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loliwrites · 8 months ago

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November: Nothing's Gonna Stop Us Now

part four of fountain of sorrow

pairing: javier peña x f!reader rating: explicit, 18+ minors dni warnings/tags: set between s2 & s3, early/mid ‘90s, single mother [reader has a young daughter][child won’t play a massive role], sassy chucho, chickens, brief discussion of past physical abuse [not graphic], javi being a good girl dad, SMUT, fingering, mild exhibitionism, oral (m receiving), unprotected p in v sex, subtle declarations of love-ish, post-sex photos, female reader, no physical description, girl dad!javi, soft!javi, protective!javi, no use of y/n. word count: 8.0k series masterlist a/n: ALL CAPS EXCITEMENT

Javi combed his hair in his normal style, then inspected his mustache, making sure it looked neat and tidy. He ran his hand over his mouth and then jostled his shoulders. A quick glance in the mirror and a swipe at an errant wrinkle on his button down shirt. The last time he’d been on a proper date… well he ventured to figure that was way back when with Lorraine. A little out of practice here, which somehow felt even stranger considering he was so well practiced with the sex that usually came after proper dates.

He’d only just flicked off the bathroom light when the knock at his door came and was paid little attention. Probably just a neighbor. The more who knew he was back in town, the more came over to ask a favor or rehash the miserable past. So he paid the second round of knocking even less attention than the first. Surely they’d get the hint and move on. Leave him alone.

“Javier! Abre la puerta, pendejo!”

No one more than his father loved to call him that. And hearing Chucho’s increasingly frustrated grumbles, Javi rushed to the door and yanked it open just as equally frustrated as his father. “What?”

“That’s how you greet your father now?” Chucho pushed past Javi and entered the house mumbling under his breath, “cabrón.” Then, as if it had taken him a few extra seconds to realize his son looked more put together than usual, he spun around and eyed Javier. His eyes flicked up and down to inspect him. “Where’re you going?”

“What do you need, dad?”

Chucho smirked and folded his arms over his chest. “My boy’s got a girlfriend, don’t he?”

“Dad,”

“Who’s she? Do I know her?”

“Do you need something? I have to leave,”

“Came by to say you’re off the hook on helping me with the chicken coop on Saturday. Throwin’ a pre-Thanksgiving barbecue.”

“Great,” Javi tried to usher Chucho back toward the door.

Chucho complied but not without his own ace up his sleeve, “bring the girl that’s put’ya in such a stellar mood. And before you say no, I’ll make you fix the coop by yourself if you don’t.”

“She’s kind of busy on the weekends,”

“Figure it out, son.”

❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖

You stared at yourself in the mirror, trying not to focus too much on all the things you thought were out of place. You knew in actuality they weren’t. It was your brain nitpicking. And for what? It wasn’t as if this was the first time he’d be seeing you. And clothed no less! Four months of near constant sex over the weekends mixed with long weekdays of enduring solitude and loneliness. But since Javi had brought up the idea of an actual date, there’d been two sides of you tugging against each other. The one side that was excited to see what this meant in terms of what was happening between you two. You hadn’t thrown dating seriously off the table completely, you just didn’t think you’d do that with him. Which is exactly where the other half of you stepped in. The half that was sure Javi wasn’t the person to get serious with. Keep him under the cloak of darkness.

And life had given you unexpected time to dwell on it. Because after it was floated as an idea you had a buffer week of you being busy with Halloween plans. And then the following week Lily was home from school with the flu. The week after that, you’d picked up the nasty bug courtesy of her. By that point, Javi realized waiting for a free weekend from you was costing him more time – at least as a date went. He still got to see you those nights for sex. So he pitched a weeknight date. After work, drop the muñequita off with your mom, and he’d pick you up from there.

“He’s here!” Your mom called out from the other room. You gave yourself one more parting glance before exiting the bathroom. “Why are his pants so tight?”

“Mom,” you tilted your head to the side and complained. It was giving you flashbacks from high school. Back when she’d interrogate your suitors like you assumed a father would, had yours stuck around. But that was all you managed to say before you kissed the head of your little angel who was busying herself with a coloring book. “I won’t be back too late. Probably ten or so,”

She nodded and waved her hand at you. Don’t worry about it. Go have yourself a fun night. And with one last grateful smile at her, you pulled the front door open and slipped out of it just in time to intercept Javi as he was coming up the driveway. He looked just as good as ever. Almost made you sad you’d be in public tonight. And though he looked the same, he was holding a small bouquet of flowers in front of him, and that was new. A little more thoughtful than most gestures from him.

“You look great,” he smiled and leaned in for an immediate kiss.

You reciprocated instantly, feeling an innate sense that your mom was most definitely looking out the front window, watching you. So you pulled away and looked down at your outfit after a quick, chaste peck. “Yeah? Are those for me?”

“Yeah,” he grinned and handed the bouquet over.

You fondled the delicate petals before burying your nose in them. A surprisingly nice scent, and also surprisingly, not some filler flower. You wouldn’t have expected a guy like him to have good taste. “Let me put these inside. I’ll be right out, then we can go,”

He nodded though you’d already turned away from him, heading back for the house. And seeing as though it wasn’t at all an invitation, Javi stood in place and looked around awkwardly, pushing his hands into his pockets, awaiting your return.

❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖

If there was any part of you that thought the awkwardness would dissipate once at dinner, you were sorely, sorely mistaken. It all remained as if both of you were unsure of who the other person was, what the intention was… and you knew he was picking up on it, too. The way his cheeks grew red whenever he accidentally interrupted you. The way that redness progressed to his ears when he said something that might’ve been a little off-color given your date taking place in what could be described as Laredo’s nicest restaurant.

You’d run the gamut of small talk. Things that were absolutely asinine given the fact that he’d already been inside you. How was the muñequita doing? How was work? What’d you study in school? You figured driving your fork into your eyeballs would’ve been less painful. The wine he ordered hadn’t helped either. And just when you started to think there wasn’t anything here other than a sexual connection between you, the waiter dropped an unexpected dessert on the table between you. A small piece of chocolate cake, garnished with fudge and raspberries. You didn’t know it at the time, but that cake was your saving grace. Whether it was the chocolate, the raspberries, the fact that it was a giant plate of aphrodisiacs, or if Javi just got it in his head that what was happening was ridiculous, he finally spoke up.

“What the fuck’s going on?”

You choked on a raspberry and looked up at him. It wasn’t accusatory. More of just a statement acutely aware of the situation. And it lifted a massive weight off your shoulders and chest. “It’s weird, right?”

He shoved another forkful of cake into his mouth, “we’re so good at fucking, how can we be so bad at this?”

“We should be good at this!”

“We should be great at this!” He agreed, setting his fork down on the plate, effectively leaving the rest to you.

“So make it better,”

And that made Javi smile. The smile you were used to seeing. The one that was way too charming for his own good. Way too charming for your own good. He reached out across the table, palm upright. It struck you as odd that despite having gone through the entire meal, this was the first time he was making an effort at physical contact. Feeling like this might be the last thing you both needed to be at complete ease, you wasted no time in resting your hand in his, fingers intertwining and squeezing together.

“Maybe we should actually get to know each other. I mean, about things other than what gets you off,” he smirked and you sensed the real, true Javi coming back to you. “What’s your story? No one chooses Laredo just because,”

You nodded and set your fork down, buying yourself a little bit of time. You knew this story would require you to bring up your daughter’s father, but you also knew that if you expected him to be forthcoming with the questions you were bound to ask, you’d need to give him something. Like this.

“My ex, but then boyfriend, got a job in town and I thought we were in love. Because I’m an idiot. So I followed him out here. And about three months later, I’m knocked up, trying to get him to not be an asshole and failing. And the muñequita, as you like to call her, was about a month old when a judge told me in no uncertain terms that I wasn’t enough to raise a child. That she would do best in proximity to her father. What that judge knew and didn’t care to take into consideration with his final decision, was that her father’s not actually a good person. While he hasn’t ever laid a hand on her, the same can’t be said for his hands on me.” As the words came out of your mouth, they sounded so foreign to you. They were said with such little emotion. So matter of fact. You’d already cried all the tears you had to offer. They hadn’t done you any good back then and they wouldn’t do you any good now. “So I’m stuck in Laredo for a while. Until he proves to be even more of an asshole than he already is. Or until she turns eighteen.

“It’s not all that bad,” you smiled. “I mean it’s not great, but there are upsides. My mom moved from Corpus Christi to be closer and help. So I see her more now than I ever did in San Antonio. And I like my job, clerking. Probably would’ve never got the chance to do it in a bigger city. And honestly… I love your dad.”

“There’s no way my dad’s your plus to Laredo,” Javier grinned, a blush rising in his cheeks.

You giggled and nodded, wrapping your other hand around his so now it was fully encompassed in your grip. “He is. He’s the type of dad I wish I had. The type of dad I wish my daughter had,” you caught Javi’s glance and squeezed his hand. “You know he stands up for me when I’m at the bar? He stands up for all the girls, but I like to think he likes me most,”

“You’re certainly the only one he calls chiquita,”

“He’s a good man,”

Javi leaned back in his chair with a whistle through his teeth. “Then you’ll be glad to know you’re invited to his Thanksgiving barbecue this Saturday. And you don’t have the option to decline, unfortunately. Mostly because you declining means I have to do ranch work.”

“Back up. Explain, Peña,” you released his hand and grabbed your wine glass for a long sip. Chances were you weren’t drunk enough for this.

“He’s throwing a barbecue and insisted I bring the woman I’ve been seeing. Been wondering why I don’t go to the bar with him anymore. Never answer his calls on this weekends. Saw me all fixed up tonight before I went to pick you up. Figured I must shacked up with someone. So… I’m so glad you love him because you have to go,”

“You know I work weekends,”

“It’s during the day,”

You pursed your lips together, squinting as if weighing your options, “I’ll go if you answer one question,” you smirked. This was your moment to get the answer to the question you’d been asking him for months. “Why’d you leave Colombia?”

Javi’s eyes quickly averted back to the half-eaten dessert between you two. He cleared his throat and pressed his forearms on the table to drag himself more upright. Closer to you now, using it to be able to keep his voice low, lest nosy locals be around. He gave you more of an answer than you ever expected him to. He told you all about Pablo Escobar and the others that made up the Medellín cartel. He gave you details about the violence they were capable of. He explained the delicate spider web of egos that made up the DEA, cartel, and communist guerillas. And how any little fracture or splinter to the egos of the drug lords or communists meant that his life and the lives of other agents were at greater risk. And he gave you all of that explanation and backstory before he got to answering your question. About how he’d skirted around laws to rally the guerillas into an unrestrainable and unmanageable murderous vigilante group, Los Pepes. And then how he flat out ignored the laws and the ambassador. How Los Pepes was a little too good at their job. How he, and the DEA, and CIA knew he’d gotten in way too far over his head and one day they’d be coming after him. And suddenly the thing he’d worked years for – the thing they were so close to he could taste it – was stripped away from him. Catching Pablo Escobar would be someone else’s headline.

And you wanted to… cry for him. For the pain he’d endured, physically and otherwise. For the things he had to witness, whether he’d signed up for it or not. For all the things he’d worked so hard for in his career and would never get the chance to see through. You figured it was where he put all his love. All the genuine love and care that he hadn’t been able to give to a romantic partner, he’d given to his work.

So that’s why how ended up here. Walking up the drive to Chucho’s long, one story ranch house. One hand clutching Javi’s and the other holding that of your daughter’s. Bringing her along hadn’t been the original plan. Hadn’t even been in your wildest dreams until your mom called the afternoon before and said she was going back home, to Corpus Christi, to visit her sister who’d taken a fall. She didn’t want to leave you in a bind… didn’t want you to have to rely on your baby daddy more… but she had to go. And you knew you were already going to have to pawn her off on her dad tonight while you were at The Tack Room, so wanting to limit her time with him as much as possible, you asked Javi if she could come along. Actually, you sprung it on him as he was standing at your front door. Pouted your lips and batted your biggest, saddest eyes at him, hoping it’d be enough to convince him. What you didn’t know was that he didn't need to be convinced. All you had to do was say the word and you’d get whatever you wanted. No questions asked.

Javier wondered what his dad would say when he saw you walk into the backyard with him. And what he’d think about your daughter tagging along. Figured he’d get a good laugh out of it. Out of his son being father-like. Gentle to a little girl that wasn’t his. Javier hoped part of his dad would be proud. He’d prepared himself that this would be your launch to his dad and a few of his friends. What he hadn’t been prepared for was that it’d be your launch to practically everyone in the neighborhood. He heard the Spanish music first; so loud on the radio that he figured the speakers were straining beneath the reverberation. Beneath the guitar and lyrics was the hum of chatter of the neighbors. Some he could point out definitively as he opened up the side gate and escorted you and the muñequita into the yard. Miss Rosalia and her uninhibited, thundering laugh. She was almost as old as Chucho and had spent many nights in her younger years watching over Javi until he was old enough to look after himself. Pancho’s grandkids – Lily and Jason – their high pitched squeals of delight. Which meant their parents, Pancho’s daughter Maria and her gringo husband Michael were surely around too. Yet through all the noise and the mass of people in the yard, Javier found the sight of his father at first glance. On the patio, cowboy hat low on his head, glasses even lower down the bridge of his nose, popping the caps off a couple Modelos.

It was like they were magnets attuned to each other because no sooner than you followed Javi’s gaze toward his father, you found that Chucho was already looking back at the both of you. And before you knew it, Javi was tugging your hand forward, taking you in tow with him. Weaving through the partygoers, you garnered looks from the majority of them… mostly the women, whose eyes seemed to flick between you and Javier and back. As if attempting to figure out what made you so special. And what they didn’t know was that it wasn’t Javi that made you special. It was his father.

“Hola chiquita,”

A beam broke out over your face, “hola Chucho,”

He leaned in and kissed your cheek, then affectionately, looked down. “Quién es este?”

You looked down at your daughter and mentioned her name. Over your shoulder, you could feel Javier’s eyes on her, too.

Chucho smiled and tilted his hat back, away from his face as he crouched down with a gentle smile, “hola chiquitita,” he held his hand out to her and she shook it.

“Javi calls her muñequita,”

On instinct, Chucho’s eyes flicked back up to his son, “does he now?” And finding Javier’s sheepish expression more than prize enough, Chucho looked back down in front of him, “muñequita, do you want some lemonade?” Off her eager nod, he nodded his head off to the side, “vamos.”

Once you were left alone with Javi again, you looked up at him. His expression still harboring the pink hue of embarrassment. You curled yourself into his side, practically forcing his arm to wrap around you while you set a hand on his stomach. He looked down at you and squeezed your shoulder.

“Good?” He murmured.

“We’re getting a lot of looks,” you let your eyes drift over the crowd only momentarily. Then back up at him.

“Let ‘em look, querida,” he hummed, lowering himself down to crowd your space. And with lips hovering over yours, “let’s make ‘em jealous.”

❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖

Javier kept his hand tightly clutched around the muñequita’s as he helped her climb over the two by four protruding from the ground and leading into the chicken coop. She was a little unsteady and gripping his hand nearly as tight as he was gripping hers.

“Careful,” he cautioned softly, “the chicken wire is sharp.”

She looked at her other hand, the one clutched around the hexagonal openings in the wired door. After taking a moment to process, she uncurled her fingers from it and held it out to the side for balance. Javi shut the door behind them once they were in, and he knelt down to fit inside the enclosure.

“Chickies!” the muñequita shrieked at the top of her lungs. To Javier’s surprise, she didn’t seem scared of them at all despite their erratic motion. “This a boy?”

He followed the direction of her pointed finger – to a large, speckled chicken pecking at the ground. He rested a forearm over his bent knee, settling his other hand on his opposite thigh. “These are all girls. You have to keep the boys and the girls separate,”

Only half-paying attention, she reached out to touch it, only to become startled when it flapped its wings. The whooshing sent her hair blowing back and she ran back to Javi, tucking herself into him. Her back pressed up against his chest and her tiny hands on his knee. “Why?”

“‘Cause they’ll…” he stopped himself and curled his arm around her protectively when another of the chickens let out an ear-piercing string of clucks. “Sometimes the boys annoy the girls,”

From your vantage point at one of the tables on the patio, you watched the whole thing unfold in the chicken coop. The way he remained attentive to her the entire time. To how she ran to him after being frightened. And how he went to shield her from harm. Originally you’d thought the hardest thing about today would be dodging all the bitter glances from the women. Turned out the hardest thing about today was fighting the feeling of love that was growing inside you.

And then Chucho appeared beside you, taking a seat and sliding a plate of food over to you. He followed your gaze out to the chicken coop and took a sip from his beer bottle. “He’s good with her,”

You felt your face grow warmer and you decided to cover it up by reaching forward to dip a tortilla chip into some homemade guacamole. “She really likes him,” then pushing the chip into your mouth, “but what’s not to like? You raised a good boy,”

“He’s an asshole,” Chucho grinned. It made you giggle, too. “When did this start up?”

To even your surprise, you told him the absolute truth. Minus all the juicy details about the sex life you shared with his son. But about the day you first met him. And how he’d come visit you at The Tack Room as long as his dad wasn’t there. Chucho scoffed at that. But he softened again when you recounted your first actual date with Javi, and how he’d finally managed to open up about Colombia. As you ended the explanation, you started to feel sort of odd about opening up to him in this way not even knowing how much his own son had told him. Apparently not much.

