#my dad walked in on me drawing him two different times help

[bom-bombon]

Feliz cumpleaños mi capitán o7

[whatsnewalycat]

SURRENDER

Part Two of Ruthless | Stepdad Joel Miller x f!Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ ONLY)

Word Count: 6.2k+

Warnings: non-canon, Boston Joel, dub con, step-cest, sneaky sex, use of the word daddy in a sexual context, dad kink (that’s a thing right?), age gap, degradation, praise kink, avoidance, silent treatment, sneaking into bedroom at night, angst, collective grief, mentions of explosions and gunshots (nothing graphic), *it’s about the yearning*, hair pulling, no physical descriptions of reader aside from hair can be pulled, reader is 18-19, Joel being a bad dom and a bad caretaker, hot shower, food mention, mentions of religion, unethical D/s dynamics, dry humping, anal sex, physical restraint, face fucking, sub-space unlocked, dirty talk, dd/lg maybe i think, masochism, like a lick of fluff if u squint 

A/N: Heeeey buddy. As stated above, this is a second part to Ruthless. Big thanks to my love @frannyzooey for the help and hype, you're the best. Please be mindful of the warnings and tell me what cults you think exist in post-outbreak tlou.

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———

As the 19-year anniversary of Outbreak Day draws near, unrest festers in the streets of Boston.

Whenever August ticks over into September, residents of the QZ seem to divide into three distinct categories: people who want to forget, people who won’t let them forget, and people who are too young to remember. 

Born post-apocalypse, you fall into this third category. 

Which doesn’t mean the ripples of loss don’t touch you, contrary to what some may think. You still lost something. Everyone did. 

This fact is apparent when you take the scenic route home from your job posting at the distribution center. 

Rubble crunches under your shoes as you walk down the crowded sidewalk, passing by a message spray-painted over the battered brick building: WE’VE BEEN FORSAKEN. 

Graffitied sentiments like these pop up constantly this time of year. Overnight, almost. Your mom and Joel mostly blame Fireflies for the vandalism. The bombs, too. Apparently they stir shit up to make people uneasy, then recruit those who seem susceptible. That’s what your mom thinks, anyway. ‘Leveraging their grief against them,’ she says. 

You think it might be more than that, though. 

Yesterday you saw three separate arguments break out in the streets. When you were taking inventory of k-rations this morning, an explosion went off so close-by that boxes rattled off the shelves. It was the second bombing this week, and you don’t foresee it getting better until October. 

Sure, the Fireflies lay claim to the lion’s share of vandalism and destruction, but their activity is consistent year round. They are the baseline. But this? This is different. 

You attribute the excess chaos to this heavy, static feeling in the air. It clings to your skin and gets stuck under your nails like a thick cloud of invisible dust or spores. Microscopic particles embed themselves in the cracks and creases of each person inside the QZ, fertile ground for clusters of violence to sprout up at every turn. 

If you had to guess, you’d say this phenomenon probably spans the globe. All of you felt the loss of Outbreak Day, the whole human collective. Echoes of what humanity lost will likely still be heard a thousand years from now. 

Some people refuse to accept this. 

Like the guy a few strides ahead of you, who walks by an orange spray-painted message that reads REMEMBER WHAT YOU LOST and sneers, “Almost twenty goddamn years, fuckin’ let it go and move on.” 

You watch him. See his neck get all red as he mutters to himself and clenches his fists at his sides. He looks around like he expects someone to challenge him. Nobody does. 

This doesn’t seem to satisfy him. 

Further up the sidewalk, he encounters a memorial made up of candles and wilting flowers hugging the side of a residential building. He kicks it over and repeats his earlier sentiment, this time louder and directed towards the brick wall. 

“It’s been twenty fucking years, get the fuck over it already!” 

Of course, a passing spectator indulges him. 

“Hey—watch it, asshole!” 

The two men puff up their chests and start yelling back and forth, so you cut right down an alleyway to avoid the situation completely. 

When you arrive home, you find Joel at the dining room table, hunched over a map, holding a glass of whiskey like it’s a lifeline. 

Neither of you say hello, but when you glance up while untying your gritty shoelaces, you catch him staring at you. 

A jolt of electricity shoots through you. 

He corrects himself, returning his eyes to the map as he takes a big swig from his glass. 

“Mom home?” 

“No.” 

Nodding, you rise to your feet and slip out of your shoes, squirming with the excitement that one syllable brings you. 

“When’s she gonna be home?” 

He doesn’t look at you. Just shrugs and takes a sip of whiskey, too engrossed in his project to spare you attention. 

For weeks, he’s been trying his hardest to pretend you don’t exist, which would be typical behavior if he didn’t fuck you dumb a few weeks ago. Sometimes you’re not even sure that what happened between you was real. 

But, then again, sometimes… sometimes you feel him staring at you when he doesn’t think you’ll notice. Sometimes he touches your waist as he passes by. Sometimes at night you hear him pacing the hall outside your bedroom, the faint squeak of the warped floorboards giving him away. 

When this happens, you stare at the door and will him to do it. Aching with something stronger than want, you pray for him to cross the threshold. But he never does. 

You exhale through slack lips and wrinkle your nose at the canned goods. 

“Hungry?”

He grunts in response, which is Joel for ‘I could eat.’

Tilting your head at the handwritten labels, you present the options, “Stew or… meat and beans?” 

Another grunt, roughly translating to ‘Both options are fucking terrible,’ a sentiment with which you wholeheartedly agree. You grab the stew and empty it into a saucepan on the gas stovetop. 

While it heats, you steal glances at Joel, noticing the rigidity in his demeanor. His set jaw and tense muscles. The deep creases in his furrowed brow. 

You’ve coexisted with him long enough to understand he’s not immune to the heady thrum of anguish in the air this time of year. Like you said, nobody is. 

Joel distinctly falls into the “people who want to forget” category of the forsaken, but carries whatever or whoever he lost on Outbreak Day like a ten thousand-pound weight on his broad shoulders. He white-knuckles his way through the season of chaos and mourning and tries to act like it doesn’t affect him, but it does. 

You can tell, not just from the way he holds the grief captive in his body, but also from the obvious indulgence in his favorite coping mechanism: planning. 

Joel is a meticulous planner. 

Between smuggling runs, he comes home after a long day of manual labor at some job site and unwinds by plotting logistics. Drinking, too, but he clearly has a favorite. 

Hours will go by while he pours over reference material, maps or blueprints, making addendums of any notable changes he and your mom discovered. After this, he deliberates. Joel could chew up weeks with this step. He plots out each possible route, taking into consideration all the penciled-in shortcuts and caches they’ve stashed within a 30-mile radius, then determines the most beneficial path for their next big adventure. 

Given FEDRA’s current paranoid state, with the increased patrols and surveillance and whatnot, your mom and Joel won’t be making a trip outside anytime soon. But still, he drinks and plots and winds himself up into a tight obsessive knot. 

You divvy up the simmering stew into two bowls, placing one next to his glass of bootleg booze while you take a seat across the table from him. He ignores your presence, just flicks his eyes around the map like it’s supposed to give him the answers. 

When you’re halfway done with your bowl, you gently prod him, “It’s gonna get cold.” 

Sitting up in his chair, he sighs and scrubs his face with his hands, then folds up the map and sets it aside. 

The two of you eat in silence. Each wordless second twists hot beneath your skin. Your mind wanders to the dig of his fingertips in your soft flesh. The sting of his flattened palm. The stretch of his thick cock. The things he said to you—fuck.  

You’re tempted to tell him to do it again. To tell him that you’re still abiding by his rules. That you don’t sneak out anymore. That you haven’t felt the sweet bliss of release for weeks because you don’t fucking come without his permission. 

Over and over, you rehearse it in your head. You imagine yourself telling him, ‘I’ve been so good for you and you haven’t even noticed.’

The sound of him clearing his throat pulls you from your thoughts. 

He shifts in his seat a little, studying you, “You still seein’ that boy downstairs?” 

Your heart stutters. Heat floods your veins as you shake your head. 

“Why not?” 

All you can do is stare at him while trying to verbalize an answer. For weeks, you ached for his attention. And now that you have it? The words are stuck in your throat. 

You shrug, pushing your empty bowl away to lean your elbows on the table. When you look up at him again, he blinks. Waiting for a response. 

A rush of adrenaline makes the world around you buzz. 

“Why do you care?”

He clenches his jaw for a moment, then parts his lips to respond. 

The apartment door swings open. 

Both of you start at the intrusion. You jump to your feet to collect the dirty dishes while Joel turns to greet your mother. 

“It’s a fucking madhouse out there,” she grumbles, then pulls out the seat adjacent to him and starts telling him about her day. 

———

You step into the shower and hiss in reaction to the scalding hot water. 

The fact that it's warmed at all surprises you. Not an unwelcome surprise, even if it hurts a little. Most days the water comes out tepid at best, and you’d gladly accept a third-degree burn over a lukewarm shower. 

Besides, the sting feels right on your skin, as weird as that sounds. You relish the pain while washing yourself, thinking, ‘this is what I deserve for feeling this way.’ Hell fire, if the sidewalk preachers are right. If there is such a thing. If you’re not there already. 

Only once the water runs cold do you turn it off and go back to your room, leaving the door cracked open behind you. After putting on a big t-shirt and some underwear, you turn off the lights and climb into bed. 

For a while you stare at the water-stained ceiling and listen. You hear the roar of FEDRA’s armed vehicles patrolling the streets. Far away, gunshots ring out into the night. Some kid starts crying next door, then his mother lulls him back to sleep. 

Closing your eyes, you try to tune it all out and focus on the noises within this unit. Concentrate on the drip-drip-drip of the bathtub faucet. The ripping sound of your mom’s snores. 

Then, you hear it. 

A creak from the floorboards. Footsteps. 

Their bedroom door squeaking open. 

Everything goes silent long enough for you hold your breath and scream inside your head, please please please—

It starts again. One careful step, then another. 

His presence hovers there at the door for six restless seconds before he opens it and steps inside, closing it behind him. 

Your pounding heart squeezes your breath ragged. It comes out this shallow, shaky push and pull that broadcasts your consciousness. 

Still, you pretend. 

You keep your eyes pinned shut and listen to the advance of his footsteps to your bedside. 

