#breakfast bar table and stools set | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

the-froschamethyst4 · 1 year ago

Text

“Daddy flirted with another women”

𖤐Pairing: Daddy! Soap x Mommy! Reader

𖤐Pronouns: She/Her

𖤐Warnings: fluff, wholesome, slight flirting, children, language, married couple, some hints of smut

Soap gets the chance to bring his son into work with him. Soap’s son has been very curious what Soap does for work and is finally able to join in

Soap is doing his job when a girl comes in asking to get her car looked at but she kept flirting with Soap even if his son was by him and could hear everything

Once home Soap’s son had to let his mommy know what had happened at work with his dad

——————

———————

9:30AM

"RYKER COME ON, BOY!" Soap yelled from the bottom of the stairs waking his son up. Ryker jumped from his bed and rushed to get ready.

Today for Soap was bring your kid to work day, not really, he asked his boss if he could bring Ryker in today, so he could see what Soap does and he was alright with it.

As Soap was at the bottom of the stairs, he walked to the kitchen seeing his wife place a plate on the table and looked at the highchair holding his 7-month baby girl Kiara.

He smiled and kissed his daughters head getting a loud giggle out of her.

"Good morning, my baby," he mumbles, he then walks to Y/n and tapped her butt making her jump and look over her shoulder smiling at her husband.

"Good morning," he said, kissing her lips and earning a soft smile from her.

"Morning," she says before going back to washing dishes. Ryker came downstairs and sat in his usual chair and looked at his parents.

"Mama, do I look pro-professional?" Ryker asked, Y/n stopped and looked at her 5-year-old son.

"Nah, not yet, boy. You'll get grease on ya and you'll definitely look professional later," Soap chuckled.

Ryker giggled and started to eat his breakfast, Soap walked back to his wife and helped with the dishes before having to leave.

"Mama, I'm done," Ryker said as he gave his mom, his plate. She smiled at her son and kissed her forehead.

"Thank you, baby," she said as turned to the sink to wash it.

"Alright, bud, let's get going."

"Okay," Ryker smiled and grabbed his shoes and tablet to entertain himself whenever he could.

"Alright, missy...let's get you all cleaned up and head to daycare," Y/n said, picking her daughter up and taking her to the bathroom to clean her up.

---------

Soap had pulled up into the parking lot of the Mechanics, he got Ryker out of his car seat, and he held Soap's hand. Soap opened the door to the shop, and everyone immediately looked excited to see Ryker for the first time.

"Awww~ is this Ryker?" The older lady that sat behind the desk asked.

"Yep," Soap picked up Ryker placing him on his hip. "Say 'hi' to Ms.Shelly."

Ryker shyly said 'hi' to her and she gave him a soft smile and waved back at him.

"Everyone is in the back, Soap."

"Thanks, Ms.Shelly," Soap said as Soap pushed the door open with his back and looked at his son in his arms.

"Now you'll meet everyone," Soap said, kissing his temple.

"Okay, daddy," Soap set Ryker on the ground and he followed his dad deeper into the shop.

"Everyone, this is Ryker," Soap said. He came around his dad and shyly waved at everyone.

The guys were excited to see Ryker, some got down to his level and asked him questions. Ryker giggled at all the attention he was getting. A loud bang of a door slammed shut and everyone looked at the balcony to see their boss looking down at them.

"Alright everyone come on we have a job to do," he yells, and everyone rolled their eyes, and the boss came down to talk to Soap. Ryker holds his dads pant leg and looks at his boss.

He was a little scary.

"Alright Soap, I have someone coming in soon for an oil change, rotate tires, and to check engine."

"Sure..." Soap looked down at Ryker and got down to his level. "You wanna help me, kiddo?"

"Yes, papa."

"Good come on," Soap walked to his station and wiped his tools and Ryker sat on one of Soap's bar stools and looked down at his tablet as they waited for the person to arrive.

Which wasn't long. The car pulled in, but it was crooked and as the girl was turning it off, she accidently hocked the horn making everyone jump and Ryker cover his ears.

"Jesus," Soap mumbled.

"Hi, are you Soap?" She was just a ditzy blonde, flaring her keys around, flipping her hair off the left side of her neck to her right side of her neck and chewing gum loudly in her mouth.

"Yep," Soap tried not to act annoyed. Ryker put his tablet down and jumped down off the stool and stood next to Soap.

"Good ummm~ I need oil...my tires rotated and to check my engine," she said, chewing on her gum.

"Okay, we'll get started, come on," he said to Ryker. Soap put the car up on a jack to get under it. He was on his back and got under the car, Ryker laid on his stomach and looked under the car to see what his dad was doing.

"Do you think he'll get done in 5 minutes?"

"What?" Soap sat up but bumped his head on the pipe. "Ow shit," he mumbles.

"5 minutes? I have to get to a restaurant for lunch, do you think 5 minutes?"

"No, definitely not, it'll be more than 5 minutes," Soap grunted as he took the bolt off the oil tank and Ryker pushed the oil drip-pan under the spill.

"What? No, come on, I need to get going in 5 minutes."

"That'll never happen, that's almost impossible, especially if you need an oil change, tires rotated and to check your engine. That is almost...an hour maybe, maybe longer, depends on the problem." Soap said as he came out from underneath the car and wiped his hands with a rag and put it over his shoulder.

"But come on, I need to go."

"Then you should have done it later and another day, 5 minutes is not going to happen."

"What if..." she got close to Soap and placed her fingers on his chest. "You come with me, and we can have a couple of drinks? hmm?" She got close to his face. She bit her bottom lip and batted her eyes at him.

Soap didn't budge, his arms were crossed over his chest and even Ryker copied his movement.

"I'm married and in case you didn't notice, I have my son with me, and I rather not leave him here just to go hang out with someone who can't handle timing," Soap said as he got on his back and got back under the car to see if the oil was completely out.

"Gosh, then what am I going to tell, my friends?"

"I don't know, maybe you can't go or reschedule?" Soap said. He then put the bolt back in and grabbed some oil pouring it into her oil tank and made sure there were no air bubbles in it as well. He even gave her a new oil filter as well.

"What tires do you want?" Soap asked her.

"What? I don't know just tires, I don't care," she said as she looked down at her phone, probably either texting her friends and telling her daddy that the mechanic was being 'mean'.

"Fine," since she didn't know and wasn't going to give him a straight answer, he gave her goodyear tires.

He put the car on a car lift (it looks like a forklift progs). he took off all the lug nuts and gave them to Ryker to hold onto but the more he got he started to put them in his shirt to carry them, getting grease and break dust on his white shirt and it even covered his hands.

Soap swaps out the old tires putting the new ones by, and one by one Ryker handed him the lug nuts back. Soap looked at Ryker's hands and smiled at him.

"See now you look professional," Soap said and Ryker had a smile on his face.

"Yay, I'm professional," he smiles back at Soap.

"Now, you wanna check the engine with me?" Ryker nodded as Soap lowered the car and Soap popped the hood open and Ryker moved the stool and looked down in the engine with Soap.

The girl just kept staring at Soap and how Soap's muscles would flex every now and then. She bit her lip and moved to Soap's left and touched his muscle making him jump a little bit.

"Sorry, but do you work out?"

"I mean...I work here. I have to carry tires, I'm on my knees a lot, and I carry heavy tools."

"On your knees you say?" She smiles.

"Sometimes," Soap said, adjusting the nuts on the engine.

"Umm~ I don't see a ring on your finger? Are you not married?"

Soap shut the hood leaning against it and Soap had a necklace on, it was his golden wedding ring dangling on a silver chain.

"I am married, I just don't wear it on my finger when I'm working because the grease can ruin it, so I wear it around my neck, to be proud."

"I mean that makes sense, but..." she got closer to him again. Ryker peaked around to see what she's doing. "If anything happens, I can give you, my number."

"Not happening," Soap walked away and stopped the timer and looked at the price.

"Total is £600.00 ($763.62 in USD)." He said leaning against his station waiting for her to pay.

"Fine," she scoffed and gave him her card to pay. Soap took it and put it in the machine. Ryker got off the stool and grabbed his tablet.

"There," he said as she yanked her card back along with her keys and took off out of the garage.

"Papa?"

"Yes, bud?"

"Do you get...hit on a lot?"

"Not usually." He said, standing next to Ryker. Soap pulled at Ryker's dirty shirt. "Professional." He chuckles.

Ryker just smiles at him.

--------

4:35PM

Ryker sat on the stool looking at his tablet as Soap worked on a rich man's BMW. Soap knew he was going to get a fat tip from this guy. Soap came out from under the car with grease on his face and wiped his greasing hands.

"Alright sure. £400.00."

"Alright and here's 170 for you and 50 for you," the man gave Ryker £50.

"What do you say, bud?"

"Thank you," Ryker smiles. The man left and Soap looked at his son.

"Ryker, we have a vending machine in the lobby if you wanna go get a snack," Soap said.

"Okay," he smiles. He got off the stool and went up front. He saw the vending machine and saw Ms.Shelly helping a customer. He ended up getting Oeros. He looked at Ms.Shelly helping and went back to the back and saw everyone working hard.

"Okay, Ryker in a few minutes we'll leave, okay?"

"Okay," he said. He got back on his stool and waited for either another customer or waited to leave. Soap was doing reports on the cars he had done and what he had to do to them. Soap then looked at the big clock on the wall.

"Alright, Ryker, come on." Soap closed his side of the garage, shutting the garage door and cleaning his tools.

---------

Y/n had Kiara in her arms as they were on the couch enjoying the peace and quiet but that was soon ruined by Soap opening the door and announcing they were home.

Y/n placed Kiara on her playmat and picked up her son and kissed his temple.

"How was it, baby boy?"

"Amazing! Mama!"

"I'm glad," she kept kissing his cheek. She placed him back down on the ground and walked over to her husband, hugging him, she didn't care if he smelled. His hands immediately wrapped around her waist.

"Love, I smell."

"So? I'm used to it," she smiles at him.

---------

Ryker was in the tub and Y/n helped him clean up. She washed his face getting the grease off his face and Ryker played in the bubbles in the tub and then remembered what happened this morning.

"Mama."

"Yes, baby?"

"This morning, papa and I got a customer that needed an oil change, tires rotated, and engine checked out. She had lunch plans with friends and wanted everything done in 5 minutes. And dad said it wasn't possible, so she started to flirt with him."

"Flirt with him? Did dad flirt back?"

"No, he said he was married, but she was like 'let me give you my number if anything happens' but daddy didn't take it."

"Good, he better not," Y/n said as Ryker pulled the drain from the tub and Y/n dried him off with a white fluffy towel.

--------

9:20PM

Y/n got her kids down in bed and was now heading to her bedroom to sleep with her husband. She walks in the door to see her husband reading a book and he looked up at her leaning against the door frame.

"Guess what Ryker told me, not too long ago?"

"What?" He placed his book down on his nightstand and looked at his wife, who was...distracting him with just wearing one of his shirts and some short shorts.

"That some girl came in today and she was flirting with you." She shut the door and crawled on the bed to Soap.

"Oh yeah, she was kind of weird, she would act like a bimbo, then flirt with me, then tried to give me her number, then asked if I was married." Soap sat up against the headboard of their bed and Y/n crawled on top of him.

Y/n sat on his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck, and she kissed his lips. He moaned into the kiss and placed his hands on her hips.

She pulled away and Soap groaned when her lips left his. "Love~" he whines.

She shook her head and got off his lap and got on her side of the bed.

"Love~ I didn't flirt with her," he whines, he rolls over to Y/n and rests his chin on her shoulder. "I didn't do anything, I come home and have sex with you~ I didn't do anything."

"Soap-"

"Don't Soap me. I LOVE YOU, not that girl, she was the one doing it," he groaned.

"Soap, I get it..." she pushes his face away from hers, but he just attacked her with kisses.

Soap got on top of Y/n and started to make out with her. She moaned into the kiss and his hand slide down her shorts, but she moaned and pushed his hand away.

"Not now, Soap. I'm tired."

"I know, okay...tomorrow?"

"Maybe. Good night," she kissed him and rolled on her side and Soap rolled back onto his side of the bed.

"Fine, night, love."

"Good night..." she responded back.

#cod modern warfare #cod mw2 #cod mwii #cod x reader #fandom #fanfic #call of duty #mw2 #soap x reader #soap cod #soap mw2 #john soap mactavish #cod #soap mactavish #john soap mctavish x reader #john soap mctavish x you

493 notes · View notes

cloudyskydreams · 2 months ago

Text

scent drabbles!

UNDERTALE!

Sans smells like pine and rain

You groan as you lazily smack at the alarm clock on the bedside table. Sweet silence fills the room once you finally manage to hit the snooze button and you consider getting up, for a very brief moment you really did think about it but your skeletal mate clinging on to you destroyed any thoughts of getting up and starting the morning early. You snuggle into him and inhale deeply, his scent has always been so calming. The smell of a rainy day trampling exploring a pine forest filled your senses and you sigh happily.

"heh did you just sniff me?" His voice makes you jump a little and blush in embarrassment.

He looks up at you with a brow bone raised and squinted sockets."Uhm... No?" your voice is a tad meek.

"don't worry I'm not scent out of shape about it." He chuckles and you shake your head at his pun. He pulls you back into him burying your face into the tank top he sleeps in. "it's too early to be up." He whines and you sigh snuggling into him and enjoying the comforting smell pulling you back into sleep.

Papyrus: smells like citrus and clean laundry

You and Papyrus are in the kitchen together eating breakfast. He lovingly made you both pancakes and you happily dug in when the decent sized stack was set in front of you. There was some for his brother sure but he wasn't going to be awake for a few more hours the lazybones. Papyrus worked on the daily crossword puzzle in the newspaper while you munched on pancakes occasionally asking you for advice.

"EIGHT LETTERS, UNWAKBLE STATE" you think about it as you chew.

"Maybe ... Comatose?" He checks it with the spaces and other answers he already has and nods.

"THANK YOU SWEET PEA." You smile at the nickname and stand up to set your plate in the sink.

After you're done you creep up behind him and lean over his shoulder resting yourself against his back as you peer at the crossword. He Nyehs and leans his head against yours. You smooch his cheek and sigh contently before nuzzling into the side of his neck. He smells wonderful like a productive day inside cleaning laundry and munching on freshly peeled oranges.

"Papyrus darling you smell so yummy I could just eat you up" he blushes at your words and you chuckle noticing that the citrus stands out more when he's flustered.

"(Y/N)...DONT DISTRACT ME FROM THE DAILY PUZZLE I MUST KEEP MY MIND SHARP!" You know he doesn't mean that from the way he's pressing himself against you but you chuckle anyways.

"Sorry clementine, I'll let you focus." You smooch his cheek again and he leans into the touch. Heading away from the kitchen to leave him be you decide for once you're actually motivated to get some laundry done.

UNDERFELL:

Red smells like campfire and apple pie

Fellby had called you complaining of the drunken red stating he didn't want his brother to come pick him up and to call you. You sigh and tell Fellby you're on the way. You grumble to yourself the entire way out of your apartment complex and to the bar. Once you make it to the bar you search around and spot Red perched on a barstool dozing off as Fellby stands close to him behind the counter crackling with his fire looking a little brighter than normal.

"Hey fell, m here for him don't worry" you say as you help Red off the bar stool he clings on to you and Fellby does the equivalent of an eye roll before walking off to serve patrons.

"heyy sweetheart, nice ta see ya" he slurs and you sigh bracing his body with yours as you help him stumble to the door.

"Jesus Red the suns not even down yet... Did you and edge have another fight or something?" Red's silent at that and he mumbles something stopping in his tracks."What?"