“He’s treatin’ you well?” Chucho’s gaze drifted back to the chicken coop, where Javi was exiting, this time holding the muñequita. His forearm beneath her legs and her arms around his neck. “I’ll kick his ass if he isn’t,”

“I’ll kick his ass if he isn’t,”

A fleeting smile passed over Chucho’s face. Now Javi was on his way back to the patio. “This ain’t a knock against my son. Javier does his best. But you protect yourself… your heart, I mean. ‘Cause my son’s been known to break ‘em.” Chucho stood up, “got a mind of his own, that one. And sometimes it don’t work too good,”

It was then you looked back up at Javier just as he was setting your daughter down on her feet. She was squirming in his arms, anxious to be set free as Pancho’s grandkids came up and asked if she wanted to play tag with them. Could that be the same man Chucho was warning you about? In the back of your mind you knew it was. Women throughout Laredo could testify to it. But when he fell back in step toward the patio and caught your gaze, the smile that erupted over his face made you think that it was different now. Then it made you think that you were foolish. Who were you to change a man’s behavior? Shit. You hadn’t even able to get your ex to become decent enough to help pay for his kid.

There was no hidden agenda to your next move. No secret plan to get him alone. Just the discomfort rising in your throat that he might catch on that you were back in your head again. And god forbid you both endure any amount of returned awkwardness like that of the date. So you gathered the empty beer bottles and plastic plates on the table; using the skills practiced to perfection from work, and carried on in through the back door to dispose of them. Perhaps you should’ve asked Chucho, or even Javi, before entering the house. No one had asked you to do so, and you wondered if it was off limits as you carried on into the kitchen. Just outside the window by the sink, you could see the party carrying on, oblivious to your new absence.

But the back door reopened and you looked up at the newcomer, ready to apologize for intruding. But you quickly found it was only Javier. He rounded the counter to approach you; a cheeky grin on his face that he’d finally done it. He’d gotten you alone. And that smile… it got you thinking again that it was different.

“You come to help me tidy up?” You give a smirk of your own knowing fully well he hadn’t. That was surely the last thing on his mind. Proven by the way he slid up behind your and wrapped his arms around your waist; hands wrapping around you and pulling you back into his body. Your ass brushed along the outline of his cock and it had you turning your head to the side to catch a glimpse of him. A disapproving shake of the head. “Javi,”

He tucked his face into your neck and kissed it, grazing his teeth gently across your skin. His hands squeezed your hips, holding you tighter to his body despite your futile opposition. Opposition which ultimately looked like you tilting your head to the side to allow him more space with your neck.

“What if your dad comes in?” Your eyes drifted shut. As if the question would make it come true, you didn’t want to bear witness to it.

“Why would he come in?”

“‘Cause it’s his–”

He cut you off by sliding one of his hands down from your hip and undid the button of your jeans with a quick flick of his fingers. And his hand was beneath the denim before you’d even had a chance to protest. Deft fingers curled along the cotton fabric of your underwear. Just a whisper of a touch over your clit. You thought about resting your head back on Javi’s shoulder, but just before you could, he bumped his chest against your back to get your attention.

“Look,” he commanded and waited a second to give you time to obey him. Which you did on impulse. Javi had leaned forward, his cheek close to yours, both looking out over the bay window behind the kitchen sink, overlooking the backyard. “Anyone could see us right now,” he whispered and nudged your underwear to the side, giving him just enough space for his fingers to resume their ministrations. You knew what he’d feel; knew that he’d soon become aware that you’d spent the better half of the barbecue uncomfortably shifting your thighs together, trying to ignore the fact that watching him with your kin was making you inexplicably aroused. That watching him play with her and hold her and bond with her was more than any man had done, including her own father.

“Oh you like that, huh?” There was a low growl to his voice, “you like that we could get caught.”

Sure, you thought. Let’s go with that. That was the least frightening of the options. Because having to admit to Javier that it wasn’t the idea of getting caught, but the idea of him being a dad to your child that was making you wet seemed far too vulnerable for your current position.

His fingers followed your slit from your clit to your entrance and pressed inside you without hesitation. A slow, lingering gasp left your parted lips and you melted back into Javi’s body, using him as the sole form of support in keeping you upright. His lips met your jawline and you could swear you felt them pull into a smile when your anatomy clenched around his fingers.

You shifted your body down on his fingers, “Javi,”

He grinned wider, a shit-eating one he knew you would’ve slapped off his face had you seen it, “I know, querida.” His fingers thrust in and out of you at an agonizingly slow pace.

You could feel yourself there on the edge having had more than enough time for the anticipation to build throughout the day. Ready to fall in any capacity he would allow you to. Whether that just meant here, in Chucho’s kitchen, muffled by the obscene sounds his fingers were making inside you. Or if it meant being able to say the words that were right there at the tip of your tongue.

“Javi?”

Your eyes flashed open at the sound of Chucho’s voice. Through the kitchen window, you could see he was still out in the yard, not quite at the patio but making his way there. Beginning to strain in Javier’s arms, he moved the hand at your waist and cupped it around your neck.

“Peña,” you tugged at his wrist but it was a fruitless effort.

“Javier?” Chucho called again, stepping into the shade of the patio awning, into full view of the kitchen window.

Javi kept his eyes glued to you. His hand gained a tighter grip around your neck, and his fingers thrust up into you to the last knuckle “come for me.”

“Javi,” you moaned and hated the way it came out like it did. You wanted to be strong. Be firm and protest. And yet…

Javier curled his fingers inside you, against the spongy front wall of your wall, “come,” he growled into your ear, lips pressed against the soft skin there.

If there had been an ounce of willpower within you, you would’ve stopped yourself. Pulled yourself together and shook yourself out of his grasp. But there was no willpower. No way to keep yourself afloat. He commanded and you obeyed. Legs shook until your knees gave out and Javi ws forced to release your neck so he could wrap that strong arm around your waist and keep you on your feet. You came over his fingers and felt it drip down the inside of your thighs. And it hadn’t ended the way you would’ve hoped. No moment of calmness to gather yourself back together. No gentle kiss or a good girl. Just Javi pulling his fingers out of you and removing his hand from your pants. He licked one clean and then wiped them dry on the back of his jeans, already making his way back to the door to intercept his dad.

❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖

You ran up the walkway to your front door, keys in hand, keenly aware that Javi was coming up the path behind you, the muñequita cradled in his arms. She had fallen asleep on the drive over but could hear her grumbling behind you, being awoken. By the sound of it, she was less than happy about it, despite Javier trying to soothe her, and you knew you’d have a hell of a time trying to get her back out of the house and to her dad’s before your shift started.

Flying through the front door and leaving it open behind you, you ran down the hallway and into your bedroom to get changed. The jeans from earlier would suffice, and after slipping into the white tank top that made up your “uniform”, you ran back down the hallway. “Javi, can you help her get her shoes back on? The slip-on ones by the door are fine!”

You ran into the kitchen and rummaged through it for something quick and easy she could snack on for when she woke up inevitably starving and throwing a fit. Some string cheese, applesauce, a juice box… and then you ran back toward the front door and came to a skidding halt when you passed by the living room and saw absolutely no progress being made.

Progress was the furthest thing from happening. To call this progress would’ve been more than generous. What it was, was Javi sat back on the couch, reclined deep in the seat at an almost unnatural position. The muñequita on her side on top of him; cheek squished to his chest, her knees curled up and her feet settling in his lap. She was already back asleep and looked… absolutely peaceful.

“Javi,” you protested, coming into the room and reaching for her.

But Javier lifted his arms and wrapped them around her protectively, shielding her from disruption.

“I have to go to work,”

“I know, but look… she’s comfortable,” he patted his hand down against her back softly.

“I have to drop her off with her dad,” you reached for her again, and this time Javi shifted his entire body. “Peña, come on, I’m gonna be late.”

And then the words came out of his mouth. He wasn’t sure where they had come from. You didn’t know either. And he wondered if he was crossing a boundary. “I can watch her,” he met your eyes and to both of your surprise, he looked genuine. “She’s had a long day. It’s easier if she stays here.” And then off your movement of putting your hands on your hips and cocking your head to the side, “I’ll make her dinner when she wakes up. Get her ready for bed,”

“Javi,”

“I can take care of her,” he insisted. “Trust me?”

Though you hadn’t been given many reasons to trust men in the past, you did undeniably trust him. You’d come to know that what he told you the day he met you, was true. I’m the best thing that could’ve walked into your daughter’s life. So you rounded to the side of the couch and bent forward. A chaste kiss to the lips while he held your reason for living was proof enough that you trusted him. You knew that there was probably no place in the world she was safer than with DEA Agent, Javier Peña.

As you carried on to The Tack Room, you wondered if you’d ever hear about what went on while you were away. You wondered how Javi would answer you when you asked how it went. You figured he’d downplay it. Say it was fine. Everything went great. That the muñequita was a perfect angel. You doubted you’d ever hear about the minutiae that made up the hours they had together.

You’d never actually hear about how she did indeed wake up with a fury and a hungry stomach. And the way Javi cut up an apple and scooped some peanut butter into a small bowl for her. Or how he rummaged through the cabinets until he came upon a box of Kraft macaroni. You’d never hear about how they sat side by side at the kitchen table, hunched over their own bowls, and devoured the unnaturally orange pasta. He’d never tell you about how he helped her pick out her pajamas and then waited in the hallway outside her door until she got herself changed. How when she called him back, he found that she’d put her shirt on backwards, and how they’d created a game to get her to slip her arms out of the sleeves and spin the top around until it faced the right way without having to take it off. And surely he’d go to the grave about how she batted those pretty please eyelashes at him – the same ones you gave him when you asked him to get the Halloween decorations from the attic – and finagled her way into staying up past her bedtime in order to play Pretty, Pretty Princess. How he let her adorn him with plastic necklaces and rings. And even plastic, clip-on earrings. But of course she won and was the only one to get the bejeweled crown. He’d also never admit how late it was by the time he finally got her to go back to sleep. How he’d kind of bribed her with some chocolate chip cookies, or how he sat on the floor by her bed and patted her back for far longer than was probably necessary before she drifted off to sleep and he was able to tiptoe out of her room. He’d never admit that because it was a little more than an hour before you were unlocking the front door and slipping back inside after your shift.

The TV was on. The news. For some reason, you didn’t think Javier was one to watch the news. His head rested on his fist, feet up on the coffee table. He was awake but his blinks were getting longer and longer. When he finally noticed you in the threshold, he sparked up and lifted his head. Lowered his feet to the ground as if you finding them on the coffee table would make you think he’d made himself too comfortable.

“Querida,” he smiled and stood from the couch, making a quick move toward you.

“The house didn’t burn down,” you mocked lightly and wrapped your arms around him when he came into your space. His lips met yours quickly before trailing down to your jaw and neck. His laugh was muffled by his mouth being pressed to your skin. You lifted one hand up to the back of his head and stroked your fingers through his hair. “How’d it go?”

“Easy,” he lifted his head and smiled, “she’s a good kid.”

You smiled and brought your hand up to his mouth, trailing your index finger over his bottom lip. “I didn’t thank you before,”

“You don’t need to th–”

Before he could finish, you fully cupped your hand over his mouth to get him to stop speaking. “No I do, because not having to leave her with her dad tonight lifted a tremendous weight off my shoulders.” You removed your palm from his mouth and hooked your arms over his shoulders. “And I love” you noted how Javi’s eyes seemed to widen a bit at the use of the word, “that she feels safe with you.”

“I just–”

You pressed your index finger to his lips again to stop him. “Shh, nope. Just… take that, and…” you took a deep breath in. A new smile spread across your lips, “I’d really like to give you a blowjob now, so we should go do that.”

“Whatever you say, querida.”

❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖

“This mouth,” Javier groaned, staring down at you, knelt over on the mattress while he stood beside the bed. He lowered a hand to your cheek and brushed the backs of his fingers over it. Meanwhile, your mouth was giving a valiant effort at making him come undone. “I love this mouth,”

A hum floated out of your lungs and up past your vocal chords. Lips that had been brought up to the head of his cock, wrapped tightly around the crown, pressed forth once again until your nose brushed against his waist. Judging by the breath that choked in Javi’s throat, you knew he wasn’t lying. His hand migrated from your cheek to the back of your head, where he gathered your hair into a ponytail and held it away for your face. For more of a better view of the thing he knew would be his undoing.

With the leverage of the ponytail, he guided your mouth along his shaft. The power out of your hands, you hollowed your cheeks and closed your eyes, completely focused on the pressure you applied to his member with your lips and tongue. Forced yourself to swallow back the gagging that nearly consumed you when he pushed himself down your throat. And when you re-opened your eyes, blinking back tears, the fondness you found within Javier’s gaze was something new. If your mouth hadn’t been full, maybe you would’ve mentioned something about it to him. Asked him where this new perceived fondness was coming from. It couldn’t have been the blowjob. You’d given him plenty before. And perhaps even more enthusiastic head before. But something about this in this moment warranted a new look from him and you weren’t given the time to ponder it. To try and get to the bottom of it.

After you noticed the look, Javier was easing your mouth off of him; relishing in the way your lips tried to hold onto him tighter. To keep him in your mouth. But he was stronger, and no sooner than he was freed from your mouth, he bent over and pressed a kiss to your lips. His tongue pushed into your mouth without hesitation. There were things you wanted to voice and bring light to. Things on the tip of your tongue that you thought might be worth throwing caution to the wind. Things you were sure would be met and reciprocated and yet…

“Peña,” you murmured in between kisses and felt his lips tighten into a smile against yours.

He backed away from you, a coy smirk on his face, “what, querida?”

“Do you like me?”

Javier rolled his eyes, affixed his hands to your shoulders and pushed you around until you relented and continued on with his gesture. His tongue darted out over his lips when you’d finished the motion, now finding your ass toward him. “No, I hate you,”

Your jaw dropped and you looked back over your shoulder, but Javi just grinned harder and pressed his hand on your upper back, pushing you down to the bed. “I’m serious, Javi,”

“Me too,” he ran his fingers over your entrance once before placing them on his shaft and notching himself at your core.

You opened your mouth again to protest but he pressed in, bottoming out in one fell swoop that your protest came in the way of a needy moan. Your fists closed around the bedsheets. His girth stretching you out almost uncomfortably, had it not been for the way he also bent over you. His knees now pressed on the mattress, his chest against your back, and his lips at your ear. Kisses trailed from your earlobe down to your neck and shoulder. Powerful thrusts left you gasping for air.

“Hate that you got me wrapped ‘round your finger,” he mumbled against your skin, teeth nipping at any flesh they could. He pushed himself in rougher, the head of his cock pressing against your cervix. “Hate that you know it,”

“Got’cha,”

Javi quickly pulled out of you and pressed on your hip until you rolled over onto your back. Staring up at him once again, you noticed that look of fondness hadn’t left his face. Whatever he might be saying about the “hate”, it didn’t live in his soul. Hell, it barely even lived in the words. He eased back into you, gentler this time, looking right in your eyes, taking it all in. Wholly focused on the way your jaw fell slack when he pressed into you to the hilt again. He brought his hand to your open mouth and dragged his thumb over your bottom lip. Soon replaced it with his lips for a kiss; slow, passionate, tender. And his hips followed suit. Thrusts much slower but not any less deep or forceful. He kept you connected for as long as possible.

“What the fuck are you doin’ to me?” He whispered.

You let out an airy moan and followed it up with another smirk, “making you come.”

He shook his head. His languid movements now made for the perfect position for his member to rub against your gspot, and his waist where you were connected rubbed against your clit. “What’re you doing to me in here,” he pressed his index finger to his forehead. Your smile faded for something else when he moved that finger down to his chest, “and here.”

You pouted your lips and furrowed your eyebrows, trying not to let that get you too emotional. He’d only half-expressed what you thought he wanted to. What you wanted to. But staring him in the eyes wasn’t doing much for your composure. Wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him forward, you kissed him again and hoped it would get you back in this moment – this sexual moment – without the threat of love dipping off your tongue.

The kisses were endless. Whether it was to your lips, jaw, neck, or chest, Javi didn’t let a moment go by without his lips adorning your skin with some form of attention. And when you both came – one after the another, but you first – you held onto him tightly. Fingernails digging into his shoulder blades and scratching downward. If you couldn’t say the words to make him yours, you’d certainly leave a mark to do so.

“Shit,” Javi grumbled, feeling himself throb inside you.

You smiled to yourself and scritched your fingers through his hair. The stickiness between your legs increased as he pulled out of you and your shared spend dripped out of your core. Once he was completely unsheathed from you, Javi rolled over onto his side and stretched over to reach the nightstand. There was something endearing that he knew the drill: finish the nightly conquest. Document it with a photograph.

The camera was in your hand in the same moment you’d repositioned yourself along the pillows. Comfortably stretching yourself out, you knew there was a finite amount of time until you had to run to the bathroom. But Javi took the drill and altered it. Usually the night ended with both of you trading off, taking pictures of each other. But this time, Javi curled into your side, wrapped his arm over your hips, and buried his face into the crook of your neck.

“Javi, I have to get up to take it,” you tilted your head toward his in an effort to shrink away from him. But he only held on tighter. His grip around your hips more possessive. A playful nip landed at your jugular.

“Take it like this,”

There it was. The words at the tip of your tongue again. Love. Love. Love. You turned the camera around; lens facing you. For the first time both Javi’s and your face in frame. Together. No chance at hiding identities. Your finger froze at the top of the camera. Perhaps to give him one last chance to change his mind. To come to his senses and tell you to wait… that he’d get up and take a picture of you first. But an interjection didn’t come. He didn’t try to stop you. His thumb rubbed back and forth over your hip bone. His lips stayed planted to your neck. While you faced the camera full frontal, only Javi’s profile was visible. But what a profile it was – the strong, curved nose, the sharp jawline…

You snapped the picture and freed it from the camera after it printed. Javi took the camera from you again and set it back down on the nightstand before returning to the spot he had previously been in. A soft woosh woosh woosh filled the space between as you shook the photo. Slowly the gray square turned to color and brought forth the image. The first of its kind. Javi turned his head away from your neck in order to look at it. A quick smile passed his lips.

