. Especially since he doesn’t know what you do with his brother at night. Gun to your head, you probably couldn’t coherently explain why you’re still keeping it a secret. That first night everything had happened so quickly and then Dean came back before you could really talk to each other. The day after you’d both gone on a food run first thing in the morning if only to share a lot of sheepish smiles and blushing cheeks. It was all ten tons of adorable considering all you had to do was close your eyes to be reminded of his weight on top of you. At first, you agreed to the secrecy because he’s your best friend and if whatever you were doing didn’t work out it would surely be easier to recover in private. At least that sounded reasonable. Now it’s fairly obvious that you have something. Maybe not wedding bells and Christmas cards but it’s lasting at least. It’s just, well, now the secret thing is freaking hot. We’re not just talking a quick roleplay and move on with your lives hot. It’s all you can do not to jump him at breakfast. It’s every forbidden relationship you’ve never had rolled into one. And it’s not even forbidden. You’re fairly sure Dean would be happy for you both, you hope anyway. But now the longer you keep it a secret the more wrong it feels. The time apart has only made it worse. They’ve only been gone two days. Two days! You’ve taken longer naps. And yet here you are sitting at the map table on your laptop and looking up an excuse for you to leave with Sam immediately upon their return. Turns out, you needn’t have bothered. The door to the bunker is heavy and booming so even if you hadn’t have been right there you’d have heard it pretty quickly. However, you are there with a perfect view of the entryway, just as Sam ducks down to come in. The problem occurs when he doesn’t duck his head quite enough and slams his forehead into the thick metal door frame. “Son of a bitch!” He shouts with a strange inflection at the end. It’s familiar just, not from Sam. You're distracted by his injury and you jump up from your seat to meet him at the bottom of the stairs, “show me, you big baby.” Not once does it occur to you that Sam has walked through that door a thousand times without injury. Not when he leans down to show you his slightly red forehead and you ghost your fingers over it, gently feeling for a lump and at the same time running your fingers through his hair. “You’ll live. Where’s Dean?” “Dean? He jumps back from your touch and creases his brow, apparently shocked and offended by your innocent line of questioning. “He’s, erm, at the library! Yeah, I- I just dropped him off.” You have a library. It’s quite literally right behind you and has more lore books than the local one. That’s not taking into account that Dean is the one at the library and not Sam. None of that matters because that’s not what you decide to focus on, “um, are telling me that he’s not here?” “That’s what I said.” “We have the place to ourselves?” “That’s what Dean is at the library means.” Your voice drops into something akin to the verbal equivalent of velvet and you lean into him, looking up through your lashes. “Then why am I not already naked?”

Before he can react you slide your arms around his neck and bring him crashing you meet your lips. The kiss is different, softer, for all of the second it lasts before Sam has his hands on your shoulders pushing you back. He keeps you at arm's length as he splutters, “Y/N, what the hell?” “Oh come on, you said yourself you just dropped him off which means we have some time.” You slip past his hands, fingers nimbly unbuttoning his shirt and lips pressing kisses against the taut skin of his chest as it’s revealed. “Wanna see how many times you can make me...?” “Woah, woah, woah!” He pushes you back again, shirt half unbuttoned and your ego significantly more bruised than his forehead. “Are you and Sam…?” He raises his brows questioningly and makes a hand motion involving one finger sliding into a circle made with his other hand. You don’t know what's worse, the rejection or the anxiety suddenly eating at your stomach. “Sam, what’s going on?” His face pales of color and he scratches the back of his neck while he avoids looking directly into your eyes, “see, funny thing about that. I’m kinda not Sam.” “What?” The sickly feeling is climbing from your belly to your throat but you still need to hear more words. “Well, me and Sam kind of switched bodies. Accidently and it was no ones fault so let’s not go pointing fingers at anyone, and he is really at the library, my body anyway…” “Dean!?” The guilty look on his face is all the confirmation you need. “Oh my god!” You take a step back with a scandalized look on your face as you clutch your shirt to your chest as if it’s your buttons that are half undone. “Don’t give me that! You’re the one who’s- who’s…” he wags a finger through the air between you and him, or Sam’s body anyway. “You’re the one who jumped me like a damn spider monkey. And since when are you and Sam? You know!” It’s as clear as day now that this is, very much, not your Sam. In fact, it’s so obviously Dean that you almost want to slap yourself for being so blind. You’re far more tempted to slap Sam though. Or Dean anyway. “That is frankly none of your business. Why the hell didn’t you say something sooner? You’re the one who said you dropped Dean off!” “Technically I did. He’s got my good looks and my ID anyway, that makes him Dean Winchester!” An epiphany hits you sideways and you finally ask the most obvious question, not knowing it answers everything else, “wait a second, how did you get like this? You weren’t even hunting a witch or anything.” Suddenly he’s defensive. You’ve finally asked the right question, “we may have been doing a spell to track the pair of vetala and I might have, maybe, got some of the wording wrong. And two of the ingredients. And we might not know exactly how to put ourselves back.” You rub your forehead in frustration and let out the angriest sigh you can muster. “I guess I better start doing some research.” You turn on your heel an stomp into the library. Dean calling after you with Sam’s voice, “don’t think we’re not gonna talk about the fact that I can still taste your tongue down my throat!” “It’s Sam’s throat genius!”

