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notmyneighbor · 5 months

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Let Me In ~ Doppelgänger Francis Mosses/The Milkman x Female Reader

Chapter 9

Word Count ~ 5.5k

Rating ~ Explicit

CW ~ doppelgänger sex, body horror

Also available on AO3

Fanart used with permission @kaworinx on Instagram and TikTok

taglist ~ @luthien-elvenia-asher @fishfetus @gaudesstuff @nekee-lilac02 @msdevil333 @rrnrjn @maskedpacific @yoongiwantsme @that-0ne-simp @kaislashes @charli33-b33 @finalitgirl

Francis Mosses’ route is almost done for the day.

He normally started with the farthest destinations first and then worked his way backwards, finishing close to his home in the DDD sanctioned apartments.

But there had been a last minute add on, sending him back out again, further from the city and into the suburbs. He’s tired, as always, the early start to each shift, the thin walls of the building that do nothing to suppress the activities of his neighbors taking their toll. He rubs at the drowsy lids that keep insisting on shutting. Almost finished. Just this last one. Humming to keep awake. He should stop on the way home, pick up something for dinner. But that would mean delaying his return. Did he have the energy to even cook?

He’s thinking about you, the pretty young woman that guards the entrance now. The best part of his day. He should get you flowers. Say something, anything, instead of just polite formalities. Maybe today would be the day he found enough courage to express his feelings.

A little more alert now. His eyes flick to the paper on his clipboard. Yes, nearly there. He’s not familiar with this road. The houses are not as well kept. Some even look abandoned. Overgrown lawns. Broken windows. A tendril of misgiving curling around him. Something felt wrong. Maybe he should just say he couldn’t find the address. Offer up this part of the route to someone else working for the company.

But what if the person really needed it? It wasn’t fair to discriminate, was it? That sense of duty keeps his right foot pressed on the pedal. He’s going to finish the job.

He’s reached his destination. It’s difficult to see the numbers, half hidden by the weeds threatening to overtake the mailbox. At least the window panes are intact in this dwelling. Curtains cover the interior completely. The entire home is encased in shadow, darkness that seems to sap the sunlight from above.

The milkman shuts off the engine, easing out of his seat. He’s a little stiff from the long drive, the lateness of his shift. He touches one ear to a shoulder, repeating the process for the opposite side. A satisfying series of cracks. The rear compartment slides open and he lifts the wire rack from storage. The sun is strong against his back, a little perspiration making the white material of his workshirt cling to his skin. He’s suddenly craving something cold to drink. Maybe he should just invite you out. There would be enough time before curfew. Sodas at the local diner. He imagines you blushing that pretty pink shade, your hand covering your mouth. Shyly accepting his proposal.

Francis isn’t really paying attention to the cement walkway he’s traveling on that leads to the front door, ignoring the crab grass poking through the seams of each concrete slab. He doesn’t spare a glance for the peeling paint of the clapboards, the tarnish of the metal doorbell. The door creaks open and he’s got a smile on his face, his customary greeting for customers combined with thoughts of you. Just a heartbeat shy of reacting in time to who—what— waits for him in that dim interior, the hand reaching for the handle of the basket changing course at the last moment, latching onto his wrist and dragging him inside, the basket falling from his fingers, the glass shattering, spilling dairy product over the entryway.

He’s pulled off balance, thrust to one side, barely managing to keep his head from cracking against the wooden floor. Subflooring, not even a proper finished layer. No furniture inside. The home was stripped bare, except for the heavy drapes over the windows, the last illumination from outdoors disappearing from view as the door slams shut. The air is stale, musty. He feels the dust beneath his fingertips. No one has been inside here for a long time.

He’s barely started to struggle to his feet before the creature is upon him. Doppelgänger, he thinks with panic. It has to be. Hands pin his wrists down to either side of his face, his body shoved down beneath the heavy weight of the invader.

It’s not the first time he’s encountered one directly.

Once, when he was younger, he’d gotten separated from his mother at the supermarket. Not paying attention, distracted by the array of goods on the shelves, lost in whatever daydream had overtaken him, until he’d felt the hand on his wrist, the hand that didn’t belong to his parent or a concerned employee or fellow customer, but a doppel. The feeling of claws digging in. Seeking to break the skin, to draw out some blood, just the smallest amount needed to copy his appearance. The pain before an off duty DDD member had thankfully intervened had been sharp, hot, an intensity he’s still never forgotten years later.

This was not that feeling. This is like being submerged into a warm bath, but the water was sticky, cloying. It hurt, but there was something pleasurable about it as well. A kind of numbing tranquility. Pressing against becoming pressing into.

Hold still.

The command said aloud, or in the depths of his mind, he can no longer tell. One last burst of adrenaline making him struggle. The quick, disdainful flick of a claw, the alien’s true appendage, dragging across his skin. He feels the flecks of blood spattering near his collar, hears the wet collisions with the starched fabric.

“God help me…”

The only part of a plea or prayer he can muster. There was no escaping this. He can feel the thing burrowing inside of him. How was it even possible? The doppels only cloned or consumed humans. This merging was something new.

He can feel it digging around in his brain. Sifting through his thoughts.

A DDD establishment resident? Challenging.

Your face. He focuses on it in his mind, recreating each detail of every feature. The scent of you. Summer flowers.

Who’s this?

Don’t hurt her. Don’t you dare—

The numbness has worn off. It is no longer a soothing feeling. He is burning from the inside.

I won’t let you harm anyone. If you’re going to be me, then be me. You’re not going to hurt anyone ever again.

Let me in. Let me in, stop resisting.

Forgive me.

What’s happening? Changing me, I’m not…

Not one or the other. Combining.

Something new.

***

“Francis, wake up.” The doppel’s eyes fly open. A moment of disorientation and panic visible on his features until his eyes find yours in the wan morning light spilling in through the farmhouse window. “I think you were having a nightmare.”

Your hand rests against his bare chest, feeling the pounding of his heart. What would an invader dream about that would make them so afraid? Being discovered? Destroyed?

He reaches a hand to touch your cheek. “Sweetheart.”

“I’m here, love. It’s okay. You’re okay.” You kiss the corner of his mouth. He turns his face slightly and captures your lips again. Hungry. Nipping at your bottom lip. He’s turning, rolling you beneath him.

“My love. Mine.” Tasting your neck. His palm warm and heavy as it dips beneath the scooped neckline of your nightgown. He rolls your nipples between his thumb and index finger, tugging lightly, bringing them into stiff peaks. You squirm, writhing beneath his touch, the mouth of your sex watering for him. Always so ravenous. You can never get enough.

You’re not wearing panties. It’s easy for a pair of fingers to slide right into that warm, wet tunnel. Your breath hisses. He steals the next one, his mouth covering yours. Your fingers wrap around his forearm as he begins sliding the probing digits in and out.

“I want to devour you.”

“Yes, Francis, please…”

“Eat you and then fuck you,” the copycat’s voice continues low beside your ear. “You’re mine.” A growl. His tone coarser. A little more of the doppel side of him showing. Possessive. Aggressive. Acting in retaliation to something in the dream he’d felt threatened by.

“I’m yours.” Your pelvis rocks up against his hand. “It’s you that I love, that my heart belongs to.”

“What’s inside…”

“Yes, what’s inside.”

“Mine forever.”

“Forever.”