Down by your feet, the mattress shifts under his weight. He doesn’t touch you for a while, only watches you, his gaze burning into your skin. 

Then, he murmurs, “I know you’re not sleepin’.” 

You blink your eyes open to look at him, in boxers and an undershirt, all hunched over at the foot of your bed. Always carrying that weight on his shoulders. The glow of the street lamp outside your bedroom window casts this perfect golden light on him that makes you kind of hate how good he looks. 

“What are you doing?” you ask in a whisper. 

Over the blanket, he rests his hand on your calf, then takes it back and shakes his head. 

You roll onto your side, swinging one leg over the blanket and tucking it between your thighs, a wordless plea for him to touch your hungry skin. Joel shifts further onto the bed, turning his body to stare down at you with a straight spine. His gaze drifts up your exposed skin, fingers twitching in his lap. 

This faltering self-discipline compels you. 

Joel is nothing if not self-disciplined. That much is true for all the forsaken, yourself included. 

Your working theory is that nobody wants after the world ends, they just need. Need to sleep, need to eat, need to fight. Anything to survive one more fucking day. It’s all any of you can ask for. 

So do you want him, or do you need him? 

And what about him? Joel fucking Miller, with his reinforced concrete walls and heavy heart. Was he ever capable of wanting? 

“Joel,” you reach out to touch him, beckoning him to meet you halfway. 

His eyes flick to your outstretched hand, then back to your face. He shakes his head, as if declining the offer, but you don’t retreat. You sit up and crawl across the bed to him. 

The column of his throat bobs, head rocking back as he watches you come to a stop. He almost lets you touch his cheek when you try again, but snatches your hand away before you can make contact. 

“Don’t,” he warns, the tone of his hushed voice deadly serious. 

He squeezes your fingers while you study his stonewalled expression, tilting your head at him, “Why did you ask me that earlier? If I’m still seeing Bert?”

“I was curious.” 

“Curious why?” 

His lips part, then close, gaze dropping to your mouth. 

Heat pulses through every inch of your body. You drop your voice to a breathy whisper. 

“Were you thinking about what you did to me?” 

Something flickers behind his eyes when they snap onto yours. It draws you in, urging you to scoot so close your knees butt-up against his jackknifed leg. 

“You fucking loved it, didn’t you?” you ask quietly, smirking a little when his stern face twitches, “You loved how it felt to make me surrender—” 

The dull throb of his tightening grip around your hand makes you gasp. A rumble slips from his chest, which could be read as a warning if you had an ounce of self-control left. If you didn’t need him to combust. 

You let your gaze drift from his burning gaze down the slope of his nose to his lips, “Do you think about it every time you see me, like I do with you? How fucking good it felt?” 

“It was wrong—” 

“Then why are you here?”

Your question comes out louder than you expected. It ricochets through the charged space between his body and yours, popping the bubble of awareness around you. 

All the little sounds you picked up on earlier seep back into the foreground. FEDRA patrolling. The whiz-pop of firecrackers going off maybe a block away. A faint murmur of conversation in the upstairs unit. 

He holds your stare, but doesn’t make a sound until a snore rips from your mom’s chest, signaling crisis averted. When he speaks, his words come out hushed and calm. 

“You need to be quiet. Understand?” 

The command liquifies your bones. 

You lick your lips and nod, “I understand.” 

“Good.” He studies you as if deep in thought, finally releasing your hand to pinch your chin and assert, “You know why I’m here. Stop pretendin’ you don’t.” 

It’s hard not to fall in line when he’s looking down at you like this, all hot-blooded and self-assured. Cocky, almost. But you try to push his buttons anyway. 

“I thought it was wrong.”  

“Don’t get cute with me. Yes or no?” 

Your pulse flutters. Tongue goes numb. All you can do is nod. 

He jostles your head a little, “Say it.” 

“Yes.” 

“Say yes please.” 

“Yes please.” 

He works his jaw back and forth, studying you, then tugs your shirt.

“Take this off.” 

While you pull the offending garment over your head and toss it aside, Joel moves further onto the mattress, leaning back against the wall. 

You follow him, swallowing the static buzzing in your throat as he ushers you onto his lap. The scrape of his rough hands on your waist may as well be a live wire crackling across your skin. He pulls you closer and closer until your belly presses into the worn cotton of his shirt. The heat between your legs settles on his stiff length. When he twitches against you, a heady electric current courses through your body and coaxes a whimper from your lips. 

It seems too intimate to look at him, so you cast your gaze downward. Your shaky hands lay flat against his chest, absorbing the rhythmic thud of his heartbeat beneath your palm. 

Being with him like this feels strange. Not strange how it sometimes is with a new partner, that clumsiness before you know how your bodies work together. 

It’s strange in a fucked up out-of-context sort of way. Of course, growing up around him never conditioned you to think of him like this. Joel fucking Miller, with his scarred-up knuckles and unending apathy. The only man who could make big brown eyes like that seem cold. 

All those years, you never considered him anything more than an obstacle. 

Even then, if there was some tiny shimmer of attraction lingering under your skin, a piece of you that wanted more from him, you never thought he could feel so solid and soft and alive. You never dreamed he could make you feel so fucking good.

“This stays between us,” he tells you, more of a command than a request. 

“I won’t tell if you don’t.” 

The tips of his fingers dig into your hips, and he purrs, “You’ve been good for me, haven’t you?”

You preen at the warm timbre of his voice, body arching into him as you breathe, “Yes.”

Under your touch, his muscles tense. He exhales hot against your cheek and guides your hips in a rocking motion, slow and steady, rubbing all those aching nerves hard against him. 

“You liked it, too. Didn’t you? How I fucked you last time?” 

A low-frequency hum throbs deep inside you, amplifying every sensation tenfold. You nod, rolling your hips faster, “I did, I liked it.”

“Yeah, you liked it? Or did you fucking love it?” he hisses, “Dirty little slut like you. Bet you loved getting fucked in the ass, didn’t you?”

“Oh my god, Joel—” 

“Tell me.”

“Yes yes yes I fucking loved it—” 

Too loud. 

He ceases all movement, locking you in place with a steel grip. All ten of his digits bury themselves in your skin. The exquisite pain makes you gasp. 

“Hush.”

You clamp down on your lips in an attempt to stifle yourself. Each heaving breath wiggles down to your core and back. 

“Look at me.” 

If you do, you’ll dissolve at the edges. You know it. You are sugar paper and he is a humid room and you are so incredibly fucked. 

Pinching your eyes shut harder, you shake your head and whisper, “I can’t.”

“Why not?” 

“I’ll come if I do.” 

The confession makes him throb underneath you. He husks, “Do it, look at me.” 

You do. 

Even in the shadows you can make out his features, his parted lips and hooded gaze. The desire etched into his face as he stares at you, looking mystified in a way you’ve never seen before. Heat percolates beneath your skin, sending your heartbeat racing. 

His hips arch into you just so, then he pulls you in and pushes you back, rubbing your body against his, “Do you wanna come? Come for me just like this?” 

“Please—please,” you whine, feeling pleasure branch out from your middle as he slides you back and forth, “Please I wanna come for you it’s been so long—” 

“Will you be quiet?” 

Swallowing a moan, you nod frantically. 

His eyes flicker around your face and he breathes, “Go ahead.”

You’re not sure if it’s the flames in his eyes or the fact that you haven’t had an orgasm in almost two months, but the second he gives you permission, the ecstasy you tried so hard to contain spills over the edges and floods your body. It pulses through you hot and hard and makes your mind go white. You have to clasp your hand over your mouth to muffle the guttural noises that try to escape. 

“That’s it,” he coos from far away, still grinding your twitching body against him, “There we go. That’s my good girl, hmm?” 

“Oh my god—” you whimper at the sharp aftershocks that shoot through you, “It feels so good, Joel, fuck—” 

“Do you wanna come again?” 

Nodding, you link your hands behind his neck and set yourself in motion, rubbing against him a little faster than his set rhythm. His eyelids flutter as he throws his head back, the muscles under his shirt going taught. Beneath the thin fabric of his boxers, he’s hard as a fucking rock. 

Releasing the tight grasp on your hips, he roams up your sensitive skin to your breasts and tests their weight before squeezing. It shoots through you, the pleasure and pain indistinguishable, just a throbbing rush of need. Your breathing comes in heaving gasps and you pinch your eyes shut again, tilting your head towards the ceiling as you once again find yourself struggling to keep quiet. 

“Eyes on me,” he reminds you. 

You snap them open and meet his. 

“Good girl.” 

And—god, the way he looks at you, his gaze hungry and wild. Fucking maddening. Simultaneously, you wish he would stop—the contact too intense, too intimate—and pray that it never fucking ends. 

Heat bubbles up inside you. You bury your fists in his hair and roll your hips faster, chasing the scorching need for more. 

He hisses and pushes back against your thrusts, murmuring, “That’s it, grind that pussy on me, make yourself feel good.” 

“Fuck—fuck yes, it feels so fucking good—” 

“I can feel how fucking wet you are, leakin’ all over me. You do love it, don’t you, baby?”

You start to tremble and nod, trying your hardest to whisper when you tell him, “Yes yes yes I do I fucking love it—I wanna come again, can I please come again, please please—” 

“Listen to you. So good, askin’ for permission.” He brings a hand to your face and brushes his knuckles against your cheek, “Such a quick learner.” 

“Joel—” 

“Do it. Make yourself come again.”

Something untethers inside you. Heartbeat pounding behind your ears, you work your body against him in jerky movements, each one more delicious than the last. His eyes burn into yours, all heavy-lidded and lust-blown in the darkness, watching your face twist up with pleasure as the hot gooey feeling between your legs stretches wider and wider, then overtakes you completely. 

You give in to it with a shattered breath, burying your face against his shoulder to muffle your moans. He holds you down, making sure you smother your cries in the damp cotton of his t-shirt as wave after electric wave washes over you. 

When your spasms start to peter out, and your rolling hips come to a stop, he releases his stronghold to pet your hair. Your heaving chests meld together, breath syncing up into a steady ebb and flow as he smooths his palm up and down your spine. 

For a moment, it’s just this. Just the soothing motion of him rubbing your back, calming your boneless body. Soft and quiet with everything else stripped away. 

Emotion swells in your chest and tingles up your throat, behind your eyes. You try to hide it, the fact that you’re crying, but it becomes obvious when a sob escapes you. 