Sam, in Dean’s body, sits down next to you with a large book in his hands. “I heard someone isn’t talking to Dean.” “He’s an idiot.” You grumble, not taking your eyes off the page. “Yeah, but we should probably cut him some slack since we didn’t tell him about us for, like a month.” Your shoulders roll back involuntarily but still tense. It doesn’t make him any less right, “I get that. But I kissed him! And I tried to- let’s just say I was happy to see you.” He opens his book not really looking at the page and for the first time, you turn your head to look at him. It’s Sam and you know it is. Not just because he told you so but his facial expressions are still his and he shakes his head like he’s expecting to have more hair. Hell, when you saw him walk over out the corner of your eye he walked across the room like he’s four inches taller. “You technically kissed me you know.” This time he’s pretending to read and not looking at you. “It’s unbelievably weird to hear Dean say that you know?” “Yeah,” he chuckles and it’s a little too Dean, “it’s weird for me too. Did you know he’s got this backache that just doesn’t go away?” You let out a laugh at that since you know how sensitive Dean is about his age. “Ok, noted. I’m so saving that information for when you two are back in the right bodies.” “Glad I could help make you smile again,” except as he says it he reaches out for your hand. It’s not unusual since he would sometimes squeeze your hand under the table or when you’re out sight. But now it’s Dean and even though you know it’s Sam you still recoil from his touch, “no offense but that’s super weird.” He's in Dean's body and yet he retained those damn puppy dog eyes in the switch. “Dean gets to kiss my girl and she won’t even hold my hand?” You sigh. He’s right, obviously. It’s a fairly innocuous thing and it’s not like Dean is repulsive, it’s just weird. It’s weird and messy and an extra slice of more weird. “First of all, I didn't know it was Dean when I... anyway how about this? Instead of holding your hand there’s a pie in the kitchen that we can tease him with?” He allows you to distract him and his face falls with a sudden horrific realization. If you didn’t know any better you might think it was another apocalypse, “do not let him near pie while he's in my body!”

5eva tags: @divadinag @darthdeziewok @fluentinfiction @witch-of-letters  @supernatural-teamfreewillpage @magnitude101999 @alexwinchester23

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

nyangnyang | myg

pairing(s): yoongi x reader

summary: You, Min Yoongi's wife, adopt a cat without telling your husband. Nyan.

warnings: nothing really, just a casual mention of sucking dick; wholesome suga-sweet domestic fluff ew what came over me, sheesh

-

“What is that?”

You didn’t even look up from your chopping. “That is a cat, Yoongi. I’m sure you’ve seen one.”

“Nyan.”

“Yes, but why is it in our home?”

“Nyan.”

You paused, wondering if that was too many green onions. Too little, you decided, and continued cutting some more. “I brought her here.” Yes, with the eggs, and possibly some ham. Add rice and it would be excellent. Should you add some spice? You didn’t want to ruin the colors though. Colorful food was nutritional food, after all. Perhaps a spicy sauce on the side.

“Nyan.”

“Her?”

“Well, of course, I took her to the vet first before we came home.”

“Wife.”

“Nyan.”

This was new. Two voices calling for your attention instead of one. Both with relatively the same tone. Not urgent, but not pleased with your partial attention either. You cracked three eggs and set the shells aside so you could rinse them later and put them in the compost. “Hm?” Best have a fourth. Yoongi needed to eat more.

“You cannot just bring home an animal.”

You looked up, finally.

Black wavy hair framing dark brows, pointed eyes, and the ghost of a frown on the incredibly handsome face of Min Yoongi. Hands in his pockets, wearing a loose white t-shirt that hung off his tall but slender frame and flowy black pants that dragged on the clean white-tile floor, covering most of his feet. Beside him, a medium-sized, very fluffy white cat sat patiently, bushy tail thumping against the ground.

Both curiously and deceitfully youthful faces.

You looked from the cat to your husband. Picked up the chopsticks and casually began beating the eggs, responding very calmly.

“Why not? I brought you home.”

There was a moment of silence.

“Anyway,” Yoongi suddenly said after the mute appreciation for you taking the chance that he had walked right into but also simultaneously refusing to acknowledge it to give you that particular satisfaction. His calm, borderline bored tone still hadn’t changed. “I thought we were going to pick out a cat together?”

“We were,” you continued, fluffing up the eggs lightly as you turned on the gas stove. “However, I passed by the pet store and she was looking at me in the same way you look at me, so I was convinced to stop by and at least have a look.” Too easy, some might call you, and you would respond with, no, intuition. You hovered your hand above the pan and hummed. Not quite hot enough. You reached over to the sink and dipped your fingertip under the water for a millisecond, flicking the droplet onto the pan. Ah, see, no sound yet. “She’s about a year old, and the worker said no one was adopting her because everyone wanted kittens. You said you always wanted a white cat, and I always wanted a cat in general. I think she’s a perfect fit. Very lazy. Sleeps a lot.”