"i said i love my brother." Guess you hit the nail on the spot.

"Never said you didn't bud... Have you been seeing your therapist?" You get him walking again and he groans as you pry into his personal life.

"yeh e'ry two or so weeks" he huffs and you nod satisfied.You gaze at the stars for a bit as you stumble red back to the apartments and help him do the walk of shame into the elevator.

"Your place or mine?" He looks at you confused. "If you got into a fight it wouldn't be the best look to come home in this state..might set him off again?" You prompt and he nods looking a bit taken aback.

"guess yours then doll thanks for offering." His voice is gruff and there's a slight red hue to his face you brush off as the influence of alcohol.

"It's not problem babe I'm used to babysitting you " you chuckle and lead him to your apartment. He stumbles and collapses on the couch and you go and get him and cup of water from the kitchen.As your setting it on the coffee table he gives you a soft look and you pause to stare at him. You awkwardly look at eachother before he inhales sharply and looks to the side.

"keep me company?" You melt at his request and sit on the floor next to the couch.

"Wanna talk about it?" You prompt and he steels his face slightly, you take that as a no."That's okay... You should sleep this off."He nods in agreement and lays his head back after receiving a small smooch from you,you're sitting pretty close and you can smell his scent coming off of him it's like a fall night eating apple pie with friends around a campfire. You tell him about your day gently as he drifts out into drunken slumber and when you're done you stand up and stretch. These brothers and their emotional constipation, they have to get over it someday. You head to the kitchen intent on using the fresh apples you have to make a pie.

Edge smells like gasoline and cherries

You had ran into Edge in the hallway and had both gotten on the elevator at the same time. Unfortunately for you the elevator decide now would be the perfect moment to break down mid descent and leave you standing awkwardly across from the tall pointy skeleton who's looking more and more stressed with each second.You notice his breath is labored and wonder why he even needs to breathe before noticing he's sweating slightly.

"Hey.. you okay edge?" He looks at you and glares

"I-IM PERFECTLT FINE ITS JUST A LITTLE CRAMPED IN HERE PRINCESS." You would think he would know better than to lie to you at this point. He's obviously in the early stages of panic.

"Hey it's okay we won't be stuck for long... They're probably working on fixing it already" you press the emergency button on the elevator just in case. You sit in tense silence with edge for a bit more before actually sitting on the floor, after a few moments edge follows suit. You smile at him and gently start humming hoping to calm his nerves. He looks at you gently blushing slightly and listening to you hum as his breathing calms. The scent of gasoline dissipates the more you hum leaving the sweet after scent of cherries hanging around and after awhile the elevator springs back to life. Edge scrambles up and away from you to the furthest corner of the elevator and clears his throat.

"THANK YOU... TELL NO ONE YOU SAW THAT." his voice holds a threat to it but you just smile at him and his flushed cheeks.

"Have a good day edge." You hum as you exit the elevator after kissing his cheek now intent on going to the store. You have a craving for cherries now.

UNDERSWAP

Stretch smells like honeysuckle and honey

You sigh as you stretch out further on the couch. Today was lazy Sunday and you decided to spend the day with Stretch and Blue. Blue tried to join in on the tradition but couldn't sit still long enough and left to go about his day. Stretch however matched your laziness twofold so here you two were lazed out in his living room watching some nature documentary on bees.

"hey honey, what do bee's chew?" You think about it for a second before shrugging."bumble gum" he chuckles and you roll your eyes that was awful."what's a bees favorite sport?" You groan hoping this isn't going to be a rest of the day thing.

"I don't know honey bun what?" You coo and he flushes a bit at the nickname but smiles as he sits up in his arm chair.

"Fris-bee." You chuckle at that one and he beams at you proud to have made you laugh.

"Okay Mr comedian no more" you say and he throws up and a okay sign standing up and gesturing for you to move your feet. You do and he sits down so you spread you're feet back over his lap and he sets a hand on your calf rubbing it lightly. You guys enjoy each other's company and eventually you fall asleep to the monotone voice of the speaker on the documentary.

When you wake up you're cuddled to Stretches chest and he's asleep a little bit of orange drool leaking from his mouth. You giggle at the sight.He smells sweet like summer honeysuckle and the regular honey he likes to drink, it reminds you of your childhood and summer days. You nuzzle into him and he pulls you into his hoodie clad ribcage. You drift off back to sleep as you cuddle the clingy skeleton

.Blue smells like mint and snow (stole this one couldn't think of anything lol)

Blue and you bustle around the kitchen as you cook together.

"NOT TOO MUCH SUGAR ANGEL WE DONT WANT IT TO BE TOO LUMPY." Blue reprimands and you halt on pouring in the sugar as he mixes the cookie dough.

It's winter time and you're making sugar cookies to ice and give out to neighbors. Blue and Papyrus had plenty of stuff planned for the winter season and you were invited to join in on them.

"Alright now we let the dough chill for a bit," you hum and set the dough in the fridge. Blue nods and starts to wash up as you head over and wait for your turn. You wash your hands and head to the living room with Blue.

"IM GOING TO TURN ON THE NAPSTATON GYFTMAS SPECIAL! ITS A CLASSIC THIS TIME OF YEAR!" He calls out and you nod. You can't decide if you like Mettaton or Napstaton more but you don't really watch them without the boys so it doesn't really matter in the long run. Blue bounces over to the couch and gets comfortable as he turns on the special he's talking about. He looks at you for a second and there's a sparkle in his eyes a he gives you puppy dog eyes. "CAN I PLAY WITH YOUR HAIR?" You chuckle and nod sitting in between his legs to which he immediately shoves a bony hand in your hair. You lean back into the sensation and let him work out knots and braid and unbraid as you watch the musical drama in front of you. Blue seems content to simply play with your hair and as you lean back you catch a whiff of his scent. He smells like freshly fallen snow and peppermint a nice combination and perfect for these winter days. You find comfort in the scent and sensation of having your hair played with and subconsciously lean into Blues touch as he starts to massage your scalp. Once the shows over you two hope back up and start on rolling out the dough and shaping it. It's a fun time and you and Blue take turns picking out different cookie cutters. You can't wait for more winter days like this to come.

#sans x you #undertale art #undertale #underswap #undertale sans #underfell papyrus #swap papyrus #Underswap sans #Underfell sans #imagine #Underswap papyrus #x reader #Underlayer #undertale fanfiction #undertale fandom #sans x reader #Papyrus x reader #headcanon #undertale au

51 notes · View notes

ghoststann · 2 years ago

Text

For as long as Charles can remember it has always been you, him, and Pierre

Summers spent in a house near the sea. Breakfast, lunch and dinners all held in the large mahogany table outside. Running around, trying to climb the large tree rooted near the table. Bedsheets and pillows piled on floor, can’t bear to be apart from each other even in sleep.

You followed them to karting tracks and foreign lands. You held each other’s hand through victories, grief, and defeat.

For as long as Charles can remember, he has always been in love with you

The sea is just a ride away from the villa you were staying at. More often than not you hike back to the house dripping from your little picnics.

He realized he’s in love with you during one of these trips.

Pierre has begged off and promptly passed out on the hammock despite your nagging. It was just you, Charles, and his brothers.

After wasting the day away playing in the water you guys head back just as the sun is starting to set.

Lorenzo and Arthur were already halfway to the villa, racing each other through the narrow streets whilst trying to not run over the locals.

You were walking up to him. Hair blowing in the wind then settling down your shoulder like waves on the shore. He’s in love with you he realized at that moment. You were dusting off sand from your dress that is already starting to dry after being bathed in the sun.

He didn’t realize you were saying something until you hit him with your straw-hat.

“Seawater got in your brain?” You teased as you hopped on the back of his scooter.

The ride was spent in silence but his mind was in a frenzy. Suddenly, he was aware of your hands clutching his shirt. Your chest was pressed at his back and he can hear the contended sigh you let out from time to time. You're the only thing in his mind all throughout dinner and the last thing he thought of until he fell asleep that night.

Lorenzo was more perceptive than he appeared apparently. Because not long after that day, he weasels a confession out of him while they’re on dishwashing duty. Was he that obvious?

“It’s a wonder the whole of Italy doesn’t know by now” Lorenzo sniggers as he hands a plate for Charles to dry. Charles scoffs but says nothing.

“Are you going to tell her?” His brother continues. Charles remains silent. He turns his head to watch you dancing, trying to get Pierre to join you as the Frenchman just laughs at your antics.

He knows it’s a losing game.

For as long as Charles can remember, you have always been in love with Pierre

Pierre is stupid. You told him when you were ten, as you sat in the stone fence beside him. A crease in between your eyebrows and a pout on your lips. Pierre has done something to annoy you again no doubt.

Pierre is stupid. You told him when you were seventeen, as you sat in the bar stool next to him. A twinkle in your eyes and a grin that lit up your whole face. Pierre was beckoning you from across the dancefloor.

Pierre is stupid.

Charles thought, as he noted the look in your eyes when your gaze flickers from time to time to Pierre and the new girl under his arm.

“You’re staying at Ferrari? Why?” Pierre frowns as he sees the Ferrari paddock pass dangling from your neck

“Because they’re winning” You reply without missing a beat, dragging Charles towards the direction of the Ferrari hospitality. He hears Pierre yelling ouch! in the distance.

It was just a minor incident, Charles says, when he found you after the race. You don’t tell him that every turn has you holding your breath and digging your nails on your palms. You can only relax when you see Pierre’s stupid grin again.

He sees Pierre trying to make you laugh at the infirmary, even though he was the one who crashed into a wall at a high speed. He sees you laughing and trying to hold back your tears at the same time.

Soon, they’re both teasing you for crying. Making you laugh so you forget the danger they face for a living. You don’t tell them that every time there’s a crash, you want to beg them to quit racing altogether. You did before, twice. But you backed down when you remember how much the sport means to them. How much memories is tied it, both of joy and sadness.

The bubble pops when Kika arrives. You and Charles silently agree to leave to give the two some privacy but not before promising to meet each other for Dinner later.

“Ça va?” He asks quietly, as he leads you out of the infirmary.

“Ça va aller” You smile reassuringly. But he has memorized your every smile and what they mean. He knows your heart is breaking. Charles’ heart breaks with yours.

He didn’t miss the longing glance Pierre sent your way as you went out.

For as long as Charles can remember, Pierre has always been in love with you too

Charles remembers how different he is with you. Gentle. Even when he’s teasing and annoying you all the time. Patient like he’s never been with any of his past relationships. Always waiting for you to come to him. Like he’s afraid of being turned away (you would never).

Charles knows that you’re the only one Pierre trusts with the vulnerable side of him. The little brother who is determined to prove himself. The aspiring driver trying to make it in a cutthroat sport. Afraid of never being good enough.

He confronts Pierre about his feelings for you when they meet at a pub. Pierre broke up with Kika after admitting the fact he can’t love her like she deserves.

“You’re in love in with our friend, that’s why” Charles tells him, louder than he intended. We both do and more than we’d like to admit, Charles thinks. Since forever. Since before we knew what it meant.

“Keep your voice down” Pierre hisses, looking around like you could walk through the door at any moment.

Charles studied his face as he slumped down the seat, taking a swig of beer.

“You do” He presses on “So, tell her you do” Unlike him, Pierre actually has a reason to. He must see it. Surely he sees the way you look at him.

Pierre looks as if he’s considering calling you right then. Something flashes through his eyes, and then the walls are up again.

“I can’t” Pierre replies, clearly getting frustrated by being forced to confront his feelings upfront.

“Why not?” Charles shoots back. He doesn’t understand why Pierre would hesitate now of all of time. Pierre has never hesitated when it comes to relationship. He always jumps head first.

It took forever for Pierre to reply. He'd gone through every reason in his mind. He settles for It will ruin our friendship and hopes it satisfies Charles.

Pierre doesn’t tell him he doesn’t think he’s good enough for you.

It has always been you, him, and Pierre

Charles has watched you two orbit around each other, as he watches from the side-lines.

Sometimes getting too near. Dancing too close at the club. Always having a seat saved next to the other in every occasion.

Pulling away when you get too close to each other’s gravity. Flinching away when your hands accidentally touch on the armrest.

Still there are moments that Charles aren’t there to see

He saw the two of you drunkenly leave the party, collapsing into each other’s side.

He didn’t see you two finally collide.

In a hotel room in italy, as the rest of your friends drink and dance the night away.

It took forever for Pierre’s lips to finally land on yours. He kissed the side of your cheeks. Then, your closed eyelids. Lingering a little longer on your forehead.

You opened your eyes to see his face getting closer to yours, closing them again when your lips meet. The tenderness of it all makes your heart ache. You’ve been wishing for this since you were a child, convincing him to marry you under the large tree of your summer home.

It was always going to be you and Pierre

Charles is sitting outside a coffee shop overlooking the sea. He closes his eyes when he feels the cold breeze. When he opens them, he sees the two of you walking over to him, smiling coyly at each other like lovesick teenagers passing each other in hallways.

“Quoi de neuf?”

His eyes fall to your hands lacing together and then back to your twin expecting eyes.

A small smile spreads across his face and he laughs as he says,"I thought you were never going to figure it out"

This elicits a relieved laugh from the both of you. Then you fall back into easy conversations and insides jokes as you wait for your food to arrive.

The sun sets over the sea. Charles takes a deep breath. He loves you still at this moment, watching you and Pierre. Charles’ love runs deeper than the sea you all swam in as children. He can do this. Hold his love for you close to his chest, knowing if it ever got out it would only result in all of your hearts being broken.

He can see himself years from now. Time would have healed his heart enough for him to be ready for the love meant for him. He will be delighted to be best man at your wedding. Honored to be godfather to your son.

Charles is almost deep in thought when he realized you were looking at him with a face full of worry

You smile when you meet his eyes. Are you okay?

He smiles back reassuringly. I will be

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc angst #charles leclerc imagine #pierre gasly x reader #pierre gasly imagine

590 notes · View notes

sotwk · 8 months ago

Text

The Baker from Lórien (Haldir gen ficlet)

Summary: A visitor from Lórien brings some excitement to the kitchens of the Elvenking's palace.

Word count: 1.1k

Content: Pure fluffy randomness, mother-son relationship, toddler Legolas

Rating: General (no warnings apply)

To Read on AO3: Link

A/N: I wrote this ficlet purely on a whim; I had no plans or strategy for it going in. It could be nonsense, or I could be onto something. XD It's most likely going to stay a random SotWK AU one-shot, but who knows. I pretty much just wanted to finally write any story featuring Haldir, whom I love dearly and firmly believe was one of the most desired bachelors east of the Mountains. Special thanks to my friend @creativity-of-death who inspired the concept of a Baker Haldir long ago!

Headcanons about Haldir in the SotWK AU: Any questions you might have about the background history in this fic would be answered HERE.

The Baker from Lórien

Third Age 246 Spring

Bar Lasgalen, the Palace of the Elvenking

“Down and forward, turn, and fold over. Repeat. Remember to use the heel of your hand--this part, right here.”

The lump of dough felt pleasantly squishy in Legolas’s hands, and only with great self-restraint did the four-year-old elfling manage to resist playing with it like modeling clay, instead of following his instructor’s example. With eyes narrowed in determined concentration, he watched the steadily working hands of the elf across the table from him. After just a minute or so of observation, he began to mimic the brisk kneading motion.

“Yes, good! That is very good.” The visitor from Lórien seemed pleased, albeit surprised, by how quickly the child caught on.

Legolas beamed at the ellon’s praise, and held the smooth ball of dough up high over his head in triumph. “Is it ready for the oven now?”