He moans against your neck. A broken, human sound. Lips trembling. Pressed gently in a line down your body, the fingers still thrusting in and out, tongue darting out to taste between the petals of your flesh, nose digging into your mound as he grinds his mouth against your clit, sucking. Your hand is now buried in his hair, your eyes watching the way the rising sun filters through the lace curtains, dappled light and shadows painting your torso, lighting threads of gold and chocolate in his hair, on the fine hairs that cover his forearms. A haze blooms around him, a shining halo, a precursor to the pink tinged eyelids, the exploring fingers now withdrawn, claws just peeking out, hinting at what lies beneath, his tongue replacing that vacancy, no longer the short one belonging to the man whose body he inhabits but something serpentine teasing inside, unfurling, squirming, reaching deep, fangs teasing the pink flesh outside, the reddened invader’s eyes asking, begging for permission.

You’re terrified, exhilarated, he’s never been there before, not when he’s like this, he’d been so careful to not let the beast out and you haven’t pushed him, it’s only been a week but it feels like so much longer and you want it, gasping an affirmation, fingers tightening in his tresses. The sensation of being so thoroughly tasted, explored, consumed as the intruder’s teeth sink, pierce, lost in that pad of fat above the start of your sex, his tongue buried inside while he sucks, drawing your bundle of nerves taut against the roof of his mouth drives you right over the precipice, the back of your skull digging into the pillows as you keen, whine, whimper, he drags every desperate sound of pleasure he can from you until you can no longer stand it, overly sensitive, overwhelmed, quaking as you see the rising face of Francis Mosses, no longer giving way to the monster inside.

His next kisses on your mouth are gentle, allowing you to recover, stroking your shoulder, carding through your hair.

“Where did you go,” you murmur, suddenly feeling languid, relaxed, your extremities tingling pleasantly in your post orgasmic state.

“You’re not afraid at all?”

“A little. But I trust you. I know you’d never hurt me.”

“It’s difficult to stop it.”

“So don’t,” you challenge.

“Oh, love, we’ve talked about this. I can’t…”

“Kiss me with that mouth. Your real one…”

“You want that?”

“I want you. I love you.”

“Sweetheart…” His tongue spears your mouth. Still human, still holding back.

You reach down, caressing his hardened cock. “What were you dreaming about? Tell me, I’ll chase them away. Won’t let anyone hurt you…”

“Hnggh…” He moans, his breath quickening. His body shifts, his erection nudging your entrance, your splayed legs tightening around him as he penetrates you, his mouth close to yours. “I was dreaming about the past. The day it happened, when I took Francis. He changed me when I went inside him. Weak body but strong mind. Faith. His feelings for you. I was terrified of being lost in that union. Sharing, merging…unmaking and rebuilding my identity. The way that feels, coming apart like that…”

You gasp and he settles his hips against yours, resting his weight there for a moment, buried inside of you. “He made me want to be him. I couldn’t resist. I’d never wanted anything so badly. Until I met you. The want I have for you, love. The sheer ache of it. I would do anything for you. Risk anything, give anything. You have become my entire world, my universe. The thought of losing you, because of a momentary slip of the reins, because of something I’ve done…I can’t bear it.”

You swallow past the lump forming in your throat. You’d asked him about Francis’ end so many times, halting after he’d stated it would be the end of your reason for he, the doppelgänger, to be with you. But that wasn’t true anymore, was it? Because you’d fallen in love with him. And you felt the same way. You’d risk anything, give anything to be with him. And now you know the truth of it. Why this doppelgänger was so different from the others. Different, because the human whose body he’d taken had irrevocably changed him. Altering his goals, his desires. Tempering the craving for annhilation. Seeking a more peaceful integration. A life with you. The milkman’s final gift.

“I know why you’re scared. I won’t try to push you. I just love you so, so much. I want you to know that.”

“Sweet girl,” he sighs. He’s blocking most of the sunlight now, his face looming above yours. “Just a little. I’ll try…”

You nod. “Let me feel you, love.”

His hips lift. Creeping out of you inch by inch. His eyes changing again. Jaw shifting, mouth evolving. A ripple across the surface of his stretched lips. Teeth parting. He’s entering you again, his cock mirroring the violation of the alien tongue now probing yours. Still gentle, cautious. Your flavor there. Closing your lips over this new shape and texture. Still muscular, smoother, thicker until it tapers at the end, coiling around yours.

Your body is on fire, your earlier release already forgotten as you roll your hips against his. A rough groan. The hand cupping the side of your waist tightens, thumb digging into your flesh. Every time his body collides with yours, the pressure against the bite he’s inflicting sends waves of pleasure through you, your swollen cunt throbbing around his prick.

You’re whining again, a needy, pitiful sound hummed around that foreign tongue invading your mouth, curling and stroking, sharp teeth dripping saliva down onto your lips, sliding over your chin and down your neck.

Then it is Francis’ mouth hovering over yours again, his soft brown eyes gazing into yours as he sheaths and withdraws over and over, a little crooked grin of triumph, pleased he’s done it, he’s maintained control.

“My bride to be, my future wife…” The words becoming temporarily incomprehensible, his face burrowing against your neck. “Forever…eternal…I am yours…” He’s looking into your eyes as he cums, filling you with hot spurts of seed, everything in that gaze begging, pleading, that this will be the time, the future he wants to conceive inside of you coming to fruition at last.

***

You’re watching Francis Mosses’ doppelgänger in the mirror.

Hair tidy, side parted, slicked into place. Dressed in a button front shirt and slacks. Freshly shaved. You love watching him get ready. The care and attention he gives the process. Wanting everything to be proper. Perfect.

“I believe I’m ready. What do you think?” He turns to face you.

“Very dapper. I’m sure everyone will be very envious when they see you leading me inside the theater.”

“I think it will be more the other way around. Beautiful,” he murmurs, admiring your dress, your lips and nails painted to match, a deep, dark shade of red. “And what is underneath this loveliness, I wonder?” His fingers tuck beneath the neckline of your dress, trying to sneak a peak at your lingerie.

“If you start that, we’re never going to make it out the door.”

“Would that really be so terrible?”

“After, Francis,” you reprimand gently. You’re not used to rejecting him. But you think it will be good for both of you to get outside, have a date together. You want him to enjoy every element of the human experience. So much of what he knows is based on war, on violence. Sometimes you yourself get so caught up in your work you forget what it is you’re struggling so hard to protect. Not just lives, but the quality of those lives. You want the best for those residents you guard.

You want the best for your fiancé, too.

***

You’re screened at the entrance of the theater.

It’s nowhere near the level of scrutiny you provide working for the DDD; the likelihood of doppels wanting to infiltrate an old movie house was very unlikely. The bored looking attendant barely glances at your ID’s before waving you through.

“That man is terrible at his job,” your beau murmurs as you enter the theater, heading towards a pair of seats near the back row. There aren’t many people present; perhaps lured by the nice weather outdoors. Enjoying a lazy Sunday afternoon. “Maybe we should have started the invasion here.”

“Francis!” He’s not speaking loudly, but you look around hurriedly. “You shouldn’t say things like that.”

“I’m only teasing, love.” He wraps an arm around you, pressing a kiss against your temple. “No one’s listening, anyway. I’m sorry. It was in poor taste,” he apologizes, seeing your persistent scowl. “Forgive me?”

You tuck your dress beneath you before taking your seat. “I’m not cross with you, I’m just worried.” You didn’t want to draw any attention. As much as you like being out in public like this with the invader, you had to keep reminding yourself that you’re still at war. He’s still seen as the enemy, and no amount of declarations of affection for you would ever convince the DDD of his innocence. It was dangerous for both of you.

“Stop worrying. You’re meant to be having fun. Relax and enjoy this,” he whispers beside your ear. “No one knows. We’re okay.”