Joel shifts a little, then tilts your chin up to meet his eyes. He searches your face and frowns, furrowing his brow. 

“I’m sorry,” you wipe your tears and cast your eyes downward, “I—I don’t know why this is happening, I’m sorry. I’m stupid.” 

“No—hey, no,” he assures you, “It’s fine.” 

You shake your head. 

“Look at me,” he commands, and when you do, he cups your cheek and holds your gaze, “It-it’s normal to feel… emotional. Really, it’s ok.” 

The warmth and sincerity of this—his touch, his eyes, his words—makes your heart stutter. It curls up inside you and sedates your jumpy nerves. 

You sniffle and nod, “Ok.” 

His adam’s apple bobs in his throat as he studies you, bringing his hands to your waist. The longer you stare at each other, the more all the subtle signs of his lust come back into focus. How his tongue peaks out to wet his lips when he looks at your mouth. The heavy thudding of his heart. His strained breath and throbbing cock. 

Your gaze drifts to his lips. A needy, aching desire simmers at the base of your spine. It seems wrong to kiss him. More sensual than sexual, rooted in something he will never have for you. But still, you wonder. 

You wonder how soft his plush lips would feel against yours. How he would taste. Whether or not he would use tongue, or teeth, or both. 

Your fingertips twitch hesitantly towards his mouth. He doesn’t pull away or admonish you, even though you give him ample time to protest. When you make contact, smoothing your touch over the pillow of his bottom lip, he murmurs against your fingers, “I’m not your boyfriend. I’m never gonna be, either, I wanna make that clear. That’s not what this is.”  

“I know you’re not my fucking boyfriend, Joel.” You scoff at the thought, “Boyfriend. I don’t want that. I don’t need a boyfriend. What I need…” you watch your touch drift from his mouth to his jawline, where you scrape your nails through his scruff, “What I need is someone to fuck the thoughts out of my head.” 

“Fuck the thoughts outta your head,” he repeats, almost a chuckle, “That’s what you need, huh?”

“That’s what you need, too. Isn’t it?” 

Something smolders behind his gaze as he searches your face. 

“You can use me, you know. Take whatever you need from me. Use me like a fuck toy, Joel, I fucking need it.” 

His whole body reacts to your request, muscles flexing taught as he clenches his jaw.

You bat your lashes at him and pull yourself close enough to feel his breath on yours when you ask, “Don’t you need a little fuck toy like me, daddy?” 

“You’re a sick girl, you know that?” 

“You like it.” 

Neither of you can deny the other’s accusation, resulting in a stand-off that tingles beneath your skin and makes your heart pound in your throat. 

Subconsciously, you rock your hips forward and suck in breath when his cock throbs against your clit. He pushes back, flooding your veins with fire, “Are you gonna keep quiet if I fuck you?” 

“Are you gonna shut me up if I can’t?” 

He lets out one single amused chuckle, then asks, “Are you really tryna test me right now?” 

Suppressing a smile, you shake your head. 

“That’s what I thought.” 

Something in the way he says it blooms heat in your chest. His tone teasing, almost playful. 

He gives your ass a light smack, then tugs at your underwear, “Take these off.” 

You roll off him onto the mattress and slide them down your legs while he stands to strip naked. Seeing his cock makes your body hum. It stands at attention, bobbing a little when Joel catches you staring. 

Sidling up to the bed, he beckons you closer, so you follow his silent guidance and crawl over to him, wrapping your hand around his thick length. You glance up at him, licking your lips as you await further instructions. 

“Get it nice ‘n’ wet for me.”

Nodding, you bring your mouth to the head of his cock, exploring first with your tongue, licking up the salty dribbles of lust. You taste a hint of yourself on him too, arousal that soaked through his boxers and marked him yours. Temporarily, at least. At least for tonight, or at least for right now. 

A pleased rumble erupts from his chest when you wrap your lips around him and start to slide up and down his shaft. He feels solid and warm and fills your mouth completely. The first time he hits the back of your throat, you gag and pull off him, working him with your hands as you catch your breath. 

“Do it again.” 

You take him in your mouth, rutting up and down a few times before sitting up taller to drive him down your throat. He buries his fists in your hair and thrusts his hips forward, “There we go, that’s it—fuck, you’re so fucking good at that.” 

His praise sparks at your core. You whine around his cock and bob against his thrusts. It doesn’t matter that you can’t breathe. You don’t need oxygen, you just need this. The sting of his grip prodding your movements, the raw stretch of him fucking your airway, the wet squelch that fills the room. 

When he yanks your head back and unclogs your throat, you gasp for breath and stroke him with both hands, churning his slick length. Fire roars in his eyes when you look up at him. 

He grabs your chin and husks, “Say thank you.” 

“Thank you.”

He smacks your cheek and grabs your chin again, “Say thank you for fucking my face.” 

“Thank you for fucking my face, I fucking love it—”

“Say please can I have some more.” 

“Please can I have some more, daddy?” 

Stifling a groan, he crams it back in your drooling mouth, down your throat, snapping his hips in sharp, quick thrusts that make you gurgle with pleasure around him. Far away, you hear him panting, “Take it take it take it—”

The chorus makes your body tingle. You think about your mom sleeping in the other room, how there’s just a wall between her and this. How she could wake up at any moment and follow the muffled, hedonistic noises. How she would find Joel balls deep in your mouth and you giving him something she never could: control. 

This time when he pulls you off his cock, he uses his white-knuckle grip on your hair to make you flip over and turn around, ass in the air towards him. 

The head of him nudges up against the tight ring of your asshole. You hear a wet splat, then feel the heat of his spit trickling down between your cheeks. Your body clenches with anticipation as he smears it around. 

“Remember, you gotta relax,” he murmurs, releasing your hair to smooth a palm against your spine. 

You inhale a deep breath and exhale the tension from your muscles, letting your heart melt into the mattress. 

“Good girl,” he arches forward, breaching your entrance. 

The sharp sensation splits you open. It pulls a wanton moan from your lips that rings through the silent apartment like a siren. 

Yanking you up by your hair, Joel secures your back to his humid chest and clasps a hand over your mouth. Stars invade your field of vision as he drives his cock deeper and deeper, only stopping when he can’t go any further. You sob against his palm, so he pulls it down harder, muffling the noise until you stop. 

Everything goes silent and still, but you can’t even bring yourself to worry that you woke her. Not when all you can hear is your thudding heart and his ragged breath, coarse with what you assume is rage or lust or both. Not with his lightning rod cock vibrating hot up your middle. 

It doesn’t matter that she could walk in to find her common-law husband fucking your ass, or that this discovery would burn all your lives to the ground. All you care about is more. More stimulation, more attention, more Joel—more more more—

You try to move your hips in an attempt to create friction, but his vice grip renders you immobile. So you stay in place and try not to make noise as the flames lick at your insides. You squirm and ache and claw at his arms while he muffles your whimpers. 

Then your mom snores in the other room. 

He pulls his hand from your mouth and you gasp for air. 

Thinking you can get ahead of the inevitable scolding, you plead, “I’m sorry—” 

He drags his cock out of your body, then plunges it back inside, all the while hissing, “If you’re gonna be my little fuck toy—” 

“Holy fuck—”

“—You have to be fucking quiet. Do you understand?” 

Nodding, you gasp, “I understand, I’ll do better, I promise—please just fuck me, please please—”

You strangle a moan in your throat when he slips a hand between your legs and draws tedious circles on your clit. 

“Try ‘n’ breathe through it,” he coaches, “I’ll go slow for you this time, ok? Just remember, shut the fuck up and take deep breaths.” 

You suck in air until your chest is full, then release it, restricting its flow through a narrow space between your lips. You do it again. Tension begins to melt from your bones. It has a clarifying effect, allowing you to relish in the heat of his touch. You take another deep breath, only hitting a snag when Joel starts to rock his hips. 

It feels fucking unreal. Rough and raw, the steady drag of his cock fills you with static electricity over and over. 

“Oh fuck—”

“Shhh…”

Your inhale stutters, but you regain control on the exhale. Everything disappears except him. His heated skin sticking to yours. How fucking full he makes you feel with each thrust. The thick swell of pleasure that accumulates every time he flicks his wrist. You surrender to all of it, to Joel, entrusting him with everything except your breath. 

“That’s it, baby, let go.” 

“It feels ssso gooood,” you whisper, head rolling back onto his shoulder, “Nothing’s ever felt this good, holy shit—”

His lips tickle your ear as he purrs, “Such a good little fuck toy, aren’t you, baby?”

You gasp a little when the velvet of his tongue rolls against your pulse. Nodding, you reach back behind his neck to scrape your fingernails through his curls. He does it again, this time sealing his lips to suck on the sensitive skin. Your heart pounds thick and hot through your body. The edges peel back at the corner of your mind. You push back against his thrusts, panting out subdued whimpers as the fire in your belly begins to spread. 

“Do you wanna come?”

“I do, I wanna come—oh my god I wanna come, please make me come, daddy—”

His hand covers your mouth and holds you down so he can fuck you harder, stretching you out wide and filling you deep. He works your clit faster. The bed frame thumps against the wall in a frantic rhythm that matches the wet slap of his thrusts. Tears prick your eyes and heat swells beneath your skin, pressure building more and more until you think you can’t fucking take it anymore—

His palm smothers your moans as you fall apart, breaking into a million pieces and coming back together again with a choked sob. Joel buries his face in the crook of your neck and groans as his hips snap forward, then stutter to a stop. 

The two of you go slack propping each other up, too loose-limbed and lethargic to peel yourselves away at first. He makes the first move to separate, though, uncovering your mouth to brush the damp hair from your forehead, “You ok?” 

“Yeah,” you tell him instinctively, then second-guess yourself and look up to meet his eyes, “I mean, I don’t know. I think so.” 

He studies you, nodding. 

Hesitation buzzes in your chest when you contemplate whether or not to return his question. It seems unlikely he’d cooperate even if you wanted to know the answer.  So instead, you give him his out. 

“Is this goodnight, then?” 

“Suppose it is.” 

A flicker of something passes between your bodies as you stare at each other. It feels so hot to the touch that you chicken out, glancing away as you whisper, “Will you do something for me before you go?” 

“Hmm?” 

“Tuck me in?” 