“That’s a pretty picture of you,”

You cringed at the photo and slapped it down on your chest to hide it. “I hate my neck,”

Javi furrowed his eyebrows, “what’re you talking about?” He grabbed your wrist to sneak a glance at the picture again. For the life of him he couldn’t figure out what you were seeing in the photo to make such a comment. “I love your neck,” he leaned back in and bit your neck. This time a little harder than before.

And it made you shriek. A delighted, high pitched thing that nearly made you forget the qualm you’d had with the picture in the first place.

#javier pena x reader #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena x you #javier pena narcos #javier pena x female reader #javier pena x f!reader #javier pena smut #javier pena angst #javier pena fluff #narcos fanfiction #narcos fic #javier pena fic #ppcu #ppcu fanfiction #fountain of sorrow #fos

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zairene · 1 year ago

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THE CAR WINDOW. nanami kento

* ˚ ✦ synopsis: while you’re out running errands, you approach a random car window to adjust your appearance not knowing there was someone watching from the inside.

* ˚ ✦ genre: fic, 1.2k word count !

* ˚ ✦ author’s note: gonna lean more into a jjk blog for a bit !

it was an average day.

you were low on some cleaning supplies in your home and decided that today would be the day you finally dragged yourself out of your bed to go to this damn store. it was the same routine every time. you went to the store, bought what’s off your list, then spent some time “eye-shopping” which meant in your terms to buy everything you see and spend way more than intended.

but this time, you were not about to repeat this habit of yours. you will get in the store, get what you need not what you want, and get out. that’s it. that’s what was on your mind when you got out of your car. you could hear the sound of your keys dangling as you fiddled to lock the doors of your car. you were speed walking in the parking lot determined to make your goal a reality.

but to your luck, a fly decides to invade your personal space which leaves you waving your hands like a lunatic and frantically patting your face down. now, this was not out of fear but more out of annoyance. and when the fly finally realized that it’d done enough torment to you, you were slightly embarrassed but realized that amid your freak out your hair was out of its side part and the part of your hair you’d been neglecting to fix was on display for any bypasser to witness.

on instinct, you walked to a random car window and began to fix this monstrosity of a mess this stupid fly had caused. too many thoughts were running through your mind to even realize the stranger peering through that same window from the inside.

to your horror, the car window winds down and you freeze. you come into eye contact with a man. a blond man with eyes so heavy, that they could probably carry all of your grocery bags in one trip. he sighed deeply and ran his hand through his hair. “are you done?” huffed the annoyed man.

“oops.” was the only thing you could manage to muster in that situation as a wave of shame washed over your body.

“‘oops?’” he repeated.

“i mean…” you facepalmed. “i’m so sorry, sir. i didn’t notice that you were in your car.” you stood up completely disregarding your looks at this point.

“sure. now can you get out of the way? i have things to do and i don’t have the time to deal with trivial matters such as this.” you were shocked at the blunt but rude statement.

“excuse me?” you crossed your arms. “i get that i blocked your way but it wasn’t intentional, and i apologized.”

“or you should’ve paid more attention, and maybe we wouldn’t be in this situation, yeah?” your eyes widen. you were not about to put up with disrespect this early in the morning.

“well, who shit in your cereal this morning?” you scoffed.

“nobody ‘shit in my cereal,’” he mocked, “i’m just annoyed that you blocked my way without any consideration that maybe someone was in the car.”

“it was a damn expression! there was no need for you to be so rude. all you had to do was say it was okay and we still wouldn’t be here!” at this point, you were heated. the coarseness from this man had made your mood a whole lot worse than it already was. “you know what, i don’t have time for this. good-fucking-bye.”

you walked away from the car, not wanting to listen to anything else he had to comment about your actions. needless to say, that single-handedly ruined your day. and it didn’t help when you ran into this man once again at the same store, in the same parking lot but only about a week later.

this time, you were just here to see some things you could buy for your house since you were bored and your friends were busy. you were just walking when a voice rang out behind you, “hey!”

you turned around to see the same man from a few days back. you rolled your eyes and turned back around. you weren’t exactly excited to deal with his shenanigans again. but this time, he was persistent. “wait!” he yelled again, seemingly getting closer. you stop in your tracks and sigh deeply—loud enough for him to hear. you swiveled around on your heel to see him again.

“what do you want?” you said in the same displeased tone he had when he first met you. he shuffled on his feet, looking slightly lost on what to say. for someone who was just telling you to basically fuck off the other day, he looked quite adorable from the way he looked nervous trying to spit out what he had to say.

“look…” he struggled to maintain eye contact, but still looked at you anyways. “i’m… sorry about what happened the other day.“

“oh really?” a smug look grew on your face.

“yes, really. i wasn’t in a good mood and really tired—“

“i wasn’t either and i was only running on a few hours of sleep. next excuse?” you quickly retorted. he furrowed his eyebrows.

“i don’t have any. it was extremely uncivil of me to act toward you in that manner, especially since it was merely an accident.” you raised an eyebrow.

“oh really? anything else you wanna say?”

he sighed. “yes, and that i’m seriously sorry for this. and because of the way i acted…” he paused, figuring out a way to word this next statement. “i was wondering if i could treat you to lunch sometime soon.”

“and what makes you think i’ll say yes to that?”

“i have to make it up to you somehow, correct?”

your eyes widened. now that was a surprise from him. with the way he presented himself, it looked like he struggled with saying the word sorry. maybe you had justifiably misjudged his character. i mean, he was very attractive. tall, quite muscular with nice short blonde hair that framed his face. his jaw looked like it could slice through any tension that was clear in the air between you too, with plump pink lips to match.

his looks weren’t the only factor that somewhat swayed you to agree, it was also the apology and the way he wasn’t phased by your comments and came back with the right words. so, he isn’t that bad after all, you thought.

“okay.. sure.” you smiled. you pulled out your phone from your back pocket and opened the ‘phone’ app, opening the keypad and giving the phone to him to suggest that you wanted his number. after a few seconds of tapping, he gives you your phone back and you go to save his contact. you quickly grasp that you never got his name.

“oh, i never got your name. what is your name?” you looked up at him, it seems he forgot too. “right. nanami. n-a-n-a-m-i.” he spelled out for you as you typed. you nodded.

“well, okay nanami. my name is y/n, it’s nice to meet you.” he gave you a small smile. “it’s nice to meet you too y/n.”

“i’m gonna go, i have things to do. i’ll text you later.” he nodded and you turned around again but this time in a better mood than you were in before. you had already walked about a few feet when you heard a yell.

“wait, how is your name spelled?”

“you’ll figure it out!” you yelled back. waving your hand goodbye.

(🪭) — JUJUTSU KAISEN TAGLIST // @mypimpademia @megurulvr @chinieh @jogeto @jamies-cumslut @laylasbunbunny @edgyficuselastica @goldenglow149 @s-surreality @fiannee @4kh @stqrriichiigo

(📝) — TAGLIST FORM :: sign to be apart of the taglist!

#✏️ :: — fanfiction !#jjk x reader #jjk x black reader #jjk x black fem reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x black reader #jujutsu kaisen x black fem reader #nanami kento x reader #nanami x reader #nanami kento x black reader #nanami kento x black fem reader

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seishironagi2 · 6 months ago

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A Love Across Eras

A/n:ok, guys, I'm back for part 2 🤪 I can't believe you guys actually want more. anyway here is the link to part one if you haven't read it already. It took me too long to figure out how to link something that was embrassing💀

summary: James, Albus, and you try to make a living here.

James Sirius Potter x muggleborn!reader

word count: 797 words

warnings: none

read the previous part: part one

"James, how did you manage to send us 43 years back in time instead of three!" You hiss at the boy while flicking his forehead. "You have to now figure out how to get us home, ya big dumbass," you say, rolling your eyes.

James stands up and runs his hand through his dark brown hair, the stress on his evident when he takes a seat on the sofa, the remaining following sut when they sit on the chair beside them

"uhm, there's more." Albus continues, his eyes never leaving the time turner as he fiddles with it. "it looks like this thing is gone. so we need to fix it first." he says pocketing the now broken time turner

"I have an idea, but it's gonna be risky." james says as he looks at you and Albus.

"What if we ask Uncle Remus to help?" he continues, "he's smart, and out of any of their group, he'd be the one to help us." he says as he scans our faces, looking for our reactions to his plan

"it is possible, but how are we going to convince him to help us, we're just strangers to him. I doubt if we say, 'We're 43 years from the future, and you're the father of our uncle, he'll for sure help us then'." Albus says sarcastically as he leans his head on my shoulder, tired from the travel while his eyes slowly close.

"hmm, what if we instead say We're three years from the future? and the turner stopped working, we could possibly convince him then?" I say as I grab the blanket, covering Albus while he sleeps

after first getting together with James, you made an active effort to get as close to his family as you could, hoping to fit in with them, and you did. all of his cousins and siblings consider you as a part of the family while James' parents made you call them mom and dad. Albus and Lily both considered you James' better half and were closer to you than they were to James.

"How about this - we'll very obviously have to change our name. so, James, your last name is now Walker. I'll keep my name since I'm a muggle-born and Al? your name is Alfred Walker." You say, tapping the boy softly as he hums in response.

"The real and harder question is. where do we sleep and like live? " You say as you bite your nails –a habit you picked up when you were stressed or deep in thought– James' hand grabs yours and holds it, occasionally rubbing his thumb over your hand in a comforting manner.

"Maybe the room of requirement?" he says, looking over at you.

"Remember the spell I was working on with your dad? I could probably use that, but I'd need an unused or empty room, which people wouldn't use much." you say as you look around, hoping to find an empty room

"Oh right, what even was that spell for," James asks, his hand now gently squeezing yours, trying to end those thoughts running around your mind.

"Well, that spell allowed me to make an exact copy of my house and have it with me wherever I go. I know it seems useless in retrospect, but considering who my boyfriend is. it's good to have on hand." you say, smiling with a teasing tone in my voice,grabbing his hand and kissing it.

James smirks and starts to respond when the painting of the common room suddenly slams open, causing Albus to flinch and sit up. a group of four boys enters, following a girl who seems to be angry

"Lily, it was just a joke." says the boy with the glasses as he follows her aimlessly while the rest of the boys make their way to the sofa when they spot you three.

"Who are you guys." the one with the scar says, crossing his arms around his chest as he scans you all, trying to figure out if he's seen you before

well,this is going to be harder than you guys thought.

chap two is done! I hope u guys liked it and more chapters coming out soon :) again, if you have any suggestions or tips for me, please do tell as I want to be good at this :) also, the series name is A Love Across Eras.

part three

#albus severus potter #harry potter #james potter #james sirius potter #lily evans #remus lupin #sirius black #arthur weasley #molly weasley #percy weasley #james sirius potter being stupid #cursed child #marauders era #teddy lupin #lily luna potter #rose granger weasley #hugo granger weasley

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raccoonfallsharder · 1 year ago

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fanfiction masterlist i guess ♡

*this masterlist is OLD! find the new masterlist here

here's what you need to know about what is behind this cut: lots of smut, always with feelings and fluff, praise kinks, dirty talk, maybe some light d/s, enthusiastic consent. a few clean headcanons/minifics & fan art of your amazing OCs

(it's all rocket raccoon, all the time) also, please let me love your OCs (doodle requests temporarily paused)

If you would like to be added to the fanfiction update taglist (or removed), please let me know via comment, message, or ask! ♡

recently updated

headcanon 8 - rocket, lylla, & drax [NEW posted 9/17] headcanon 9 - dad glasses [NEW posted 9/21]

Reconnaissance for Beginners: An Instruction Manual (Fourteenth Visit) [ONESHOT. added 9/18] Part Three of Domestic Scenes in Space Travel

Chapter 1/6 Year Zero: Seed [NEW posted 9/24] florescence ❀ (a meetgroot)

Chapter XIV. Exactly Like a Flower. in which comfort is shared. [WIP 9/27] Chapter XV. Galaxy-Breaking Shit. in which more comfort is shared, and life is good. Briefly. [WIP 10/5] Window Across the Galaxy

I can't keep up with updating my kinktober prompts on a daily basis (I'm honestly amazed I've managed to keep up with the writing as well as I have and I've only been doing this for a few days) So for now, please find them with the tag #rfh kinktober and when the month is over I'll make a masterlist. [NEW all month] based on @flightlessangelwings’ Kinktober 2023 Prompt List

[complete works behind the cut ♡]

spoilers: I have a preferred trope/formula that I lean into quite hard (girl falls first; raccoon falls harder) and while I do really love tragic fanfic, I firmly believe rocket's suffered enough of that so it's only happy endings here (even if it takes a minute to get there). Well, more or less, anyway.

Domestic Scenes in Space Travel

reader x rocket fluff, medium-burn?? (at least for Part One), smut. comics-based but you don't need any comics background knowledge to read this - you just need to enjoy fluff + smut + rocket (and be 18 i guess). multiple parts. see notes for summary + warnings.

The Very Boring Adventures of Space Pilot & Sweatshirt Girl Part One of Domestic Scenes in Space Travel [COMPLETE 5/5 chapters] Summary: In Rocket Raccoon: Grounded (2016) / Issue #3, Rocket asks a stranger on the ferry to "make sure nobody does anything weird" to him while he naps, and the stranger just, like, abandons him while he's sleeping?? get in loser we're gonna fix it Chapter One (The First Visit) Chapter Two (The Second Visit) Chapter Three (The Third Visit) Chapter Four (The Fourth Visit) Chapter Five (The Fifth Visit) complete post - The Very Boring Adventures of Space Pilot & Sweatshirt Girl

Outer Space Safety & Spaceship Maintenance Training (Ninth Visit) Part Two of Domestic Scenes in Space Travel [Oneshot. COMPLETE 8/21] Sequel to The Very Boring Adventures of Space Pilot & Sweatshirt Girl [domestic fluff, dirty talk, oral sex - mind the ao3 tags.] Summary: Study Night. or - why study when you can seduce your hot local Space Pilot into oral? When you were a kid, you imagined yourself growing up, working a cool job, living in a cute house, getting a big dog, marrying, and having kids of your own. You've currently got none of those things, but you are getting regularly railed by a raccoon-shaped cosmic adventurer, and he's currently showing you around his spaceship. Which is kinda better than anything you could have dreamed up for yourself. [comics-inspired, though i'm fucking around with timelines/continuity and you really don't need any comics-context to ride this ride] complete post - Outer Space Safety & Spaceship Maintenance Training

Reconnaissance for Beginners: An Instruction Manual (Fourteenth Visit) Part Three of Domestic Scenes in Space Travel [Oneshot. COMPLETE 9/18] [domestic fluff, dirty talk, orgasm delay, bf/gf silliness. - mind the ao3 tags.] Summary: Date Night. in a gesture of true romance, rocket takes you to a dive bar. of all the stories he's shared with you, his favorites are the ones where he gets saved by the space princess. not that he'd tell you that. ˖⁺｡˚⋆˙✧⋆｡°✩☼⋆｡°✩☽︎ loosely based on Rocket (2017): The Blue River Score. domestic bf/gf silliness & fluff. extensive smut. comics-knowledge isn't needed but HIGHLY recommend starting at the beginning of this collection for context (The Very Boring Adventures of Space Pilot & Sweatshirt Girl).

florescence ❀ (a meetgroot)

[WIP: Year 0/5] [mcu-based, slight au, medium-burn, eventual smut circa chapter four. tentative allies to friends to lovers. the middle is angsty but there are only happy endings here. no use of y/n.] Summary: “The only chance we got is to get to the other side of the universe as fast as we can and maybe, just maybe, we'll be able to live full lives before that whack-job ever gets there.” Rocket & Groot leave their friends behind on Knowhere, despite the latter’s protests, and end up hiding out on a nothing-planet (with a non-extradition policy) at the edge of the Shi’ar Galaxy. It was the flowers that drew you in.

Chapter 1/6 Year Zero: Seed [NEW posted 9/24]

Blackmail Material

[WIP: Chapter 2/4] reader x rocket pwp with feelings; smut & fluff & love confessions. MCU-based, post-Endgame, friends-to-lovers. Summary: a classic tale of "this fuckin raccoon found your sex-toy." as per usual: girl falls first; raccoon falls harder. see notes for summary + warnings.

Chapter One: Blackmail Material Chapter Two: Self-Sufficience [NEW posted 8/29] Chapter Three: Firearms over Flowers ???

Window Across the Galaxy

[WIP: Chapter 15/25+] [NEW chapter posted 10/5] rocket x oc angst/hurt/comfort; slow burn + eventual smut with feelings. MCU-based. slight AU starting pre-GOTG volume 1. enemies to friends to lovers but only one of these idiots thinks they're enemies. see notes for summary + warnings. could become 1 part of a 2-part series, if I have the energy/inspiration. Summary: Rocket is captured by a Ravager crew hoping to get rich off the excessively large bounty on his head. Throwing a wrench in everyone’s plans is the Terran girl they hired to do some freelance assessing on a recent haul of goods they’ve seized from a Xandaran luxury liner. Oops.