“Not quite.” The silver-haired ellon took the dough from Legolas and checked it with a few expert prods of his fingers. “It needs time to rest and rise. An hour at least, although up to three is much better, and then we can reshape it into loaves. Then it must rest again, before it can be baked.”

“Three hours?!” Legolas exclaimed, already dismissive of whatever other steps came after. “Does bread really take that long to make every time?”

“The loaves should be fresh and hot out of the oven just in time for your Highness’s breakfast.” Legolas watched as his dough ball was placed into a large pan next to five others and covered with a dish cloth.

“And a delicious breakfast is best preceded by a sound night’s sleep, is it not?” The voice that came from the kitchen doorway made Legolas scramble off his stool. He smiled sheepishly at his nursemaid, Ninniel, as she entered with a knowing smile and firm shake of her head for him.

The older ellon spoke up. “My apologies, Emmë. I should have realized the hour was too late.”

“It’s all right. It appears some valuable learning has been accomplished here, at least.” Ninniel took in the rather comical sight of her grown son towering next to her not-at-all-grown charge, both of them dusted in flour, and felt all her exasperation melt away. She dipped a tea towel into the washing basin and set to work wiping the sticky residue off Legolas’s fingers.

“Will you come and get me when my loaf is finished baking, Halidr?”

“Well…” Haldir of Lórien glanced hesitantly at his mother. He was still unsure what to make of Thranduil’s sons, who all behaved without any regard or perhaps even awareness of their social rank. Legolas, in particular, had been unabashed in his fascination with Haldir ever since his arrival at Bar Lasgalen. Today was merely the first day of a month-long, overdue visit to his parents, and most of it had passed with the little prince turning up wherever Haldir happened to be, armed with a constant stream of questions. “It really is not my place to--”

“When your bread comes out of the oven, I will wake you to come and have it for breakfast, with me and Haldir,” Ninniel interjected smoothly. “But the sooner you get to bed, the sooner you can rise refreshed for a new day, yes?”

“That sounds excellent!” Legolas threw his hands up, and wriggled his hips in a little sort of dance. “I shall be back in a few hours, Haldir! Please take care of my bread!” he called out to the bemused elf before bounding out the door.

“Are you still finding everything all right, dearest?” Ninniel swept a light hand over her son’s broad back. In one touch she could tell Haldir was fairly relaxed, as she had hoped he would gradually become. Her eldest had always been the most serious of her children, and his nature only grew graver as the ages passed and the memories of hard years weighed on him. It had been far too long since his last visit to Eryn Galen, so rarely could he be persuaded to leave his post at the March, and Ninniel hoped the brief holiday away would be restful for his spirit.

“Yes, everyone here at the palace has been… quite attentive.” Haldir smiled and planted a swift kiss over his mother’s hair. “The prince’s arrival sent them scurrying off, I fear, but I do not think he seemed to mind or notice.”

Ninniel shook her head. “The only thing they were running from was their own embarrassment,” she said. “I will let you return to your work, my love. Legolas and I will be back soon.”

And indeed, as soon as she exited the kitchen, she encountered the gaggle of young kitchen maids waiting in the hall, preparing to re-enter now that the royal Highness had left and gone to bed.

“Lady Ninniel,” they curtsied to her, appearing only mildly abashed by her witness to their obvious intentions. But this was a small phenomenon Ninniel had grown accustomed to over the years, for it became clear early on that her handsome son elicited rather strong reactions from elleths, often without any encouragement.

“My lady, if we may…” one of the girls blurted out. “We were wondering… that is, we wanted to make certain… do you know whether or not Lord Haldir…”

“He is not a lord, and he would not appreciate being addressed as one,” Ninniel corrected gently. “And as far as I know, he is not engaged, involved, or taken with anyone at present.” She gazed at the line of hopeful faces and pressed her lips to smother a chuckle. “Any of you are welcome to try and draw his interest, if that is your wish.”

But best of luck, indeed. Ninniel sighed as she departed, leaving the sounds of pitchy giggling behind her as the pack descended on her oblivious son. Whether there was any chance of a maiden in all of the Woodland Realm catching Haldir of Lórien’s eye, much less his elusive heart, she did not know. That hope had certainly not borne any fruit in over a thousand years of matchmaking attempts. But any diversion, any added source of joy outside of his work, his books, or his baking, could only be a good thing.

Anything beyond that--dare say a betrothal, a marriage, or even a new precious grandchild--was something Ninniel was prepared to be completely surprised with. But a mother will always hope.

For more SotWK Fanfiction: Fanfiction Masterlist

Elves Tag List: @a-world-of-whimsy-5 @achromaticerebus @aduialel @asianbutnotjapanese @auttumnsayshi @blueberryrock @conversacomsmaug @elan-ho-detto-elan-15 @entishramblings @fizzyxcustard @glassgulls @heilith @heranintomyknife23times @ladyweaslette @laneynoir @lathalea @lemonivall @quickslvxrr @scyllas-revenge @stormchaser819 @talkdifferently6 @tamryniel @tamurilofrivendell

Other useful links:

Introduction to SotWK

Headcanon Masterlist

Fanfiction Request Guidelines

#sotwk fanfiction #haldir #haldir of lorien #haldir of lothlorien #the hobbit #lotr #tolkien #legolas #thranduil headcanon #greenwood the great #sotwk oc #thranduilion #mirkwood #mirkwood elves #woodland realm #lord of the rings #silvan elves

85 notes · View notes

littlemisspascal · 9 months ago

Text

Rockford & Roan Pt. 8

Pairing: Tim Rockford x Female Reader/OFC ‘Roan’

Word Count: 3.4k

Summary: The idea of it, of this outing being classified as something more than just two roommates getting breakfast, isn’t entirely unappealing to ponder. There’s actually a tiny bit of a thrill unfurling in your stomach.

Rating: T. Heed the warnings y'all!

Warnings: Language, Reader has a dog, Reader has military background, Superpower AU, They Were Roommates AU, self-esteem issues, soulmates-ish, original characters, worldbuilding, crime-solving, Princess Bride reference

- Reader has no first name and no physical traits described in detail except for being shorter than Rockford. Reader is mentioned to have hair

Author Note: Thank you always for the kind support💗

Special thanks to @beecastle for beta reading and encouraging me 💜💜💜

Series Masterlist

The Breakfast

Rockford slips into the kitchen the next morning while you’re preparing Banjo’s food. The little mutt barely turns his head to acknowledge the man, his hunger outweighing his love of ear scritches. Your roommate’s freshly showered, curls fluffed up and slightly damp, wearing a casual waistcoat over his white button up and a pair of dark pants. He looks like a college professor, you think, setting the pet bowl on the floor for Banjo to dig into with relish. All Rockford needs are some elbow patches and he’d fit right in amongst the Ivy League elites.

He’d left last night shortly after you’d retired to bed. Like usual he didn’t stop to tell you his midnight plans, and also like usual his absence dwindled in your thoughts right up until sleep washed over you. Where does he go? What does he do? If only you could take a magnifying glass to the entire city, look for a trail or clues to follow. Knowing Rockford though, he’s too smart to leave traces behind. No, he can be a mere shadow of a human just like his brother.

“There’s a nice breakfast spot about a five minute walk from here.”

With your head half inside the fridge staring at a near-expired carton of milk, it takes a beat for you to realize the comment was directed at you. You shut the fridge door, turning to find Rockford staring at you expectantly.

“Isn’t Inspector Dorrance coming over to pick up the suitcase?” you ask, although you have to admit, the idea of a stack of pancakes drowning in syrup sounds extremely appetizing to your empty stomach.

“Keziah may have been able to successfully substitute cigarettes with candy, but nothing on earth will ever replace his love of coffee.” Rockford sounds more amused than annoyed at the fact.“It’ll be several cups before his soonest convenience delivers him to our doorstep.”

“Well, in that case,” a grin grows on your face, “breakfast sounds wonderful.”

Stacked and Served is a bustling hive of activity when you and Rockford arrive, full of tasty smells and Fox Leap citizens eagerly tucking into their food. If dogs had been allowed, Banjo would’ve levitated off the floor due to the speed of his wagging tail. You’ll have to make it up to him when you return home with lots of belly rubs.

The interior is earthy colors, complementing shades of blues and browns, with a wooden bar lined with stools of happy customers chatting and dining. Throughout the restaurant are oversized, yet cozy-looking chairs arranged around tables, all occupied except for one marked with a reserved sign. It’s positioned next to the front window looking out at the busy city street, all walks of life beginning their days, some strolling along the sidewalks while others shout for cabs.

Before matching with Rockford, you tended to avoid crowded places like this. All these people, all their shades of emotions, would have brought down an avalanche upon your empathy, overwhelming and suffocating. With the stability of the bond to rely on, their feelings are still detectable along the edges of your mind-gift, but no longer sharp and grating. Muffled like you’ve put on headphones. Ignorable white noise unless you choose to tune in.

Rockford makes a deadline for the reserved table immediately, gesturing for you to take the window seat before he claims the lone dark blue chair for himself. You slowly sit down, eyes flicking between your match and the sign, wondering if he’s going to acknowledge it, when a man in a flour-stained apron and marked with at least a dozen tattoos in thick black lines along his forearms steps up beside the table with a warm, delighted grin.

“Rocky,” he greets, voice deep as a canyon and booming over the encompassing chatter. The two men shake hands, clearly familiar with one another, and then you’re being given a menu that had been tucked under the man’s arm. “And you must be Roanie, yeah? Keziah said you were pretty, but seriously you’re way too gorgeous for this asshole. Do me a favor and let me know if you ever catch Kez with a smoke, alright? He’s a sneaky bastard when he wants to be and usually I’d find that hot as hell, but nothing’s attractive about cancer sticks. I’ll staple ‘em to his balls if he ever touches those damn things again.”

You blink. Once. Twice. “Um.”

The man stares back at you for a moment, blue eyes taking in your awkwardness. Then he slowly turns to Rockford, lips pursing into an unimpressed line. “You didn’t tell her who I am, did you.”

There’s no inflection in his voice. Definitely no question mark at the end.

“Even if I had, it wouldn’t change the fact you have a habit of running your mouth and making terrible first impressions,” Rockford replies, but his gaze is focused outside the cafe, sweeping the streets in search of something.

He earns a well-aimed slap to the back of his head as a result. You wince in sympathy, feeling the sharp pop of pain in sync with your match who rubs at the spot tenderly.

“Lest you forget, Rocky, I’m the one who makes your food here. Don’t tempt me to spit–”

“So,” you pipe up, fumbling for a quick way to diffuse some of the brewing tension before it gives you a headache. “How long have you worked here…um.” It belatedly occurs to you that you’ve still yet to learn his name.

The tattooed-man takes mercy on you and offers a beaming smile just as warm as the one he’d initially approached with. Must’ve mastered it working in the food industry, you reckon. Or maybe warm and sunny is his natural temperament.

“Elio. And I’ve owned the place for…” he idly scratches the underside of his jaw, and there’s another flour stain there on the tendon of his neck, “oh just about three years now almost. It became mine after dear old Rocky here helped me prove to the police my old boss was skimming the cash register. Our paths should’ve split after that except then he went and introduced me to the love of my life.” His smile changes at the corners. Softens. A feeling sugary sweet and wispy flutters above your empathy, and you don’t need to bring it into focus to know it’s love.

“Introduce is a strong word,” Rockford interjects wryly. “As I recall, you saw him across the room and immediately lit up like a glow stick. I was then forced to explain to Kez you weren’t a criminal trying to escape incarceration by blinding the entire force.”

“Still ended up in handcuffs later that night.” Elio winks, but it’s the teasing, faint pulse of glowing skin that surprises you more. Reminds you of fireflies you used to see in fields back in your hometown.

“On that appetizing note,” Rockford grimaces, but there’s nothing but amusement coloring his mood, “think you could whip us up two stacks of your specialty pancakes? It’s Roan’s first time here.”

“Oh, a first timer! My favorite kind of customer!” Elio presses a hand to his chest, looking absolutely thrilled at the news. He steals the unread menu back from your hand quicker than you can process. “Leave the food to me. And I’ll see if I can find a candle or something for the table–make this date a little more romantic.”

All you can do is sputter at that, choking on your own spit as the man scurries away.

Date?

This isn’t–

You didn’t think–

No. No way. You fiddle with the silverware, thoughts spinning, unable to bring yourself to look at your match quite yet. A quick check of Rockford’s mood reveals he’s unruffled by the remark, not even the faintest blip resembling the line of exclamation marks running through your head. Does that mean you’re overreacting? Underreacting?

If this really was a date, you would like to think you’d know that with absolute, 100% certainty. Surely you’re not that oblivious, or so you tell yourself, at least. So, with that in mind, Elio was mistaken with his labeling. This is definitely not a date.

Still. The idea of it, of this outing being classified as something more than just two roommates getting breakfast, isn’t entirely unappealing to ponder. There’s actually a tiny bit of a thrill unfurling in your stomach.

Or that could just be hunger pangs.

Definitely plausible.and a lot less complicated to analyze.

You give your head a little shake, finally summoning the nerve to glance at Rockford. Except, low and behold, he’s looking out the window. Again. Not out of avoidance of your attention, no, you can tell by the roaming of his eyes taking note of every passing figure he’s keenly searching for something out there he wants to find real bad.

Your patience runs out five minutes later after another waiter has dropped off a pot of coffee and a glass bottle of water for the table.

“What are you looking for?” you ask, pouring yourself a drink and taking a sip.

“We know now our killer abducts his villains,” Rockford answers without preamble. “He drives them to secluded, private spots where they swallow the cyanide. But there’s been no reports of abductions, no witnesses of suspicious behavior, which suggests the victims go with him willingly. They don’t put up a fight.”

“Maybe he’s got a weapon?” you suggest, resting your chin on your knuckles. “Tells them if they scream he’ll shoot?”

“Perhaps,” is his preoccupied mumble, still looking outside, lost in his head.

Outside, the street is still full of commotion. A gray-headed businessman carries his briefcase in one hand and the morning paper in the other. Farther down the way, a pair of women point at something in one of the antique shop windows. Everybody’s got places to be, things to do. Oblivious to the dangerous predator skulking about.

Goosebumps rise up along your arms, like ice has found a way under your skin, imagining the killer out there right now. Hidden in plain sight, watching the goings-on. Hunting their next victim.

The pot of coffee goes cold. Untouched.

The Reason

Elio’s whistling when he brings the pancake stacks to the table. They’re golden, fluffy, and fucking huge, almost as round as the whole plate with a fat square of butter on top. He brings a candle with him too, which you studiously ignore, focusing instead on cutting off a small bite with your fork and dipping it in a cup of syrup.

“Ohmygod,” you utter around your mouthful, manners forgotten in the wake of tasting pure deliciousness. Elio looks very pleased with him, puffing out his chest as you all but inhale another bite. “It’s amazing.”

“Thank you,” Elio says, eyes crinkling. “Wanna know the secret ingredient? Self-confidence in oneself.”

“More like an extra helping of cinnamon sprinkled in,” Rockford says, voice dripping in sarcasm.

“Oh hush!” Elio swats at his arm without heat, clearly holding back a chuckle. “Enjoy the food guys. On the house.”

You spare a moment to swallow and thank him properly before he leaves. These pancakes really just might be the best thing you’ve ever eaten in your whole life, your mother’s famous triple chocolate cake officially bumped to second place.