The noise that comes out of him is half-grunt, half-chuckle. Joel for, ‘You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.’ But he obliges, pulling his soft cock from your body at a mercifully slow speed before allowing you to make yourself comfortable. He sorts out your blanket and drapes it over your body, then starts fishing his clothes off the floor. 

Tugging his shirt over his head, he asks, “Need anything else, princess?” 

You’re sure it’s a dig, but choose to ignore it as you snuggle into the covers and hint, “Don’t make me wait so long next time.” 

He sits down at the edge of your mattress and threads his legs through the boxers, “I’ll make you wait as long as you need to. What else?”

“Mmm. Goodnight kiss?”

“Goodnight kiss,” he scoffs to himself, then looks back over his shoulder at you, “Fine, then I’m goin’ to bed.” 

He turns to face you more directly, folding a knee onto the bed as he leans in and tilts your head to the side, pressing a gentle kiss into your cheek. Even though you wish he had kissed your lips, you close your eyes and savor the affection while you can. 

After murmuring goodnight, Joel leaves. He crawls back into bed with your mother while you memorize the sound of his retreating footsteps.

[cranberryjuice-posts]

- this butch this butch -

Pairings - Butch Abby x housewife! Milf! reader

IMPORTANT - takes Place in the 40’s / Abby is referred to as Abby and is written with He/Him pronouns UNTIL reader finds out she’s a she

If ur currious what the Lingerie looked like

Tw - SHITTY SMUT‼️‼️ oral sex, fingering, erm that’s abt it guys it takes place in the 40’s idk 🧍��♀️🧍‍♀️

An - the smut is like kinda at the end and short bc idk

Rushing around the house you struggled to prepare dinner. Tonight was important, your father had decided to come by for dinner bringing along his understudy Andy Anderson, your husband was currently out in the living room entertaining your father and your baby girl June was currently playing on the kitchen floor with her blocks.

“Ok ok.. steak for main course and I’ll do lobster bisque for the appetizer” you mumbled while grabbing the ingredients you needed.

“Mama” your daughter asked from where she sat, walking over to your todler you crouched down to her smiling. “Yes baby?”

“Square” she held up a block. Letting out a content sigh you took the wooden toy from your daughter, setting it aside you kissed her forehead. “Yes baby that’s a square, now mommy has to take care of dinner ok so be a good girl and play with your toys” Getting back up you returned to your meal prep.

After an hour the door opened, stepping in John. As he entered the kitchen your dusted the flour off of your hands while he found his way over to you, bending down he placed a soft kiss on your lips before heading towards the liquor cabinet. “John.. common I’m making dinner and June is up, can’t you wait until later”

He didn’t respond. “John p—“

“I heard you the first time” he snapped. Your breath caught in your throat, being married to your husband for the past 6 years you’ve learned quickly about his temper. And his hand.

Nodding slowly you started baking again. Checking on your soup June started crying as she hit her hand on a chair. “Your daughter is crying” John spoke as he prepared two glasses. “Yes.. uh could you please get her I’m sorry I’m just busy with dinner”

John however ignored you, walking out while heading back towards the living room. “God..” you sighed with your daughter practically screaming, before you could walk over to her the door opened once again making you pause in your step, being faced to face with a long forgotten crush of yours.. Andy . “Oh my god Andy I— please you don’t-“ you stumbled against your words while you tried to clean yourself up some. Andy chuckled shaking his head while picking up June. “It’s ok, I don’t mind helping out”

“Thank you” giving him a grateful smile. Sitting down at the counter Andy started to watch as your Finshed your meal. Normally you preferred being in the kitchen alone, but Andy was different. Being around him made you happy, it also didn’t help that he was insanely attractive. His strong arms and short well kept Blonde hair, and for some reason being around him gave you this flustered feeling. It was a wonder how he hadn’t been swooped up by some lucky woman .“so how’s your marriage going” Andy asked drawing your attention.

“Hm? Me oh it’s going.. nothing to bad though” you chuckled trying to make light of the situation. “Oh by the way Andy could you please take June out and set her in her high chair? You’d be doing me a major favor” you pleadingly asked, he of coursed nodded leaving to do as you asked.

——

All you asked for was a normal dinner. Sitting across the table from you was Andy. You knew he liked you, you may of been younger than him by a couple years but you could tell how he tried to peek at your cleavage through your dress or how he appreciated your victory curls. Though you didn’t mind the attention as it was more than you received from your husband.

Cleaning up the now emptied plates, you smiled as your dad complimented your cooking skills. “Aw dad it’s nothing to write home about”

“Ha! As if im Gonna Need you to start cookin for me every night” he laughed pulling a cigar out his pocket. Going outside you expected your husband to follow him the same as Andy only this time he followed you to the kitchen. “Well I think tonight went gr—“ the next thing you knew your jaw hit the sink then you laid on the floor.

“First thing Sunday you will go to the priest and confess about how you practically eye fucked another man infront of me.” John simply spoke while adjusting his shirt sleeve. “What?” You quietly asked, your tears staining the floor bellow you.

He scoffed. “Don’t act suprised you knew what you were doing. I saw how you act with Andy. Clean yourself up and get this nasty kitchen cleaned as well” he harshly spoke before leaving.

———

“Annnd here’s mommy” Andy smiled as he brought June into the kitchen, your daughter laughing excitedly. Almost immediately Andy noticed your closed off stance. Setting your daughter down He mumbled “Go find your grandpa ok” making sure the young girl was gone he made his way towards you

“What’s wrong” he asked standing behind you. You both had known each-other for a few years at this point, thus a friendship had grown over time. “Nothing” you mumbled.

He knew. You knew he knew. It was obivous. A small stain of blood on the floor, the first aid kit open and your formerly perfect curls now distressed.

Letting out a deep sigh he moved to be Standing beside you at the sink, now rinsing off the dishes he stayed quiet. “I’ve got it Andy”

He shrugged his shoulders “I know.”

“Andy this is a woman’s job please” You tried to push him back only he didn’t move. Giving up you stepped back watching while Andy finished off the plates putting them now in the drying rack.

Turning around He dried his hands before gently grabbing your face, rubbing a thumb over your bruising cheek and jaw. His critical gaze felt as though he knew how you felt. Your pain. Your cheeks flushed somewhat from his touch. Without realizing it you leaned into Andy kissing him.

A moment later you pulled back realizing he hadn’t kiss you back. “I’m sorry” you covered the bottom half of your face while holding your head low. “No no.. it’s not you trust me” his tone shocked as he quickly tried to assure you— you were in the right by squeezing your arms. “Your absolutely perfect in every way it’s just that.. there’s some stuff about me that you wouldn’t approve of, that would make you reject me”

Looking up confused you tilted your head. “What is it..” keeping eye contact with him. You knew he wouldn’t tell you without you putting up a fight. “I swear on everything Andy that I won’t tell.. if I do then you can tell John how I kissed you…. So please what is it” debating for a moment he finally sighed giving into you. Taking his hands away from you but keeping your bodies close he untucked his shirt pulling it open.

That’s when you realized it. Andy wasn’t a man.. rather he was a woman. “Your..”

“Yeah..” she sighed, Closing her shirt. “My Name is Abigail— Abby for short, not Andy. Legally a few years ago I changed my name to Andy because I couldn’t stand the thought of being a mans wife. So I changed. I changed everything about me and I ended up landing a pretty good spot at your fathers company” she slightly chuckled.

You kept your hands towards your chest. Out of everything Andy actually being named Abigail and being a woman was not what you expected. Pulling your eyes away from Abby you finally reached out, softly touching her chest which was covered by a thin tanktop. You felt the woman’s breath falter.

Standing on your tippy toes once again you placed your lips onto Abby’s. It was a quick peck. “Your not disgusted” she asked quietly with her hands on the counter behind you. “No.. if anything you being a woman makes you even more attractive”

That was all it took before Abby quickly jerking you into her kissing you hungerily. Bringing your hands to the girls face and wrapping an arm around her neck you deepend the kiss with Abby’s hands finding that special spot in your back as if to say ‘she’s got you’.

You’ve heard of lesbians before. It was a new term but still far away from being a socially acceptable term. From an early age you knew you liked women. It was hard not to but you knew that it was either conform to society and marry a man, have a kid and a family or be an outcast and alone forever. However in this moment you were prepared to throw everything out of the window if it meant to be with her

Pulling back you panted keeping Abby close. “John’s gonna leave.. he says it’s because the office needs him but I know he’s going to fuck his secretary. Midnight come by at 12, I know he won’t be back til morning and June will be long asleep” stepping back from the woman you tried to fix your curls in the mirror on the liquor cabinet. “The back door will be unlocked for you”

“What are You saying” she chuckled fixing her shirt some, Abby’s cheeks were completely red. “You know what I’m saying..” looking back over at her, there was this unspoken agreement between you both.

“Ok. I’ll be back at 12:00am sharp” she gave a small smile, kissing you softly once again.

———

Just as You Said John had left soon after your father. Spending the next hour you put June to bed, now leaving you with three hours to get ready.

Once midnight came around Abby walked in through the back door of your house finding it unlocked like you promised. Making her way upstairs she stopped at your door. Hesitant like this was all some fucked up dream. After a small mental pep talk she softly knocked on the door before stepping in.

Stepping inside the woman paused. You stood by your bed wearing a black lingerie set. The simple black bra and silk shorts with fishnets underneath. A few candles were lit and your hair redone. Shyly standing fiddling with your hands.

“My god.” Abby spoke breathless as she closed the door. Walking to you she held your hips admiring your body. “I.. I tried, um.. I had originally got this for John and I’s sixth anniversary but I figured this was a much better occasion”

Abby leaned forward trailing soft kisses from your jaw to your lips. Her hands dragged up loving your skin while you kissed. Bitting your bottom lip you let out a soft moan allowing Abby to slip her tongue in.

The kiss repeating multiple times until she pushed you down onto the bed. Her knee finding itself between your legs. “Off” she whispered. “What?” You asked breathless. Abby hooked her finger under the bra strap pulling it down. Once realizing you quickly took the top off setting it aside.

The blonde kissed down your neck, finding her way to your breast. Licking over the sensitive nipple she smiled as you tried to hold back a moan. Sucking on your breast she showed the same love towards the other with her hand.