Chapter I. A Delicacy. in which our reluctant heroes meet atop a crate of Sovereign porn in the bowels of a Ravager ship. Chapter II. Monster For A Pet. in which one hero wrestles with his inner Groot, and the other is quite possibly a moron. Chapter III. A Kindness.in which Rocket gets in his own damn way: not for the first time, and certainly not for the last. Chapter IV. Got There First. in which our heroes obtain an arsenal and street food. Chapter V. Things No-One Has Said Before. in which one hero refuses to babysit and the other refuses to leave. Chapter VI. Two and a Half Billion Units. in which we lean into the “they were roommates” trope. Jolie has misgivings, while Rocket has fantasies - about getting rich, of course. Chapter VII. I'm Here.in which we visit Knowhere. Chapter VIII. The Care & Feeding of Human Pets.in which our heroes practice breathing and we lean into a new trope: “there was (technically) one bed.” Chapter IX. Scrapmetal and a Dream. in which we redefine homemaking. Chapter X. Thin Fucking Ice. in which our heroes get fucked. Not in the good way. Chapter XI. Let It Be. in which Xandar is saved and good lives are lost. Chapter XII. So Much It Hurts. in which we try not to fuck up the vibes. Chapter XIII. Don’t Wait. in which a lost sister is found and Drax grapples with the concept of sarcasm. Chapter XIV. Exactly Like a Flower. in which comfort is shared. Chapter XV. Galaxy-Breaking Shit. in which more comfort is shared, and life is good. Briefly. [WIP 10/5]

Autopilot Systems Check [Oneshot. COMPLETE 9/3/2023] Est Word Count: 1409 reader x rocket soft fluff & domestica. MCU-based, post-Endgame i guess. Summary: reader wakes up in the middle of the night and rocket is nowhere to be found. drabble based on this post/inadvertent prompt.[complete post - Autopilot Systems Check]

Kinktober 2023

based on day 8 of @flightlessangelwings’ Kinktober 2023 Prompt List Kinktober Day 8: Turbulence. rocket needs you to hold. flarkin. still. [NEW 10/8]

Other Duties As Assigned

[WIP: ???] rocket x oc email romance/LDR (lol); slow burn + probable smut with feelings. Begins five months after The Snap. I don't have an intended outcome for this fic yet (just kind of rambling around) so this has the most uncertain publishing date. Summary: Natasha Romanoff is an administrative nightmare - a fact that does not go unnoticed by the (interim) captain of the Milano. First she demands that the remaining two Guardians of the Galaxy be reachable via a primitive Terran messaging system, and then she can't be bothered to read the frickin' emails. Thank fuck she's hired a new assistant.

Headcannons & Drabbles headcanon 1 - rocket & sex work headcanon 2 - rocket & occassional post-sex feelings headcanon 3 - quill & innocence/optimism headcanon 4 (minific/drabble) - rocket & nebula (2014) in endgame/post time-heist headcanon 5 (minific/drabble) - rocket & quill were scooped at the same time headcanon 6 - cinnamon roll peter quill continued headcanon 7 - rocket & nova corps headcanon 8 - rocket, lylla, & drax [NEW posted 9/17] headcanon 9 - dad glasses [NEW posted 9/21]

Fan Art of Your Amazing OCs (and maybe sometimes mine)

Rose (@love-for-faeries-go-burrrr ) & Moon (@glow-autumz) Thank you for letting me draw these two lovelies. You know I headcanon them as interdimensional besties ♡

Brita (@pretty-chips) is such a pure, delightfully fun character with record-store-clerk vibes. Thank you for letting me draw her. She is a glowing sunbeam-soul. ♡ another Brita wearing a terran t-shirt gifted to her by my oc, Jolie Spinner

Moon (@glow-autumz) Thank you again for letting me illustrate some of Moon's rad powers. i am OBSESSED. I appreciate so much you bringing her to life!

Chérie (Cherry) (@aliasrocket) I have a crush. 10/10 would attempt to flirt with (badly). Thank you so much for creating her and letting me doodle her!

Jolie (Window Across the Galaxy) - my gremlin child. just some scritchy-scratchy character concepts. feel free not to look if you want to imagine Jo in your own way. ♡ the "real" Jolie doodle - refined, finished, && in color

Fleuret (I think?) (@elegant-fleuret) is my personal caffeine deity. i now pray to her for the ability to scrap myself out of bed and deliverance from coffee crashes. she is also the dj of knowhere which is possibly the coolest fucking job in the universe and i would like to be her friend.

Star (@cleo-is-babygirl) is a pure fluffy little sundrop and a brilliant self-taught medic/surgeon. she is also the first tanuki/anthropomorphic animal i have drawn other than rocket so i was very nervous but i did my best. thank you for letting me try something new and expand my experience, friend!

Juno (@lazarel-3000) is one of my favorite OCs ever. she is everything. i want to be her && i want to date her (unfortunately she only has eyes for rocket).

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kamisatomay018 · 1 year ago

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My Saviour: Part 2

Warning: mentions of emotionally abusive parents, a little slow burn, very fluff!

I’m gonna update this series very soon because I hate cliffhangers and I’d hate to leave everyone reading this on a cliffhanger too haha! Enjoy!

The morning sun shone through the windows, indicating the beginning of a new day, and the day your life would be ruined forever, this time by the hands of a stranger. You hadn’t slept all night, simply staring out at the sea while silent tears had rolled down your cheeks. Whatever had you done to deserve such a fate? Perhaps only the electro archon would know.

An hour later you were sitting on a chair, your eyes dull and lifeless while maids fussed around you, fixing your kimono and hair constantly to make sure you looked like “the perfect noble lady”; an order they had received from your parents.

It was safe to say that inazuma had been shocked to hear about a marriage in the Hiragi clan, some even surprised about the fact that you even existed and were being married off at such a young age. The Hiragi estate was decorated with Sakura blooms and all sorts of flowers. After all, your parents had to make a good impression in front of those noblemen.

You looked up at the door opening which snapped you out of your daze, seeing Chisato walk in. You put up a fake smile, bowing to her as she was the heir of the Kanjou Commission and older than you. Although you were cousins, you both weren’t that close. She was a very kind person though, and you had been delighted to know that she had found love in Kujou Kamaji.

“Your parents are calling for you Y/N, it’s time..” you heard the sadness and pity in her voice, she knew this arrange marriage was against your wishes yet she was helpless, she could not change the decision of your parents. You nodded, taking your fan and took one last glance at yourself. In your eyes, you looked unrecognisable, as if a shadow of your own self. Your eyes were full of sorrow, your dimpled smile could not be seen. At long last, your parents had managed to completely snatch every last bit of your happiness away.

Going downstairs, you saw your parents waiting for you. “Finally you have arrived, have you no sense of time? Such important noblemen are coming all the way here for you. Learn to be grateful!” You heard your father’s harsh voice say, making you look down and bow apologetically. “Forgive me father..”

“Forgive you? Never. Now the least you can do is behave properly in front of them, and keep our reputation intact” You nodded silently in response, not having the energy to say anything back.

He scoffed shaking his head and walked away from you with your mother, as you tried to control the tears welling up in your eyes. Soon, all the preparations were done and you were standing beside your parents, hidden behind a screen through which you could see outside, but no once could see you. It had been just 5 minutes and you heard footsteps approaching. Your heartbeat accelerated uncomfortably, as you took a slow deep breath, once again accepting the fact that this is how your life would forever be ruined.

You then saw a tall and extremely handsome man walk inside the house, guided by the guards. He smiled while thanking them, and you felt as if his beauty had trapped you in a trance. His blue hair fell gracefully on his shoulder from one side, his aura was authoritative yet so gentle at the same time. His attire was elegant and suited him perfectly. His posture was immaculate, his walk was confident and dignified. He looked very young, close to your age in fact. You had never seen him, but Oh Archons, what a strikingly handsome man he was. Was he here to seek your hand in marriage? And moreover, just who was he?

“L..lord Kamisato? What brings you here to our humble abode?” Your mother asked, and your heart skipped a beat, although you kept your composure, now feeling thankful for the screen which hid you. Lord Kamisato was here? Had Ayaka forced her brother to save your life? No, he didn’t deserve such a fate, he was only 25 and had never shown any interest in a relationship according to Ayaka. You had so many questions, yet no answers. You kept quiet, watching him talk to your parents.

“Oh Greetings Lady Hiragi. I came to know that your daughter is interested in getting married through the notices you had prepared. As it happens, I would be honoured to court her and make her my wife.” You felt your heart beat louder hearing those words. They seemed…genuine, but how could you be sure? You had never even met each other, so why was the Yashiro Commissioner taking such a step?

“I..oh! Uhm…we weren’t aware you were interested in our daughter Lord Kamisato..” you heard your father say.

“Why is that Sir? Any and every nobleman would be honoured to have your daughter by their side, after all, her reputation exceeds expectations. Forgive me for being so bold, but why do I sense so much hesitation? Am I to understand that..I’m uninvited here?”

Your eyes widened at these words. No one had dared to talk to your parents in such a manner, and you had never seen your parents look so timid and scared in the presence of another noble. But well, he was the Yashiro Commissioner after all. Honestly, seeing the panic settling in your parents’ expressions was way too satisfying to watch.

“No no! Please forgive us Lord Kamisato, we are honoured that you are interested in our daughter!” Your mother covered for her husband hurriedly, making you chuckle silently. It was a blatant lie, they were not happy that he was here. Ayato was just something else, the way he had so respectfully managed to scare your parents left you in awe.

“Ah, that’s a relief to hear. Then when can I have the honour of meeting her?” You heard him say, and you noticed the way his voice softened, almost becoming tender now. “Oh right away Lord Kamisato! Y/N! Come out now!” Ayato had a slight frown after hearing the way your father called you, because he knew well enough that you were right behind the screen as per the traditions, and your father’s tone was harsh and commanding. No worries, very soon he was going to get you out of this prison.

You composed yourself, opening your fan holding it in front of your face as you stepped outside, and finally after all these years, Ayato saw you in real life. He felt his heart beat in happiness as he looked at you; Archons, you were even prettier than the pictures. He had a gentle smile on his face as he looked at you bowing in greeting.

“Greetings Lord Kamisato, I am Hiragi Y/N. it is an honour to have you at our humble estate. I sincerely thank you for taking the effort of coming all the way to Ritou..” You then looked at him, and removed your fan, letting him see your face.

Ayato was awestruck at the beauty he saw in front of him. You were ravishing, your beauty was unlike anyone else’s. Your voice was soft and melodious, and he knew he was already in love with you. He smiled even wider, and to the shock of everyone in the room, he bowed back to you; a gesture noblemen would rarely make towards a woman.

“The pleasure is all mine Lady Hiragi. You are even more beautiful than the words I’ve heard.” You felt yourself blush a little as you looked into his eyes. His eyes were the most beautiful shade of lavender, and you now realised that his clothes matched his eye colour. He was drawing you in already, his presence was magnetic. But you still were reserved, for you had many questions that needed an answer. He then looked at your parents, and once again you noticed the change in the tone of his voice, which now changed from gentle to authoritative.

“I do hope you wouldn’t mind if I could spend some time alone with your daughter, I would like to get to know her more.” Your parents didn’t dare to deny his request, and he then looked at you again, his eyes and voice so gentle for you as he held his arm out in invitation. “Shall we, my lady?” You smiled, placing your hand on his arm gently, instantly feeling this unknown warmth taking over your body. “I would be honoured My lord..”

#kamisato ayato #ayato x reader #genshin fanfic #genshin fanart #genshin ayato #genshin impact #ayato x y/n #ayato fluff #ayato x you #genshin x reader

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nhasablogg · 1 year ago

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It's camp!

Fandom: Stranger Things

Characters: Steve, Robin

Anonymous said: Hi! Could you write one where Steve is messing with Robin so she straddles him and tickles his belly button? Maybe they’re at his house having a sleepover and he makes fun of her haircut?

Words: 920

Steve became suspicious when Robin didn’t want to take her hat off in the middle of july. “You’re gonna get heat stroke,” he told her, going back and forth between opening his window and slamming it shut upon realizing it was still too early in the evening for the air to have cooled down. “I’m serious, Robin, I don’t feel like driving you to the hospital if you collapse.”

She rolled her eyes, pulling the neon green thing lower down so that it covered her eyebrows. “It’s comfy.”

“It’s psychotic behavior. Did you shave your head or somethin’?” It was mostly a joke, but the way Robin tensed up made him gasp. “You didn’t.”

“I didn’t!” she was quick to reassure him, pulling a strand of hair out of the hat. “See? Hair.”

“So then what’s your deal?”

“I might’ve cut my hair myself?”

Steve waited for her to laugh and say she was joking, but no laughter came. “Robin, oh my god.”

“Listen,” she started, sitting up, legs crossed on Steve’s bed, where she was about to spend the night like many other nights. “I- it’s a gay thing.”

“Okay?”

“Shorter hair? Like short short hair.”

“Right.”

“The hairdresser never wants to cut it as short as I want.”

Steve was beginning to see where this was going. “So you decided to take matters into your own hands.”

“Exactly. But-” She winced, grabbing her hat, but not pulling it off. “But I messed up.”

Steve rubbed the bridge of his nose. “You should’ve asked for help.”

“I know.”

Her voice sounded small, which was fucking terrifying to hear and Steve found himself reaching out to squeeze her knee. “I’m sure it’s not that bad.”

“Promise you won’t laugh if I show you?”

“‘Course not.”

“It’s getting hot.”

“Told you.”

She sighed and shoved the hat off, her hair a mess of tangles on top of her head. Steve waited for it to settle down enough before he said anything, only to promptly realize it wasn’t settling down at all.

“Oh my god.”

“You said you wouldn’t laugh!”

“Woah, woah, am I laughing?” He wasn’t laughing, but that was mostly due to shock. “Robin, I- Did you try to cut layers?”

Robin nodded wordlessly and Steve mentally wondered how he could convince her to go get it fixed at a hairdresser. “It’s- nice. It’s camp.”

“Did Eddie teach you cultural words again?”

“It’s a good thing he did. I can definitely see the vision here.” He framed her face with his hands. “Way ahead of your time. A trendsetter.”

Robin snorted. “You’re making fun of me.”

“I’m not! It’s-” He waved his hands around, trying to think of a word. “Cool?” The way he’d said it, slightly high pitched, laced in a question, accidentally made way for a laugh which came out at the end, and he was already apologizing by the time Robin had tackled him.

“You’re so dead, Harrington!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, it’s not funny, it’s just-”

“It looks bad. Just say it.”

“I’m sure we can get it fixed-” He had no time to say anything else as Robin’s fingers were worming their way under his arms, nimble and strong and unbearably ticklish. “Wait, wait, I’m only trying to he- stop!”

Straddling his hips, Robin and her ridiculous haircut hunched over him, her frown slowly smoothing out as he laughed and laughed and begged and laughed. She’d caught him off guard, okay? He could totally fight back otherwise. Probably.

“Oh-kay, no, not there, come on-”

Robin had this thing where she would zero in on a spot and not move away until Steve was a puddle beneath her. This time it just so happened to already be one of his worst spots, much worse than underarms which she’d only tortured for a minute. As Robin ignored him and tickled the edges of his belly button, shoving his flailing arms away easily, Steve felt he would pay for three of her haircuts if only she stopped.

It was a good thing they were alone, because Steve’s scream could surely be heard throughout the whole house. “Robin!”

“This is what you get,” she said, finally grinning at him which was at least a bit of a win for him. “I told you not to laugh.”

“I barely did- oh my god!”

His hands being free was nearly worse, as he came close to relief and then pulled right away from it. Robin was occupying one of her own hands purely with blocking his attempts, her other dancing around his belly, but mostly keeping close to his navel. His shirt was still pulled down, but it tickled too much nevertheless.

The first time she’d discovered this particular spot was a day he could never forget no matter how much he tried. The persistent pokes, over and over again, laughing when he jumped. Embarrassing, but also strangely nice to feel close enough that this could be happening. She’d discovered many spots since, but that memory was one of his strongest.

Also maybe because Robin kept bringing it up, making a very clear reference now as she was poking at his navel over and over. His whole body jerked with each poke, his laughter becoming choppy. He felt nearly as ridiculous as her haircut. Maybe he shouldn’t tell her that though. Although how much worse could this get if he did?

She stuck her hand under his shirt and Steve found out just how much worse it could get, all right.

#tickling #ticklish!steve harrington #steve and robin #tickle fic #stranger things fic #stranger things #n writes #it's camp!

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number1mingyustan · 2 years ago

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Bittersweet (Chapter 9—Easy)||k.mgyu + j.ww

Genre: neighbors to lovers, strangers to lovers, angst, smut

Warnings: kissing, angst, mostly fluff, cursing, good happy vibes mostly

Summary: in which you finally find your happiness and mingyu can't stand it

Word Count: 3.4k

series masterlist

_______________________________________________

(a/n: me and my inability so post on time whoops.)

You're not nearly as stressed about this date tonight as you thought you would be. Granted, you're definitely nervous. There's nerves bubbling inside of your stomach, but Wonwoo always makes you feel that way.

You spent the majority of the school day with him too. He kept nudging you on the shoulder, asking if you were excited about tonight. Of course you were.

You were beyond elated. You got to Mingyu's car before he did after school because you were so excited to go home and get ready. You already had an outfit planned out.

You went home, showered, lotioned, got dressed, did your hair and makeup, and before you knew it, there was a ringing at your doorbell. You race downstairs, nearly falling before swinging the door open.

"Hi," you breathe out.

"Hi," he smiles. "Are you ready?"

You nod enthusiastically.

"Good, there's one issue though," he starts.

"What happened?" Your smile drops.

"I got my dates mixed up," he scratches the back of his head nervously. You can see the heat creeping across his cheeks. "Fair isn't gonna be in town until next weekend."

"Oh," you frown.

"But don't worry, I'm still taking you out. Is bowling okay?" he asks, eyes full of hope.

"More than okay," you grin.