The water droplet popped and you added the lightest dallop of oil, spreading it out with a twist of your other wrist that was holding the pan handle.

“Nyan.”

The cat seemed to agree.

“She seems rather noisy.”

“She’s noisy because her father is supposed to name her.”

You snuck a glance and Yoongi’s eyebrows had shot up.

“F… Father?” He stared down at the cat. As if on cue, the furry feline looked up curiously, bright blue eyes to dark brown.

“She is our child now.”

“Nyan.” The cat agreed for sure this time.

You added the eggs and tilted the pan letting them spread out as the oil simmered. Waited for the eggs to cook slightly so they held their shape, and then sprinkled the diced ham and green onions in, sneaking a glance at Yoongi, who was now crouched down to view the white cat at a more reasonable level. You folded the eggs lightly and kept them from browning, earning a pale-yellow color with an airy texture. A little white pepper. No need to add salt – the ham and fresh onions would provide the additional flavor.

You saw Yoongi hold out his hand.

The cat sniffed it.

Then rubbed her face against his knuckle.

You spied Yoongi's smile as you took the eggs off the heat and herded them into the glass container for his lunch tomorrow. You set a little aside for your own. Now, rice and the sauce. Maybe a side dish? The pickled radishes and kimchi, perhaps.

“Nyangnyang.”

You nearly dropped the pan. Wasn’t he going to name the white cat Sugar? At least, he said that when you were discussing it ages ago. Although, Nyangnyang was very cute, considering how vocal the cat seemed to be around her dad. Probably because she knew he was the more lenient parent. Clever girl.

“Murr,” was the cat’s reply, rubbing away with a loud purr.

“Heh, you’re noisy, aren’t you?”

“She’s still young,” you chuckled, rinsing off the pan. “One year old is barely an adult for cats.”

“Just like us, eh?”

-

“Yoongi.”

“Yes?”

You looked up, straining your neck. “This cat tree is nearly two meters.”

“Nyangnyang loves it already. Look, she’s getting ready to nap.”

The white fluff was willingly settling on the top floor of her new princess tower.

“Where are we going to put it?”

“I thought you had been watching interior decorating on YouTube? I’m sure you can figure it out.”

“What about one for our bedroom?” you asked, reaching up so Nyangnyang could lean over the carpeted edge and pepper your fingertips with nose kisses. It was a habit of hers that you had learned these past few weeks. That and her endless obsession with fresh laundry. Especially your husband’s clean underwear. She loved to roll on them and get her white fur all over the black.

You would call her a nuisance but someone this cute couldn’t be a nuisance.

Yoongi placed his hand on your head and messed with your hair.

“Nah, she likes sleeping with you more. That’s a waste of money.”

“She takes up the whole bed.”

“Ah, that’s how kids are, I guess.”

Nyangnyang purred.

“Weird, she’s not saying much when you’re petting her.”

The cat turned her head and looked straight at Yoongi, striking blue with an indifferent expression.

“Nyan.”

“She knows she can get something good if she keeps yelling at you.”

“Nyan.”

“Hah… Come down then. I’ll get a treat.”

Instantly, Nyangnyang popped up and limbered down the humongous cat tree the second she saw Yoongi turn and head to the kitchen.

“You’re too easy.”

“She deserves a treat for letting me know my purchase was worth it.”

You would have said she needed time to adjust. You listened to Nyangnyang’s insistent meows and Yoongi opened the cabinet and selected some freeze-dried chicken. He looked annoyed as he fished out a few pieces – too many, you thought fondly – and shushed her lightly as he placed them in his palm so Nyangnyang could eat out of his hand.

The next seconds were silent except for the pleased satisfaction of chomping down some treats.

Yoongi looked up, sensing you watching him.

“What?”

“I thought you said those were too expensive?”

He frowned, looking at the package as if he had just seen them. “She likes them.”

“She likes any treat.”

“She should eat healthy ones.”

Mhm. “I guess we’re cat people now,” you commented as Yoongi frowned at the furry peanut gallery and shook out one last treat for said peanut gallery.

“We were always cat people. That’s why we got married.”

You both liked to say you got married for any other reason other than I love you, which was the actual reason. There was no reason not to have some fun before you die, after all. “I thought it was because you got mad when you see me, and even madder when you don’t.”

“Either way I’m suffering,” Yoongi agreed. “Might as well get my dick sucked.”

You laughed as Nyangnyang trotted past, satisfied with the number of treats.

“Speaking of, my evening could use some dick sucking.”

Yoongi cocked an eyebrow, trying to hide his smirk. “You’re in luck.”

“Not in front of the child.”

“She’s on top of her princess tower; she won’t be looking.”

That was how you knew Yoongi was your match. He called the massive cat tree a princess tower even though you hadn’t mentioned thinking it. Some called that telepathy. You would call it perfection.

“I thought about calling it a princess tree just now.”

“And that’s why I’m your husband. Now stop sticking out that tongue and use it on me.”

-

shower, m pheromones, m

-

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