You try to comply, willing your furrowed brow to straighten. This had been your idea, after all. He was right. No one was paying any attention to you. Everyone present was seated in front of you, all facing the curtain shrouded film screen. Your doppel’s arm curls around your shoulders and you let yourself melt against him, the tension easing. Trying to recapture some of that feeling you have when you’re together at the farmhouse, away from the city, away from prying eyes. Your own little safe haven.

At last the heavy drapes shift aside, revealing the screen beneath. The sound of murmured conversation is extinguished, the only noise the occasional rattle of a straw in a cup, fingers digging into a box of candy or bag of popcorn. You have some chocolate in your purse. You withdraw it now, thumb dragging along the paper wrapper, trying to be quiet as the film begins.

The Warner Brothers logo appears. Then there is a map overlaid with the opening credits before the focus shifts to a rotating globe. You glance at your companion. His eyes are fixed on the screen. There was the invader’s original goal, so tantalizingly out of reach, that objective shifting to a very normal life with you, pretending to be human.

You squirm a little restlessly in your seat. The copycat’s thumb strokes your shoulder. “Easy, love. It’s okay.” His breath hot by your ear. “I love you.”

The words instantly soothe you. You manage to tear the foil and extract a piece of chocolate, already starting to melt. It was warm inside the theater. You offer it to your companion, watching his features as he takes the rectangular sweet between his teeth, breaking off a section and chewing, considering. “Good. Not as good as the jam. Not as good as you, but nothing is,” he whispers, mouth pressed close to your ear again. He accepts the remainder and his tongue darts out to taste your fingers, reminding you of the previous morning, when he’d invaded you with his real one, your pussy and your mouth teased with it, the familiar warm pulse between your legs asking for more.

You struggle to return your attention to the screen, absently slotting the next piece of candy into your own mouth.

It’s different watching the film again now that you’re older, in a serious relationship. The sheer ache of the tragedy of it all. The woman thinking her husband was dead, killed trying to escape a concentration camp. Falling in love with another man. Leaving abruptly to nurse her spouse back to health after learning he’d survived. The bitter conflict of the backdrop of the world war. Meeting again. Forced to choose between both men she loved. The nightclub owner insisting she leave, promising she’d regret it if she didn’t, a famous line of dialogue that was so often quoted.

It’s impossible not to see some parallels with your own romance. Choosing between Francis and the doppelgänger. A war that encompassed the world, this one not with other nations within that globe but alien invaders. What was the greater sin, betraying your heart or betraying the human race?

You’re quiet as you leave the theater, squinting against the dazzling sun outside. Francis’ doppel offers to drive your car and you let him, staring out the passenger window, watching the brick and mortar surrender to the trees and fields you’ve been missing already.

“This melancholy concerns me.”

You turn to find the milkman’s copy staring at you, eyes darting occasionally to check the road ahead. Empty, as it so often was.

“I’m sorry. I meant to ask if you enjoyed the film.”

“I enjoyed being with you. I always do.” He focuses once more on the path, steering around a deep dip in the ground. “That’s the hole the truck struggled with,” he murmurs. You’re so accustomed to it your body runs on autopilot, maneuvering around it without even thinking. “You’re worried about us being discovered.”

You chew on your bottom lip, silently cursing yourself. “I didn’t want to ruin the experience for you.”

“You didn’t, love.” One hand leaves the steering wheel to cup your cheek.

“I don’t want to get caught. It would kill me to lose you. Absolutely destroy me. I can’t, Francis. I can’t lose you twice.”

You’re jostled as the car abruptly leaves the road, pulling into one of the fields near your house. The doppel hurriedly shifts the gears into park, cutting the engine with a rough turn of the key. He turns to you, one arm resting on the back of the bench seating. “Listen to me. You’re not going to lose me. I’m not going to let anything happen to either of us.”

“You don’t know that, though. Sooner or later someone is bound to find out.”

“Leave the DDD.”

“Francis, we’ve talked about this.”

“Leave the DDD and move in with me. Here. At the farm. Or wherever you want. Just get away from all this.”

“Francis…”

“Be with me. Please, love.” His fingers curl around the side of your neck, his lips brushing yours. “I couldn’t do it. I could never give you up like Rick did with Ilsa in the movie. You’d be safer without me, but how could I ever want that, how…”

“I love you. I’d never leave you. Never.” You kiss him, your mouth rough against his. His tongue strokes yours and the heat you’d experienced in your core earlier returns. Your fingers break through the carefully coiffed stiff strands of hair, returning them to their natural, untidy form. His fingers work on the buttons of your dress, his mouth now laving at that exposed patch of skin below your throat.

You’re so close to home, but it’s impossible to wait just those few more minutes, exiting the car, allowing your body to be pressed down into the fragrant grass. He strokes up your thigh, nudging aside the fabric draped over you, a little hum of appreciation escaping when he feels the new satin that covers you.

You’ve never owned so many pairs of lingerie, so different from the standard fare you’d worn before. You like the feel of it clinging to those intimate places, like the reaction of the doppel every time he reveals them, like unwrapping a gift, fingers shifting each piece, palming your breasts, your sex. He makes love to you under that open blue sky, in that clear air that’s just starting to turn a little cooler as the afternoon bows to evening.

Back at the house, you’re assisted in preparing dinner, steak and baked potatoes and green beans while Perry Como croons in the background.

Till the end of time

Long as stars are in the blue

Long as there's a spring, a bird to sing

I'll go on loving you

“Move in with me,” the pretender says again, drying his hands on a dish towel, then slotting his hands on your waist after you’ve finished sliding the potatoes into the oven. “I want this every night.”

Till the end of time

Long as roses bloom in May

My love for you will grow deeper

With every passing day

“After you meet my parents. Then we’ll move in together. One more week.”

Till the wells run dry

And each mountain disappears

I'll be there for you, to care for you

Through laughter and through tears

The smell of the meat sizzling in the fry pan on the stove makes your stomach growl. You’re starving. Always so ravenous, now. Working up such an appetite.

“Dance with me after dinner.”

“Yes.”

So take my heart in sweet surrender

And tenderly say that I'm

The one you love and live for

Till the end of time

After dinner, in his arms as promised, he steers you in a neat circle.

“I had a wonderful weekend with you.”

“It’s not over yet.” He kisses your neck, his hands sliding over your abdomen. “I hope…”

“I know. We’ll keep trying, love.” You want to give him a child. That fear still there. Discovery. You were never as devout as Francis had been. Would it be blasphemous to pray? To ask for help, protection, mercy for a creature that was so reviled?

He switches off the record player and the final lamp in the living room. There is now nothing but moonlight to guide you.

He settles onto the couch. You sit beside him. The ticking of the grandfather clock is loud in the sudden stillness. Your mouths collide. A different kind of hunger afflicting you now.

“You’re still hiding from me,” you chide gently, sliding a hand over one thigh, moving to the front of the fly of his pants, where the bulge fits neatly into the curve of your palm and fingers.

“About that,” he murmurs. “Partly it’s for fear of losing control.”

“You won’t,” you reassure him, sucking at his bottom lip.

“Partly because I wanted to fill you with human seed. Our best chance to make a baby.”

“And the other part?” You prompt, sensing there is still something left unsaid.

“I’m not sure if you’d like it.”

“You mean find it appealing?”

“Yes,” he admits reluctantly.

“I love every part of you.” Your hand squeezes and he sucks in his breath sharply.

“You really do, don’t you?” This said with a kind of wonder and disbelief.