He lets out a sigh of relief, fixing his glasses on his face. You close the door behind you, walking to his car that's parked in front of your house. He opens the passenger door for you before going around to the driver's side.

"You look very pretty by the way," he comments before closing the door.

Of course, he can't hear due to the distance, but Mingyu watches the entire interaction from his bedroom. He watched as you swung the door open excitedly, the smile that left your face, disappeared, and returned even brighter. He saw it all, and he hated it. He closed the curtains, deciding he'd seen enough once you were safely in Wonwoo's car.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

There's only one bowling alley in town, and you haven't stepped foot inside in years. You went more with Mingyu when you were younger. There's a good amount of people there, but it's nowhere near packed. You're able to secure a lane and booth at the end.

"Wonwi?" you question after he types your names into the scoreboard.

"What?" he looks up at the scoreboard, seeing that his name is not only cut off due to limited space, but spelled wrong.

He can hear you giggling behind him as the heat creeps up his face. "Yah! It was a mistake!"

"You can't change it either," you giggle. "It's okay Wonwi."

You must think he's an idiot. He's so embarrassed right now and he'd be shitting himself if you weren't having a good time, even though you're teasing him. Things have already started going wrong and he simply wanted it to be perfect for you.

"What does the score say?" Wonwoo asks.

You turn to your side. He's sitting in the chair, leaning over and squinting with his glasses on while trying to read the screen. You let out a laugh.

"What's so funny? Am I losing by that much?" he asks, squinting harder.

"No," you giggle. "I just think it's funny that you're squinting with glasses on."

He glares at you. "That is not my fault."

"It's funny," you grin, scooting closer next to him. "And the score is actually pretty close. 41-44 and I'm winning.

Impulsively, you snatch his glasses off his face. He reaches out, but you lean away from him, putting the glasses on your face. "I need those to see!"

You grab a french fry from the table and shove it into his mouth, not doing so much as glancing back in his direction.

"They weren't helping you much anyway!"

He gives up, dropping his arms and chewing. Instead, he takes a good look at you. You look so cute in his glasses. They frame your face nicely, he thinks they look better on you than him.

"This is so weird," you look around. "It actually made my vision like crazy blurry."

He eases the frames off your face. "My prescription is too strong for your eyes, you'll end up actually needing them if you keep wearing them."

You pout as he takes them off your face, "Don't be upset, it's your turn. Has been for a while now."

Your energy shifts quickly. You spring up, grabbing the same orange ball you've been using throughout the duration of your date.You get a lucky roll, a strike straight down the middle.

You turn around excitedly. Wonwoo meets your gaze with fondness. He's grinning proudly because of you.

"Your turn," you smirk.

After the game you beat him in easily, you guys ventured to the mini arcade where you continued to beat him again. Wonwoo was genuinely shocked at how good you were, but it was only because you'd beaten Mingyu so many times when you were younger.

Once he got tired of losing, you guys walked to the ice cream parlor next door and got soft serve. You sat at a table by yourselves, talking until a little boy walked over to you. You both looked over to the side at the young boy who was eyeing Wonwoo's ice cream.

"I want," the little boy said, reaching his arms up toward Wonwoo's cone.

You quickly exchanged a look, biting back a laugh.

"Isn't your mommy or daddy getting you your own ice cream?" you ask.

The little boy nods. "My mommy said I can get one. But I want that one too." he continues reaching for Wonwoo's cone.

He almost gives in too. You have to slap his hand away. "Wonwoo no!"

"He wants the ice cream though!" he argues.

You slap your forehead with your palm. Luckily, the boy's mother races over just in time. She apologizes profusely for her son's behavior, but you assure her that it's fine. You both let out a laugh once the little boy is gone.

The air outside had grown chilly from the warm spring air earlier in the day. It was never too cold for ice cream though. Just cold enough that Wonwoo slipped his jacket over your exposed arms and walked you back to his car and turned on the heat.

The jacket smelled like him. It was warm and comforting and he let you keep it at the end of the night. The car ride home left butterflies filling your stomach. You watched as he leaned back, one hand on top of the staring wheel with his eyes fixated on the road. Music played softly in his car. You were still wearing his jacket, making the scene feel so much warmer.

Yeah, you could definitely get used to this.

Soon enough, he pulled in front of your house again. "I'll walk you to the door."

He goes around, opening the car door for you again and closes it behind you. He walks you to your front door. "I can't believe you were actually going to give that little boy your ice cream."

"He wanted it! What else was I supposed to do," he slips his hands in his pockets.

You smile at him. "You're too kind."

You both stop in front of the door. "Is that a bad thing?"

"Not in the slightest."

There's a brief moment of silence. The air has grown chillier, but you still feel warm. His soft brown orbs are looking into your eyes.

"I know everything didn't go as planned tonight, but I really had fun with you and I hope we can-"

Boldly, you cut him off with a kiss. He melts into your touch easily, kissing back softly. His hand cups your cheek softly. His thumb draws circles on your skin. You feel the warmth and electricity coursing through your veins.

You pull away slowly, eyes fluttering open.

"Thank you for tonight," you breathe out.

A smile finds its way to his face. "Of course. I'll text you?"

You nod quickly.

He turns around, heading back to his car. "Wonwoo!" you call. "Your jacket!'

He turns around briefly. "Keep it! Looks better on you anyways."

Your shaky hands manage to open the door and you shut it just as quickly as you open it. You back hits the door, sliding down until your butt hits the ground. You're squealing with excitement.

You pull out your phone, messily typing up a message to Mingyu about your night. You're sure it's filled with all kinds of spelling errors because of your excitement, but you don't care.

You finally make your way upstairs, surprised to see Mingyu's curtains are closed. You look down at your phone, seeing he still hasn't responded to your text message.

Instead, a message pops up from Wonwoo instead.

• i had a lot of fun tonight even though you beat me in everything. rematch when ? •

You laugh to yourself.

*idk 🤔 when are you free?*

•doesn't matter, i'll always make time for you. when are you free?? •

*how about you take me to the fair for real next friday*

•it's a date •

•you must be tired though, i'll let you get some rest. •

*goodnight wonwoo*

•goodnight gorgeous •

Two weeks pass by quickly. You haven't been seeing much of Mingyu though. He drives you to school every morning in a quiet car, and then it's more radio silence throughout the day. You don't see him again until either practice or a game.

He doesn't sit with you on the bus for away games anymore, so you sit with Wonwoo. He still drops you off at your house after school instead of letting you come inside.

It feels shitty, much like how this occurred the first time. You continue to put in the effort, but you can see how history has started repeating itself already.

Nonetheless, you do still enjoy what you do have. Wonwoo upheld his promise of taking you to the fair last Friday, and you had more fun than on the first date. You still haven't really broken the ice with Jeonghan, but you've spent more time with the boys. The team is having a really good season, dominating and winning most games.

You simply wish Mingyu wasn't acting so distant toward you as soon as things started falling into place in your life.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

"When I was little, my parents took me there once. I still don't know an ounce of french, but it was beautiful," Wonwoo says, shifting on his bed.

"Really?" You lay back on your bed, phone in hand. "I've always wanted to go."

"It was fun, and the food was so good. I still think about it sometimes after all these years," he smiles.

"You're so lucky," you yawn. "I've always wanted to try real french pastries."

"Don't fall asleep on me now," he teases. "We've got 7 more minutes."

You glance at the clock resting on your nightstand. 11:53. Wonwoo insisted on staying on the phone with you up until midnight so he could be the first to say happy birthday. Luckily your birthday falls on a Saturday this year and you wouldn't have to worry about feeling tired at school the next day.

Wonwoo wouldn't mind it either way. It didn't matter if he got enough sleep that night, he enjoyed talking to you. You made it so easy. Wonwoo's never been the talkative type, even when he was around his closest friends. But with you, he could talk for hours and hours. But so could you.

"I won't fall asleep if you tell me what you got me," you grin.

"Nice try," he laughs. "But it's not gonna happen. You'll just have to wait until tomorrow when I come over.

Your grin quickly drops to a frown. "You're no fun."

"That's not true," he pouts. "You're just impatient."

"Yeah well maybe I wouldn't be so impatient if you just told me what it is," you say.

"Well that's too bad," he smirks. "You'll just have to wait."

"Okay hear me out," you propose. "Whatever it is, just hold it up to the camera like really fast so I can get an idea of what it is."

"Not happening- besides, it's almost time," he grins.

You glance at your clock. 11:59

When the clock strikes 12, he wishes you a happy birthday with a genuine smile on his face. It makes you feel all warm and fuzzy inside, and admittedly has you grinning.

"Thank you," you smile.

"Of course," he winks.

You swear your heart skips like 8 beats. The warmth is still spreading through your body. You feel at ease, partially because it's late and the tiredness is starting to sink in, and partially because of Wonwoo.

"Since it's my birthday now, you can tell me right?" You yawn.

"No."

"But you said tomorrow!"

"I said tomorrow when I come over."

"Yeah but-"

"Goodnight Y/n."

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

You wake up the next morning to the scent of your favorite breakfast. You follow the smell downstairs, where your mother is in the kitchen cooking. A smile makes its way to your face.

You enter the kitchen and she turns around. "Happy birthday sweetheart."

She envelopes you in a warm hug, peppering kisses on your forehead. "Thank you mom."

"Of course, now take a seat, breakfast is almost ready."

Wonwoo texted that he's on his way. You're practically bouncing off the walls with excitement. Your mom said she had to get to work, hurrying out the house and leaving you alone.

He arrives shortly after, ringing your doorbell. You fly down the stairs, opening the door. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him into a tight hug.

"Happy birthday beautiful," he says, wrapping his arms around you.

"Thank you," you pull away.

"Where is it?" you ask.

"Where is what?' he smiles, walking into the house.

"My present," you kick the door closed and cross your arms.

"Oh that," he smirks. "You'll get it later. I have to ask you something first."

Your knit your eyebrows together. "What?"

"Will you be my girlfriend?" he asks.

Your heart stops beating for a moment. Your ears are ringing and you feel like you're floating. Is this actually happening right now?

"Seriously?" You ask out of shock.

He smiles at you. "Yeah, you can't have your present until you're my girlfriend either."

"Of course I'll be your girlfriend," you exclaim, pulling him in for another hug. You inhale, taking in his scent and warmth happily.

He lets out a breath of relief before pulling away from the hug and pecking your lips. Unsatisfied, you bring his face closer for another kiss. He obliges, giving completely into the movement of your lips. Your lips are soft and sweet. You melt into one another's touch easily.

He pulls away, thumb stroking your cheek as his large hand rests on your jawline. "Oh yeah, and your present is in the passenger seat of your car."

"My car? I don't have a car."

He nudges his head toward the door. Confused, you open it, seeing as a car pulls up in front of your house and parks. You run outside, seeing your mother climb out of the driver's side of the vehicle and dangle the keys in front of you.

You hug her tightly, thanking her profusely before squealing and opening the passenger side door. On the seat is a gift basket wrapped in plastic. You open it up, seeing everything inside. Your heart melts.

There's a perfume bottle, a neatly folded baseball jersey with the word 'Jeon' printed on it, candles, headphones, a bracelet, chocolate, and a note inside.

Wonwoo approaches you from behind. You side hug him tightly. "Thank you so much."

"Of course," he kisses your forehead.

"You two better get going soon, everyone's waiting up," your mother says.

"Ah, I nearly forgot! Thank you!" he calls to her. He reaches over you, putting his gift in the backseat of the car and climbing into the passenger seat.

"C'mon, you're driving."

"Driving where?" you ask, walking around the car to the driver's seat and starting it up.

"GPS is set already, just follow it," he tells you, putting on his seatbelt. ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Karaoke. The GPS has led you to a karaoke place in town. You find a parking space and walk inside next to Wonwoo. He talks to someone at the front desk before they lead you to a private room in the back. You open the door, revealing the entire baseball team.

They bombard you with hugs and 'happy birthdays.' Mingyu is the last to come up to you and say something, but you see he brought... company.

"Happy birthday Y/n!" Sora beams with fake excitement.

Jeonghan's greeting was more genuine than that.

You're very confused right now. You've hardly spoken to him in weeks and he suddenly shows up to your birthday party with some girl you're not even friends with? It bothers you, a lot. You don't let it show, faking a smile back at Sora.

"Thanks," you reply.

Despite the awkward distance between you and Mingyu, you manage to enjoy yourself a lot. Everyone takes turns singing different songs. You share a lot of laughs, thoroughly enjoying the moment. Obviously, you and Joshua sing the best duet to 'Sunday Morning' together too.

You also have to admit, for a bunch of athletes, they're pretty talented. They don't fail to surprise you in just how good they are, even putting little dance routines together as they perform.

As Dino and Hoshi go up to sing together, you lean back into the couch. Wonwoo nudges you lightly. "Are you having fun?"

You smile. "Yeah, thank you."

"Of course," he smiles back. "Why don't you and Mingyu sing something together?"

You glance back at Mingyu, who's staring at you with an unreadable expression. Once your eyes meet, he immediately shifts his gaze to Sora.

"I don't really think he wants to," you sigh. "He hasn't been talking to me much lately. I know I didn't do anything, but it's kind of weird between us."

Wonwoo frowns. "Really?"

"Yeah," you shrug. "It's fine though I guess. I hope he's gonna come around soon."

"He should," Wonwoo says. "He can get a bit moody sometimes you know?"

You nod. "Yeah, but it's my birthday. I want to have my fun and not let that bother me."

He smiles, planting a kiss in your hair. "C'mon, you and I can sing something together next. ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

After your session expired, everyone began clearing out the room and heading home. Mingyu left without saying goodbye.

Wonwoo helps you carry all your gifts to the car before you guys head back to your house. He helps you load the gifts into the house as well, before kissing you goodbye and driving home.

It's started to get late and your mom actually had to go to work. So, you were left home alone again. You went up to your room, laying down and replayed the events of the day in your head happily.

Your doorbell rings again. Who could that be now?

You make your way back down the stairs only to open the door and see Mingyu standing there. He's got a box in his hand.

"Hi," you say.

"Here," he hands you the box.

"Thank you," you reply.

He turns around, making his way back to his house. You call out to him. "Mingyu!"

He turns around, quirking up an eyebrow.

"That's it?" You ask.

He walks back toward you. "What do you mean?"

"You're just gonna drop off a gift and leave. I didn't even get a hello. I don't know if I did something wrong, but you've been avoiding me lately. And this happened once before, and I really don't want it to happen again. So will you please just... talk to me?" You don't even realize you're about to cry until the tears prickling the corners of your eyes.

"I'm just tired Y/n," he lies. "I've had a lot on my mind lately, that's all. You didn't do anything wrong and I'm not pushing you away."

Lie.Lie.Lie. You can feel him pulling away with each passing second.

"But you are!"

"I'm not," he lies again. "Listen, I'm tired and I'm just gonna head home now okay?"

"So you're with her now? Sora?" you ask.

"Yeah," he replies shortly.

"I thought you didn't do commitment," you bite down on your bottom lip.

"Had a change of heart," he replies coldly and turns around. "Happy birthday kid."

You close the door, opening the box up. Inside is a beautiful silver locket necklace. You open up the heart charm and your body goes cold. It's a picture you and Mingyu when you were kids.

You recognize the picture instantly and cry your heart out.

_______________________________________________

only bad bitches cry on their birthday

-taglist- @knucklesdeepmingi @marksflute @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @heidilolx @listxn @misssugarlips @lizzylovesboo @haogyuslut @taestrwbrry @everyw0nu @luvthatleader-nim @luveveryonewoo @jakecaffe @xeezi @wasteitonserendipity @whyokoa @shapeofgyu @fixonbreakoff @notscoupy @boo-juns @superheros-and-others @mingkis-world @thesmolishbean @bobohumyonlyboo @deekayownsme

#seventeen #seventeen fanfic #wonwoo fanfic #seventeen angst #minwon #seventeen mingyu #mingyu fanfic #seventeen wonwoo #kpop

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dokeythings · 3 months ago

Text

| stay next to me | (dokyeom)

*based off the song 'stay next to me' by quinn XCII :)

~lyrics~

"we should go somewhere,

you choose i don't care.

as long as you're right here.

stay next to me.

yeah, we can barely stand,

and we both don't know this band,

i'll move just hold my hand,

stay next to me."

----------------------------------------------------------

Y/N POV

your head pulses as the music booms through this packed house, taunting you as you shuffle through bodies. your friends dragged you here on a Thursday night, promising you that this one would actually be fun. spoiler alert: it's not, but you already knew it wouldn't be. you lost them somewhere around 10:30. this left you to your own devices, which means in simple terms that you just want to get the hell out of here. there's a serene moment of peace where the band finally stops, just for it to start back up again. your anxiety picks up immensely as you realize you really are alone, not knowing anyone here but your friends who are MIA. your heart starts pounding and you feel like you need to leave right now. you try to make your way to the back of the house when you fully collide with someone.

"oh! i'm so sorry, that was my totally my bad, i wasn't paying attention. let me help you up" an unidentified voice says, sounding sincere in their apology.

you look up from your place on the ground to see genuinely the most beautiful man you've ever seen, looking down at you worriedly and holding his hand out to you. maybe good things do happen to good people, you think.

you take his hand and stand up, fixing your shirt in the process. "oh my gosh don't worry about it! i'm sorry about that" you say, stumbling over your words a little bit. you try to calm your nerves, but its clear you were on your way to some type of panic attack just seconds ago.

you force yourself to make eye contact even though your heart is beating in your ear, and it was surely a mistake because he's looking at you with a sweet smile and the softest eyes you've ever witnessed.