She rhymathically rubbed her knee against your aching core. Covering your mouth you tried your best to hide a loud cry. Feeling yourself grow wetter you couldn’t help but start to grind your hips against the woman’s leg.

“Abby..” you softly cried grabbing at her short mannish hair. “I know sweet girl I know” she whispered still kissing your chest. Switching her mouth to the second revelishing in the fact you never felt like this with your husband.

Letting go of your nipple with a pop like sound she stood up from where she previously was. Taking off her suspenders Abby made quick work of her button down and pants leaving her in her briefs and wife beater pleaser. Taking a moment to admire Abby’s muscular physique, you looked away embarrassed

Getting down into her knees she pulled you to the edge of the bed. Bringing your underwear and fishnet socks down Abby had to restrain herself from loosing control. After your daughter birth you never managed to loose all the pregnancy weight, your lower half of stomach having a noticeable pudge with dark stretch marks.

Feeling Abby’s eyes on you, you tried to hide your stomach with your hands however she forced them away. “Abby please it’s disgusting”

“Oh sweet sweet girl.. it’s the furthest thing from disgusting, baby I’m having to restrain myself even now from fucking your senseless. You are the most attractive woman I’ve ever laid eyes on”

Her words making you turn red. Embarrassed still you stopped resisting Abby’s gaze and let yourself relax. Watching as the woman positioned herself between you, she looked up asking for your permission. You nodded at first which she didn’t appreciate “common sweet girl I need you to give me a yes or I’m not doing anything”

“Yes damnit Abby” you whined. She grinned at your neediness, not wanting to make you wait any longer she leaned in kissing your clit.

A whole new feeling of pleasure courses through your body as you felt Abby start to suck on your sensitive bud. Lapping her tongue through your folds and even teasing your throbbing hole.

Trying to keep quiet you gave soft breathy moans while having a firm grip on her hair. Abby tightly held your thighs as she continued to sloppily lick at you, your juices running down her chin.

Abby looked up at you slapping your thigh to get your attention you looked down. Her free hand now running lines with her thumb over your sopping cunt. “You keep your eyes on me, if you don’t then I’ll stop” agreeing faster than you should of you kept your gaze down at the blonde

Abby knew she wasn’t one to deny you, almost immediately going back to what she had previously been doing.

After taking a few moments she slipped a finger into you. Moaning loud you covered your mouth worried your daughter might wake up. There was a momentarily pause where you both kept an ear out incase June had indeed woken up. You could feel Abby laughing against your leg making you softly hit you with your thigh.

She rolled her eyes before moving back down between your legs. Her thick finger moving in and out as she continued to suck on your clit you felt a long forgotten feeling building up. Abby knew you were close, by how your breath started to increase and how you started to grind yourself against her face wanting— needing more.

Before you realized it yourself you had came. Falling back as you had no strength to keep yourself up, Abby continued to lick at you until you were completely cleaned.

Coming back up she towered over you pinning you down to the bed capturing you in one final kiss.

———

Laying in your bed together both nude you laughed softly as abby held you close finding one of the dumb jokes she had told you amusing. Hiding your face in her neck you realized that this was where you always wanted to be. To be in her arms, to be in her bed, hearing her dumb jokes, To be her wife.

“Abby” you mumbled against her skin.

“Yeah” she Hummed while playing with one of your curls. “John’s gettin enlisted into the army for the war. He told me a week ago. He leaves in a few days.. while he’s gone if he comes back alive I’ll divorce him and if he dies it’ll make this next part easier.” You spoke with a gentle tone.

Pulling back from Abby you shifted around until you sat up looking down at her. “I’ve known you since I was 18.. the past 8 years I couldn’t of asked for a better friend and now I know what I want.. Abigail Anderson. I want you to be mine.. in public you will be my husband but behind closed doors, in the comfort of our home and in our bedroom away from prying eyes you will be my wife”

Abby stayed quiet for a moment. Trying to search her eyes for an answer you noticed as the strong woman started to cry. Worried you said something wrong you tried to speak but were quickly cut off by her sitting up to kiss you. “I would like nothing more then that.. my wife” she pulled you into her hugging you close.

[mariclerc]

An unexpected role (pt. 2) | cl16

Summary: you revealed your little secret to your date, you didn't expect he would take it so well.

Warning: none, a lot of fluff and a bunch of dad!Charles.

a/n: part two of “an unexpected role” this is a little bit long, I hope you like it! Part 1 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

“Mama, Chas... 'rrived!” said an excited Lily jumping up and down.

It had been a couple of months since you and Charles started dating, and he was like a breath of fresh air to your life, Lily adored him, he was her companion for adventures and bedtime stories. It was what your life was missing, although you both weren't officially a couple yet, you felt like one because you spent more time together in your apartment than anything else.

“Hi there my little flower! Are you ready for our afternoon together?” He said as he bent down to hug her, Lily nodded. “Hello you gorgeous!”

“Hi Charlie boo-boo!” you said as you approached him with a smile to give him a hug and a little kiss on the lips, act that made him blush a little. “Are you sure you don't mind going out alone with Lily? I could accompany you both.” you asked him and he denied.

“No my darling, stay here, consider it your day off... Besides, I'm sure Lily and I will have a great time, right princess?” he said and asked Lily, to which she nodded excitedly.

“Alright honey. Have a great time guys!” you said while smiling at them. “Bye Lily, have fun with Charlie!” you said as you waved your hand at your little girl.

Lily ran over to you to hug you and give you kisses on the face. “Bye mama! Love....you!” she said very effusively.

Charles smiled at you again as he waved his hand and took Lily's hand to leave the apartment without first closing the door. It had been a long time since you had an afternoon to yourself or a moment of relaxation, but you didn't complain, being a mother is a laborious task and you liked being the best version of yourself for Lily.

So you took advantage of having a moment of relaxation, you decided to go to the beauty salon, since you had a long time without going and get your haircut and nails done.

***

Meanwhile, Charles and Lily had arrived at the children's playroom that was in the shopping center, it was a quite colorful place with trampolines, tables to play and draw, and other fun things for kids to enjoy. Lily held Charles's finger tightly, as if she didn't want to be separated from him.

“What's happening my little peach? Don't you want to go play there?” he asked Lily with a soft voice, she denied. “It’s okay princess, we can do anything else you want!”

With that being said, he picked up Lily in his arms and started walking through the shopping center.

“Princess!” Lily said happily, Charles turned his head and saw a very flashy and cute princess store.

“Do you want to go in there princess?” He asked her with a little smile and she stretched her little hands towards the store. “I'll take that as a yes then. C'mon darling! Let's make some memories.”

Upon entering the store there were many girls dressed as little Disney princesses, some were playing and some of them left the store with some princess memorabilia, Lily started to move in Charles's arms so he placed her on the floor and took her little hand. One of the workers approached them.

“Oh, hello there! How can I help you?” said the worker who was wearing a tiara on her head, Lily began to point to the tiara on the girl's head.

“'tumes! Chas, princesses!” Lily said very happy smiling, Charles caressed her little head.

“Hello! Ehm... She wants to try one of the princess costumes, isn't that right princess?” He said and at the same time asked Lily, who just smiled, implying that she agreed with him.

“Then perfect! Follow me!” The worker said and began to guide them through the store, there were many things about princesses, costumes, toys, t-shirts with prints of the different princesses, it seemed like Lily's eyes were going to pop out, she giggled when she saw everything that was there.

They toured the princess store with the worker, who showed them absolutely everything until they reached a part where there were costumes for all the princesses. Lily was very happy and excited about this cute adventure with Charlie.

“We get to the part where the magic happens!” The girl said and Lily clapped her hands while giggling. “Well, little one, what would you like to dress up as?”

“'Ella! 'Ella!” Lily said as she jumped up and pointed at Cinderella's costume.

Saying that, the girl looked for a Cinderella costume for Lily, with her tiara and accessories, she took her to a fitting room where she placed the costume on her.

“Lilytunes, are you ready? I want to see you cutie.” Charles said as he looked towards the dressing room where Lily had entered.

Following that, Lily came out in a cute little Cinderella costume, she looked like an adorable little princess, Charles smiled when he saw her, she was the exact replica of her mama, so pretty and absolutely cute.

“I am a princess Chas! Princess!” Lily said, jumping around and smiling at Charles.

“But of course you are, my girl. A very pretty little princess!” He said as he took her little hand and made her spin around. “Let me take a picture of you to show mama later, okay?”

After that they continued seeing various things in the store, like stuffed animals of the princesses and their pets, and there were even little outfits for stuffed animals of which Lily wanted to take one for Mimi, the name of the stuffed bunny that Charles had given her when they met.

“Did you enjoy your afternoon little butterfly? Did you like going out with me today?” He asked as he gave her some of his strawberry milkshake.

She nodded while smiling at him. “Yes! Thank you dada!” She said giving him a hug, he hugged her back but he practically froze.

She had called him dad... She had called him that, he had imagined the distant possibility that she could call him that, but he never thought that she would say it so naturally, she was a very intelligent little girl for only being two years old, almost three in fact. He felt happy when he heard those little magic words.

***

“We're here!” He said as he entered the apartment holding hands with Lily and holding the bags with the little things he bought for her, as well as a bouquet of flowers and a pretty necklace he bought for you. “Oh god, love, stop looking so beautiful, you'll give me a heart attack with how pretty you look every time!” He said when he saw you, you looked pretty with your haircut and your new nails.

You just smiled and approached them. “But it is my favorite duo! How are you honey?” You asked as you gave him a small kiss on the lips. “And how is my little princess? Did you have fun with Charlie?” You asked Lily as you picked her up to fill her with kisses everywhere.

She nodded. “Yes mama! Dada took me to the world of princesses and... I have a 'ella costume!” she said while giggling.

Your eyes watered a little, you smiled when you heard her, you looked at Charles and he smiled while blushing a little, you know how much he loves and adores Lily, both of you actually.

“That's awesome sweetie!” You said as you gave her a kiss on the forehead. “I'm glad you had fun with Charlie!”

***

As bedtime approached, you went to tell Lily her bedtime story, just like you do every day, you and Charles sat near her bed, you smiled when you saw her hugging Mimi, who was now wearing a little Cinderella dress, just like Lily's.

��Alright little lady, it's time to sleep and dream!” You said with a smile as you placed kisses on her face and she giggled, it was your routine before bed.