Your fork scrapes against the plate as you cut off another bite-sized piece to soak in the syrup. Tastes like rich maple on your tongue, a faint hint of vanilla when you lick your lips. You glance at Rockford, wondering if he’s going to ignore the food the same as he did the coffee, but you watch as the man rolls up one of the pancakes like one would a poster or a rug, delicate and precise. Three bites, that’s all it takes. Three bites to devour the entire fucking thing without even a single drop of syrup.

“Something on your mind, Roan?” he wonders, wiping at his mouth with a napkin.

Blinking out of your mildly horrified daze, you start to shake your head no, but stop yourself. Truth is there is something on your mind. And it’s not the efficient way he consumes pancakes or where in the city the killer will strike next.

“You don’t sleep at home.” It feels a little strange (and a little scary), to voice the concern that’s been a thorn ingrained in your thoughts since the first week you moved to 445D Albatross Lane. Hard to say if it was the change of scenery or good food that gave you the needed boost of confidence to finally bring it up. Perhaps it was both.

Rockford frowns, initial surprise shifting into a narrow-eyed wariness. There’s a change in his posture too, a subtle straightening of his spine you only notice because you’re watching him intently. “You noticed that, huh?”

“It’s kind of hard not to,” you admit with a small shrug. “I feel the absence of your emotions when you leave at night. You also don’t ever nap around the apartment either.”

“You’ve been thinking about this for a while.” It’s an observation, not a question.

“Yes,” you answer slowly, uncomfortably aware of the sudden sensation of walking on thin-ice. “I’ve been worried. Thought maybe…” You bite the inside of your cheek, warring with yourself over how much to reveal, but you’ve already come this far might as well take it to the finish line, “I thought maybe you didn’t trust me enough to fall asleep when I’m nearby.”

God, it sounds so stupid said out loud, doesn’t it?

Sure enough, Rockford is as blunt as ever when he confirms, “That’s total bullshit. We share a home, Roan. Of course I trust you.”

“Then where do you go at night?” You look at him, trying to understand if it’s not about trust then what is it about? “Do you have a secret girlfriend I don’t know about?”

That earns you a sharp bark of laughter, head thrown back and dimples out in full force. “A girlfriend? No. Not really my area.”

Oh.

A short pause follows, reassembling your thoughts.

“Okay,” you say, chewing your bottom lip. “So, do you have a secret boyfriend then?”

Rockford arches an eyebrow, and it’s deliberate, you can tell it is, the way he nudges your empathy. Judgy and bemused all at once.

“It’s totally fine if you do.” You hold up your hands, fork aimed at the ceiling, a defensive gesture that has Rockford’s other eyebrow rising to join the other, looking at you like you’ve grown a second head.

“I know it’s fine.”

“So you do have a boyfriend then?”

“No, Roan.” He shakes his head, a low grumble. “I don’t have anybody. Not looking for anybody either. Relationships like that, they’re a distraction to my work.”

That settles it then, you realize with a faint sinking feeling. Definitely not a date.

“But what about when the work’s over?” you ask softly.

“The work’s never over.”

You frown, something awfully painful pinching in the center of your chest when his emotions don’t waver. He honestly believes that notion, as true a fact as water is wet. “Alright,” you murmur, reluctantly deciding not to push the subject further. “Explain it to me, please. Why don’t you sleep at home?”

“Because I can’t,” is Rockford’s succinct response doing absolutely nothing to clear up your confusion. “My gift won’t let me.”

Your fork slips from your fingers with a clatter, tongue tripping over words, “Wh-what? How does that even–? People die if they don’t sleep.”

He wags a finger in the air. “That’s actually incredibly rare–”

“Rockford.”

“My brain is in a constant state of perception, absorbing information from my senses and my environment,” your match tries to explain, his eyes settling on the coffee pot with a disgruntled glare like it’s personally offensive. “I can’t fall asleep like a regular person. Getting the rest I need requires locking myself in a sensory deprivation tank. There’s a health center with one not far from our apartment. I've been going there for years.”

“That’s where you go every night?” you ask, eyes widening in surprise.

Rockford toys with his napkin, avoiding your gaze. “No. Not always,” he admits, sheepishness creeping into his voice, clouding his aura. “I really do have chronic insomnia, that wasn’t a lie. Sometimes I go to the police station, point out the flaws in their filing system. Or during exam period, I spend the night at Rosasharn’s when she’s up to her eyeballs grading papers to keep her company. Usually though I set myself up at one of the dozens of twenty-four hour cafes in the city with my laptop or a good book and hang out until sunrise.”

“You…” You blink at him, completely thrown for a loop. “Seriously, you'd rather spend the night at a twenty-four hour cafe than your own home? Good lord, Rockford, why?”

“You deserve to sleep peacefully, Roan. And you can't do that with my emotions keeping you awake,” he answers. His voice is soft, yet the words slice through you all the same, boring straight into your heart.

The reason for his leaving is the same reason Rockford had separated himself from you at the crime scene. Your empathy is deeply attuned to the ebbs and flows of his emotions, the bond growing stronger with each day he allows you full, unhindered access to his mind. Dozing for a half hour on the couch in his presence is one thing, when the afternoon sunlight’s bathing the living room in streaks of gold and your empathy keeps watch. Operating on its own battery. A side effect of spending too much time behind enemy lines.

Nights are different. The battery must recharge, weary from the day’s strain of processing, filtering, blocking on loop, or else risk incurring migraines. But in the darkness, the thin line between dream and reality becomes blurred, sometimes indistinguishably so. In the service, surrounded by fellow soldiers witnessing the same horror and traumas, nightmares were commonplace. Creeping out of their mindscapes into your own, twisted horror scenes absorbed by your psyche as if it were a sponge soaking up water.

Worse were the nights your nightmares unintentionally became theirs.

You had tried to contain your empathy on nights where there was blood in your hair, under your nails, hell, you could taste it on your teeth. Chain your mind-gift up in a corner same as a mad dog. Dr. Odair hadn’t been pleased when you told her, dropping her perfect mask of poise and professionalism to level you with a look. She told you tactics like that caused unseen damage, a tipped over domino in the chain reaction leading to the necessity of matching to prevent your own self-destruction.

Shutting off your empathy isn’t a healthy solution, and neither is Rockford blocking you from feeling his emotions. Yesterday’s misunderstanding proved how much you both rely on the bond’s stability. To cut it off night after night…it feels dangerous even contemplating it, heart lodged in your throat.

Doesn’t come close to the guilt pressing down on your rib cage though, threatening to crush you from the inside out. Rockford’s been putting your needs first, uncaring that doing so means being driven out of his own home. And he’s been doing it every night all because of your specific mind-gift.

“It’s ok,” Rockford says, a steadiness to his voice you’re envious of, and he reaches out his hand across the table towards your own. You don’t know if it’s his perception that tells him you’ll shatter under his gentle touch or if you’re subconsciously broadcasting your tumult, but either way something makes him stop before he makes contact. “I don’t mind. Honestly.”

There’s something magnetic about the mere centimeters of space separating your fingertips from his, unable to tear away your stare. “You should,” your voice miraculously doesn’t tremble like a leaf, “it isn’t fair.”

All Rockford has to reply to that is, “Life isn’t fair, Roan. It’s just fairer than death, that’s all.”

For a second time you feel his unwavering belief in his own words. And you could leave it be, let the moment pass. Nothing changes if nothing changes, your mother used to always say.

Rockford starts to pull back his hand, only for you to latch onto his wrist. Your grip isn’t tight, you both know he can easily slip free if he wants to.

You both know he doesn’t.

“I’ll find a way.”

He blinks, the slightest tilt of his head.

“I’ll find a way so you can stay,” you vow. "Everything will work out one way or another."

And Rockford smiles, lopsided and dimpled, warmth pressing against your empathy expressing more gratitude than speaking out loud could ever manage.

“Better finish your breakfast,” he says, returning to the art of pancake rolling, ignoring the disturbed wrinkling of your nose at him. “You’ll break Elio’s heart if you don’t clean your plate.”

#tim rockford #tim rockford x reader #tim rockford x ofc #tim rockford fanfiction #my fic #pedrostories

44 notes · View notes

vanfleeter · 22 days ago

Text

Conjure: Chapter 3

Characters: Jake Kiszka, Josh Kiszka, Sam Kiszka, Maggie Warnings: 18+ || Angst. Language. Anger. Yelling. Crying. Tears. Drinking. Guilt. Grief. Fluff. Friendly banter. Kissing. Mention of pregnancy. Mentions of death. Smut. Sex. Penetrative sex. Paranormal. Ghosts. A/N: I'm slacking on getting these chapters posted.

The morning came quicker than Jake would have liked it to. His body felt drained and he had the worst headache. Rolling over in the bed, he slides on his slippers and heads downstairs to the kitchen, only to find Maggie making breakfast. There is a stack of waffles on the island counter and she’s standing at the stove cooking eggs and bacon.

He starts to reach for a waffle when Maggie suddenly speaks. “Don’t even think about it,” She says.

“How–”

“You’re not as quiet as you might think.” She turns away from the stove and slides two sunny side up eggs onto two empty plates before discarding the pan in the sink.

“I’m surprised you stayed,” Jake says as he sits down on one of the bar stools. “And making breakfast.”

“Considering you had edibles last night, I figured you’d be hungry.” She places bacon on the plates and slides one of them over to Jake. “And don’t worry, I’ll do the dishes before I leave.”

“You don’t have to leave,” Jake says.

Maggie stops with a waffle in her hand. “Umm, last I checked, I don’t live here.”

“No, but it’s not like you have to rush out of here.” Jake grabs a couple waffles from the stack and sets them on his plate.

“I’m not rushing,” Maggie sits down across from him and grabs the syrup bottle. “I’m going to eat breakfast, take a shower–if you don’t mind, and then I’m going to go home and get changed to go to work.”

“Where do you work?” He asks.

“It’s like you didn’t listen on that date,” Maggie teases. “I’m a photographer, and I have a client to shoot today.”

“Isn’t murder illegal?”

She cocks her head with a look on her face and he smirks. “Ha ha, very funny.”

He chuckles and cuts into his waffles. “Well, thank you for making breakfast. These are good waffles.”

“Better than a bag of funyuns?”

He smiles and nods his head. “Much better.”

“Good.. By the way, I threw out all of your chips.”

“I’m sorry.. You did what?”

‘Looks like someone’s putting their foot down.’ Josh snickers as he rests his feet up on the kitchen table. ‘No more junk food for you, Jakey boy.’

“One more step in the direction you need to get on the right foot again.” Maggie says as she takes another bite of her food.

“Okay, you’re obviously not my AA sponsor, so what are you? My grief sponsor? Am I being set up?”

Maggie smiles but shakes her head. “Nope.. Just a friend that cares.”

“You better buy me all of that stuff back.”

“Mmmm, I’m gonna say… No.” She says as she pops another piece of waffle into her mouth and grins at Jake.

Josh laughs from the table. ‘I love her!’

Breakfast concludes and Maggie offers to do the dishes, since it is her mess that she made, but Jake shoos her off. “But–”

“You have to get to work,” He says. “Go.”

“Are you ordering me?”

“Pretty much,” Jake says as he starts to push her towards the front door. “Now go.”

Josh swings his legs off the table and stands up. ‘I know you can’t hear me but I’m gonna say this anyway.. She cooks, she cleans, she matches your energy, and she cares about you. She doesn’t put up with your bullshit and she’s fantastic! I approve.’

Jake sighs and drops the dishes back into the sink. As if he could sense Josh’s presence, he looks up at his reflection in the window. Imagining that his face is Josh’s. “I could really use some brotherly advice right about now.. I thought I’d never find happiness again, I thought I’d bring her down with my grief which is why I wanted to end it.. But she wouldn’t go away.”

‘Smart girl.’

“And now I think I’m actually starting to like her.” He sighs and turns away from the window. “But why do I feel guilty about this? Am I allowed to feel happy? Am I finally allowed to move on?”

‘Uh yeah?’ Josh rolls his eyes. ‘You can’t keep dwelling on me.. I’m perfectly fine with you moving on with your life. If she really makes you feel happy, then pursue her. I absolutely, one hundred percent, support this and you.’

Jake’s chin quivers. “I miss you,” He says. “I need my brother.”

‘You still have Sam. He needs you too.’

Clearing his throat, he turns back to the sink and continues working on the dishes. “Maybe I’ll call Sam. Gauge his opinion on this.”

‘He better tell you the same thing or I’ll haunt him too.’

Jake huffs a laugh and shakes his head. “Look at me… I’m going insane still talking as if you’re actually here..” He scoffs. “I don’t even want to know what Magnolia has up her sleeve.. Nor am I going to get my hopes up.”

‘Worth a shot, yeah? I wish you could see me again, I want you to see me again so you can have that closure. No one gets true closure at a funeral. Some try to believe that their closure starts when the casket is buried in the ground or seeing the tombstone. Closure is never closure.. Grief is always there. It never goes away. Some days you’ll feel okay, and some days you’ll feel so heavy with it that you’ll be right back at square one. If I could talk to you to your face again, I would absolutely tell you to pursue her. Chase after that happiness because you deserve it.’

Josh starts to lay his hand on Jake’s shoulder when he remembers that he’ll only go through him. So he pauses just above his shoulder, his hand wavering.

“Are you busy tonight?” Maggie asks over the phone.

“Uh no,” Jake says as he relaxes back in his bed. “Why do you ask?”

“Perfect, get dressed if you’re not, and meet me outside.”

“What?” Jake climbs out of bed and walks over to the bedroom window. Pulling the curtains apart and looking down towards the driveway, he finds Maggie parked out front and she’s leaning against her car. “What are you doing here?”

“Trying to take you out.”

“Take me out?”

“What–A woman can’t take a guy out on a date?”

“Never said that.”

“Then get a shirt on, or don’t–your choice, and get your ass down here.”

“Oh.. Are you ordering me?”

“Pretty much,” She smirks. “Now come on,” She whines, stamping her foot. “Get dressed and get your ass down here.”

Jake sighs and shuts the curtains. “Give me five minutes.”

“Alright, Mr. Kiszka, the timer starts now.”

Jake sets his glass on the table and leans back in his chair. “I cannot believe you actually timed me.”

The waiter comes back over and offers dessert. “Yes, please,” Maggie beams. “A slice of chocolate cake.”

“And for you sir?” The waiter asks.

“Uh, I think we can share,” He looks over at Maggie. “If you don’t mind.”

“Not at all,” Maggie says.

“I will be back then,” The waiter then walks away and Maggie looks back at Jake.

“Touch my cake and you will regret it.”

“Regret it how?” Jake raises his eyebrows and smirks.

“Keep it in your pants, Kiszka.” Maggie says as she picks up her fork and stabs it into the cake. “Or this fork won't just be for eating.”

“You are aggressive.” Jake chuckles. He picks up his own fork and smirks. “But I can be more aggressive.”

Hearing the front door open, Josh peers around the corner of the living room threshold and spying on Jake and Maggie. There’s a huge grin on his face as Maggie laughs at whatever he had told her prior to coming inside the house. He noticed how close they slowly were getting to each other.

‘Come on, idiot..’ Josh prods. ‘Kiss her. Just do it..’

Jake’s eyes flicker from Maggie’s eyes and down to her lips. She notices, of course, and she smiles. “Jake,” She says.

“Yeah?”

“Just kiss me already..”

“O-okay,” He stammers. “Uh..” He carefully raises his hand to cup the side of her face in his palm.

Slowly he leans in closer to Maggie, his lips lightly brushing hers. He presses his lips to her, finally feeling just how soft they are. He can still taste the chocolate cake on her lips. She takes him by surprise and grabs the belt loops of his pants and pulls him against her. He smiles against her lips and she giggles.