"i was just trying to find my friends, they ditched me again even though they promised they wouldn't, i haven't seen them in half an hour. you know you would think after dragging me here they would at least pretend to stick around for a while but.." you look up, breaking yourself free from your nervous rambling. "i'm sorry" you blush, embarrassed.

he smiles at you again, clearly amused by your outburst. he also notices your shaky hands, and the way you're breathing.

"i totally get it, i'm in the same boat right now, if it makes you feel better" he admits softly. "can i get you anything? some water? food?" he asks, showing worry.

you can't imagine someone like him being ditched by his friends. you also can't imagine him being worried about someone like you, you must be making it up in your head. you smooth your hands over your ruffled skirt.

"i'm okay, thank you though." you smile up at him, not used to random guys being this kind to you. he hums an 'okay' in response and you shuffle on your feet, not knowing how to full the silence.

"plus, this band fucking sucks" he breathes out, in full sincerity.

you giggle at his disgust as he shakes his head at them, "they really fucking do" you agree with him. his smile widens, and he looks nervous for a moment before he speaks up again.

"wanna get out of here?" he asks, hopefully. you open your mouth after a moment of hesitation but before you can say anything he adds,

"shit. i know that sounds like such a cliche movie line, and i'm a total stranger and it's totally okay if you say no. but i was just gonna go for a walk around the block to get some air" he rushes out.

you don't know if this is a mistake and something that is screaming STRANGER DANGER, but you feel completely comfortable with him. you can't think of a single good reason why you should stay in here, and you were in fact about to go out to get some air.

"you know what? yeah actually, that would be nice" you say. you never usually do anything like this. but when the universe puts such a beautiful, tall, handsome opportunity in front of you, you take it.

"i'm dokyeom, by the way" he smiles gently at you, showing his teeth.

"i'm Y/N" you respond shyly.

you look around at all the bodies you still have to get through to reach the doors, and wish you could just teleport outside. he notices your hesitation.

"it's okay, just hold my hand" he offers up his hand with a soft smile. you take it quickly, butterflies erupting in your stomach as he intertwines his fingers with yours.

"stay next to me" he mumbles in your ear as he begins to lead you both through the crowd.

you hold his hand tight as you try to follow in his footsteps. at one point you almost get separated, and you feel his hand hover lightly on your waist to guide you around the person in the way. you hate how giddy that made you feel. eventually you make it outside and the air hits you and you feel like you can finally breathe again.

"ah, this is much better" dokyeom says from next to you, stepping down off the front lawn and into the street. and you can't tell if he really suggested this for himself, or for you. you agree with him, stepping down to meet him. as he walks a bit ahead of you you slow down for a moment to really study him.

he appears brighter out here without all the chaos inside. his oversized striped long sleeve hangs off his torso. his baggy jeans fit him cutely as he shuffles towards the moonlight. you find yourself smiling at him. you might be being creepy right now, but you can't help it. he turns around promptly after realizing you aren't right next to him.

"i don't bite, promise" he smirks, chuckling a little at the distance between you.

you blush as you walk quickly to catch up to him. "i'm sorry" you apologize.

he smiles, nudging you softly with his shoulder, lightening up the mood. "we can go back inside and i can help you find your friends if you want" he offers, clearly picking up on your nerves. but the nerves aren't for the reason he's thinking. you really don't get much male attention, probably because you never put yourself out there. you're enjoying this, but also don't want to do or say something that makes you look like an idiot.

you shake your head vigorously, saying "no, no no, this is perfect". you immediately do a facepalm because that was a stupid, desperate answer.

you feel dokyeom gently pull your hand away from your face, giving you no option but to look at his face.

"you're cute, you know" he chuckles.

you don't even know how you're going to get through the rest of this interaction if he keeps making you feel this way.

you begin walking again, just taking in the breezy october air. he walks next to you, staying at a respectable distance, still hesitant about your nerves. between the darkness provided by the night, and the smell of his cologne on the wind, you feel a little braver all of a sudden. you inch your way closer to him in what you thought was a sneaky manner. apparently you were wrong.

he smirks to himself, noticing right away.

"just cold" you mumble, lying straight through your teeth to try and bask your embarrassment.

"mmm, of course. in that case, let me warm you up" he says, letting you play out your lie, but you both know the truth. he drapes his arm over your shoulders, pulling you into his side. he's so warm, and god he smells so good. he rubs his hand up and down your arm to shield you from the cold.

"Y/N!!" you hear from behind you. you sigh, recognizing those voices. you and dokyeom stop and turn around as he lets go of your shoulders. out of all times to find me, they choose now?

you give them an awkward wave after noticing them giggling over your current state, and especially the extremely handsome boy next to you. they walk closer to you guys saying, "girl we have been looking for you everywhere". they look back and forth between you and dokyeom, clearly wanting to catch up on everything they missed.

"i've been looking for you guys everywhere too, we ran into each other and decided to get some air" you say, shrugging casually as your friends raise their eyebrows.

"hey" dokyeom says, waving awkwardly.

"well i'm very sorry to break up this love fest but we have to go right now, because daniella is on the verge of death we think" she says gesturing back to the front yard where your other friend is sitting with her head in her hands. they start dragging you away without even letting you think for a second.

"wait! y/n" dokyeom says, jogging to catch up to you and holds your hand gently to stop you from being dragged away.

he asks for your phone to which you give it to him without hesitation. you watch as he puts his phone number in your contacts. he hands back the phone, letting his fingers linger on yours for just a little longer than needed.

"call me, yeah?" he says, giving you his famous smile. something like nervousness crosses his face for a moment before he leans in and gives you a quick peck on the cheek. you're pretty sure you almost die. and yes, just from that simple gesture.

"i- yes. i definitely will" you stutter, making him chuckle endearingly at you again.

your friends go back to dragging you away and you turn around to look at him just as you are reaching the front yard. he waves back at you, adding a wink for good measure. thank god my friends dragged me to this party, you think.

#dokyeom fanfic #seventeen #dokyeom #dokyeom imagines #dokyeom fluff #dokyeom x reader #dk #k pop #svt #carat #Spotify

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boygiwrites · 1 year ago

Text

Harley D. Dixon 8

An amazing edit inspired by this story! (Cred to Cora_Line99) Harley D. Dixon's Pinterest Board! Harley D. Dixon's Playlist!

📖Chapter List.

Author's Note. PSA!! I re-worked the last scene in the previous chapter! (It's just different dialogue and a lot of it was cut to fix the pacing.)

Anyway. Very excited to share this chapter! :)

We spend all day scavenging.

Apparently some people want to start heading to Fort Benning, but Rick wants to stock up before we even think about it. We can't really drive across half the state when we don't even got toilet paper, after all; let alone food or gas.

He leads us from town to town, stopping at random shops, houses, and doctor's offices along the way, in search of supplies. Everybody stays behind in the cars, keeping watch, while the men drag themselves into building after building, coming back more empty-handed each time. I can tell it's starting to weigh on Rick. The last thing anyone ate was that potato salad, and our water bottles are all pretty much empty. We're hungry, tired; miserable — A group made up of growling stomachs and parched mouths.

Ahead of us on the road, Rick honks once and sticks his arm out the driver's window, pointing to a small supermarket he wants to loot.

He takes a left turn, and we all follow him into the parking lot, ready to rinse and repeat.

Everybody parks in front of the store.

My Dad shuts the engine off.

"I'll be back in a bit." He gruffly tells me, pocketing the keys. "Be good. Don't go nowhere unless it's with Dale."

"Okay, Dad."

"And if a walker comes up to the truck, what're you gonna do?"

I sigh. "Scream real loud."

We've been having this exact exchange all day, every time he leaves. We don't talk about nothin' else.

We're not really on good terms, but we're not really arguing, neither.

I think we're at a truce.

That's what happens when two people really want to fight but are deciding not to.

He slowly nods.

Then he grabs his crossbow, hops out, and slams the door behind him.

I watch him re-group with the other men, and they walk off together for the fifteenth time today. It's a pretty dismal routine.

I pass the time waiting for them to come back by reading my book. Dad found it for me back at the book shop. I've been reading it all day. It's about a scruffy cartoon dog named Hairy Maclary, and back home, I used to have almost the entire collection. I think it's why he picked this one. Reading it gives me a familiar comfort that he can't give me right now. It even makes me forget about how hungry I am after a while.

Beside me on the middle seat, there's a pile of other things my Dad's scavenged so far.

On the bottom is an ocean-themed blanket, two pillows, and an armful of clothes that he found in a stranger's house. When we sifted through them, I found a pair of socks that fit me. I slipped them on underneath my new boots. I also found some black jean-shorts and a big, green shirt with a purple frog on it. Frogs are pretty cool. I shimmied them both on to replace my pyjamas. Dad found himself a new pair of steel-toe boots, grey jeans, and a button-up that he ripped the sleeves off. We kept the rest of the clothes as spares.

There's also a half-empty box of bullets, a hammer, craft scissors, and one battery, which took him all morning to accumulate.

My tummy gurgles as I turn the page.

Nobody's found any food yet.

If we could eat batteries or bullets, we wouldn't be so hungry right now, but that's not how it works.

Sighing, I continue re-reading Hairy Maclary for the fifth time today, savouring it by painstakingly studying each picture.

It wastes about ten minutes.

"Whatchu readin'?"

I jump.

Whipping my head to the right, I see Shane walking toward the truck. Oh, God. He just might be the last person I wanna talk to right now.

He reaches the open window and casually crosses his arms over it, but his cheerful demeanour doesn't rub off on me. I try to scoot backward, but the pile of clothes quickly gets in the way. He's standing way too close to me. If he leaned forward just a little, the brim of his cap would touch the side of my head. I don't like that. His military dog tag twinkles innocently in the sunlight. Walsh, it winks at me.

Randomly, I become aware of the fact that there's nobody else around. Something about that isn't right.

"What are you doin'?" I ask.

Don't he know my Dad will shoot him for talkin' to me?

"Oh, you know." He shrugs, smiling. "Thought I'd clock out for a bit, maybe take a lil' break. Nothin' crazy."

Uh... sure.

I don't think Rick would let anybody take a quick break. Not in the sorry state we're in right now. No way. I think he's out here in secret.

He nods toward my book. "So? Whatchu readin'?"

Silence.

"Looks good." He jokes. "I'm a lil' jealous, actually. Maybe once you're done, I'll have to borrow it off ya, huh?"

More silence.

I fold the book in my lap, shielding it from his eyes. I wish I could do the same to my entire body. I don't wanna be doin' this right now. It's like being in the CDC again, that awkward stand-off cloaked in darkness — Only this time, we're in broad daylight.

He clears his throat.

"Your, uh—? Your Dad find that for you?"

"I—"

This is makin' me mad, now. Don't he remember how angry my Dad got before? Does he wanna get shot?

He might be acting stupid, but I won't make the same mistake twice.

Shane is not my friend. Shane is a bastard cop, and I hate him, 'cause I hate bastard cops. I really, really hate bastard cops. Looking at him makes me angry. It makes me even angrier than lookin' at Rick made me, and Rick killed my Uncle Merle, but Shane — Shane ruined everything. He's the reason the car rides are silent now. He's the reason my Dad doesn't feel like the same person no more. He's the reason I couldn't just get belted and be done with it. He just had to walk in. Bastard cop.

He's supposed to save people, but I don't feel very saved.

I just feel angry.

"I ain't talkin' to you." I muster up the dirtiest, nastiest glare I got. "You're a cop. A bastard cop."

His eyes widen.

He wasn't expecting that.

"I'm—" His brows shoot up, and he lifts one hand in surrender. "Harley, I'm just a friend. I'm just here talkin' to you as a friend, okay?"

"You ain't my friend."

"Well, I like to think that you're my friend. And... friends worry 'bout each other, don't they?"

He's worried about me?

I see where this is going.

I don't wanna talk about what happened at the CDC.

"You ain't," I sneer, "My friend. How many times I gotta tell ya?"

I pretend to go back to reading my book, 'cause I want him to go away — just like I wanted him to go away when we were in the CDC. When he talks to me like this, Shane makes me feel like a wobbly tower of cards, ready to fall. He makes me feel like everything I ever knew was just a fairytale, or a straight up lie, like Santa Claus and the Easter bunny. He makes me feel like I'm someone worth feeling sorry for; someone who needs saving.

Well, I don't need saving. He's just gonna have to go save someone else if he wants to do it so bad.

I've been staring at the same word for a whole minute, puffing angrily out my nostrils. I hold the book so tightly that the pages start to crinkle under my thumbs, stretching thin, thin, thin, until they're about to rip under the pressure.

Leave me alone, I wanna scream in his face.

"Can I ask you a question, Harley?"

I take a deep breath, glowering up at him through my bangs.

He glowers right back.

"Is your Daddy your friend?"

"Wh—?"

The page rips.

"'Cause I can tell you what friends don't do." He raises his brows, leaning closer. "I can tell you that friends don't pin ya down 'till you're crying, Harley. I can tell you friends don't shout; don't make ya feel scared. They don't whip ya with belts, Harley. Is that what you think friends do?"

I struggle to speak. I feel like I'm being accused of somethin' I didn't even do.

"I don't kn—"

"Yes, you do. Lemme ask you again." Shane cuts me off. "Your Dad. Is he your friend?"

Yes, is my immediate thought, and I'm— I'm angry again, 'cause this is exactly what I'm talkin' about when I say Shane makes me feel like everything is a confusing trick. I don't like this question. I don't like that he's even asking it. Yes, my Dad is my friend.

I'm overwhelmed with the sudden urge to defend everything he's ever done.

I open my mouth to answ—

"No." He answers for me — Sharp, like a scolding. "No, Harley. He is not your friend."

"Yeah, he is." I'm shocked. "He is my friend."

I love him. If Shane thinks he can just walk over here and start bad-mouthing my Dad, then he's wrong, 'cause it's not gonna work.

"No. He's not." Shane scolds again, but I refuse to listen to him. I'm reminded of my old teachers again. Whenever I was flunking a simple math question, they'd get angry at me, but they couldn't show it 'cause that's not very nice, so they'd settle for sighing and speaking to me very slowly, instead. That's what Shane does. "I know you think he's your friend. I know you think you love him. I'm not saying you don't, sweetheart, okay? I'm not saying that. I'm saying sometimes friends hurt us, Harley, and we need to have a good, hard think about whether or not we want 'em to keep hurtin' us."

"Well—? I—?"

I realize I don't have anything to say. I have a good, hard think about what he means, instead. A friend? A friend hurting me? I think he means my Dad. Yeah. My Dad's my friend and he hurts me, sometimes. It not that hard to understand. At least it wasn't, not until Shane came along and started lookin' at my Dad like he was some type of monster. The dead people, they're monsters, but not my Dad. I swear it's that simple.

"I don't wanna talk about this." I grumble, glaring down at Hairy Maclary as he chases a butterfly.

"Well, I think we gotta, Harley." Shane insists. "This is important. I'm tryna to help you here."

"I don't need your help."

"Why's that?" He asks patiently.

"Because I don't care 'bout any of that stuff." I'm hating all of this. "I ain't scared'a him."

"You see, I don't believe that." He squints. "I don't think you believe that, either."

I am not afraid. I just have to believe this.

"Yeah, I do." I argue.

"Harley—"

"Yeah, I do."

He gets frustrated, gripping the windowsill.

"'Dad, I'm scared'." He quotes. "That's what you said. That's what you said to him, Harley."

Oh. He heard that. Of course he heard that.

"Well, y-yeah, 'cause I was scared of the dark." I dismiss. "It didn't mean anything. Who cares?"

"You're scared—? You're scared of the dark? You're scared of the dark. Okay. Okay." He takes a step back, rubbing his hands down his face, collecting himself. He laughs but he's not finding anything about this funny. He grabs the window again, harder this time. "You really think I don't remember how you ran off in'a them woods and we all had to high-tail it after you, that night camp got over-run? How it was pitch-black, and you didn't even hesitate? You're not scared of the dark, Harley. Don't lie to me. I don't want my friends to lie to me."

"You're ain't my friend." I groan. "Sophia is my friend. Glenn is my friend. My Dad is my friend. Not you."

"You know what?" Shane gives the door a shake. "Why is that, I wonder? Why am I not your friend, but he is?"

Finally, a question that isn't confusing.

"Because he's my Dad, that's why."

I expect Shane to answer straight away, but he doesn't. He just stands there, raising his brows higher and higher with each second that passes. I frown at him, waiting for him to do something. Eventually, he just shrugs. "That's it?" He sasses me. "That's all you got?"

Well... Yeah.

He's my Dad. Is that not enough?

"He protects me." I'm quick to add. "He makes sure I'm safe. He cares about me. He does up my buttons."

"Anybody can do that." He scoffs. "I can do that."

"No. No, you can't."

"Gimme one good reason why."

"'Cause you're a—"

"And don't gimme any more of that bastard cop nonsense, 'cause I don't wanna hear it. Gimme something real." He makes a fist and beats his knuckles against his breast pocket. "Somethin' from in here. Somethin' from the heart, Harley. Somethin' you haven't heard anybody else say first."

Stumped for words, I try wracking my brain. He's a bastard cop. No, I can't say that.

"Come on." Shane pressures me. "Somethin'. Gimme somethin'."

I go through all the reasons I shouldn't want Shane as a friend.

He's mean? No, Shane isn't mean. I had fun catching frogs with him, and he was even gonna build me a tyre swing before we got forced out of the quarry. He constantly puts himself in danger to provide for the group. He looked after Carl and Lori when Rick couldn't. No. He's not mean, but my Dad doesn't want me to be friends with him. My Dad's word is law. That's a good reason. Yeah. I'll say that.

"It's not allowed." I tell him. "That's why."