“Good night my sweetheart! I loved hanging out with you today!” He said while also giving her little kisses on her face.

“Good night mama, good night dada! Luv youu!” She said goodbye to you while lengthening the last u.

As you walk back to the master bedroom, Charles can't help but feel happy and excited why Lily called him "dad", in her own way, but she did. He wanted to cry with happiness, maybe it wasn't there from the beginning, but it had arrived at the right time in your lives.

“So... Dada? You got promoted today!” You smiled.

“I think so... I can't ask for more, I didn't think Lily would call me that, it doesn't bother me at all that she does it, I feel like I've won a championship, as silly as it sounds.” He said as his eyes watered and he smiled.

“Hey, well, to me you're actually her dad. It's just... You take her for a walk, you buy her things, the night she got sick you were awake with her trying to calm her down, believe me, not everyone does that Charles.” You said and then kissed him on the lips, it was a slow kiss in which you overflowed all your emotions towards him. “You are even more of a dad than some out there, and you don't know how happy I am that you are the one made for us.”

At the end of the day, what started out as something so unexpected and kind of casual, became the most significant thing in your lives, which were now filled with a lot of color, laughter and a lot, a lot of love between the three of you, that even if there are no blood ties, love is enough to have a sincere and unique connection.

[sports-on-sundays]

people change / CL16 / Part 1

Summary: dad!Charles x French!ex!reader - You wish you could just forget about the relationship. It's hard when you had a son together.

Warnings: 'Y/s/n' means 'your son's name', you are free to imagine the son as whatever age he acts because I leave that unspecified, mention of breaking up/divorce, broken family, censored cussing, getting drunk, toxic relationship, me sucking at writing kids (how do they even act???)

Requested?: No.

Author's Note: This was heavily inspired by the song People Change by for KING & COUNTRY at the end there especially. I listened to it while writing. So you're free to look that up and have a listen. Link to part 2 / Link to part 3

"Hey, sweetie," you say as you buckle your son into the car. "How was your day at school?"

"Fun... But Mama, I didn't know what to do."

"Hm? When didn't you know what to, love?" you ask, concerned.

"Well, we did papers and pictures about our mommies and daddies and our houses and stuff and I didn't know, Mama..."

You stop after he says this, pulling your hands away as they tremble. Your heart, at those words from your son, feels like it's being wrenched out of your chest, and you cough into your arm. "O- Oh, sweetheart..." you clear your throat. "Well, why don't you first draw pictures and write about me and my house, and then you write and draw about your daddy and his house..."

Your son does a pouting face at this. "Mama..." he complains. "Why can't you and Daddy be like other kids' mommies and daddies?"

"Love, I don't think this is the time to be talking about this. Let's just get driving home now." You hate to shut him down, but he's asking too many questions that you just can't answer.

He's asking too many questions that are making you feel too confused and guilty.

"Hey, buddy. What's up?" you smile as you get out of the car to help your son pack his bags into the trunk, and then get in the backseat. You're doing this right outside Charles' house. You're picking him up from his weekend with his dad.

The little boy shrugs as you buckle him in. "I want my grey bag, Mama! Daddy gave me some food for the ride."

"What do you say?"

"Please!" he pouts.

You nod, and give him his bag. Charles is always sure to equip Y/s/n with a bagful of healthy snacks for the hour and forty-five minute drive back home.

The whole ride, Y/s/n is unusually quiet. Even when you try talking to him, he gives short answers and makes no effort to continue the conversation. Which is very unusual from the usually frisky and excitable little boy.

When you get home and go inside, he immediately goes to his room, still not saying anything.

You sigh, feeling worried.

Did...

Did Charles do something?

Even though the two of you separated for big reasons, you've never felt too worried about Y/s/n going to see him every other weekend, except for maybe at the beginning. Over the years, you're pretty sure that Charles has gotten more responsible than how he once was.

"Dinnertime, love!"

Silence.

"Love?"

"I'm not hungry!"

You sigh, the worry sinking deeper. "You should have saved some of your dad's snack for later, then! I made dinner for you!"

Silence. Again.

You walk down the hall and knock on his bedroom door, before gently pushing it open. The little boy is sitting on his red bed. In his hand is his Ferrari hat. He's blankly staring at it.

Oh God no. What did Charles do? What did Charles say? Doesn't he understand the unspoken boundaries about this?

"Y/s/n?" you say gently, sitting down next to him. "What's wrong, sweetie? You know you can tell me. I'm listening."

The boy looks older than he is right now. You feel a sharp pang in your chest as he murmurs, "Why do you and daddy live in different countries? How come I have two houses, two bedrooms... two everything? How come, Mama?"

It takes all you have to not tear up. You wrap your arms tightly around him at this. He leans against you, hugging you back.

"Andre and Alex have a mommy and daddy who live in the same house. How come you and Daddy don't?"

"Y/s/n, it's really complicated, love. But, can I ask... What has got you thinking of all of this, love? What has got this on your mind?" You speak in a very gentle tone, rubbing his back. Obviously, this is upsetting him. Really, though, what kid wouldn't be upset?

Your son looks at you in hesitation. "I'm not allowed to say..."

You feel another pang of worry. "Love, it's okay. You can tell your mama anything."

"But Daddy told me not to."

You swallow nervously. "You're not doing anything wrong by telling me. I'm giving you permission. I can't have you feeling this upset, love. You can tell me anything that's bothering you, even if your father told you not to." Y/s/n is too much of a good kid. You don't know where he gets it from.

You wipe your son's watering eyes, trying to reassure him. He sniffs, before saying, "You won't tell Daddy?"

"Tell Daddy what?"

"What I'm gonna tell you."

You bite your lip. "Of course not, love. I won't tell your daddy."

He nods, before saying, as he starts to really cry, "Daddy cried, Mommy... I wasn't allowed to know but I couldn't sleep because Daddy forgot to read me my story. So I was going in to tell him to snuggle me... because I couldn't sleep. But Daddy was crying..." Y/s/n sniffs, and continues blubbering, "Daddy was talking to someone on the phone and he was really sad... I don't know why Daddy was crying, Mama. He said he was sad because he missed you and me to the person on the phone. Daddy was so sad so I don't know why we don't make Daddy happy and why can't my mommy and daddy be like my friends' mommies and daddies?" He lets out a sob, snuggling into you. You're speechless as your son continues, "I went and gave Daddy a hug because he was sad. He said he missed you. He asked me why I was up and said I was in trouble and said I wasn't allowed to tell you he was sad and crying. He said even daddies cry sometimes," he sniffs and lets out another sob. You hold him tight, eyes wide. "I asked him how come he was sad and he said he didn't know and he loved me and then we went to bed. I don't get it, Mama."

You try not to tremble.

Fighting off tears, because the last thing Y/s/n needs is to see his mom cry on top of it all. Not sad tears, though. Angry tears.

Why can't Charles just let go? He's so possessive and obsessive. F*ck him and his Monaco flat and his boat and his Ferrari and everything f*cking else. Why would he let his son see him so vulnerable. Doesn't he care? F*ck him.

Why can't he just let go?

You walk down the hall of the mall, your son's little hand in yours, heading to the food court because eventually, Y/s/n's complaining about how 'I'm hungryyyyy!' got too annoying, and you gave in.

Suddenly, though, his little hand slips out of yours. You look down at him in confusion, starting to say his name. He starts running away. You're about to go after him, but suddenly freeze when the little boy shouts, "Look, Mama, look! It's Daddy! Daddy! Hi, Daddy! Hiiiii!"

And sure enough, Charles Leclerc stops as soon as he sees his son, a grin spreading across his face. He adjusted his cap to be lower on his forehead, clearly trying to go incognito here. But he bends down, and the moment little Y/s/n reaches Charles, his father scoops him up into his arms, standing up with an, "Auwgh," noise, as if it were really hard for the strong man to pick up his light son. Charles holds him tight, in an embrace, before saying, "What's up, buddy? Where's your mama?" Y/s/n points, and Charles looks up.

Your eyes meet. And everything stops. The voices, the music, the whir of the escalators, the lights, heating, and air conditioning all making their own sounds, the people walking past- everyone else living their own lives disappear.

And it's just you and Charles, eyes locked, staring at each other.

Heartbeats or seconds or minutes, you don't know. You feel a certain electricity that hurts. Shocks you. Maybe Charles likes how it feels though. Maybe he loves that, with his adrenaline seeking lifestyle. Because, after all, he doesn't look away.

But in the same way, you don't either.

Finally, it's your son that breaks the trance you seemed to go into with your ex-husband, by saying suddenly words that stress you out and tear you apart at the same time: "See, Daddy?" He pats his father's cheek, which has a little bit of facial hair. "You don't have to cry anymore... You don't..." Suddenly, he looks a little scared, realizing he wasn't supposed to say that, but finishes softly with, "You don't have to miss Mama anymore, Daddy, because she's right here..."

There's almost a pleading in your son's eyes. A longing. You feel yourself start to tear up, but you strive to hold them back. Y/s/n. He loves us. He loves his parents so much. He just wishes they would love each other.

Charles shakes his head in surprise, stroking Y/s/n's hair, "Buddy, it's okay. Don't worry. I'm okay. I don't-" he falters for just a moment before finishing quickly, glancing to you nervously, "I don't miss Mama anymore. Don't worry."

"But I miss Mama." At this, both of you look at your son in confusion.

"But Y/s/n, Mama is right here," Charles says carefully, taking more steps closer to you. "See? Do you want to go with M-"

"No!" your son suddenly snaps, and says as if it is the most obviously thing on earth, "When I'm with Daddy, I miss Mama. When I'm with Mama, I miss Daddy. I don't wanna miss you guys!"

All the sudden, it's too much for you. All of it. Before Charles can do anything else you say quickly, your voice obviously cracking and your breath shaky, "Charles, can you take him home today? I'm sorry-"

"Of course, Y/n. I-"

You turns, jogging away. You need to get out of there.

But as you run out, you hear Charles call after you, "Y/n! Y/n, wait! Y/n, we're going to talk on the phone tonight, okay? There's things we still need to go over!"

At around 3:00 A.M., Charles calls. While you're worried to answer, you're also relieved. The fact that you're still awake at 3:00 A.M. shows how much anxiety you've been feeling about getting this call from Charles.

When you pick up, you murmur softly, "Hey, Charles."