‘There you go,’ Josh says as he proudly grins with his hands on his hips. His smile slowly fades as he notices where Jake’s hand slowly starts to head for. ‘Noooo..’ Jake pushes Maggie against the wall. ‘No! No!’ Josh exclaims as he quickly turns away and covers his eyes. ‘Get a damn room!’ He quickly disappears to rid himself of what is about to happen.

Jake pulls away breathless. He looks down between them both to find her leg wrapped around his waist, her hand placed delicately on his chest. It’s no secret that he’s grown hard inside his jeans. The bulge is evident against her clothed center.

“I like you..” Maggie says, still slightly out of breath. “I really really like you.”

The smile comes back to Jake’s face and kisses her again. His heart pounds in his chest as he takes in her admittance. She likes him. He pulls away again and presses his lips to the backside of her ear, brushing his nose against her skin.

“I really really like you too,” He says. “I never thought I’d feel like this again..”

“Feel like what?” Maggie questions. “Happy?” Jake nods his head and she smiles. “Me too.”

He presses himself against her again and her sweet, little moan rings in his ear. “I really want you too.”

“I can tell,” Maggie laughs, earning a small chuckle from Jake.

“Are you okay with me taking you upstairs?”

“Yes,” She says. “Please.”

Pulling away from her, Jake takes her hand in his and leads her upstairs to his room. It’s a little moodier than she was expecting but she definitely felt comfortable.

It wasn’t long before they were both undressed and entangled in the bed. He took it slow with her, wanting to savor every second and make it last for as long as he could. It’s time he starts to not take anything for granted and to live in the moment.

Her legs are wrapped tightly around his wait as he thrusts into her. Both of them not wanting to chase down the high, not yet. Suddenly his mouth speaks before his mind catches up. “Please stay..” He says softly as he pushes himself up on his hands.

Maggie looks up at him, her eyes full of empathy and warmth. She smiles and pulls his head down to kiss him. “I’m not going anywhere.” She says. “I’ll stay for as long as you want me to–” She moans, her eyes closing as her head presses deeper into the pillows.

He nuzzles his face into the crook of her neck and peppers her skin with sloppy and wet kisses. Soon they both come on undone, their highs hitting at the same time.

Once they have relaxed, Jake gently removes himself from inside of her and rolls over to lay beside her on the bed. “Would you like to spend the night again?” He asks after a few beats of silence and turns his head to the side to look at her.

“I would love to,” She turns her head to look at him and flashes him a smile. He returns the smile before reaching out to her and pulling her against his body. “But you cook breakfast tomorrow.”

Jake chuckles. “Deal,” He says. “I can make you my famous omelets.”

“Sounds delicious..” She says as she stretches her neck up to kiss him.

The next morning, Jake wakes up to an empty bed beside him. He starts to sit up when he smells coffee brewing. Slipping on some clothes, he heads downstairs to the kitchen to find the room empty but the coffee brewing. “Hey,” He nearly jumps out of his skin and turns around to find Maggie standing beside him. She giggles and kisses him on the cheek. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You made coffee?”

Maggie looks at him confused and shakes her head. “No? I just got back from a run,” She says, pointing her finger over her shoulder and towards the front door. Jake looks back at the kitchen counter only to find a set of blue mugs sitting beside the coffeemaker. “Looks like you’ve got a ghost,” Maggie winks as she steps around him and into the kitchen. “Thanks Josh!” She calls out.

‘You are very welcome,’ Josh beams from his seated position on the kitchen counter. ‘I’ve been practicing how to move objects and touch things.’

“Josh?” Jake questions as he grabs one of the mugs. “You think he did this?”

“You'd be surprised what a spirit is capable of in the afterlife.” Maggie grabs one of the mugs and pours the fresh coffee. She hands him the other mug and walks over to the fridge to get the creamer.

“So you think he’s here?” Jake says.

Maggie nods her head. “It’s a very good possibility,” She says. “Unless your house was already haunted prior to him..”

‘Nope,” Josh says as he hops off the counter. ‘I’m the only dead one in the house.. Though I could be wrong.. I witnessed a cat kill a mouse so Scampers might be running around here somewhere.’

“You don’t think he saw…you know..” Jake says as he grabs the eggs out of the fridge and brings them over to the fridge.

‘Ew..’ Josh grimaces. ‘No, I left before you decided to get freaky.’ He shutters before going over to sit at the kitchen table in the chair beside Maggie.

“I think he’s more respectful than that.” Maggie giggles.

‘Respectful? More like not wanting to vomit.. Can ghosts even throw up?’

Jake chuckles and cracks a handful of eggs into a bowl before whisking it all together. “I’m just gonna choose to believe that he gave us privacy.”

‘Yes, because I totally want to watch my brother have sex.’ Josh rolls his eyes. ‘Who do I think I am, Jacob?’ Hearing little pitter patters and a squeaky sound, Josh looks down at the floor to see Scampers. ‘Well hello there Scamp!’ He chuckles and scoops the mouse off the floor. ‘I thought you ran off. So that makes two ghosts in the house now.”

The front door opens followed by a booming voice. “Hello! Hello! Hello!”

“Sam?” Jake sets the bowl of egg yoke on the counter.

Josh perks up. ‘Sam?’

Into the kitchen Sam appears and he smiles when he sees Jake. “Hey,” He says as they hug.

“This is a surprise,” Jake chuckles. “What brings you by?”

“Oh you know, just going on a walk.. Thought I’d stop by and visit for a bit, if that’s okay?”

“Of course!” Jake beams. “I was just starting breakfast for Maggie and I, but I can add more if you’re hungry?”

“Maggie?”

Jake nods his head and points over to the table where Maggie still sits with her coffee. She smiles and waves and Sam returns the gesture before turning back to Jake. “Umm, on second thought, I don’t want to intrude–”

“Intrude?” Jake scoffs. “You’re not intruding. Stay, Sam. Want some coffee? Jo–Just made some..” He quickly corrects himself, nearly saying Josh made the coffee. He barely believes it himself, there would be no way for him to convince Sam that their deceased brother’s ghost somehow made coffee.

“Coffee sounds good actually. I think my walk sucked out most of my energy.” He says as he walks over to the table and takes a seat in an empty chair.

Josh walks over to Sam and sits down beside him. He couldn’t believe that he was seeing his baby brother again. He hadn’t spoken to Sam since before the accident. Nothing bad happened between them, they just couldn’t align their schedules to fit. Sam never forgave himself for not making time. He felt so guilty that he barely made it through the funeral, but he forced himself to stay because he knew his family needed him there, just like he needed them. Once the burial ended, Sam was gone. No one saw or heard from him that first year following. Even when he came back, he wasn’t the same Sam.

Who could blame him? No one was the same after Josh’s passing.

He’s not been to the cemetery since the funeral. Still guilt ridden to even show his face there.

‘You grew out your facial hair even more,’ Josh chuckles. ‘Looks good on you.’

“So are you two..” Sam prompts as he wags a finger between Jake and Maggie.

“Seeing each other?” Jake smiles and nods his head. “Yes.”

‘Oh yeah.. Seeing each other is putting it lightly..’ Josh rolls his eyes.

“Good,” Sam smiles. “I was hoping so.”

“What about you and Poppy?” Jake asks as he heats up a pan on the stove.

“Oh uh.. Well..” Sam scratches the back of his head.

“Did you two break up?”

Sam shakes his head. “No, no.. We didn’t.. But uh,” He huffs and leans on the table. “We just found out so we haven’t really told anyone yet.”

“Found out what?”

“We’re expecting.”

Jake whirls around on his feet to face Sam, the look of surprise on his face. “Poppy’s pregnant?”

Sam nods his head. “Yeah, six weeks.”

Josh’s heart bursts with joy as he watches his two brothers hug. “That’s amazing!” Jake chuckles. “I-I didn’t realize you two were thinking about having kids, if I’m being honest.”

“We had been talking about it,” Sam says. “Just didn’t think it would happen this soon.”

“Well congrats baby brother,” Jake says as he hugs him again. “This is exciting!”

“Yeah, it is..” Sam’s smile slowly begins to disappear. “I just wish Josh were here so I could tell him…”

Jake looks over at Maggie and she sips on her coffee. “Oh I’m sure he’s aware,” Jake says as he turns back to go to the stove.

“I haven’t been back there,” Sam says. “Just still not ready..”

“Stop blaming yourself,” Jake says as he pours some of the whisked eggs into the pan.

“I keep telling myself that but he asked me to come along and I couldn’t, I had work to do.”

Jake shakes his head and finishes up the first omelet. “Sam, do you believe that if you had gone, you could have prevented his death?” He sets the finished omelet on the table in front of Maggie and looks down at his brother.

“What if I could have? I could have told him how stupid that idea was.. He’d listen to me, considering I am the one always doing stupid stuff.”

“Sam,” Jake goes back over to the stove and starts on the second omelet. “None of us, if we were there, could have prevented it because none of us would have known that that was going to happen. You need to stop blaming yourself..”

Jake brings the second one over to the table and places it in front of Sam. “I just wish I could go back and change everything..”

Jake lays his hand on Sam’s shoulder. “I’ve said that so much myself.. But unfortunately we can’t.. Now eat, you look like you need it.”

“Wow, way to make me feel better.” Jake chuckles and ruffles Sam’s hair before going back to the stove to make his own omelet.

would you like to be added? add yourself to the tag list!

@losfacedevil @writingcold @ignite-my-fire @takenbythemadness @edgingthedarkness @hollyco @earthgrlsreasy @dancingcarbon @josh-iamyour-mama @oliverfuckingreed @cheersdannyx2 @highway-tuna @musicislove3389 @gretavangroupie @jake-whatthefisgoingon-kiszka @thetroublegetssoloud71 @squirreledelman

#jake kiszka #greta van fleet #greta van fleet fic #greta van fleet fanfic #jake kiszka fanfic #jake kiszka fic #gvf #conjure #jaketober #ghosts

17 notes · View notes

ang3lik · 1 year ago

Note

nEed more jamie flatters content! would you consider writing some fluff?

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ LOVE.

jamie flatters masterlist. ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ jamie flatters x all!reader

jamie cheered as arsenal scored their second goal of the night. cheers echoed from the balcony, the warm comforting weather smoothing out the air, wafting his thin curtains that led out onto the balcony in his apartment.

the smell of cigarettes and beer filled the air with a mix of jamie’s scent intertwined as you sat at the breakfast bar in his kitchen, perched upon a stool as you scrolled through your phone.

the game went to a quick ad as jamie sat up a little on his sofa, cracking his neck to loosen the discs as he turned his head over his shoulder to looks at you.

“flick the kettle on for us, babe.” he called out. your fingers trailed over the marble top, flicking the switch on his kettle as he stood up, the latter of his feet entering the kitchen.

he moved behind you, his hands ghosting over your hips as he pressed a small kiss to the back of your shoulder. he pulled out a glass from the cupboard, decorated with small cherries as he opened the fridge, he took out a diet coke and milk, setting them on the counter as he opened the freezer too.

you watched on as he pulled out a few ice cubes from the container, the glass clinking as he dropped them in before opening the can and pouring it in.

he looked over at you, honey eyes shining with love as he slid over the drink, it slowed on the counter infront of you as you flashed him a sweet smile in thanks.

he padded back on over, you ducked your head as he opened the cuboard pulling out a teabag and the sugar, pouring some in his mug and dropping the tea bag in before replacing the items.

he moved fast, familiar in his own home and your presence as he lowered his head to yours, his lips pressing to yours in a sweet kiss, both your eyes closing briefly as your lips moved in tandem, the flick of the kettle causing him to pull away.

he lifted the heavy metal up, pouring the searing water inside along with some milk before stirring it. you sighed lightly, stretching your back before standing, walking over to the sofa and sitting, jamie following behind as he sat beside you.

his arm draped over your shoulder as he set the mug down on the coffee table and put his feet up. he pulled your legs up under your thighs, laying them over his as his thumb rubbed up and down over your skin.

the sun began to set over south london, the game ending as the town tired. your eyes began to close as the warmth took over, your eyelids heavy after a while of sitting beside your lover.

he took notice as you slouched into a slumber, pulling the blanket off the back of the sofa, drawling it over you both and pressing the button on the side off his seat, laying back and bringing you with him before picking up the remote and lowering the volume as his own eyes began to weigh down.

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @astarborntowrite @liyahsocorro @gr4veyardg1rl

#𝘢𝘯𝘨3𝘭𝘪𝘬.#jamie flatters #jamie flatters fluff #jamie flatters x reader #jamie flatters imagine #all!reader #gn!reader #male!reader #trans!reader #female!reader #nonbinary!reader #black!reader #latina!reader #asian!reader #plus size!reader #gay #bisexual #pansexual #lgbtq+

177 notes · View notes

dearabby1990 · 5 months ago

Text

Chapter 34: Early mornings & new beginnings

You managed to slip out of bed without waking the beautiful man next to you. Throwing on a pair of his boxers and an oversized Bowie t shirt slipped your slippers on & headed towards the kitchen to turn on the coffee pot & start breakfast for the house full of men who you know will surely wake up hungry. You flick on the radio & start pulling out your supplies & heating the waffle iron swaying to the instrumentals to Guns & Roses Patience. You decide on making mixed berry waffles & a strawberry sauce over the stovetop as the bacon cooks & you start humming & singing to yourself 🎼”I’ve been walking the streets at night just tryin to get it right, it’s so hard to see you with so many around, You know I don’t like being stuck in the crowd, And the streets don’t change but maybe the names I ain’t got time for the game cus I need you yeah yeah but I need you!”🎼 in your own little world belting out lyrics not noticing the boys peeking at you through the doorway as Eddie stands there in complete awe of you. Your voice the way you so effortlessly move across the room totally captivated by all things you Jeff whispers to the group “I think we found corroded coffins new addition only if she played an instrument” you turn them not knowing you heard Jeff “who says I don’t” as you set down plates full of food for them all “okay boys eat up help yourselves there’s plenty Eddie give them a pork roll rundown” you wink and leave the room with your coffee. “Ew Eddie it sounds dirty so if it is I don’t wanna know” Eddie laughs “it’s food spazoid” he slides each boy a plate full it takes about a minute before they all start scarfing everything down “I don’t know what this is made of but it’s so good! Ed why you hogging her man we don’t get to eat home cooked food like that either moms so busy I’m lucky if there’s a can of spaghetti o’s or a box of Kraft in the cabinet” you overheard them “boys how about this.. I know you’re all graduating really soon & some of you will be moving to campus for college after the summer so why don’t we have a family night once a week until then not including hellfire night okay? We’ll do the whole nine yards I’ll cook dinner we’ll have a movie marathon & everything then the week or two before break is over we can plan a trip just us & you all have to promise we’ll see you on the holidays I’ll be heartbroken if I don’t get a table full of my favorite people for thanksgiving & Christmas” they all stare at you with glossy eyes never feeling cared about by anyone but the boy group & their parents they aren’t very used to being around someone so caring & warm they all run & wrap you into a large group hug “you’ve always been one of us & we wouldn’t have it any other way” gareth says as the boys nod in agreement. You snatch up your favorite mug gifted to you by Wayne knowing it’s your favorite flower plastered all over it you’ve always had a soft spot for Lily’s they’re so beautiful. Heading to the shower to wake yourself up more as the boys finish breakfast. Gareth going for seconds scoots in the bar stool at the breakfast bar next to Eddie taking a large bite of waffles before nudging his friends shoulder “so…. What’s the plan man? Let us know what you need us to do you know she’s special to all of us in each owns way we wanna help make it special she deserves it more then anybody” Eddie laughs “I know dude I’m just trying to figure out how to get her out there without her getting suspicious maybe you can tell her me & the others went shopping or something & you take her to lunch & the record store by the time you guys are done & you bring her over we should have everything set by then I already called Robin she’s gonna tell Jamie she’s busy & so is Steve hopefully this goes smoothly” he says huffing his bangs out of his face. “You guys wanna see it real quick before she’s out of the shower?” They all jump out of their seats as Eddie pulls it out of his pocket to show all his best friends “wow Ed she’s gonna love that” Jeff stares in awe “yeah man what the hell did you do rob a bank look at that thing?!”

#eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #joseph quinn #joseph quinn x reader #gareth emerson x reader #steve harrington x y/n #stranger things fanfic #eddie munson #robin buckley

22 notes · View notes

copperbadge · 1 year ago

Text

Well, the plan for NaClYoHo today was to go back into the storage locker, get out the plant pots that I'd stashed in there, and bring them in so that I could do some new planting. I had to kill off most of my plants when the gnats got into them, and the easiest way was simply to dump them, pots and all, into a trash bag and throw them out; none of the pots were very valuable, and I managed to save the plants I cared about by tossing the rest. The pots I'd put into storage about a year ago will be handy in rebuilding the garden.

But I'd been holding off on new planting because I wanted to be absolutely positive I was gnat-free and not giving them a new place to nest first, and this morning I caught a gnat in the kitchen. The rule I made was seven days with no live gnats buzzing around me and no dead ones in the traps I have out, so

[ID: An image of Idris Elba from Pacific Rim; he looks up dramatically as he says, in caption, "Reset the clock!"]

Fuckin' kaiju.

Anyway, one of the big decisions I made was to do away with one of the cat trees and replace it with a breakfast table (hence the stool shopping yesterday, I wanted a tall cafe table with a bar chair) and since I managed to get those purchased, I figured I'd dismantle the cat tree and move it out before the furniture arrived. It took a remarkably long time, so it's most of the work I'll be doing today, cleaning-wise.

[ID: A photo looking down into a large cardboard box; filling the box are several worn-out scratching posts and a handful of fabric-covered platforms from the disassembled cat tree.]

Polk came out to inspect the empty space where their tree used to be and complain loudly, but she wasn't using it and neither was Dearborn and it was shedding twine and catnip everywhere. I got them a new scratching post and they'll like putting their butts all over my breakfast table, it'll be fine.

I believe I did this last year, but if not I'm making it a tradition starting this year, that the last day in November is always reserved for setting up the Christmas tree and breaking out the decorations. I'm not a big Christmas guy and I don't have a lot of decor, but I like hanging ornaments on the tree, most of which have sentimental meaning, and it's a nice way to transition from November Busy Cleaning Hurry Month to Stay Inside With Blankets Because It's December.

There's still a bunch to do on my "Cleaning" list, but I got a lot done, so I'm giving myself a break and working on the rest over time. I hope you all have a good last few days and that you feel good about what you've accomplished!

#naclyoho #national clean your home month

84 notes · View notes

simstorian-blog · 9 months ago

Text

N O O K S T O N E

(CC List + Links)

World Map: Oasis Springs

Area: Bedford Strait

Lot Size: 20 x 15

(3-bedroom—3 double beds, 2.5 Baths)

Gallery ID: Simstorian-ish

Packs Used

Expansion Packs

Cats & Dogs

City Living

Cottage Living

For Rent

Get Famous

Get Together

Growing Together

Island Living

Seasons

Snowy Escape

Game Packs

Dream Home Decorator

Jungle Adventure

My Wedding Stories

Parenthood

Realm of Magic

Spa Day

Strangerville

Vampires

Stuff Pack

Vintage Glamour

Build Mode

Awingedllama – Simple Windows & Doors

Felixandre – Berlin Pt. 2 (Glass Double Door Short)

Peacemaker – Multi-Level Carpet

Peacemaker – Vaulted Ranch

Simplistic – Elegant Wallpaper (Crane)

Simplistic – English Watercolour Wallpaper (Donegal)

Sooky88 – English Country Wall Set (Plain)

Sooky88 – Victorian Floor Tiles

Buy Mode

Anye – Mertice Chair

Awingedllama – Fluffy Blanket

BlueTeas

Empire Snooker Suspension Lamp

Samara Sconce

Sheer Curtains

CharlyPancakes

Lavish

Munch (Fridge, Stove)

Cowbuild – Mont Blanc Chandelier

Felixandre

Colonial Pt. 2 (Tray)

Fayun Pt. 2 (Linen Armchair)

Florence Pt. 1 (Piano)

Gatsby (Orchid Vase 1 v2)

Gothic Revival (Victorian Bedframe)

Grove Pt. 3 (Painting B, Painting C Leaning)

London (Chandelier Short)

Harlix

Baysic (Packs Wardrobe Clothing - ALL)

Harluxe (AC Control, Light Switch, Mini Bar)

Kichen (Stool)

Orjanic Pt. 2 (Curtains)

Tiny Twavellers (Dino Lamp)

Harrie

Coastal Pt. 7 (Bench)

Octave Pt. 2 (Metal Fireplace)

Octave Pt. 4 (Light Switches)

Shop the Look 2 (Ceramic Side Table, Dining Chair)

Stockholm (Ottoman)

Ice Cream for Breakfast – Ruggable x Iris Apfel Rugs

Joyce – Simple Live #8 (Tofu Bar Chair)

KiwiSims4

Blockhouse Sectional BGC

Blockhouse Bookcase

Leaf Motif – Garden Cover

Lili’s Palace – Intarsia Bedding

Peacemaker

Alesund Sectional

Bowed Bedroom (Bench, Dresser, Furrow Pouffe, Ring Dish, Vanity Table)

Futura Living (Fireplace Medium)

Pierisim

Oak House Pt. 2

Oak House Pt. 4

MCM Pt. 5 (Hair Brushes, Hair Dryer, Hang Clothing, Straightener, Wig Collection)

Unfold (Dragon Tree)

Vera Bathroom (Bathrobe Functional)

Winter Garden (Old Rug)

Woodland Ranch (Double Bedframe w. Canopy, Nightstands, Table Lamp)

Woodland Ranch Pt. 2 (Hanged Dishrack)

Woodland Ranch Pt. 3 (Old Rug)

Myshunosun

Gemini Vase

Luna Slippers

Simplistic

Loloi Rugs (Part I)

Vincent Van Gogh

Vintage Silk Divider

SixamCC – Luggage Cart

Sundays

Kediri Pt. 1 [Ceiling Light, Throw Pillow (solids)]

POP! Pt. 1 (Throw Pillow II)

Sumba Pt. 1 (Pillow Set I)

Swell Pt. 1 (Mattress, Pillows, Throw)

Yarra Pt. 2, 3 (Bed Cushion Set, Duvet)

Syboubou – Wall Panel Mirror

The Townie House Project – Moderno Pouf Ottoman

TaurusDesign

Eliza Walk-in Closet

Lilith Chilling Areas Pt. 1 (SulSul Sign)

Tuds – Turn Lounge

DO NOT REUPLOAD MY LOTS.

DO NOT CLAIM THEM AS YOUR OWN.

DO NOT PLACE BEHIND A PAYWALL.

Tray Files: DOWNLOAD

#simstorian #the sims 4 #ts4 #sims 4 #cc #ts4 simblr #build #sims 4 build #oasis springs #drifter challenge #ts4 lots #residential #interior design

31 notes · View notes

somethingkindazainy · 2 months ago

Text

♡ Pairing: Minho x Jisung ♤ Genre: Mafia AU, Romeo x Romeo ♢ Chapter Warnings: foul language throughout, mxm sexual intercourse (suggestive language) ♧ MINORS DNI

♤ ♡ TASTE Synopsis & Chapter List ♢ ♧

<< Chapter 2 - The DLC ♤ ♡ ♢ ♧ Chapter 4 - The Wolf & His Pack >>

Chapter 3: Broken Compass

♤ ♡ ♢ ♧

Minho steps into his apartment and clicks on a lamp on the side table.

“You live here?” Jisung gawks at him. “But it’s so–”

“Careful.”

“–homey.” Jisung finishes and Minho can’t help but smile at him.

His apartment has a spacious living area, with large panoramic windows, overlooking a stone walled balcony bordered with various shrubs, herbs and flowers, and expensive and expansive views south over the Han River. In the centre of the room, there’s a black leather corner sofa facing a flat screen television on the wall and numerous bookshelves. The kitchen, all white granite and units, takes up one corner of the open planned space, separated by a breakfast bar and two chrome and black leather stools. His bedroom door, off to the side.

Minho slips off his Gucci shoes and sets them in the shoe rack. Hangs his keys on the hook behind the door. He’s about to take off his jacket when he remembers he’s wearing his knife belt on his shoulder and thinks better of it.

Jisung is crouching at his side, unlacing his boots, before he stands and steps out of them. Without them he’s probably an inch shorter than Minho and—

“What on earth are those?”

Jisung looks down to where Minho is pointing. He’s wearing bright pink socks adorned with lime green love hearts. He wiggles his toes. Smiles up at Minho. “Don’t you like them?”

Minho tries to reconcile this Jisung against the one he’d met at the club; the sexy Jisung. Who became the Jisung who fights as well as he does, who in turn wears ridiculous socks inside combat boots.

“The views from up here are insane,” Jisung walks over to the windows. He looks small and beautiful, backlit by the twinkling city skyline beyond. Minho turns on some lamps, bathing the room in warm yellow light and straightens some of the mint-coloured cushions on the couch. Lifts the legal papers he’d been reading from the glass coffee table and secretes them in a sideboard drawer. Absently touches the leaves of his bamboo plant, and reminds himself to water her tomorrow.

“You keep flowers?” Jisung says, frowning at the large container with pale pink cosmos. He arches an eyebrow at Minho. “You don’t seem like the type.”

“Judgemental,” Minho says, and he’s smirking, partly at his own wit.

“Touche,” he starts looking around the living space, head tilting back at the high ceiling, then slowly down again, settling on the bamboo at Minho’s side, “and you have house plants,” he’s moving now, head tilted as he reads the titles of the books on his bookshelves, his slender fingers caressing their spines, “you read,” he’s at the kitchen now, fingers walking over his cookbooks, “and you like to cook?”

“Stop compiling your list,” Minho pushes his hands into his pockets. He’s not used to this. Not used to being assessed in this way. Any previous acquaintances he’s had over before were in the bedroom and gone the next morning. They didn’t have time to analyse. Minho preferred it that way.

And Jisung smiles. It’s not the smile Minho has become familiar with, the flirtatious half-smile, it’s an unguarded gummy-grin and it is like sunshine. If Minho thought his smile was pretty before, then this, this is fucking gorgeous. He’s pretty impressed with himself that he hasn’t crossed the room to seize hold of that forbidden waist. You brought him here so he could get cleaned up. Nothing more. You missed that chance.

“And… you have a cat?” Jisung lifts a box of kibble, brandishing it as evidence.

“Soonie,” Minho says automatically.

“Soonie-Soonie-Soonie,” Jisung coos.

“You’re wasting your breath he doesn’t come when—” there’s a tinkle of a bell, small curious cat chirps and Soonie trots out of the bedroom. He merely glances at Minho like, ‘oh, you’re here,’ before trotting over to Jisung, tail in the air.

The traitorous little shit!

“Oh hi!” Jisung croons as he crouches down into an impossibly small shape, his knees level with his shoulders, his arse almost touching the tiled floor. Minho resolves to not think about Jisungs flexibility. In fact, he is not thinking about it at all. Is absolutely not thinking about it. And he’s definitely not tilting his head at how curvaceous Jisung’s arse is either. He is, though, wondering why someone so fucking pretty, wears ridiculous socks inside combat boots. Although the heels of them are very close to that arse–

No, no. We are not thinking about that, Minho straightens up.

Jisung holds out his right hand and allows Soonie to sniff it. “I know, I’m all dirty aren’t I?” Soonie rubs his chin against Jisung’s fingers. Purrs. Like, actually fucking purrs, for someone who is essentially a stranger. The little cat whore. In the thirteen years Minho has had him, he has never, not once, shown a modicum of interest in another human. It’s the one thing they have always had in common. Or so he thought.

Minho makes use of Jisung’s distraction and heads to his bedroom. He removes his jacket and tosses it onto the white bedspread, flicks on a bedside lamp, puts his phone on charge whilst he unbuckles his holster and drops it into the bedside draw. Retrieves the bloodied brass knuckles and drops them in there too.

In the adjoining bathroom, he washes his bloodied hands and face. Grabs an armful of soft white towels from the linen cupboard and sets them on a stool beside the shower.

Back in the bedroom he pulls a black t-shirt and a pair of grey sweatpants from his wardrobe and sets them on the bed. He drops a pair of boring white ankle socks on top of them. Considers offering up a pair of boxers, but thinks that could be viewed as a bit weird, or is it weirder not offering underwear? Isn’t it weirder to expect him to freeball in a pair of your sweats?

He is still debating when Jisung appears at the bedroom door, Soonie curled in his arms, tail swishing lazily. “You okay?”

Minho blinks. Whether he’s blinking at Soonie contentedly letting a stranger hold him, or at how lovely he looks in Jisung’s arms, or how lovely Jisung looks holding him, he’s not entirely sure. But there’s something… like a déjà vu level of familiarity. He blinks several times. “Uh, yeah. I think these might be a bit big for you, but they’re clean,” he gestures to the small pile of clothes at the foot of his bed. “There’s fresh towels in the bathroom too, if you want to take a shower?”

Jisung smiles warmly, allowing Soonie to jump from his arms onto the bed. Strokes the length of him, from the top of his head to the tip of his tail, Soonie arching into his touch. “Thank you,” Jisung says as he lifts the clothes.

“No problem,” Minho says, returning to his wardrobe to find a change for himself, or to shield himself from Jisung. He unclasps his cufflinks, sets them in his jewellery tray. He hears Jisung step into the bathroom and lock the door. Until this moment, Minho didn’t know his bathroom door had a lock. He’d never had cause to lock it himself and certainly never had anyone here long enough, let alone use his shower…

He’s still fumbling with the buttons of his shirt when he hears the shower running and tries very hard not to think about Jisung in there. Naked. The water trailing over is skin, down his back, that waist, that arse–

Giving up on the remaining buttons, he wrenches his blood-spattered shirt over his head, drops it into the wash basket and rounds on Soonie, “Explain yourself.”

Soonie sits on the bed, looks up at him and tilts his head, like, ‘What?’

“You know what I’m on about,” Minho hisses at him.

Soonie chirps in a manner that suggests that he doesn’t know and his actions have been nothing but ordinary. He licks his paw as though he’s making a point.

“You’re a traitor,” Minho says but scritches him under the chin because he’s too fucking cute, even when he’s behaving like a twat.

Minho changes quickly into a pair of navy sweats and a black tank top. Shoves his jacket and trousers into a separate basket he uses for dry cleaning. Gently squeezes Soonie’s ear as he passes.

Barefooted, he pads out into the kitchen, inspects his cupboards and the fridge. Realises that he’s woefully understocked, decides that omelettes will have to do.

He’s dishing up when Jisung reappears, looking completely alien and incredibly attractive. Minho’s t-shirt looks oversized on him, the baggy sleeves reaching past his elbows. All the makeup he’d been wearing is gone, revealing a beauty mark on his left cheek and softening the roundness of his dark brown eyes. His damp hair is curling at the ends. If it wasn’t for the cut lip, Minho would think this was an entirely different person. Mentally, he ticks off the Jisungs he’s met this evening. Sexy Jisung. Fighter Jisung. Effortlessly attractive Jisung.