“Is it really so strange? You find me attractive, and I obviously don’t look like your kind.”

“You are beyond attractive. You are gorgeous. The softness of you. That texture. The flavor…” He kisses your jaw. “I can never get enough.”

“So you can relate to that feeling of being addicted.” You’ve slowly begun to unfasten his belt, now working on the button and zipper.

“I wonder how much of that isn’t a result of the bites.”

“I think that contributes to it.”

“I didn’t know they’d have that effect.”

“It’s all new. Uncharted territory, didn’t you call it?”

He hums in agreement, the sound changing to a moan when your fingers dip beneath his briefs. “I’m tempted.”

“Do it.”

“What if you don’t like it? It would ruin things…”

“No. I want it feel it. In my hand. In my mouth. Inside of me.” He shudders against you. “I love you, my doppelgänger.”

A growl. The leash slipping. He nips at your ear lobe. “Sweetheart, if that’s what you really want, I’ll give it to you. It’s all for you…”

Heat against your hand, not the customary warmth of that reproductive organ but something else, a scalding kind of sensation. The flesh morphing, rearranging beneath your fingertips. Growing slicker. Reminiscent of his true tongue, the structure thicker at the base, narrowing at the end. Root, tentacle, something else, no word for that pulsing member you hold in the near darkness.

He’s sweating with the effort of restraining himself, tasted every time your mouth touches his, salted kisses accompanied by your hand cautiously sliding along the length, exploring, forced to stretch your arm as you caress the alien’s cock, finding the head at last not so unlike the human one, ending in a kind of domed, mushroom shaped tip. Fat, thick, it would definitely stretch you. The thought of it makes you shiver, your body drooling arousal.

“Does it feel good? I don’t know if I’m doing it right…”

“It is…” He says a word you don’t recognize, something in his native tongue. You can’t replicate it. “That’s why I didn’t tell you my name. You could never say it. Even what I just uttered isn’t quite…fuck. Right there. Oh sweet girl, you’re always so perfect for me. Sit on it, sweetheart. Let me fuck you.”

Your heart is pounding as you stand long enough to pull your dress off overhead and remove your panties, climbing over the doppel’s thighs, that foreign prick tapping impatiently against your bare stomach. His hands clutch your buttocks as you raise yourself, guiding his dick into position. Your breath saws in and out roughly. Almost panicked. But so aroused. It’s too late to stop now. You’d asked for this. You asked for this and now…oh. Inside of you. A burning stretch, like having your maidenhood taken again for the first time. A whimper escapes you. Somewhere between pleasure and pain. Blurring from one to the other. Filling you. So warm inside. You can’t possibly fit all of it in there. A sob of frustration.

“My love,” he croons soothingly. “Our bodies weren’t meant to fit together, the anatomy, you can’t…”

“I want all of it,” you say stubbornly, disappointed. Feeling like you’ve failed him somehow.

“Look at how well you’ve done, sweet girl, letting me inside…” His hand strokes over your abdomen and you mirror his movements, feeling the bulge there. “Fuck me, sweetheart. I want to make you feel good.”

Your hands grasp his shoulders as you lift yourself up, supported by his hands, some supernatural strength from the invader providing assistance. Back down again. Up and down. A rhythm building. You’re getting used to it, slowly but surely. That tender ache within you starting to evolve into something else. A coil of pleasure knots your insides.

“Tell me your name. Even if I can’t say it…to hear it…” A foreign word. “No. From your tongue. That mouth…”

“Risky, love. Can’t…” The hands holding you are shaking. “Even this is…”

“What…what is it? Tell me.” You’re properly riding his cock now, grinding yourself down as far as you’re able.

“It’s dangerous. The desire to be let out…tear free…love, it’s…I can’t stop it…”

The coil inside of you snaps, your orgasm ripping through you. There is something else, something searing hot spilling into you, the stream of it running out as he lifts your body clear of his, then cradles you against him.

“You didn’t warn me,” you chide softly when you’ve recovered, your fingers gliding curiously across the trail of slick cum streaking your thighs. “There’s so much of it.”

“Wanted it to be a surprise.”

You slap his arm playfully, then rest your forehead against his. “I told you you’d be okay.”

“Are you sore?”

“A little. It’s okay.”

“I don’t like hurting you.”

“I wanted it. I don’t regret it. I’d like to do it again sometime.”

“My love, what am I going to do with you?” He says in mock exasperation.

“Hopefully marry me.”

“Oh, that’s definitely happening. Speaking of which. We need to plan that out. The details of where and when.” He makes a little disgruntled sound. “Can we go take a bath? This is getting rather…unpleasant.”

You can’t disagree, the feeling of being so damp and sticky, the decreasing temperature and congealing nature of the ejaculate getting more and more uncomfortable to be lingering in. “Yes. Let’s go upstairs. We can plan things out while we wash up. Then it’s bed time. We both have work in the morning.”

“I love you,” he says softly. “I’m so grateful you love me. The real me. I like being called your doppelgänger,” he adds, stealing a quick kiss before you scoot off his lap, allowing him to stand. You manage to find your discarded clothing.

“Well, it’s the truth. You are mine.”

He hastily buttons the front of his pants to keep them from sliding down as he rises, reaching out to take your hand, leading you to the foot of the staircase.

“Do you have a last name?”

The doppel chuckles. “Get upstairs, you.”

“I think I’m entitled to know, seeing as how I’m going to be your wife.”

“I’ll tell you my real name. Soon.”

Another kiss in the dark, the promise of a shared secret.

#francis mosses #thats not my neighbor #francis mosses x reader #francis mosses x you #milkman #milkman x reader #milkman x you #the milkman #doppelganger #that’s not my neighbor

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suashii · 3 months

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— 𝒽𝒾𝒹𝑒 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝑔𝑜 𝓈𝑒𝑒𝓀 ౨ৎ

suna rintaro x reader. 0.7k wc. ﾉ sfw ﾉ fluff ﾉ papa!sunaﾉ repost!

a/n: happy father's day! here's the last installation of hq dads — kuroo, atsumu, & osamu have already been written :3

“you hafta close your eyes! it’s a rule, dad.”

suna chuckles at his daughter’s exclamation. she is beginning to grow tired of his silly antics. they’re meant to be playing hide-and-seek but he’s been messing around with her, covering his eyes with a hand but leaving a gap between his fingers so he could peek through them.

“fine, fine, i’ll close them,” he agrees, letting his eyelids drift shut. “what next?”

“count to…” the girl frowns, not able to think of a number suitable for the game off the top of her head. even though he can’t see her, suna can tell the girl is racking her brain for the highest number she can fathom. he smiles at her determination but ultimately decides to give her a hand.

“thirty?” suna suggests.

“yeah! and you gotta count loud.”

he still can’t see the girl standing in front of him, but suna imagines she’s pointing an accusing finger at him. ever since he introduced the game to her, she was sure to take all the rules seriously. it would be cheating if suna didn’t count loud enough for her to hear him.

“i’ll be as loud as i can.”

“good,” she nods. “okay, start now.”

“one—” he can hear tiny footsteps racing off as soon as he begins to count. he holds back a laugh and continues to call out the numbers until he reaches thirty.