"Sorry I'm calling at this hour. God. I just had to make sure Y/s/n was sound asleep. I'm, uhm," he pauses to clear his throat awkwardly, and continues in a softer, more delicate voice, "I'm sure Y/s/n told you about the phone call the other weekend..."

"Y- Yeah, he did. What did you do? Did you scare him into not telling me? He was crying," you say, your voice becoming harder and harder as you speak.

"What?! No! I just asked him please not to tell you. That was it. Maybe he was crying because..." Charles trails off.

"Because why?" you snap, although the sinking feeling within tells you exactly why.

"Y/n..." he sighs loudly. "Because our son loves us and doesn't get why... w- we... don't- don't, uhm.... love each other." The facts that he falters so much on that last phrase, that it's so hard for him to get out, sends a pit in your stomach. Of dread, and anger.

And without another hesitation, you just say it. "Charles... you still love me, don't you?"

There's silence over the phone. Sickly, disgusting, terrible silence. The anger rises up in you higher and higher, like a pressure, trying to push you on your tipping point. So finally you snap, probably way too loud, "Charles, what the hell! F*ck you. I hate you, you f*cking asshole. You're too much of a f*cking coward to even say it! Just like you've always been!" Your voice gets louder and louder. "Just like you've always been! Too much of a f*cking coward to admit anything! You tricked me! You had me thinking everything was peaches and cream, but it wasn't! You were being a terrible person and played innocent, and whenever I asked you anything, you did the same exact thing you still do. You just keep silent. Charles, I know you'll never grow, I hate that my son has to see your sorry ass every other weekend, and if I knew it wouldn't break his sweet little heart, I would wish your pathetic silent self would just fall off the face of the earth so I didn't have to ever have to listen to your stupid, pathetic silence ever again."

"Y/n, I-" You hang up. Charles doesn't try to call back.

Years ago.

Charles came in and stumbled into your arms, as if you were the one that needed to take care of him. You were tired, having stayed up with your fussy baby boy nearly all night, with no help, and you wanted to cry. You didn't want Charles to stumble in, drunk, right into your arms, as if he was the one who needed help. No. He was the one causing the problem. He had reeked of alcohol. He didn't get drunk this often, and you knew exactly why he was doing it now, although he'd been too scared while sober to admit it to you. It was the argument you'd had, and his way of coping was going out, getting drunk, and coming home to his wife and baby at three in the morning, wasted. Now, while drunk out of his mind, he was able to murmur, his words slurred tremendously, "Y/n... I'm sorry, love... You should've come with me tonight. I had fun... We could... make up for that argument..." He had a sickly seductive tone in his voice.

You felt rage fill up in you. Did you forget about your son? The son that you and I created together? Did you forget about that? Instead of letting any of that rage escape you, you just brought him to the bedroom and helped him into bed. You left him, walked to the living room, sat down on the couch, and held your aching, tired head, pulling at your hair, as tears escaped your closed eyelids.

Your world was spinning. Everything was wrong.

The argument. You had started it. And yelled at him. About how he was a coward and never told the truth. Even though you loved him. You thought. You must've. You... You had a son together. You yelled at him for telling you he was working when he wasn't. You yelled at him that he wasn't helping you at all and that you were going out of your mind. You said you felt like a single mom because he was never around, never helped, and never tried to. He lied and told you that an event he had mentioned that you were excited for was cancelled because he had found out more things about the event that he didn't want to deal with himself. He was becoming more and more selfish, showing who he really was more and more every single day. It just made you think- what is he doing when he gets drunk? What else is he being dishonest about?

Eventually you stopped loving him. You loved your son much more, so you broke it off. The final tipping point was when you suspected he had cheated, although nothing had ever proved that. But that was when you finally broke it off.

He was heartbroken. He held onto you. No, Y/n, please don't do this. I'll try better. I'll try better. You had told him that he had been saying he'd try better for the past year.

He had cried. Maybe even sobbed. You only saw him sob twice. Once was one time when he was drunk out of his mind, and the other one was that night when you told him you were breaking it off. I guess Y/s/n has seen him sob a third time, though.

He had said to you that he still loved you. You had said if you loved me, you wouldn't have done this. And that was the end of it.

Or so you thought.

You can't believe you're here. You can't believe he convinced you. You set up for your mother to watch Y/s/n while you drive into Monaco and.

Well, yeah. Go to Charles' God-forsaken house. To meet with him. 'Have a talk' as he put it. 'In real life.' So he can 'see your face and expressions.' And 'understand better.'

Charles opens the door. He's wearing a black t-shirt, grey jeans, and has his usual assortment of different bracelets on his wrists. And a disgustingly expensive watch. As you walk into his (beautiful) flat, you see that it hasn't changed much since you left and moved a couple hours closer to home, back in France. Just a little cleaner. But just like how it was when you lived here, there's still a stray toy on the floor here and there. As if reading your mind, he bends down, picking up a few of them, before putting them in a basket in the corner of the room. He runs his hand through his messy, wavy brown hair, looking a little awkward. "Why don't you sit down?" he asks softly, gesturing to the couch by a nod of his head. "Make yourself... comfortable... Uh... I made some cookies. Consider it a peace offering. And I... I really tried to make them good, too. I'm just going to go grab them." And before you can think or react, he's walking out of the room to grab them.

When he returns with the cookies, he sits down next to you, holding the little plate out to you. You hesitantly take one, nibbling off a little bite, nervously glancing to Charles. "It's fine..." you say. In your taste, too sweet (and slightly gooey) but besides that, alright. "But I just want to get this over with, okay? Charles can we just... have this talk? So I can go?"

Your ex husband stared down, before nodding slowly. "Yeah... Of course." He falters, before murmuring, "I love our son just as much as you do. And it hurts me to see him-"

"My God, Charles, shut up. I know what this is about. It's about you being selfish," the bitterness in your voice surprised even yourself, "You're being selfish because for some twisted reason, you still want to be with me, and you're using my son's pain as an excuse. You're just as you've always been- selfish, lying, and making excuses."

"Y/n, no it's not!" he snaps, his eyes pleading. "I- I- I want the best for our son."

"Charles, do you still love me?"

He stares at you. Hesitates. Falters. He inhales a shaky breath, before looking down at his hands in his lap. "All these years I've never dated another woman. All these years the guilt has crushed me."

"Shut up!" you spit. "It's not guilt, Charles, of hurting me your or son. It's guilt because you wouldn't wanted to be with me longer. It's selfish. You're f*cking selfish!"

He practically begs, "Please, babe, just listen-"

"What did you just call me?"

He stares in surprise at what he just said. He swallows. "I'm sorry- It- It just came out..."

You glare, and shout, "You still love me, you dick! I hate you! You- You cheated on me!"

He cuts you off by grabbing your arm suddenly. There's a desperate look in his eyes. "Y/n... No, I didn't... I swear it on my life.. On my job, on everything I love... I would..." You're shocked to watch as a singular tear gently rolls down one of his cheeks. He's holding back more. The salty, warm tear drops right onto your palm. You wipe it off. Charles eyes plead with you as he murmurs, his voice cracking, "I would never cheat on you..."

You stare, trying to form more words, not knowing what to say.

But Charles continues, "I don't know where you got the idea I cheated on you... I know it was hard and I was being..." Suddenly there is guilt and grief openly painted all across his face. "I was being a terrible person... Giving up the most lovely, sweet wife and baby I could've ever asked for... I was young and stupid, Y/n...Y/n... I'm sorry... I'm sorry... I swear I mean it...

"I would do anything for this to work."

Another tear falls.

"Y/n... just listen... I need you to hear me out..."

He sniffs. He seems so broken. Vulnerable. Honest.

"It's all my fault, Y/n. I know. I know. I'm sorry. And I get if you're afraid... I would be, too... but, Y/n... I wish you could just understand that... that...

"Y/n, people change."

Author's Note- Just wanted to say if you guys liked this and want a part two, I'm totally open to writing that! Let me know if you want a part two, and if you have any ideas, shoot! Like should I end this happy? Or not...? And in what way? If no one gives me ideas, I'll just come up with it, but you guys are extremely welcome to let me know!!! Thank you! <3

[captainmalewriter]

Superstar

Commission Story

“Dude check out my sweet pump! I swear to God I’m getting bigger!” 

Xavier was checking himself out in the mirror while his best friend Carlos sketched something on a legal pad on the nearby living room couch. Carlos stopped drawing for a brief second and looked over at Xavier with lazy eyes.

“Yeah man, you’re getting real massive now,” Carlos lied. Xavier’s bicep looked exactly the same as the last time he checked. “Maybe I’ll ask you to spot me the next time I go for a PR.”

“Alright alright, cut the crap,” Xavier rolled his sleeves back down. “I can do without the teasing, thanks.”

“No I’m serious, X! You’re starting to look like me! C’mon, let’s compare sizes real quick.”

Carlos hopped off the couch and joined Xavier before the full-body mirror. He then took off his shirt in one smooth motion and flexed his muscular torso. 

Having been in various sports throughout his life, Carlos boasted an impressive physique. He had strong, broad shoulders and absolute cannons for arms. Carlos took up most of the mirror space when he posed, which forced Xavier to step to the side. Having seen the same body repeatedly throughout the years, Xavier was no longer impressed by his friend’s athletic build.

“Nah, you’re still pretty small.”

Xavier poked Carlos at his side, where he knew he was most ticklish. Carlos jabbed Xavier in retaliation. Xavier returned the hit in kind. They would then continue exchanging blow for blow, hitting each other’s ticklish spots until one of them eventually called uncle. This was a game they frequently played ever since they first became friends.

Carlos and Xavier had first met in middle school when they sat next to each other in art class. They formed a homework pact soon after first meeting each other. Xavier helped Carlos with his science homework, while Carlos helped Xavier with his drawing assignments. Their mutual agreement led to them becoming best friends. On the outside, they looked like a stereotypical duo that would typically be at odds— Xavier being the scrawny, gay nerd while Carlos was the conventionally handsome, popular athlete, but anyone who knew either of them knew they had a lot of love for each other. Nowadays, even though they attended different colleges, they would still make time to hang out with each other often. Theirs was a friendship that survived the test of time.

“Alright alright, enough!! You win!” Xavier called out. They were both out of breath and red in the face after roughhousing, but that didn’t stop them from sharing a laugh and a bro hug. 