Look at you, making a list. Seungmo would be proud.

Jisung’s holding a bundle of clothes in his arms, “Do you have a shopping or trash bag I can put these in?”

Minho sets the frying pan down, sucks some sauce off his thumb, “Give them here,” he takes them from Jisung, stoops down, shoves the jeans, tank top, boxers (tries not to think about Jisung going commando) and offensive socks into the washer-dryer, and inspects the shirt. Pure silk. He takes it to the sink, drops it in the basin, and starts running cold water. Returns to the machine, adds detergent, kicks the door closed, sets the cycle. Adds some detergent to the basin, turns off the water. Lifts the frying pan and finishes plating his own dinner, “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Jisung is sitting at the breakfast counter, chin resting on one palm, his smile very warm, or, at least, making Minho’s ears very warm. “You’re very domesticated.”

Minho scoffs, pushes a plate towards him, “Eat up before it gets cold.”

He pours them each a glass of grape soda, and they eat in silence, forks clinking against plates. Minho, leaning on the counter across from Jisung, can't help glancing at him every so often. He looks like a squirrel eating sunflower seeds. It’s really cute.

Cute. Where did the hot and sexy Jisung from only a few hours ago disappear to? When had he ever considered anyone or anything, other than his cat, as cute?

How many Jisungs is that, now?

“That was amazing,” Jisung says, pushing his plate away.

“It’s only an omelette,” Minho says, but he’s pleased.

“It was a brilliant omelette. I could eat that everyday. And the ham and cheese in it,” he kisses his fingers. “Perfect.”

“You want more?”

“No, thank you, I’m full,” he pulls his phone out of his pocket. The screen is spider webbed with cracks, but the screen is on and it looks, in part, functional. Minho can’t believe it’s already nearly three in the morning.

“Do you need to call someone?” Minho asks, as he pushes his own plate to the side, “Let them know you're okay or…”

Jisung laughs heartlessly, “They wouldn’t notice if I went missing for a week, let alone one night,” he pushes his phone back into his pocket. “Thanks for the offer though.”

Minho watches him for a moment. He wants to ask a question. But he doesn’t ask questions… he doesn’t have interest in people outside of his very small, very private circle… and yet, “Why wouldn’t they notice?”

“I’m probably being unfair,” he shrugs with one shoulder, “my brothers would probably notice that I wasn’t about, but my mum,” he shakes his head, “I don’t think she’d miss me unless my absence was an inconvenience to her.”

“Same, with my old man,” Minho says absently. “As for my brothers, they’d probably be glad to see the back of me for a week.”

Jisung grins that wide, dorky, gummy-grin and the room brightens tenfold. “How many brothers do you have?”

Minho thinks about this. The honest answer is none, his father would say Minho is one of twelve. The real answer is, “Three. That I count.”

“Huh, same,” Jisung giggles. “Older?”

“No, I’m the eldest.”

“Ah, that explains it.” Jisung leans back on the bar stool, arms folded across his chest, the action causes the collar of the t-shirt to drop a little lower and Minho can see the hollow at the base of his throat. The suggestion of a collar bone.

“Explains what?”

“Why you are so domesticated.”

Minho chuckles, “Based on that assessment, I’m guessing you’re a middle child.”

“Fuck you.”

“Am I wrong?” he arches an eyebrow.

“No. But still, fuck you.”

Grinning smugly, Minho stacks the plates and brings them to the sink. Sets them down and lifts the shirt from the cold water, “I think this might be ruin—” his sentence is cut off by a pair of arms encircling his waist and the warmth of lips pressing against the back of his neck.

His breath hitches, because it feels… familiar. He wants to sink into it. Sigh against it. Savour it.

Why does this feel so good? Is it because Minho has been resisting for so long? How long has it been? An hour? Two? A fucking lifetime.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to,” Jisung says, lips still hovering over his skin, arms still wrapped around his waist, the tips of his fingers stroking the fabric of his tank top. “Just tell me to stop.”

Are you really going to ask him to stop when you’ve waited so long?

Minho lets the shirt fall back into the basin. Twisting round in his arms, Minho pushes his fingers through Jisung’s damp curls. His hair is exactly how Minho had fantasised it would feel: soft and lush and thick. And his eyes, fuck. There’s a whole world in those large and beautiful brown eyes of his.

He tips his head, meeting Jisung’s lips with his own, feather soft as to not aggravate Jisung’s cut lip, and Jisung is kissing him back, soft and long and slow and lazily. It’s like a walk in the park on a sunny Sunday afternoon, and polar opposite to how he’d imagined this would be all those nights he’d laid in his bed imagining it. A month of nights…

“Hmm,” Jisung smiles against his lips. “You’re restraining yourself.”

Unbidden, Minho barks out a laugh because it’s too fucking true. Jisung’s fully grinning now, that silly, dorky grin. Minho’s new favourite.

“You’re hurt,” Minho let’s his thumb trace the outline of Jisung’s bottom lip.

“I meant what I said before,” Jisung’s breath ghosts Minho’s lips. “Anything,” he says and the word travels down and down and Jisung’s hands are chasing the word, seizing hold of Minho’s hips, pulling his pelvis to his. Grinning again when he can very obviously feel Minho’s desire, and Minho’s smiling back, because he can feel Jisung’s. “Anything.” Jisung says again and his lips are on Minho’s and it’s deep and uncontrolled, their lips sliding and scraping against the other and it’s messy and it’s different from Minho’s fantasies, because this is everything and so much more than his mind could conjure. Jisung pulls against Minho’s push until he is pinned against the breakfast bar, caged between Minho’s arms, and his hands are in Minho’s hair and on his back and his hips and seemingly everywhere and he’s kissing that magical spot below Minho’s ear.

“I’ll… break you,” Minho hisses, gripping the counter as Jisung scrapes his teeth in the same spot.

“I’m stronger than I look,” Minho can feel the smile against his neck. “I fought six guys at once.”

New turn-on: unlocked.

“Yeah you fucking did,” Minho says, grabbing a fistful of Jisung’s hair, pulling his head back, exposing his neck. He can feel Jisung's pulse hammering against his tongue and Jisung groans, stretching his head back further, allowing Minho to taste him and inhale that earthy scent of his. Minho’s hands slide down his ribs, to his waist, that forbidden, grabbable waist and it fits perfectly between his thumb and fingers. Minho pulls back to admire his hands gripping it, his thumbs and fingers caressing. He momentarily considers that it’s Jisung who will do the breaking. Because this, all this, is fucking killing him.

“Take me to bed,” Jisung says and his voice is like velvet, smooth forwards and rough back and Minho slides his hands down over the curve of Jisung's arse to the back of his thighs, pulls him up into his arms. He’s not exactly light, but he’s far from heavy and when Jisung wraps his legs around his waist, grips his shoulders, it only makes it easier. They kiss as Minho carries him to the bedroom, lays him back on the bed, hands sliding over fabric, then under it and Jisung’s skin is smooth, and hard, and soft and warm and Jisung is arching up and into him, making pretty little whimpers—then his eyes fly open and he seizes hold of Minho’s wandering hands. “Wait!”

Minho stops immediately, “I’m sorry, are you— what’s wrong?”

“Where’s Soonie?”

“Soonie?” Minho repeats, the blood supply needed to comprehend what Jisung is saying is directed decisively elsewhere. “My cat?”

“Yes,” and Jisung’s cheeks are reddening. “I can’t — I can’t do this with Soonie in here.”

Minho can’t control the smile that leaps to his face. It’s the cutest thing he’s ever fucking heard.

Sexy. Fighter. Attractive. Cute. Adorable.

Chuckling, he rolls off the bed, “Soonie?”

A gravelly purr emanates from the wash basket, and Soonie blinks at him in a manner that says, ‘Who dares disturb my slumber.’

Minho pets him, scoops him up and carries him out to the living room. Sets him on a blanket on the couch, pats his head, “Sorry pal.”

The responding cat chirp sounds a lot like, ‘fuck you’, which is perfectly justifiable.

Still chuckling quietly to himself at the absurdity, Minho returns to the bedroom, closes the bedroom door, turns and hesitates. Jisung smiles warmly up at him from the centre of his bed. His cheeks are flushed, his lips red and swollen, his golden skin seeming to glow against the white of the sheets. He looks so small and so fucking beautiful. Minho crawls up onto the bed to lie beside him and Jisung rolls onto his side to face him and for a minute, Minho allows himself to just look.

Look at how, his curls fall lazily and elegantly over his brow and into his eyes. How his brown eyes appear almost black and still emanate light. How his soft round cheeks blend into the sharp edge of his jawline. How his narrow top lip is all angles, whilst his bottom lip is a curvaceous invitation. Jisung’s face is all juxtapositions. None of it should work together, but it’s truly beautiful.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Jisung whines, bringing his hand up to cover his face.

Minho smiles, gently pulls his hand away, “You said, ‘anything’.”

Something in Jisung’s eyes soften and his hand slots around the nape of Minho’s neck and he kisses him.

Minho allows himself to be kissed whatever way Jisung wants it, which just so happens to be how Minho wants it. It’s a sunset kiss. A twilight kiss. Deep and longing. Their hands move slowly, pressing and pulling. After seconds or a lifetime, but too short, Jisung pulls away, tugging at the hem of Minho’s tank top, pulling it over his head. Minho makes light work of Jisung’s own t-shirt, and Jisung has a fucking chest tattoo on the right side, and his pecs and abdominal muscles look like you could skip stones off them and… he’s bruised. There are noticeable red and blue marks, the size of fists down the left side of his chest and Minho’s breath catches. God help me if I ever see those men again…

“I’m okay,” Jisung says gently, taking Minho’s hand and holding his palm against his bruised ribs. Minho can feel the heat of his skin, the texture of his ribs moving beneath his hand. “Really, it doesn’t hurt all that much.”

Still holding his hand against him, Jisung kisses him into the pillows and Minho pulls him down with him. He traces the red and black tattoo with his fingers, then with his tongue, Jisung humming appreciation at his ear before biting gently on his earlobe. “More,” he says, as his hand slides beneath the waistband of Minho’s sweatpants and the elastic of his boxers, fingers digging into the flesh of Minho’s arse. Minho returns the action in kind, smiling against Jisung’s groaning mouth.

Now Jisung is sliding Minho’s joggers and boxers down, tossing them off to the side, then his sweats and the socks and they are both naked, their legs scissoring, hands and feet caressing. Minho lets his hands trace Jisung’s outlines, carving the shape of him into his mind, memorising how the curve of Jisung's waist fits under his palm. How his dark hair falls forward over his face. How his full bottom lip curls and his top lip dips.

Jisung’s hand slides down over Minho’s abdominal muscles and lower—

“Fuck,” Minho hisses through his teeth, as Jisung’s fingers encircle him. Every muscle and tendon in his body tightens, his fingers pressing into Jisung’s waist. Jisung hums, his lips are at that spot beneath Minho’s ear, melting his insides.

He reaches for Jisung, but Jisung pins his hand against the bed, their fingers interlacing. “Not yet,” Jisung’s voice has a dangerous edge. And again Minho’s mind reels: Sexy. Fighter. Attractive. Adorable. Dangerous Jisung. “I said I would make you beg.”

Yes. Yes you did. And…fuck… I might. Minho fights to stay here. He shuts his eyes, gripping Jisung’s hand and fisting at the sheets with the other.

“Look at me,” Jisung says and Minho obeys and it’s a big fucking mistake. Jisung is a pleasurable assault on his senses. His lip curled in a smirk. His dark eyes sparkling. His hand doing…fucking incredible things and if he doesn’t stop it now, he’s going to have to beg. With a roll of his hips, he flips Jisung onto his back, pinning Jisung’s legs down with his own, capturing Jisung’s wrists with one hand. Jisung’s eyes are round and wide at the sudden reversal, but he’s smiling, his pink tongue at the corner of his lips. Minho smiles darkly down at him, makes use of his advantage (and his ambidexterity), his free hand sliding down… Jisung arches off the bed, a red lip caught between white teeth. Slowly, Minho releases his wrists, kisses him into the mattress whilst Jisung’s fingers dig into his shoulders.

Slowly, Minho backs off from him, retreating towards the foot of the bed, lips and tongue tracing his jawline, his neck, his chest, his belly button and Jisung’s fingers are in his hair, watching Minho who is retreating further and lower, tracing kisses inside his thighs. And he looks up the length of Jisung, their eyes locking, tongue and lips teasing–

“Those fucking eyelashes,” Jisung swears throwing his head back when Minho takes him in. Jisung groans softly, chewing his lip as he watches Minho. His thighs trembling under Minho’s fingers whilst his own knot in Minho’s hair and the litany of curses that spill from Jisung are enough to consecrate the room. “Holy mother of–” Jisung’s fingers are pulling Minho’s hair, and he’s sitting up and bringing Minho’s lips back to his, in a crushing kiss that must be painful on his cut lip, “Irino, I need you.”

Irino. Something about the way Jisung contracts his name makes Minho momentarily giddy. I need you. Drives him wild. “Are you begging?”

“Stop being a fucking tease!”

Minho arches an eyebrow at him. Biting Jisung’s lip and dragging it through his teeth. And the sound that escapes Jisung’s mouth is particularly pleasurable.

“Irino, please,” Jisung says, pressing his lips against Minho’s. Kissing him deeply, hungrily, desperately.

Are you really going to prolong your own suffering? Blindly, Minho fumbles in the bedside drawer amongst his leather holster. He pulls back from Jisung to tear the foil open with his teeth. Jisung, huffing impatiently, snatches it from him, rolls the condom on him, and even that action makes Minho moan.

Jisung lies back against the pillows, lifting his knees as Minho lines himself up and slowly pushes into him and he’s hissing through his teeth because Jisung is so fucking perfect and arching off the bed, groaning pleasurably and again he’s fighting to maintain himself. Resist a little longer. Give Jisung time to adjust. Inch by blissful inch.

Slowly, they move together, their bodies seemingly, instinctively knowing what the other wants, what the other needs, as though they had done this before in a past life, on another timeline, in an alternate universe. Soon, Jisung digs his fingers into Minho’s hips, encouraging him to move, pulling him deeper and he looks so fucking pretty beneath him, lips parted, his eyes burning darkly up at him, sweat beading around his temples, “You’re not–going to–break me,” Jisung pants, and for a fleeting moment, Minho believes him, believes that he’s unbreakable and his entire body rolls at the words and Jisung gasps, fingers knotting in Minho’s hair, a sound like a growl escapes his own lips when Jisung pushes against his thrust. “Oh! Uh-huh–yes, like that–just–like–that–”

Oh he can fucking take it. Minho stretches forward, kisses him with teeth, swallowing Jisung’s groans which are growing louder with every thrust. Minho kisses over his jawline, down his neck, to his collarbone and back up to his ear, “Let me hear you.”

“Irino.”

Fuck, just the sound of his name is undoing him. Driving him.

“Irino,” Jisung groans and he’s calling to some part deep inside Minho. Some part of his soul. Calling to another Minho in a past life, on a different timeline, in that alternate universe. “My Irino.”

My. “Ji—fuck—” Minho grinds out as Jisung wraps his legs around Minho’s thighs, pulling him closer, urging him deeper, moving him faster, his hands slipping over Minho’s back, fingers digging, breath quickening.

“Irino!”

“Ji— I’m going to—”

“Look at me,” Jisung cups Minho’s head in his hands, fingers digging into his hair, arching up, his mouth parting and eyes watering and he looks like fucking heaven and Minho is trembling and groaning back and seeing stars but they aren’t stars, it’s the whole fucking universe, past, different and fucking alternate in Jisung’s eyes before they coalesce and become a single point of blinding light.