"What does that mean?" Shane scoffs. "Do you even know, or is this just him speaking again?"

Oh. It is. I'm just recycling things I've heard before.

Why am I doin' that?

Whatever. I'll think of something else.

"Uh—" I struggle. "You-? You're—?"

I can't come up with anything.

Shane shrugs. "You don't have anythin' else for me?"

"You're—"

A bastard cop.

It all comes down to those three same words.

"You're-You're-You're—" Shane mocks me. "Come on, girl. Think."

I give up.

"I can't, okay?" I finally snap, and in one big huff of anger, I throw my book at his chest. He was right. I can't think of any reason why I should hate him. Not even one. All my thoughts are my Dad's thoughts, and when I try to create new ones, it's just a twisted mess of words and ideas that have never even come outta my own mouth before, only in through my ears. It's just a trick. It's impossible. "You win, okay? There's no reason for me to hate you. S'that what you wanna hear?"

"Finally." He chuckles, picking my book up off the ground. "Good. Good girl. That's what I'm talkin' about."

He holds it out to me.

I snatch it off him.

"I don't hate you." I grouch. "Never did. You win."

"Nah, I think you won." Shane rests his hip against the door with his arms crossed. "You learnt somethin' new just now."

"What?"

He looks like he's proud of me when he says, "How to think for yourself."

How to think for yourself.

What does that mean?

My Dad never taught me how to do that, I don't think. He's taught me everything else I know, like how to skin fish, use a compass, and do up my laces, but he hasn't taught me this. Shane taught me this. I guess I've graduated from learning how to catch frogs. This is a little trickier, but I think I understand. Thinking for myself is like a game — Say something Dad has never told me to say. I don't think I'm very good at it.

I must look a little unsure, 'cause he reassures me, "This is good. This is the first step of somethin' really good for you, okay?"

"Really?" I ask.

Shane seems to know a lot about this.

"Really." He smiles. "Now does this mean you're gonna drop that whole I-hate-your-guts act?"

"Oh. Um..."

I really want to hate Shane. It makes everything so much easier. If we're not friends, then that means I don't have to listen to him talk about what happened at the CDC, and I never wanna talk about that again. But I said it myself, just now. There is no good reason to hate him. He ain't mean, he ain't bad at protecting people, and he definitely doesn't hate me back. He wants to be my friend.

If I don't accept, I'll just be making myself look like an idiot.

I guess he tricked me into becoming friends. I don't know how he did that, but it worked.

"Fine. I'll be your friend." I give in, smiling lightly. It feels a little like admitting defeat, but also like breaking free of something I was stuck in. I don't like hating people. If Dad didn't do it first, I don't think would have ever hated Shane. "But on one condition."

I hold up a finger, putting on a serious face.

Shane smiles, "Shoot."

He's looking at me like no matter what I say right now, he's already gotten what he wants.

"My Dad can't know."

This is very important. I might not hate Shane, even if I am still annoyed with him, but my Dad hates him. He also hated Ronnie, and Ronnie ended up in a grassy ditch in the woods behind our house, with his face beaten to a lumpy, sticky pulp. I don't want that to happen to Shane.

"You know, you're a very smart girl, Harley." Shane lowers his voice. "That's right. Your Dad can't know."

I nervously pick at the skin on my lip. "I've never kept a secret from my Dad before."

"That's alright." Shane soothes. "That's good. That means you're a good person. I'm a good person, too. But this here is our secret now, okay?"

"So, we're friends now? You promise not to tell?"

"That's right." He says. "I promise. You know why?"

"Why?"

"'Cause I won't ever do anythin' to put you in danger, Harley. I want you to remember that."

He puts his hand on my shoulder.

I won't let anything happen to you.

That's somethin' Dads say to kids. That's something my Dad's said to me. But Shane's not my Dad. He's not anybody's Dad.

When we first arrived at the quarry, I remember thinking that Shane and Lori were Carl's parents. Whenever the other kids wanted to play with Carl, they would always go ask permission from them, just like they'd ask permission from Carol if they wanted to play with Sophia. They'd also hover around him all day, making sure he wasn't getting into trouble, and put him in time-out when he was.

Only parents are allowed to do those things.

I think Shane also thought he was Carl's Dad, 'cause when Rick returned and he wasn't allowed to do those things anymore, he seemed sad.

"Like... how you protected Carl?" I guess.

He gives me a squeeze before letting go.

"Yeah. A little like that."

"But why? Why do you wanna be friends so bad?"

He thinks about it for a minute.

Eventually, he settles on an answer.

"Because we both know it wasn't the dark you were afraid of, sweetheart." He tells me, sighing. "That's why."

I look down at my boots, embarrassed.

It wasn't the dark I was scared of. It was my Dad.

I guess Shane figured it out faster than I thought he would.

I hate that I can't lie to Shane like I can lie to myself. He must've been real good at interrogating people.

"Earlier, you asked me why I'm out here — Why I'm talking to you." Shane says now. I look up at him. "I'm doing it because no one else will. Not Rick. Not Lori. Not Glenn. Not Sophia. Not even your Dad. None of your other friends can help you the way I can, Harley, because they didn't see what happened in that room. They don't know, but I do. And that's very special to me, okay? It's special to me because it means I can help you. And I needed to make sure you were my friend before that can happen."

I start to frown. I do not want his help. That wasn't part of the deal.

Shane gives me a serious look, like he can tell what I want to say. "I know you don't want my help. I know you're angry. You're confused, and I get that. That's okay. But you need to understand that as your friend, I want what's best for you. And what's best for you, right now, is for you to realize that there is someone here who knows what you're going through. Someone who... just wants to help. Someone who's on your side."

I don't know how he plans on helping me. I don't wanna know, either. Cops puts people in jail. There's no jail anymore, but there is rope, and there are places to tie people up — Like shopping cart bays. Jim. I remember how he thrashed. I remember his screaming. I don't want Shane to get beaten, but I also don't want my Dad to get left. I have to choose one. I'm sick of choosing, but I have to. I know who I'm gonna pick.

"Shane, I know we're friends now, but my Dad is my number one friend." I really hope he understands. "Please don't do nothin'. Please don't help."

This makes Shane angry.

He licks his teeth; works his jaw.

I can tell he's already tryna puzzle out how he's gonna trick me into agreeing to this next.

"Please." I ask nicely. "We can still be friends. We can color together. I don't have my crayons no more, but I think Rick found some pencils, before. We can use those. I'll let you do my hair, too, if you want. We can even play tag. Just please don't take my Dad away."

When my Dad got taken away for killing Ronnie, I was sad almost every single day until he came back.

"I need him." I tell Shane. "I love him. Please don't help."

He just keeps giving me that angry look.

I recognize this look, I realize.

It's the look he gave my Dad at the CDC.

Blood-lust.

I realize I'm begging for the wrong thing.

Shane's not gonna take my Dad away.

He's gonna kill him, just like I thought. That's how he thinks he's gonna help.

"Wait." I frown. "I didn't mea—"

"What is going on here?"

I snap my mouth shut.

I look out the window. It's Dale, near the RV. He quirks one hairy eyebrow at us. I glance at Shane. I watch as he slowly re-directs that murderous look onto Dale, and I worry that something bad is going to happen. His veins pop out from his forearms as he grips the window.

"Just what do you think you're doing?" Dale asks, disgusted. "Don't you realize what Daryl would do to you if he saw this?"

Shane's jaw muscle ticks.

"It's okay." I quickly intervene, holding up my book. "He was just askin' about my book."

It's true, he was.

At least, he was at first.

Dale ignores me.

"I'm sure he won't appreciate you sticking your nose where it doesn't belong, I can tell you that much for free."

Wow. He's pretty brave for sticking up to Shane like that.

"Welp. I wasn't askin', Dale." Shane laughs, pinching the bridge of his nose. He shakes his head. He seems to think Dale's nothing more than a pesky little bug that he doesn't wanna deal with. He drops his hand. "You know what? I ain't doin' this. I got more important places to be."

He pushes himself off the truck.

"Nice shirt, kiddo." He mutters.

We watch him walk all the way back to the supermarket, one hand on his gun.

That didn't go so well.

As soon as Shane is back inside, Dale turns his suspicious eye on me. "What did he say to you?"

He wants to kill my Dad because he cares about me.

"Um. Nothin'."

"Are you sure?"

Aw, man. I don't like lying to Dale. He's so nice.

"Yeah. I'm sure."

"Okay," He lilts. "As long as it's not anything me or your Dad should know about."

Oh, God.

"Nope."

I put on my most convincing smile, like I'm posing for a picture.

He eyeballs me for what feels like forever, trying to decide if he believes me or not. I don't think he does. I know I should tell him the truth, but I can't. If Dale tells my Dad that Shane wants to kill him, he's gonna ask how he knows. He's gonna have to tell him that I was talking to Shane, and that just means I'm gonna get belted again. I'm tryna forget all about that, not have it happen all over again.

Besides, Dad already knows Shane wants to kill him, and he's not gonna do anything to put our new friendship at risk, anyway.

It's fine for now.

After a while, Dale gets sick of studying me, and he nods.

"Well, how about you come read your book in the RV? It's getting pretty hot out here."

He's not wrong. It's hot today.

"Oh, did you got that fan working?" I ask hopefully.

Like I said, we've found just about everything except for food — Even a new table fan, thanks to T-Dog.

"Sure did." Dale smiles. "It's working like a charm. Come check it out."

I hop out of the truck and into the soupy, summer heat.

"Can you read my book to me?"

He ruffles my hair. "Sure thing."

"You gotta do a funny voice for Scarface Claw. He's the evil cat."

He laughs.

Dale's a little different than Shane.

He doesn't have to ask to be my friend.

An hour later, the RV door opens.

I lift my head, the cool breeze from the fan fluttering across my face. I watch Rick stumble inside. He's drenched in so much sweat that it looks like he just took a long, hot bath in his clothes. He steals a rag from the drying rack and smothers his face in it. The little fan whirrs politely.

"Any luck out there?" Dale shakes out his newspaper, peering at Rick over his spectacles.

Rick tweaks the faucet on, shoves his head underneath it, and licks up the five little drips that come trickling out, moaning.

Gross.

"Doesn't look like you struck gold in the water department." Dale deadpans. "Any food, at least?"

Rick slides onto the floor, panting heavily.

When he peeks one eye open to glance at me, I belatedly turn the fan towards him, and he sighs in bliss.

"I just need a minute."

I'm literally fanning Rick off. I'm not sure if that's funny or not.

The RV door opens again.

My Dad walks in with Morales, both of them glistening like cuts of oily pork. Dad dumps his crossbow against the wall and crouches in front of the table. He turns his face this way and that against the breeze of the fan, ruffling out his wet hair. He gives my knee two pat, pats, to thank me. I smile just the littlest bit. Morales slumps on the kitchen, huffing and puffing.

Dale laughs at this weirdly entertaining sight. "So? Talk to me, here. What'd we find?"

Rick nudges my Dad out the way to feel the fan better.

"Scoured everythin'," He gulps, wiping his dripping brow. "Top to bottom, left to right. Hell, we even broke open the damn registers, but nothin'. Not even a chocolate coin. Cans were busted all over the floor. Rats were shittin' in the rice. Glenn almost got bit. Shane disappeared for a while; said he got cornered in the break room. Full-scale disaster, is what I'm tryna say."

Shane disappeared, alright, I think, glancing at Dale to try gauge his thoughts.

He just shakes his head.

"I take it we're not considering rat-casserole, yet?" He asks.

"Nah. Trust me, we would'a." My Dad scoffs. "But the dead ones were already chewin' on 'em."

Ew.

I think I'd rather eat frog legs.

Morales gestures My turn now, so I pivot the fan onto him next.

"I don't see how we're gonna make it to Fort Benning the way things are," Rick says. "But we can't keep doin' this."

"What's the plan, then?"

"We do what Shane suggested." He shrugs, looking around for objections. There aren't any, so he makes a cutting gesture with his open palm. "We power our way through to Fort Benning — Straight shot. We wipe our assess with leaves. We eat whatever game Daryl can find. We boil river water. We sleep in the cars. I'on care. I'm not risking our lives for this anymore. It's not worth it."

"Fan's pretty worth it." Morales sighs wistfully.

Dad side-eyes him, as if to say, You serious?

"And when we run out of gas?" Dale chimes in again. "RV's only gonna make it three more days, tops. And I don't even want to look at the radiator hose. It's hanging on by a thread, and barely, at that."

"We siphon." Rick simply says. "We drive and we don't stop unless it's to siphon or sleep. That's how it's gotta be from now on."

Drive, siphon, sleep.

It don't sound fun or nothin', but it sure beats scavenge, scavenge, die.

"As for the hose," Rick rubs his sweaty, stubbly chin, before pointing at my Dad. "You're sittin' next to a mechanic. Daryl can do check-ups every few miles, and if somethin' really goes side-ways, we can just pull one from another car. There's a solution to every problem. Problems, I can handle. Full-scale disasters — Not so much. That's why I'm choosin' this. I believe we can do it."

This group is strong. It's like a glue that won't let up.

"As long as we don't gotta make more jerky." I mumble.

One by one, they all chuckle.

It's been a long day.

"Alright... Let's get a move on, then." Rick shakes his head tiredly as he stands back up again, against all odds, his smile a beacon.

The sun clips through the window like a golden floodlight, slowly sinking; slowly burning.

"We're runnin' outta daylight."

The fan continues to whirr like a happy kitten.

Author's Note.

Shane... the master manipulator!

That was one jam-packed conversation I had to get down, ahaha.

And Rick... I just love clowning on him every now and then. He's so corny and fun. The last scene in this chapter might be my favorite in the entire story so far, it's just so random and simple.

Please let me know what you thought about this chapter!!!

Sending love! :)

#the walking dead #twd fanfiction #twd #daryl dixon twd #daryl dixon daughter #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon #daddy issues #rick grimes #fanfic #ao3 fanfic #angst #shane walsh

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coolguypluiplup · 1 year ago

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Flower Husbands Florist AU

have a flower husbands oneshot loosely based on this tumblr post :)

word count: 1228

full fic under the cut!!

It had been a long shift. Jimmy wasn't normally one to complain (he's lying about this) but he feels like he deserves it today. His boss had booked him in to make 20 flower crowns for a hen party happening tonight that he didn't find out about 'till this morning, he had couples in and out all day for valentines' flowers and had to do the displays for tomorrow. And no one else was working this week! What a joke.

He was slumped against the counter, face pressed to his palm and eyes fighting to stay open. He had 10 minutes 'till closing and was practically counting down the seconds. The flowers in the display case glistened against the rim lights pointed at them causing a ripple of light against the wall facing Jimmy. He should really turn them off. No one had come in for 20 minutes and it's not like anyone's gonna come in at quarter to 10-

“Oh thank god. I've been searching for a place still open.” A man entered hastily, the doorbell ringing as he did. Teal hair stuck to his forehead in clumps and eyeliner ran down his face. He put his collapsed umbrella onto the counter. “I need a bouquet to tell someone I hate them.”

“Hm?” Jimmy spoke- nearly asleep.

“It is valentine's day tomorrow, right?”

Jimmy sat back on the stool, trying to avoid the rainwater pooling near the cash register. “Yeah.“

”Okay, so I need, like, a reverse 'I love you' bouquet.“

Jimmy stared at the man. He sighed and pulled out his floriography book.

”Anything in particular you fancy?“

”Nah. You're the flower boy, anyway.“

Jimmy made a noise of disagreement but started flicking through the pages of the book anyway. “I might need a bit more context to pick the right thing.”

The man sighed. “It's gonna take a while, you sure?”

“Mhm.” Jimmy said, instinctively. He was still exhausted but this was more fun than sleeping.

“Well, tl;dr or whatever, My ex is in town. She still has a thing for me, and I don’t.

He stopped flicking through the pages. “That's... a story. Not normally what I make this time of year,”

“Yep. And I'm gay, which I don’t even think she knows yet.”

“Hm.”

”So. Flowers?“

Jimmy flicked through the pages briskly, scanning each page for something suitable. ”I'm intrigued now. How'd that all go down, then?“ He was never one for small talk.

”Well. We met in year 9 and dated that entire time 'til uni. She was getting fed up that we'd never done any of the romantic stuff our friends did. I genuinely had no clue that that was kinda strange, so I didn't see the problem. And before I knew it, she'd run off with the ex of my best friend. They weren't exes at the time, but trust me, after this it was fallout. I was angry, naturally, and she told me that it was my fault for not trying to fix our relationship before it got too bad. So, I broke it off. Hadn't seen her since.

"Until last week, when my friend told me she was in town. So I invited her round our house. Me and Cleo thought 'no harm done now. We're over it, we know why me and her were having problems, should be fine now'. Couldn't be farther from the truth. She comes round and immediately starts talking about how much she misses me. Says that now we're 'more mature' we can work it out like adults and that she still has feelings for me. Didn't even get to tell her I found out I was gay after I left her.”

The man had been looking at the displays while speaking, so he probably didn’t catch Jimmy’s jaw dropping before he could catch himself. He turned around to face him. “So, any good picks for the bouquet, then?”

Jimmy hesitantly flips to a page he dog-eared and turns it to face the stranger. They both move closer to the page to read it. ”Foxglove might be a good pick. 'Means insincerity. In older things it even means secrets and complicated situations, which seems fitting. And it's quite pretty, but that's more an aesthetic choice.”