“ready or not, here i come,” suna announces, opening his eyes and getting up from his place on the couch. he always starts with places she’s hidden in before; under your shared bed, in the bathtub—the clever girl had even closed herself off in one of the low cabinets in the kitchen. the sky is the limit for her; so long as she can reach it, it’s fair game.

none of the searches in those areas yield any results. in all the times the two of them played the game, the girl has never used the same spot twice. smart little thing. suna is working with nothing.

he decides that his best bet is to go through all the rooms in the house one by one. the master bedroom, bathroom, and kitchen are all out of the question, so suna makes his way to the girl’s bedroom. he plucks her blankets and stuffed animals up, looking underneath them to see if she buried herself beneath the plentiful bedding. nothing. he opens the closet and scans the floor to see if she’s curled up next to her shoes. nothing.

suna clicks his tongue and exits the room, leisurely walking down the hallway and back to the living room. it’s not likely that she hid in the very place he was counting, but to be safe, he chooses to survey the room anyway; behind the curtains, in the storage ottoman, anywhere she could squeeze her little body. every possible hiding spot is empty.

“all right, little lady, where are you?” suna says, more to himself than his daughter. he’s usually a little quicker to find her and is having trouble thinking of anywhere else she could have possibly hidden. though, there are still a couple of rooms to search.

the dining room is vacant.

suna sighs as he opens the washer and dryer in the laundry room. he should be relieved that she isn’t in such dangerous appliances, but instead, panic is starting to set in. he’s getting nervous that she had broken the “stay inside the house” rule when he hears a short, muffled giggle from the place at his feet. he freezes, his eyes darting down to the floor.

the laundry basket that’s flipped upside-down shifts ever so slightly on the tiles. suna smiles, lifting up the plastic basket to reveal the girl crouched down, arms wrapped around herself so that she could fit under the object. “found you.”

“dang it.” she pouts.

suna sets the basket off to the side before picking the little girl up. he kisses her cheek while gently pinching the other one. “you’re getting too good at this game. you might be even better than i am.”

“i’m so good at it you won’t find me next time.”

he knows her words only stem from her competitive side, but suna’s heart jumps at them. the whole experience was more of a scare than he was expecting when he agreed to play with her. but if one thing is for certain, it’s that he would never stop looking until his little girl was back in his arms.

he hums and shakes his head. “i’ll always find you.”

thanks for reading! reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated!

#₊˚ପ⊹ signed: haikyuu #suna x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #suna fluff #haikyuu fluff #suna drabble #haikyuu drabbles

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sassycheesecake · 8 months

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A/N: I have been really into dark romance and shit, ever since I got that TikTok recommendation. I hereby present yakuza!Shinsuke Kita x Reader. Part 1/2

‘Shit. Shit. Shit! I am late!’, you curse yourself as you almost bolt out of the train, as soon as it stops and its doors open.

You accidentally ran into a lot of people, shouting quick apologies over your shoulder, still running to your workplace.

Thank the heavens for your stamina.

Finally arriving at the Tokyo Ambulance Rescue Station, you quickly run inside and each of your coworkers stops what they are doing to look at you.

Huffing and almost wheezing like you’re having an asthma attack, you step inside and head to the female locker room without looking at any of your coworkers.

Already feeling disgusted by your sweaty state, you change into your paramedic uniform nonetheless.

Now in fresh clothes, you trot your way to one of the ambulance vehicles, seeing your friend Makima checking the equipment in the backpacks and making sure everything is filled up.

Gulping in nervousness, you approach slowly.

“Glad you decided to show up. Almost done.” Makima tells you in a deadly calm voice. Makima is one of those people who despise being late, whether it's herself or someone she is waiting on. She is only a few years older than you but still your superior. Great, this is just your first month after graduating but you were so tired last night that you forgot to put on your damn alarm for the next morning.

Not that this is an excuse, but your showing up is all that matters right?

With shaking footsteps, you make your way into the vehicle and start apologizing in a rant.

“Makima I am so so sorry, I promise it will never happen again!”, you frantically explain yourself, still out of breath.

The long-haired redhead briefly looks at you before bursting out laughing and you don’t know if this makes you feel better or worse.

Giggling, she closes up the i.v. medication backpack and storages it back underneath the cabinet of the bandages.

“(Y/N) don’t worry about it really, shit happens to all of us. No one is perfect and everyone here at the station was late once. Even me.” Makima explains and you can feel yourself being able to breathe easier already.

Just when you were about to reply to her, your beeper went off with a loud annoying peeping voice.

You run to the rack, where your black jacket with your name and the words T.A.R.S. are stitched into, and hop into the passenger seat of the vehicle.

Reading the screen at the front, you groan at the message that the fire station has sent you.

‘PATIENT PROB OD, TROUBLE BREATHING, UNCONSCIOUS, UNRESPONSIVE ‘

It’s probably the troublesome homeless teenager Denji again. You have met Denji twice now. Once beaten up badly and lying knocked out cold in an alley where he was found by a couple of passengers. The other time you found him almost bleeding to death due to a deep stab wound in his thigh, which he explained he simply got mugged.

Nonetheless, you press the buttons for the siren and the blue lights, while Makima steps on the gas to rush to the scene.

The rush and adrenaline are running through your system, making your heart bounce in excitement. Saving lives in acute situations is your thing! It’s a working environment that always comes with new foreign things and patients. Each day is different, which is exactly what your brain needs. Even if you have to drive through the massive city of Tokyo, the different kinds of people and the stories you get to tell your parents sometimes, are worth their shocking and even disgusting expressions sometimes.

Once you were called to a restaurant, in which a patient had an allergic reaction and went into a nonlethal anaphylactic shock.

The patient told you that his date was so horrible, that he purposely ate onions, even though he is allergic to them.

All just to get away from her.

Shaking your head, the logic of men never ceases to amaze you.

Arriving at the scene, you see two people leaning over a young guy that is laying on the sidewalk. He is already turned to his side, making sure in case he needs to throw up, he doesn’t choke on his vomit. Mentally thanking these people for performing the stable lateral position on the unconscious boy.

You grab the mobile vital monitor and the backpack that includes material for giving an I.V. including meds and an infusion.

Before Makima grabs the breathing and the medical suction pump, she turns off the siren but leaves the blue lights on. Pressing the lock on the car keys, the ambulance is securely locked. Unfortunately, people tend to break into ambulance vehicles and proceed to steal the medications.

Both women are rushing to the patient, quickly going through the ABCDE approach, and they manage to load him onto the stretcher after making sure he didn’t overdose. His heart is beating abnormally fast, his blood pressure is at 75/40 and when you shine a small flashlight to take a look at his eyes, his pupils are dilated.

There’s no doubt about it, that Denji got his hands on cocaine.

After giving him Adrenaline and Naloxone, his condition stabilises and Denji begins to stir.

Blinking his eyes open, a bright light immediately greets him and Denji swears he died.

He feels incredibly nauseous and his head is spinning like he just went on countless rides on a spinning wheel.

You hover over Denji’s pale figure, a vomiting bag already in your right hand.

“Denji? Can you hear me?” You ask him in a concerned voice.

When Denji was about to answer, he rapidly sits up and snatches the bag out of your hand, and hurls right into it.

Rubbing his back in a comforting manner, you sit beside him on the stretcher.

Makima is giving a quick report to their station boss, before joining you in the vehicle.

The sight of Denji vomiting disgusts Makima, deciding to wait outside because she can’t stand the smell or sight of someone throwing up.

“Denji, I think we should really take you to the hospital, you’re only 16 years old, where did you even get this stuff?” You ask him in a worried voice.

“It’s none of your business, let me out! I need to go!” Denji snaps at you, beginning to stand up.

You know you shouldn’t fight someone who just woke up from a drug rush, so you let him stand up.

Standing on wobbly legs, he places his hand against the vehicle wall to stabilize his balance.

Breathing heavily out of his mouth, he was about to open the vehicle door when Makima already beat him to it.