Boneless, Minho collapses forward against Jisung's sticky chest. He listens to the sound of Jisung’s breath, his too quick heart beat.

His giggling.

“What’s funny?” Minho asks, utilising his remaining strength to push himself up and look down at Jisung.

“Nothing,” Jisung kisses him again and again.

Sexy. Fighter. Attractive. Adorable. Dangerous. Great in bed. Minho thinks, giggling against Jisung's hair.

♤ ♡ ♢ ♧

They shower together.

It’s not sexual, but very sensual. And it’s new. Minho has never done anything like this with anyone before. Has never wanted to until Jisung had made the suggestion. He takes his time lathering shower gel into Jisung’s skin. He’s being particularly gentle over his ribs, which are more purple than red now. Smiles when Jisung giggles, “Not there! I’m ticklish.”

Jisung gently massages shampoo into Minho’s hair in between kisses and giggles. It’s odd, just how much Minho is enjoying this. Enjoying the closeness. Enjoying Jisung.

When they step out of the bathroom, hair dripping, towels around their waists, Minho pulls the top sheet off the bed, drops it into the wash basket and Jisung crosses the room to the bedroom door, pulls it open, “Where’s the beautiful boy?”

‘That’s me,’ Soonie chirps as he trots to Jisung, arching against his legs, bell tinkling. ‘I’m here.’

What the fuck is wrong with my cat?

Jisung scoops him up, carries him over to the bed. “I’m so sorry we kicked you out.” Jisung croons, “I know. We’re mean, aren’t we? Yes.”

“You’re mean,” Minho corrects, lying on the bed and scratching Soonie under the chin. Mimicking Jisung’s condescending tone, “You were all cosy before you got evicted.”

Jisung narrows his eyes down at Minho, “I’m certain that everything that just happened would have been traumatic for the poor boy.”

Minho chews his smile, “He still heard us, Ji.”

And there it is, that pleasant shade of pink spreading up Jisung’s neck and settling around his cheeks.

Jisung kneels up onto the bed, lays down with Soonie between them. Soonie languishes in the attention he’s receiving from them both. Jisung’s fingers buried in the softness of his orange and white fur, his knuckles purpling and swollen. Minho traces them with his thumb, “Where did you learn to fight like that?”

“I just kind of had to,” Jisung shrugs. “I’ve always been sort of scrappy. If there’s one thing I know, it’s that, to survive, you have to fight.”

If you want something. Fight for it. Fight for it and win. It’s a lesson his Father had beaten into him from an early age.

“I hope the girl is okay,” Jisung says. A small furrow forming on his brow.

Minho cups his head, leans forward, kisses it gently. “I’m sure she’s being well looked after.”

The furrow melts away.

“You can fight too,” Jisung says. “Boxing?”

“Hmm, and mixed martial arts.”

Jisung’s fingers trace the ragged line on his bicep, “You have a lot of scars,” he says. “Who hurt you?”

“That’s from a broken bottle,” he tells him. “I was trying to break up a fight.” He chooses to leave out the part where he’d started and finished it.

“And this?” Jisung caresses the pink scar beneath his left collar bone that his brother Felix gave him after a particularly rowdy night and an honest to goodness misunderstanding.

“Broken pool cue.”

“And this?” Jisung’s knuckles brush the long thin scar below his diaphragm.

“I don’t actually know about that one. I’ve had it for as long as I can remember.”

“Hasn’t your father told you?”

“He doesn’t know either. I, um… I’m adopted,” he surprises himself by saying this out loud. He’s not ashamed of it. It’s just something he chooses not to tell people. “So my medical history from before is a little vague.”

Something flickers over Jisung’s eyes, but it’s gone and he’s speaking before Minho gets the opportunity to try and understand the look. “Your brothers?”

“We’re all adopted, but I love them as if they are brothers,” he smirks, knowing that whilst this is true, his brothers would vehemently deny that Minho is capable of such affection. “Blood is thicker than water, after all.”

Jisung grins widely at him, “You are probably the first person I’ve heard use that in the correct way,” his eyes burn, and he leans forward, kisses Minho who kisses back and their hands are quickening, fingers digging, towels slipping and—

Meow.

Jisung pulls away giggling. Minho is less than amused.

“I’m sorry!” Jisung says, leaning back and petting Soonie, “Are you feeling left out?” he plants a kiss on the top of Soonie’s head. Soonie purrs happily. Little cat cock blocker.

Minho settles down against the pillows. Outside, the sun is rising and the morning twilight plays with Jisung’s soft features. Minho thinks he’s probably the most beautiful man in this, or any other world, past, present or alternate.

Jisung glances at him, smiles, “What are you looking at?”

“Nothing,” it comes out like a sigh. Minho traces the black and red circle with a white star radiating from the centre. “Tell me about this.”

Jisung smiles, “My broken compass?”

And now Minho can see it, the points for north, east, south and west, but the letters at these points are different; S-T-A-Y. “Why’s it broken?”

“Have you seen Pirates of the Caribbean?”

“No,” Minho says.

“Well, shame on you. You should watch it. It’s a whole thing,” his smile is teasingly beautiful. “But my broken compass is a reminder. A reminder that I’m never really lost. That I’m not really astray. That I can always find myself, if I rely on what my heart is telling me.”

Whatever Minho had envisioned the answer to be, this was not it. He feels a bubble rise in his chest, and poking curiously at it, realises that it’s sadness. He feels sad that Jisung has ever felt astray. He cups Jisung's face, lets his thumb caress his cheek, “Stay with me a little longer?”

Smiling, Jisung cups Minho’s hand with his own, and lays down. “Okay.”

♤ ♡ ♢ ♧

Minho wakes to sunlight blinding him. South facing windows are great and all, except at midday when you’ve had less than four hours sleep. He flinches back from it, rolls away, hand reaching across the bed finding it empty. Usually, finding that his previous nights fuck toy has scarpered fills him with relief. So he’s a little surprised and wary of the hollowness sitting in his chest at Jisung’s absence. Or is it the absence of Jisung? Whichever it is, he’s not particularly fond of the feeling.

Distantly, in the fog of his sleepy brain, he’s aware that Soonie isn’t glaring at him from the bedside table or neighbouring pillow, bopping his nose with an angry paw demanding breakfast, which is his usual morning alarm. He rolls onto his back and drops his forearm over his eyes, listens to the sound of the hum of the traffic and a television. No, not a television. He removes his arm, sits up on his elbows, stares at his open bedroom door. It’s definitely his television.

He rolls out of bed, pulling on last night's sweatpants and pads barefooted and bare chested into his living room.

Jisung is sitting cross legged on the couch, wearing his laundered tank top and jeans and hideous socks and eating a triangle of jammy toast. Soonie is curled into a ball on his lap and they are both staring at the television. On the screen, a pretty woman is talking to a prettier man and after only thirty seconds of listening to them, horror settles into his stomach, it’s one of those fucking dating shows. “You’ve got to be kidding me? You watch this shit?”

“Shush,” Jisung says, waving his toast at him in a gesture to be quiet. Which is fucking cheeky since he’s sitting in Minho’s home. Or fucking cute. By the way Jisung nibbles on his toast, his eyes large and fixed on the screen, Minho leans towards cute, but he’s adding cheeky to his list. “I’ve been waiting for three weeks for him to finally confess to her.”

“Confess what?” Minho folds his arms across his chest, “That it’s a terrible idea to talk about their love life on national television?”

“Shush!” Jisung hisses.

Feeling scolded and chuckling quietly to himself, Minho ruffles Jisung’s hair as he pads over to the kitchen, or what had been his kitchen. The carnage remaining from Jisung making toast is a wonder to behold. It’s amazing there’s any jam on his toast, since a large quantity of it seems to be everywhere else. He’d clearly tried to wash the previous night’s dishes, but didn’t know where to put anything so had them teetering dangerously on the sink. But there’s coffee brewing in the pot, so that’s something. He steps on something hard, curses as he hops on one foot, inspects the other to find a cat biscuit there. Glances down at Soonie’s overflowing bowl.

“YES!” Jisung says. “Tell her! Tell her!”

Meoooow, Soonie agrees.

‘The thing is…’ the handsome man on screen is saying. ‘I never stopped loving you.’

Minho rolls his eyes, pours himself a mug of coffee.

“YES!” Jisung bounces on the couch, hands in the air. Soonie leaps away from him and scampers into the bedroom as Jisung claps his hands. “Finally!”

Music is playing now, the dramatic-romantic type as the camera focuses on the pretty woman’s disbelieving face and then the credits roll. Jisung vaults over the back of the couch, his smile wide and fucking adorable. He does a little happy skip, his fists like paws at his side. “He finally told her.”

“I gathered,” Minho can’t help smiling at him around his coffee mug.

Jisung plants a kiss on his cheek, “Good afternoon.”

“Afternoon,” Minho replies, setting his mug down so he can wrap his arms around Jisung’s waist. Honestly, his arms are made for this. “Hmm.”

Jisung grins at him, but pulls away and covers his mouth when Minho leans forward for a kiss. “I haven’t brushed my teeth.”

“Neither have I,” Minho says, pulling Jisung closer, breathing on him.

“Oh my lord,” Jisung whines, nose wrinkling as he tries to wriggle free.

Minho plants a quick chaste kiss against Jisung’s lips and at once he stops wriggling, begins melting in Minho’s arms, his hands encircling Minho’s neck, pulling him down, kissing him deeply, and he tastes like strawberries, moaning against Minho’s lips. After seconds that might have been hours, Jisung pulls away. His cheeks are that pretty shade of pink, “Well, that was disgusting.”

“Uh-huh,” Minho says, kissing him once more before letting him go.

Jisung leans back against the breakfast bar, “I fed Soonie.”

“I see that.”

“I wasn’t sure how much to give him.”

“I see that too,” Minho tickles Jisung under his chin. “Good effort.”

Giggling, Jisung rabbit punches his shoulder. Hugs himself. “I don’t suppose you have a jumper or something I could borrow? My shirt’s outside, but it’s still damp.”

“Of course, are you cold?”

“No, not cold, I just, I er, don’t really like my arms out, on show.”

Minho arches an eyebrow at him, “You don’t like your arms?”

“I just don’t feel comfortable.”

Sexy. Fighter. Attractive. Adorable. Dangerous. Great in bed. Cheeky. Shy.

Minho kisses the top of his head, “For the record, you have very sexy arms,” he says, stepping round Jisung and heading to his room. At the very top of his wardrobe he finds an old, hooded jumper in dark grey, with two white wings on the back. “Is this okay? It’ll be massive on you.��

“It’s cute, thanks,” Jisung says, pulling it over his head, the sleeves hanging low over his hands. And Minho sees the way Jisung’s shoulders relax under the fabric.

“Better?”

“Much,” Jisung smiles at him.

There is the sound of a phone vibrating. Minho automatically glances at his bedside table where his phone is on charge, but it’s still and silent.

Jisung pulls his own from the front pocket of his jeans, his face hardens as he scowls at the broken screen, and ends the call.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m—for fuck’s sake,” he ends the second call. “I have to go.”

“Do you need a lift? I could drive—”

“No. No, that’s not necessary.”

His phone rings for a third time and Minho’s seeing the tightness in his shoulders return. “Do you need to get that? I can leave—”

“No. They can wait,” Jisung steps forward, cups Minho’s head and pulls him down for a kiss and the kiss is going places when his fucking phone starts ringing again. “Fuck, I’m sorry.” Jisung ends the call again. “I had a wonderful time last night.” He looks Minho in the eye, pushing strands of hair away from Minho’s forehead. “A really wonderful time.”

“Me too,” Minho says, allowing his hands to rub circles over Jisung's back. Feels his muscles tense when his phone rings again.

“I really have to go,” he steps back, pets Soonie on the head and stoops down to kiss the spot between his ears. “Be good, beautiful boy.”

Soonie chirps, ‘I will’.

Why are you lying? Minho thinks.

“Ji?” Minho follows him out of the bedroom, Jisung is already at the main door, pulling on his boots, not bothering to tie his laces, just shoving the loose ends inside them. Groaning loudly when his phone starts ringing again. “Ji?”

Jisung shakes his head, unlatches the door, but Minho slaps his palm against it, slamming it shut.

“Ji, look at me.”

Jisung takes a shaky breath, looks. His eyes are damp. Any joy he’d had only five minutes ago has been expunged by the person trying to call him. Minho feels a visceral loathing of the person on the other end of those calls. He thumbs a tear from Jisung's cheek, “Who’s trying to call you?”

“It’s no-one,” Jisung lies terribly, which isn’t necessarily a bad trait.

“Your boyfriend?” It makes sense, in the moment, though the word burns in his chest. “Girlfriend?” he hedges, remembering the red and blue girls from the club.

“No,” Jisung smiles tiredly at him, “Nothing like that, it’s,” he sighs, “it’s my brother.”

“Oh, okay,” Minho hears the sound of relief in his own voice. “Are you okay?”

His nose wrinkles as he shakes his head.

Minho’s unsure who kisses who first but they are kissing, Jisung pinned against the door, his leg around the back of Minho’s thigh, pulling him in, and closer, his hands flattening over Minho’s chest, up and over his shoulders, into his hair and his fucking phone starts ringing again.

“Tell him to fuck off,” Minho growls against Jisungs mouth.

Jisung giggles, dropping his foot back to the floor and gently detaching Minho’s hands from his waist. “I have to go,” he says as he wrenches the door open. Hesitates on the threshold. “Can I call you?”

“You fucking better,” Minho says and Jisung kisses his cheek quickly before he flees out of the door, jogs towards the elevator, takes the stairs.

Minho closes the door, walks to his windows, heaves one open and steps out onto the narrow balcony. The sun is heating his skin, but his feet are cold on the concrete. He watches and he waits, and finally he sees Jisung, hood over his head, phone pressed to his ear, jogging lightly across the street, flagging down a taxi and scrambling into the back of it. Minho watches as the taxi rolls down the road and disappears around a corner.

Palming the back of his neck, Minho turns to head back inside when he spots Jisung’s shirt, draped over the back of a chair. He lifts it, carries it inside.

Purr? Soonie is pacing in front of the door, sniffing the spot where Jisung’s boots had been.

“He’s away,” Minho tells him. “Don’t look at me in that tone.”

Soonie sits down and continues to scowl at Minho as if he was the one who made him leave.

Minho flops onto the couch, idly feeling the smooth silk of Jisung’s shirt between his fingers. He glances up at the television showing icons of several shows of happy, smiling, pretty heterosexuals and the words: Because you watched Exchange: you might also like…

“No I fucking wouldn’t,” Minho says reaching for the remote and turning the television off.

Jisung: Sexy. Fighter. Attractive. Adorable. Dangerous. Great in bed. Cheeky. Shy. Algorithm wrecker.

“Fuck,” Minho sighs dropping his head back. He’d slept with a lot of people in his time… could remember (maybe) some of their names. Could just about recall what they looked like… but here he was able to recite his list of Jisung’s without any issue.

Meow? Soonie says for no reason.

Another Jisung: Cat heart stealer.

“Fuck.”

TASTE M.List & Sypnosis

Chapter 1 - Parley

Chapter 2 - The DLC

Chapter 4 - The Wolf & His Pack

#TASTE | Minsung #skz fic #Lee Minho #Han Jisung #Christopher Bahng #Bang Chan #Changbin #Seungmin #Hyunjin #Felix #Jeongin #Soonie #Stray Kids Fan Fiction #Mafia AU #Romeo x Romeo

17 notes · View notes