“I like them.“ He stared up at Jimmy. Their faces were mere inches apart. His eyes were a light hazel with gold flecks nearly colour matched the piercings running down his ears. ”You alright?“

Jimmy blinked and moved back. ”Uhm, yeah. Sorry.“ He picked up the book and moved to the greenhouse door behind him. ”I've got a few picks that'll go great with the message. Should take, like, 20 minutes?“

”Okay. Thanks for doing this, by the way. I know it's, like, nearly ten right now,“

”No, don't worry, really. Uhm, can I get a name for the order?”

“Scott.”

Jimmy smiled as he spoke. “Scott. That name suits you.” He shut the door before Scott could respond.

The bouquet was placed on the counter with a thud, shaking Scott from his thoughts. The florist he was just thinking about stood with a smile. He got up and tried to shift his hair from his face (a pointless effort, he knew. Scott had checked how he looked in his phone camera while the guy was making his bouquet, and by god did he look dreadful. Make-up pouring down his face and clothes soaked through. Rained on just wasn't his look.) and walked towards the counter. ”Wow. These are beautiful.“

Scott wasn't lying. The foxgloves he'd recognised from earlier framed intricately placed white flowers. The vase the florist put them in was stunning too, glass patterns mirroring the stems of the flowers fractionally across its surface.

”Thank you. The purple are foxgloves, like I said, and meadowsweet is the white one. It means uselessness in floriography. Um, I would've put more flowers but I guess not a lot of people need 'I hate you' flowers.” He laughed awkwardly at that last bit.

His laugh was nice. It was higher pitched than normal, but fit him perfectly. Scott smiled along, pretending like he wasn't just staring at him.

Scott paid for the flowers (Jimmy gave him money off, not that he would find out until months later) and picked up his bouquet.

”Wait. Uhm,“

Scott turned to face the florist. ”Hm?“

”I have, uh, something else to give you,“ He held out a singular poppy with a slip of paper wrapped around it. ”'s just- Don't take it if you don't wan' it, but-“

Scott took the poppy before he finished speaking. He unravelled the piece of paper and read it carefully. ”'Jimmy'. That name suits you, you know.“

He blushed and turned away from him. ”Aw. Don't use my own words against me!“ He feigned anger but was smiling too much for it to have any bite.

Scott put the piece of paper with Jimmy's number in his pocket and took the poppy and tucked behind his ear. ”Thank you, Jimmy. I'll call later to tell you how the flowers went down.“

”Don't spare any details, I'm properly invested.“

Scott laughed as he opened the door. The moonlight had illuminated the wet concrete. When had it stopped raining? He couldn't have been in there that long. Scott turned to face Jimmy. “See you later, Jimmy.”

”You too.“

#flower husbands #pluiplup's writing #trafficshipping

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myers-meadow · 2 years ago

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Otis B. Driftwood x reader: Knocking on a stranger's door

Title: Knocking on a stranger's door

Warnings: none.

Pairing: Otis B. Driftwood x gn reader.

Wordcount: 787

Summary: You're stranded with car trouble, but a kind family helps you out. Otis puts your mind at ease with a warm drink and a movie - and keeps you warm in more ways than one.

This is the alternative beginning of this fic 'sweet thing/forgotten hot cocoa', so if you want to know how this continues, read that one!

Divider by @/delishlydelightfuldividers

Who’d thought the road trip would end with you on the couch of a strange house, watching a black and white movie, and next to you the eccentric man you met only just hours before? Car trouble lead you here, knocking on a stranger’s door for help. The big, gruff looking guy was out, fixing the car, refusing offers of payment, but not speaking much to ease your nerves. That was when Otis came, chatting with you, he took you to the kitchen where he rummaged around in the cabinets for two mugs. Deft hands with long fingers with dirt under the nails stirred cocoa powder and sugar in hot milk.

“Baby’s normally the one doin’ stuff like this for guests,” he mumbled, handing you your mug, a little roughly and it almost spilled. Without saying another word, he moved to the living room, and sank down into the couch. You followed, sitting down next to him, holding the mug with one hand, leaning it on your knee and adjusting the throw pillows behind your back.

“Thank you. You and your family are very kind,” you said. Otis put the mug down on the coffee table and shifted to look at you – really look at you. He said nothing still, just a calculating stare.

“Let’s see if they have a good movie on,” he said eventually, breaking the silence that made you fidget.

They did, or at least, to his judgement, one that was worth staring at and making comments about every so often. After a few scenes, the female and male protagonists had a heated run in, and Otis’ hand crept up on your knee. A surprising but not unwelcome point of contact, as he was a handsome man – precisely the kind of rough around the edges that you liked. And now he was coming on to you? There was no way this was a friendly touch. He was hitting on you and the realisation made your heart hammer in your chest. You gave him a glance, which he caught; the eyes of a panther, a raised eyebrow, as if to say ‘are you gonna do something about it?’ and a barely perceptible squeeze of his hand. Then his eyes were back at the screen. The warmth of his hand spread through your entire body, and when he stroked his thumb back and forth it was a shock of electricity that almost made you jump. Before you finished the last of your hot cocoa, his hand had crept closer to the inside of your thigh. As you set the empty mug down, your hand touched his knuckles for just a second as you returned your hand to your side. You debated whether to be brave and make a move, or wait until he would. That brief touch would have to do, though, as the bravery quickly left you as he made some offhand comment about the scene that just played.

“Do you watch movies like these often? It’s an older one, right?”

He flashed a smile, “yeah, Mama likes ‘em. They’re not bad either, I mean, if you’re into that sort of thing. And Baby can quote them all dramatic like.”

“Really? That’s so cool. We never watched a lot of films, my parents and I. Is your family close?”

He leaned his head back for a second, his free hand digging into the ripped spot on his jeans. “Ain’t got nothin’ if we ain’t got family. They piss me off sometimes, though.”

You dared a short laugh when you spotted the smile he was trying to mask. “Sure they do. They sound like a great time.”

Something predatory bathed his face in shadow, but just for a moment. His grin showed plenty teeth. The hold on your thigh changed, tighter, fingers testing the give of the skin, eyes flickering over your body.

Otis turned his full attention to you then, letting go of your leg in favour of the back of the couch. “And you, you came here all alone?” his voice low and husky.

No partner – that was what he was actually asking. The way he looked at you made your breath hitch. He felt dangerous. It made you pause, before you shook your head. He grinned in response.

“Good,” he said, and two spidery fingers fell to your shoulder and walked their way to your neck, up until his hand wrapped around the back of your neck. You leaned in to him, letting one hand drop to his leg, the other copying his at the back of his neck.

“I’d love a sweet thing like you,” was all he said, and your lips met his in a hot kiss, tasting hot cocoa and whipped cream.

#otis b driftwood #otis driftwood #otis driftwood x reader #otis b driftwood x reader #slasher fandom #house of 1000 corpses #i initially scrapped this but its actually still good ^^ i just decided to start the fic off differently

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gazs-blue-hat · 1 year ago

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Injections and Ivermectin pt.2 (Small Town UA) Ghost X Reader (Tens)

AN: Continuing the small town UA! This is another chapter featuring our favorite veterinarian and broody SAS operator.

Word Count: 2,382

Summary: After an unfortunate encounter with a goat, Ghost manages to slice his arm open. Luckily you know how to fix it without messing up his sleeve of tattoos.

TW: Blood, Injury, Stitches, Canon typical language, Mention of a dog having puppies (Ethically). Briefly mentioned Bisexual reader (LMK if I missed any)

I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION TO ANYBODY HERE OR ON ANOTHER SITE TO REPOST, COPY, TRANSLATE OR FEED MY WORK TO AN A.I OF ANY KIND.

The 141 had been on Lamb's farm for four weeks now and you had gotten into a pattern of seeing them. You often went over to help with her leg. Something had been really irritating it lately and she never would take care of it herself. (Stubborn bitch)

You were getting to know the men pretty well actually. MacTavish, or Soap practically followed lamb as closely as Nikon did. He knew a thing or two about livestock to Lamb logically trusted him with most tasks she would have done herself.

Garrick, or Gaz spent a lot of his time at Keys' place. She was in the middle of reorganizing and cataloging her library and she was very thankful for the help. Although, you wondered how much work was actually getting done. Gaz knew all about the series she liked so instead of working, the two were probably gushing over who kissed who and what was going to happen in the next book.

The Captain was no stranger to you (even if he avoided you like the plague). He would give simple head nods in your direction and calmly leave whatever room you had entered. You had no details about the meeting he had with Skip. But there was no broken glass or shattered doors when you and Lamb entered the house again.

The person you probably spent the most time with, however, was Ghost. Ghost was by far the most enigmatic of the group but he was also the most…genuine. You could see how his face would make invisible expressions under the mask and how he was incredibly expressive with his eyes. (That man could murder someone with a side-eye)

Whenever you would be at Lamb's house (Which was more often than you were at your own house), you always managed to be in proximity of the large man. Lamb often sent him over to help with whatever it was you were doing. You mostly came over to check on Moosie and her illness. The prognosis wasn't good and you had even walked in on Soap holding her as she cried into his shoulder.

Today though you were at the office, helping a sweet chocolate lab deliver her second litter of puppies. You watched closely as the lab huffed and grumbled in the large padded box next to you. You had decided to sit on the floor next to her so she would feel more comfortable. She held her head in your lap as you typed on your laptop, finishing up some documenting how many rabies vaccinations you would require for next year.

You turned your head as you heard the small yips of a newborn pup. You beamed down at the lab and pet her head softly.

"Atta girl. So proud of you." You whispered. The dog huffed again and got back to work. After checking on the puppy and documenting its health your receptionist stuck her head in the door.

"Lamb is calling you. Should I send the call in here or should I take it?" Maryanne asked softly. You really liked Maryanne and hired her on as your secretary a week ago. There wasn't much work she could do in town due to her health issues and you were more than happy to be accommodating for her.

"You can take the message, Maryanne. I'm gonna focus here with Debbie." You said while documenting the successful arrival of a second puppy. Maryanne nodded and you heard her wheelchair slotting back to the desk.

"She said someone named Ghost was coming over for some stitches. Said it was urgent." Maryanne called. You nodded and added him to your calendar. You wondered what Ghost could have done to himself that would cause a need for stitches so bad that he or Lamb couldn't do it.

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An hour or so later, you heard the little bell above the door of your office ring out.

"Hello, sir! How can I help you?" You heard the soft voice of Maryanne say from the front room. You stood from your seat on the floor and started to scrub up. You sanitized your hands and moved to the secondary room, gathering the materials you would need to do some serious stitching.

" 'm here to see Tens." A gruff voice said. Maryanne made a sound of affirmation and you heard the door to the first room office swing open. Debbie opened her eyes and huffed, only turning over so her six puppies could keep nursing.

"Over here!" You called while putting a layer of absorbent cloth down on the chair's arm. The chair you had in this room was not like one found in regular doctor's offices. This was a modified tattoo chair that you had gotten from an estate sale. Waste not, want not.

Ghost walked into the room holding a blood-stained towel over his left forearm. You winced and made a hissing sound.

"What happened to your lovely artwork?" You said kindly, gesturing to the seat. Ghost said nothing as he sat down, resting his arm on the chair's armrest.

"Was fixin' up the water toughs in the goat pens when this big bastard decided to use my side as ramming practice." He grumbled, making no sound of pain as you peeled away the towel.

"Jesus Christ on a bike." You mumble as you take in the extent of the damage. Six large lacerations dug deep in his forearm. Blood leaked from them and dripped down his arm, being absorbed by the towel.

"Bugger shoved me hard enough to cause my arm to hit the barbed wire next to the fence," he continued to explain. You nodded in understanding. You too had been headbutted by the 'big bastard' as Ghost had called him. He was a rather young goat with the fury of a thousand suns crammed in his tiny body. it didn't matter how big you were or how strong. He would always try his damnedest to knock you on your ass.

"I know how that goes. Frankie always was cantankerous." You say while donning a pair of gloves. These gloves were specially made for you by a medical friend of yours. He had molded them to your hands so they fit absolutely perfectly. It was almost like wearing no gloves at all.

"Oh, Lamb said to give this to you. Said that you deserved it?" Ghost said while handing you a folded note. You nodded and gestured for him to place it on the tray next to you. You didn't want to have to scrub everything again.

You began by cleaning the area of blood as best you could with some gauze. You then reached over for your saline bottle and opened the cap with your other hand.

"Okay, you probably know the drill but I'll go through it anyway. This is just saline, it will sting a bit but not nearly as much as Isopropyl or whisky." You say with a smile. You can notice his eyebrows raising slightly in surprise.

"I was a combat medic Ghost. We used what we could find." You say with a wink. You irrigate the wounds and watch as he flinches from the pain slightly. The cuts weren't actually as bad as you had thought and that made you smile.

"Do you by any chance have a reference image for what the tattoo looked like before all of this?" You ask while holding pressure on the wound with one hand and grabbing your suturing supplies with the other. Ghost shook his head and you frowned. You'd have to guess then.

"Why does it matter? You don't need a reference to do stitches." Ghost said calmly. You could tell he wasn't irritated, he was genuinely curious about your question.

"Well look at it! I don't want to butcher it with messy stitching!" You say while gesturing to the undamaged parts of the tattoo. It truly was amazing work. The level of detail that went into the ink honestly deserved an award.

"I don't even want to think about how much this cost or how long it took to do. That would be a slap in the face of the artist." You continued, shaking your head at the thought.

Ghost chuckled and you felt your stomach do a little flip thing.

'odd...' you thought to yourself.

"Never had a medic care so much about my tattoos before." he chuckled. You could practically hear the smile in his voice and it took great restraint not to melt into a puddle.

"Perhaps you've been hanging out with the wrong medics." You say softly. You really didn't mean to make it sound so...sultry. You numbed the surrounding skin with some cream and you got to work stitching. You did your best to line up the skin perfectly so the details of the tattoos would be spared.

"Who are the right medics then?" he asked softly. You almost didn't hear him and you looked up, only to meet his piercing eyes.

Oh God

You could have fallen into those eyes. A deep brown that reminded you of freshly tilled earth after a rain storm. They reminded you of the dark bark of a steady spruce tree, green throughout the cold winter. His eyebrows were perfectly molded to his face but just unkempt enough to give him a scruffy appearance.

When you died, would have to slap God for making a man so fine.

"Sorry, I didn't hear you properly. Could you repeat that?" You asked. He leaned over in the seat a bit, getting closer. You could feel your breath hitch in your chest. He smelled divine. Like work and pure man. He also smelled slightly of cigarettes and bourbon with a hint of Lamb's homemade soap.

How dare he smell delicious? How dare he make you salivate at work with his stupidly strong arms, thighs, chest, and-

"I asked, who are the right medics then?" he repeated. You swallowed and hoped he couldn't hear your heart pounding in your chest.

"The ones who give a shit about you I suppose." You manage to say without stuttering. Never had a patient made you react this way. Not even the one time that smoking hot petty officer had gotten a steam burn on her side, showing you plenty of side-boob as you bandaged her up.

He only hummed and sat back, closing his eyes as you worked. It took you about three hours to stitch the wounds up enough to your satisfaction. You gently wiped the area clean with more saline and you put some antibacterial cream on the stitches. You looked up to say something to him but a rough snore caught you off guard. He was sleeping.

Somehow this large man had fallen asleep while you were giving him stitches. You said nothing as you gently wrapped the wound with Tegaderm so he could watch the healing process and come back if there were any issues.

You simply draped a thin blanket over him and turned out the lights. You cleaned up from the procedure and grabbed your laptop from the other room. You didn't want him to be alone when he woke up since you knew how disorienting that could be.

You sat on the floor once more and continued typing your reports, ignoring how the sun had long since set.

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It was around midnight when Ghost blinked his eyes open. He was strangely comfortable in whatever seat he was sitting in. He looked around to see where he was and he furrowed his eyebrows when he figured it out.

He was in one of Tens' medical rooms, sitting in a tattoo chair with his arm all bandaged up. He examined the work and was incredibly pleased that you had done a perfect job. The lines of the tattoo were perfectly aligned and the stitches were so perfectly symmetrical that if there even was a scar, it would look like it belonged in the tattoo anyway. Absolutely incredible.

A soft snore alerted him that he was not alone in the room. You sat in the corner, your laptop still on and shining a dull white light on your face. You slept peacefully but not in the cute ways that movies or books would show. You slept with your head on your shoulder, your mouth open slightly and a small splotch of saliva pooling on your coat collar. You still had your coat on that was dotted with his blood. Your hands rested on the keys of the keyboard as if you had fallen asleep while typing.

Simon smiled down at your sleepy form. You had stayed in this office with him so he wouldn't be frightened when he woke up. You stayed way past closing time and even fell asleep on the floor to make him more comfortable.

He stood up, closed your laptop (but not before saving your work), and gently picked you up. He was careful of his stitches and he was shocked when he didn't feel pain as the skin pulled a bit. You had numbed him up, even if you knew he was well used to stitches without pain relief.

You mumbled a bit as you shifted in his grip, nuzzling into his chest. it was a cute action and Simon felt a bit of blood rushing to his cheeks. How long had it been since he actually blushed? he made his way to the other room where he had seen a bed. It was a medical bed sure, but a bed was a bed in his opinion.

"Don't forget to... wash your haaands." You mumbled while making the motion of rubbing hands together. Simon smiled softly under his mask as he set you down. You curled up a bit, shivering in the late autumn air. He returned to the room he had been in and grabbed the blanket you had placed over him. He draped it over you and closed the door behind him.

Returning to the room to pick up your laptop, he noticed the paper that Lamb had instructed he give to you unfolded on the floor. The words written upon it made his stomach flip in the strangest way

'Have fun with Skullface. Don't ever mock me again bitch.'

-Lamb

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taglist: @plumteaa-remus @ghostlythots

(Lmk if you want to be added)

#simon ghost riley x reader #small town ua #to be linked

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