Surprised that he is up, she moves to the side to let him step out of the vehicle.

Denji almost falls flat on his face and his pale face makes you even more worried about him.

“Denji, are you sure you’re okay? Do you want us to call anyone?”

“Stop acting like you fucking care about me. I am just a street rat. I don’t need your pity! Just leave me the fuck alone!” He angrily spits at you, like a moody teenager that got his phone taken away.

Makima and you are watching him walk away, still unbalanced but both of you leave him be.

“You’re welcome by the way for not letting you die today!” Makima yells after him. Denji shows his middle finger up in response and continues to stomp away.

Sighing in defeat, Makima and you get back into the vehicle and you are making your way back to the station.

Giving the report that the patient refused to cooperate and come with you, you drive back.

The clock strikes 22:00 and Makima and you are finally free to change after the night shift has arrived.

Farewelling Makima goodbye, you begin to walk to the train station.

Having your headphones in your ear, you scroll through your Spotify playlist and choose ‘Glitter and Gold’.

You had a really busy day and barely had a chance to go to the bathroom.

Entering the women’s restroom, you look up from your phone, and the sight before you freezes immediately.

Right in front of you stands a very tall guy with sandy-blonde hair, he has to be at least 6’1 and he is holding a lot of tissues against his arm, blood soaking each tissue.

The stranger holds a painful expression while putting pressure on his arm.

His muscled body is leaning against the sink, the blood on his upper arm dripping down right into it.

Brown eyes rapidly look in your direction, his face shining with curiosity.

Chuckling nervously, he starts talking with his deep voice.

“Don’t scream, don't call for anyone. Just got a little scratch on my arm.”

Blinking a few times at his wound, you slowly step towards him.

Your approach is making him tense, his non-injured arm moving to his side, where he holds a dagger in case you want to attack him.

“Your wound looks pretty bad. Don’t worry I am a paramedic, I can take care of that if you want to.”

The blonde-haired giant looks at you for a few seconds, making sure you’re not lying.

After a few moments of tense silence, he nods unsurely.

Breathing out slowly, you awkwardly glance at the door and at him a few times.

“Uhm. Just follow me then, I need to take a proper look at it. I have my materials at home so come home with me so I can patch you up properly.” You explain to him.

His eyes watch you carefully, hesitantly he nods and puts his maroon jacket back on.

“Do you have a belt or something on you?” You ask him as you both exit the public restroom.

The tall stranger nods and takes off his belt to hand it to you.

Grasping the belt you begin to tie it around his arm, so the wound hopefully stops the bleeding until you both arrive at your place.

Wincing at the tightness, he thanks you quietly.

As you both begin to enter the train, which is thankfully empty around this time on a weekday, you ask him what happened to his arm.

“Not that's yer business anyway, so I’d rather not say.” He avoids your curious look.

“But that wound is pretty deep! You need to go to the hospital and get that stitched up probably.” You try to reason with him.

“I am serious. Drop it.” He snaps at you with an angry frown.

Accepting his request, you decide to drop it.

With nervous hands, you glance down at the metro floor and wait in silence to arrive at your destination.

Ten uncomfortable minutes later, you both arrive at the subway station that is close to your apartment.

Unlocking the door with your key, you enter inside and wait for him.

The blonde hesitates for a few seconds, glancing down the hallway nervously before deciding that you’re not a threat, and enters as well.

Gently closing the door, you urge him to follow you into your bathroom where your medical kit lies underneath the sink.

You direct him to sit on the edge of the bathtub and he complies without question.

“I need to see your wound properly in order to clean it up.” You tell him while putting on medical gloves and setting the necessary materials like the stitching materials, disinfectant wipes, and fluid, and scissors.

He winces while rolling up his sleeve to present you with his injury.

You start by taking a wet washcloth and gently dabbing it around the area, quietly apologizing whenever he hisses and flinches away from the touch.

As you are now able to see the injury better, you see that it’s actually a bullet wound, hence the bleeding was so heavy.

Shocked that he has this kind of injury, you remember that he doesn’t want to talk about how he got it.

“Lift your arm please, I need to know if the bullet is still in the muscle tissue.“

He gives you an incredulous look since lifting his arm would only worsen his pain. Nonetheless, he complies.

Quickly looking around his arm you don’t see an exit wound, closing your eyes in pity for the stranger, you know what you are going to say next, definitely won’t be easy.

“Let me guess. That thing is still in there.” He looks to the ceiling of your bathroom with a tight smile.

“U-Uhm yes. I told you to go to a hospital. It needs to be surgically removed. I really recommend it Mr….”, you drift off as you don’t recall knowing his name.

He looks at you and realizes he’s never introduced himself to you properly.

“Name’s Atsumu Miya, ya can call me Atsumu.”

Later on, Atsumu enters the familiar door of the headquarters of the ‘Fox Den’ and lets out a heavy sigh.

The pent-up frustration from the fight with Karasuno, the pain, and the treatment that he had to bite through with you is making his body insanely tired from exhaustion.

Nonetheless, he needs to give a report to his boss, the leader of the Inarizaki gang of Hyogo.

Atsumu walks down the hallway that has multiple doors connected to it and since it’s awfully quiet, Atsumu guesses that most members are either asleep or away on missions.

Entering the lift at the end of the hallway, he presses the ‘5’ button for the conference rooms and where also the office of his boss.

Swinging back and forth on his heels, Atsumu waits until the elevator stops and continues his path to the room of the leader of Inarizaki.

Once he arrives at his destination, he knocks first, before entering.

“Hey Kita, 'm back from the mission." The blonde says when he steps into the office.

A man who has silver hair with black tips in it, is sitting at the desk and he briefly looks up from his laptop with a stoic face, before looking down again, continuing to type something down.

Ignoring the warm greeting of his boss, Atsumu plops down on one of the chairs in front of the desk and puts his arms behind his head to stretch.

Unfortunately, he completely forgot about the injury on his arm, immediately putting the injured arm down again with a winced hiss.

The head of the gang looks at his trusted friend before a slight frown of concern decorates his face.

“What happened?“ he asks in a calm voice.

“Oh, you know the usual. Just some fuckers from Karasuno in our territory and one of them fucking shot me.“ Atsumu explains while gently rubbing over his arm, feeling the wrapped bandage from you underneath his jacket.

His frown deepens at the mention of their rival gang, the Karasuno crows, but listens quietly.

“Do you need medical attention? Do you want me to send Ginjima or Riseki up?“ He continues to question him.

“Nah, I am good Kita. Got stitched up by this cute girl that I met while I was bleedin‘ out like a pig in a women’s restroom by the train station.“ Atsumu pulls his sleeve to reveal the bandage.

Kita glances at the bandage on his friend‘s arm, a mix between concern and anger but also suspicion haunts his face.

He slowly gets up from his chair and rounds his table with slow steps, making his way toward the older twin.

The injured man looks at him with curious eyes while raising his eyebrow in confusion.

The silver-haired man stares at one of his most trusted right-hand man with a neutral expression and puts his arms behind his back.

“Tell me more about this mysterious medic girl.“ He demands.

Atsumu grins mischievously at his boss and begins to tell him about his fight to the encounter of meeting you.

Yawning, you stretched out your exhausted limbs and climbed into your comforting blue soft blankets. The feeling of your head hitting the cushy pillow makes you sigh in bliss. It was a long day, first the rowdy patients, then getting vomited on by a drunk homeless person that almost overdosed, and then there was the injured blonde-haired stranger you met tonight. You’re not going to lie, it was a whole mountain of stupid to just invite a stranger over to your apartment. Anxiously, you remember, that he mentioned he didn’t want to go to the hospital to get patched up because he needs to stay anonymous.

The only question is…

Why does he need to do that?

Your thoughts are interrupted when your phone vibrates with a message. You curiously pick it up to see what the notification is.

Eyes widening in shock and also a concern, you glance at your screen.

Unknown number

‘Thank you for taking care of my friend. I would like to repay you some time for your kind service’

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyū!!#hq x reader #hq fluff #inarizaki #shinsuke kita #kita shinsuke x reader #kita shinsuke #yakuza!au #yakuza #haikyuu mafia

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alamaterialhandling · 28 days

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Heavy duty tire racks are essential for optimizing tire storage in any tire shop, garage, or warehouse. Read more…...

#Tire rack storage

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edeckonline · 2 years

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Pallet rack wire decking is used in post pallet and pallet cage to provide a durable, stable and secure surface for storing goods. Read more…..

#Tire Storage Rack

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camaraindustries · 8 months

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Cantilever Racking | Lumber Storage Rack I Pipe Rack | Camara Industries, Inc

Push Back Rack and Used Pallet Racking options are available at Camara Industries, Inc. for upgrading your warehouse storage. Explore our Cantilever Racking systems for efficient Lumber Storage Racks, pipe, and furniture storage solutions. Benefit from competitive pricing on used systems, enhancing both affordability and functionality. Contact us today to optimize your warehouse space with Camara Industries, Inc.'s premium storage solutions!

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foreverdolly · 2 years

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penny for your thoughts | daddy!austin x mommy!reader

this is a request for my little "three days of blurbs" event. feel free to send in your own requests ! they are still very much open.

request: baby daddy!austin, your choice if it's fluff or angst or whatev

requested by: anon

word count: 1.1k

warnings/notes: a little bit of angst and then a hell of a lot of fluff. just you and austin being great parents and still being madly in love. also austin's father, david, playing the part of cupid at his granddaughter's birthday party. hope you like it, nonnie !

The condensation on the side of the hot pink solo cup wasn’t really holding your attention, but you’d rather look anywhere else than at the man who was awkwardly standing beside you. Making small talk with someone that knew you so completely, both inside and out, was deeply uncomfortable. It felt wrong. It was almost as though the two of you had gone back in time, but this was a first date gone bad. Because the nervous butterflies had turned into nervous killer bees. Austin was no longer just an ex-Disney star that you could poke fun at, but a successful actor. You had celebrated every triumph with him. Every call back. Every photoshoot. You had loved him through absolutely all of it, and yet here you two were, racking your brains for something to say to the other to alleviate the stifling tension between you two.

The both of you had been separated for only five months, but you had already mastered the art of co-parenting. The relationship had fallen apart because of the constant distance that his job required. You were tired of falling asleep alone. Neither one of you had cheated on the other. You didn’t hate each other- quite the opposite, really.

You just didn’t want to make Austin choose between his career and his family. You just wanted to be happy.

“I guess I should haul the Harley out of the garage next weekend. Pop it into my storage unit along with my other shit.” His voice startled you, making you jump and peel your eyes off of your drink.

Having constant reminders of the dirty blonde around the home that you once shared made you feel safe. You’d been clinging to the last scraps of him like a child might do with their baby blanket. You licked at your bottom lip, about to answer him when a very small and very wet body collided with your thigh. You smiled despite the situation, immediately tangling your fingers into your daughter’s soaked hair. “Did ya see me, mommy?” Penny asked with wide eyes. Her Barbie goggles hung from around her neck, her strawberry printed bathing suit dripping water onto the deck. You shot Austin an apologetic look before shaking your head.

“What did you do, big girl?” She was eager to show off, having just recently gotten brave enough to dunk her entire head under the water. Austin’s father, David, was currently splashing around with an entire gang of five year old girls and had somehow managed to distract them all relatively successfully. You knew what he was trying to do though. He wanted to give you and Austin some alone time.

Neither of you had signed the divorce papers yet, which was a win in David Butler’s book. It meant there was hope.

“I put my whole head under the water! Papa saw me do it and everything!”

Austin joined in on congratulating her, going as far as to scoop her up and off of the ground in order to assault her soft cheeks with kisses. His white shirt was completely soaked when he let her go, the now opaque fabric clinging to his body. You made a point to look away, making sure that he didn’t catch you staring. After Penny felt as though she had been appropriately praised by her parents she jogged back over to the pool, announcing to her group of friends that they should play mermaids for the third time that day.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said,” You cleared your throat softly before looking back up at him. His eyes widened when he finally realized what conversation you were alluding to. You were struck all at once by how beautiful he was. All honey gold. “And I agree with you. I mean. . . We have Penny, and this has all been really hard on her. Knowing that you’re in L.A and not home with us has really been taking a toll. I think. . .” Was he really going to make you say it? Maybe all you two had really needed was a break. Because it had only taken you a single month to regret the hasty decision, but your pride had gotten the better of you for the remaining four. Austin never made it hard on you though. He never begged you to take him back, but he had cried to you. At least once a month. As if to remind you that he wasn’t done. As if to remind you that he was still just as in love with you as he had been when the two of you had gotten married. You might have left, but he never had.

“You think…?” Austin breathed, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth so that he could worry at the soft skin. The sun was beginning to set, the string lights and lanterns that you and your loving husband had hung up just two years ago twinkling to life above you.

You huffed out a nervous laugh, shaking your head in disbelief before tossing the drink into the trash bin beside you. “I think that I rushed into my decision. It was a permanent fix for a temporary situation, and I want to try again. Us, I mean. . . a family. I never stopped loving you, I just stopped feeling heard after a while. You disappeared on me and I-” Austin must have heard all that he needed to. He was quick to pull you into a tight hug, wet shirt and all.

He was so tall and warm. And he was home. Your home.

The blue eyed man didn’t ask for permission before kissing you. He was eager, wanting to make up for the lost months that he hadn’t been able to show you all of the physical affection that he so desperately wanted to.

He didn’t need to though. He knew that you wanted it too by the way that you clung to him, your hands shaking at the realization that all of your problems might have just been solved. He cupped your cheeks in his palms, lazily moving his lips against yours. Like he had suddenly just been given all of the time in the world.

“Penny? Your mommy and daddy are kissing.”

“Really? Wait! Does this mean daddy’s gonna have a sleepover with us?”

@knoxvillesshoes@cosmorant@ol1viam@simply-sams-things@haim80s@gabbcabb@8hgel@slutt4him@busy-bee-angel-misska@kaitaesupremacy@dazedshoon @4rt3m1ss@cryingabtab@kittenlittle24@austinsrealgf@austinbutlersgirlfriend@clearbolts @dark-as-love@anni-secret-account-75@ab4eva@starcatchxr @julietamidala @obbsessivereader@gwuide@blurredcolour@the-little-red-haired-girl@meladollsims@poppet05@shrekstheloml@randomwriter888@idc123sworld@vane28282@mirandastuckinthe80s@girlblogger2002@rockerchick05@screechingstrawberrysong@simpforevery1@girlabirla@dre6ming@obetrolncocktails@fairyjanes@jensenswinchester@lo-bells @in-my-body-bag@fxntxsix@petrparkrslut@eliseinmemphis @lelifesaver @screaching-cookie@fantuhsise@areuirish @bcofl0ve@mslizziesblog@shynovelist@ssstrangersblog @harrysthecraic@hangmanswhore@jyvnho@mymamalife @melodydior

#dolly’s three days of blurbs #foreverdolly #austin butler #austin butler fluff #austin butler fic #austin butler one shot #austin butler x y/n #austin butler x reader #austin butler drabble #austin butler imagine #imagine #fluff #austin butler angst #dad!austin butler #daddy austin butler #oneshot #reader insert

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niobiumao3 · 8 months

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Okay so, I wrote the second thing from this post.

Also available in AO3 format.

~*~

It's not that Tech doesn't want to interact with anyone, it's that he's exhausted.

Being reunited with his siblings and finding all of them more or less in one piece (physically if not emotionally) is the only thing he's needed for some time. Now in possession of that, he's ready to sleep for at least ten rotations. Possibly longer. The quality of the surface is negotiable, so long as it's stable. He should eat, though, having not been able to very often since falling from the rail car. Or, so they all convince him. Afterwards he can sleep to his heart's content (and plans to).

Throughout dinner he's quiet, keeps himself present enough to respond if he hears his name or senses the conversation has paused in expectation of a comment. This alone is a struggle, uses up the last of his reserves. Once everyone is clearing off the table and leaving to sleep or otherwise he's ready to crawl into a cramped, uncomfortable rack on the Marauder and pass out.

He does help with cleanup, though, bringing in trays, putting away food. At some point a cup of water appears next to him and he drinks it, continues the chores on a sort of autopilot until Phee settles her hip on the counter and folds her arms.

"You look like you could use some sleep. Maybe, a month or so."

"That will be the minimum I expect," Tech admits. He finishes the water, sets the cup into the sink. A second later he realizes she must have been the one to put it next to him. "Thank you. For the water."

"You're welcome," she says, smiling, warm and tired. There's a strain in her expression he doesn't remember seeing before, isn't sure how to ask about. So he turns to survey the kitchen--hers, sparse and simple since she's on the island so infrequently. There's a bowl of items on the table: a large shell, a feather, a colorful rock, a piece of...

... damaged, tinted transparisteel in a scratched, circular frame...

Tech drifts towards the table, vaguely aware Phee is watching him. She must see what he's noticed, because she says, "Yeah. I...didn't want to get rid of them."

He reaches for the goggles with caution, like they might bite. Here they are, destroyed as he'd expected them to be, left lens smashed, right lens cracked. Dust from the mountainside still coats the band. It's impossible for her to have these. Unless she'd done the unthinkable and gone to Eriadu to look for him?

"Where did you find them," he asks, turning them over in his hands. Somehow the camera housing is still intact. Had they checked it for footage?

"I didn't," she admits, then sighs. "Believe me, I wanted to go to Eriadu, but Shep and Hunter wouldn't let me. Wrecker had them."

Rightfully so, he thinks but doesn't say, because Phee not endangering herself on his behalf is slightly less important than the source of the ugly new dread coalescing in his mind. "Wrecker had these."

"Yeah. They came back with them and--"

Something in her voice has changed. Something he should address. Except there's no time, so he interrupts her. "And where did they get them?"

She blinks, taken aback. "I'm...not sure. They didn't say."

Tech grips them tightly, makes for the door. "We need to talk to them, right now. And Shep."

She follows close on his heels. "Right now?"

"Yes. Immediately."

Her demeanor shifts from uncertain worry to simple determination. "I'll go get Shep."

He registers this vaguely, mind working at a furious pace. Had they really gone back for him? They hadn't said so. But then how had they found the goggles? Chanced across them in a wrecking yard? That seemed unlikely. Bought them off a scavenger?

The Marauder's ramp is still down, the lights on. Omega sits in the entrance, toying with a tablet while their brothers mill around the external storage compartment. This suggests they're trying to sort out sleeping arrangements by putting whatever they can into the compartments. Shep had offered one of the little houses now that lower Pabu was repaired, but Hunter had demured. It's just as well; Tech suspects Crosshair and Omega won't be able to sleep anywhere but on the ship for some time, can't blame them either. It's fortunate either way, as it means they're all still awake.

Omega sees Tech on first, greets him with a tired smile and a wave. Noticing her movement, Wrecker turns, guffaws at Tech. "What, not gonna stay with Phee?"

Tech stops in front of them. It's on the tip of his tongue to ask, "Why would I do that?" but he doesn't have time. None of them do. Just like like when he was dangling from the rail car.

He holds up his broken goggles, which saps the general mood of relaxation from all of them in a moment: Crosshair stares, expression souring; Omega swallows, looks away; Hunter, Echo, and Wrecker all become somber. He'd be sorry if the circumstances were anything but what they are.

"How did you get these?" he asks, searching their faces.

Wrecker grimaces. "Hemlock. He was trying to use them to mess with us." He rubs the back of his neck, murmurs, "Worked pretty well."

The dread hovering in Tech's crystallizes, takes shape. He starts tearing apart the recording device.

Omega slowly stands, walks down the ramp. Hunter watches Tech yank off piece after piece of the device with growing concern. "Tech, what are you--"

"Hemlock," Tech says, interrupting him. He glances up, looks from Wrecker to Hunter for confirmation. "He gave you these."

Echo says, "Yeah." A second later he closes his eyes. "...shit."

"What," Crosshair says, voice gone hard. Omega moves to him, takes one of his hands. Tech hears people approaching; Phee and Shep, he suspects.

He finds it a second later, precisely where he'd expected it to be. It's smaller than the older models he's familiar with, though that's hardly a surprise. Hemlock would have access to the latest equipment.

Tech yanks out the tracking chip, holds it up, throws it to the ground and smashes it under the heel of his boot.

"Fuck," Crosshair says on a sigh.

Phee comes to stand next to Tech, eyes on the fragmented remains. "Tell me that's not what I think it is."

He wishes he could. "It is."

Hesitantly, Shep asks, "What is it?"

"A tracking device," Hunter says. Resignation and defeat darken his features, reminding Tech of leaving Kamino without Crosshair. (That's not happening. Not this time. Not ever again.)

No reactions from the rest of them, not even Shep, just stunned silence. Tech can't stand how no one is moving or speaking, so starts to. "We must evacuate everyone. Immediately."

Phee runs a hand over her face. "Brown Eyes how are we evacuating several hundred people on a moment's notice?" There's a note in her voice he's not heard before: fear, brittle and sharp. It makes him want to...

He's not sure. Do something to fix it, at a minimum. "We'll find a way. We always do."

Echo heads for the ramp. "Well for starters I'll contact Rex. He'll at least have a couple of ships we can load people onto."

"You're sure," Shep says. Tech turns: the despondency in Shep's features is painful to see.

"Yes. That was a low power tracker, but the chances they've not picked up the signal by now are minimal. We must assume they're on their way."

Phee exhales sharply. Just like that, her fear becomes resolve. "Alright. Let's get everyone ready to go. No packing, we just leave." She turns to Shep. "If it doesn't fit in their pockets it has to stay."

Shep sighs, nods. He and Phee take separate exits from the courtyard to round up the various leaders of the refugees for help in spreading the word.

Hunter stares down at the remains of the chip, unmoving. The others watch him with growing worry.

Omega's voice is quiet in the darkening courtyard. "Hunter?"

"What have we done," is all he says.

A sound from within the Marauder catches Tech's attention. One he'd know asleep or half dead, drilled into him via hours of simulator time and countless battles: enemy ships on approach.

Echo leans out of the ship. "They're here."

#star wars #the bad batch #spoilers #tbb tech #phee genoa #tbb hunter #tbb wrecker #tbb Omega #tbb echo #i mean but really spoilers but anyways #trailer speculation fic

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