Their loud, combined laughter stopped them from noticing when Carlos’ father, Enrique, arrived home from work. Enrique looked at them with a scowl plastered on his face. Xavier and Carlos both immediately stopped laughing when they noticed him. Carlos felt a cool breeze on his exposed skin, then hurried to put on his shirt, remembering he was shirtless.

“Dad!” Carlos said while slipping his shirt back on. “You’re home early—”

“What are you still doing here? Shouldn’t you be at summer practice already?” 

“Not yet I don’t, practice doesn’t even start for another two hours!”

“What kind of loser talk is that?” Enrique crossed his arms and shook his head in disappointment. “How do you expect to stay ahead of everyone else if you’re not out on the field putting in the extra hours?”

“I’m fine, Dad, I don’t need extra practice hours.”

“Psh, that’s how it always starts. First, you stop going to practice early. Next, you stop going at all. Then, you start getting less and less playing time because you’re not playing as good as you once were. You’re going to lose your scholarship, Carlitos, is that what you want!?”

Xavier noticed Carlos’ eyebrows beginning to furrow and stepped in before he could respond. 

“Hey, let’s just get going. Don’t wanna catch the midday traffic after all.”

Xavier helped himself out while Carlos lagged behind. Carlos gave his father one last cold stare, then began walking out. Enrique stepped towards him as he did so.

“And I want you to stop hanging out around that queer. He’s going to make you weak.”

Carlos stopped once he heard what his father whispered into his ear. He couldn’t believe what he had heard. He wanted to retaliate but couldn’t find the words to do so. All he could do was listen to his father’s dress shoes echoing down the hallway as he left. Carlos cleared his throat and went for his car, where Xavier was already waiting in the passenger seat.

The car ride to Carlos’ college, where summer practice was being held, started off silent and tense. Xavier looked over to his buddy as he drove them down the freeway. He knew Carlos wasn’t the type to show his emotions often, but he knew the dilemma over rugby and his father was eating him alive inside. 

“Hey… Sorry about your Dad. He sucks.”

“Hmph, don’t be. You know he’s always been like that, I’m used to it,” Carlos responded. 

“I know, but that doesn’t mean you have to keep putting up with it. You need to tell him that you wanna pursue art.”

“It’s not that easy—”

“Why not?”

“Dude, c’mon, you know my Dad doesn’t give a fuck about my art. He just wants me to focus on rugby so I can keep my scholarship.”

“Well, can’t you just switch your program of study? He doesn’t have to know!” Xavier teased. Carlos didn’t laugh.

“Can’t. The school won’t allow it. Student athletes can only be in certain programs and art isn’t one of them.”

Xavier wanted to offer a rebuttal but couldn’t think of anything they hadn’t already considered. He stayed quiet and shrunk into the leather cushion of the passenger seat.

“You know, maybe my Dad’s right,” Carlos started. “There are worse things in life than being forced to play rugby. Besides, imagine all the money I’ll earn once I go pro. Maybe sticking with sports is the right call.”

“Dude, what about your art? Art can make you money too! I’ve seen your drawings and paintings, you’ve got talent! You can make it big, even bigger than with rugby!”

“You don’t know that,” Carlos sighed heavily as he stopped at a red light coming off the freeway. “I’m not saying I’ll stop drawing completely, but maybe that shouldn’t be the focus of my life right now. I need to stay in perfect shape if I wanna go pro with rugby.” Carlos turned his head to Xavier and held eye contact with him. His gaze softened. 

“I appreciate you looking out for me, X, but I really don’t think art is in the cards for me. It’s gonna take a miracle to change my Dad’s mind, and I just don’t think it’s gonna happen.” 

Xavier stayed quiet but gave an affirming nod, then looked away. As they pulled into campus, he pointed to the library.

“Drop me off there, I wanna check out some books,” Xavier said. Carlos did as requested.

“You’ve been hanging out at the library a lot lately. You’re not even a student here, what are you doing there?”

“Your school’s got an interesting collection on the history of alchemy, so I’ve been reading it. Nothing special, really.”

Xavier lied. For the past few months, Xavier hadn’t been studying the history of alchemy but rather how to practice alchemy. While he had started his research with a rudimentary understanding of medieval chemistry, Xavier soon discovered that alchemy could be used for way more things besides the old and tired turn-metal-into-gold gimmick. A sly smile formed on Xavier’s face as he finished reading the last alchemy book in the library collection. With a careful hand and enough determination, he could transform anything into anything! Including the human body.

Xavier was ready to put his knowledge into practice that very same night. Against Enrique’s wishes, Carlos let his best friend sleep in their spare room for the night. While they were sound asleep, Xavier’s mind was racing with all the possibilities the world of alchemy had opened up for him. 

Once he finally settled on a plan, he went into action. Xavier crept into Carlos’ room while he was snoring peacefully. He tiptoed slowly, careful not to wake him up, and kneeled beside his bed.

“Alright… Just five minutes then I get out… For the sake of science, nothing more…”

Xavier reached out to Carlos and pulled down his white undershirt. Then, with the tip of his pointer finger, he drew a heart right over his actual heart. He whispered an incantation as he did so. Once he finished tracing the outline of a heart, Xavier lifted his finger and then firmly pressed the center of Carlos’ heart. As soon as he had done so, Carlos’ snoring immediately ceased. It worked. Xavier successfully transformed him into a bodysuit.

While Xavier was overjoyed that his little alchemy experiment had worked, he knew he had no time to celebrate. Xavier had no idea how long the transformation would hold so he hurried to put the Carlos bodysuit on. 

He pried the bodysuit’s mouth wide open then stuck his face inside. Xavier pushed his way down Carlos’ throat. The bodysuit’s internal fluids acted as lubrication for Xavier’s body as he slithered his way inside. He could hear all the slippery, wet noises Carlos’ body was making as it expanded to take in another human body. It was a tight squeeze but with enough force, Xavier was able to force himself into Carlos’ body with one final push. He was in.

Nrrghh…

Xavier heard a moan as he laid inside the bodysuit. He wasn’t sure if it was him or the bodysuit, though that was the least of his worries. Xavier began to stretch his limbs out from inside of Carlos. As his limbs slipped into Carlos’ limbs like sleeves, the once limp bodysuit sprang to life. Slowly but surely, Xavier was able to move and feel through Carlos’ body.

Urghhhh fuckk!!

Xavier let out a loud moan from within Carlos as his senses adjusted to their new body. All at once, he felt the sudden shift in body weight thanks to all the muscle mass Carlos had. Xavier smirked as he ran his hands down his newly obtained firm pecs and chiseled abs. The light body hair brushed against his fingertips, sending electric, sensual sensations as he explored his borrowed muscular body.

Mmmm fuck yeah…

Xavier purred with Carlos’ voice as he continued checking out his new body. He kept a wide grin as he did so. Xavier could hardly believe how much of a success his little alchemy experiment was. Movement… speech… feeling, Xavier controlled it all! 

Even though Xavier was already very familiar with Carlos’ well-toned body, being able to see it from an up close perspective spurred great excitement and pleasure. The tent forming in his sweatpants was a testament to that. Xavier looked at his growing boner with a devilish smirk. He wanted nothing more than to grab and massage his cock, but decided against it. After all, 15 minutes had already passed and he swore he’d only allow himself five minutes. 

Xavier laid back down in bed and let himself out of his borrowed body. He was ejected from Carlos’ body with a loud slurp, leaving an empty bodysuit behind in the bed. Xavier looked down at the limp bodysuit as his senses readjusted. He was worried about possible side effects, but was relieved when Carlos began snoring again after a few minutes had passed. Thankfully, the bodysuit technique he had performed on him seemed to be temporary. Xavier went back to the guest room and practically collapsed on the bed due to fatigue. Performing alchemy and taking on a new body left him physically and mentally exhausted.

Xavier woke up late the next day. Despite having slept in, he was sore and with body aches, most likely due to the bodysuit experiment he had pulled during the night. Xavier stretched and rolled out of bed, wondering who he would use alchemy on next. He had woken up so late that Carlos was already gone for rugby practice, leaving him alone with Enrique.

Enrique was busy working out in the back. He was only wearing a pair of shorts, sunglasses, and a hat. Even from inside the house, Xavier saw how sweaty Enrique was from doing yard work in the hot sun. He watched Enrique toiling away with a hoe for a few minutes. 

“Hm… He’s not a bad option for a bodysuit. Thicker body type, some muscle, lots of body hair, full beard… Yeah, he could definitely be some fun to take over for a spin…”

Then quickly retreated into the hallway when he saw him coming inside. He refused to interact with a man he knew hated him. From the safety of the hallway, Xavier watched Enrique as he took a break on the couch. Enrique noticed Carlos’ notebook sitting on the coffee table and audibly groaned in disapproval.

“I told him he needs to stop drawing… All this art bullshit is gonna get in the way of his focus! I need to hide this before he gets back home.” Enrique leaned his head back against the couch cushions and closed his eyes. All while not even noticing that Xavier was glaring at him with a growing vengeful lust.

Any hesitation Xavier had had disappeared when he heard Enrique’s plan. It was a simple plan with amazing benefits: Xavier would get to try out a dad bod, and because it was Enrique he’d be wearing, he could become his best friend’s dad and help him follow his dream of becoming an artist. It was a win-win situation!

Xavier waited a couple of minutes to make sure Enrique’s guard was down, then proceeded to take action. He crawled up to the couch and quietly positioned himself over Enrique. He then gently placed his finger on Enrique’s exposed chest and began outlining a heart, just like he had done with Carlos. Xavier’s finger practically glided along his chest because of how sweaty he was.

Hrmph… Hrm? What the—

Shit!!

Xavier was hoping Enrique had fallen asleep, but he was wrong. He was wide awake. Xavier finished performing the bodysuit ritual as quickly as he could. He managed to complete the ritual before Enrique could fight back. Enrique began transforming into a bodysuit. In a state of panic, Xavier hurried to put him on. He pushed his head into the mouth of the bodysuit and began forcing his way into Enrique’s body. He thought he was in the clear, but then he felt a rubbery hand holding him by the neck.

What are you doing!? Get out of me!!

Xavier heard Enrique’s voice rejecting his presence. He was shocked. He didn’t think someone could resist body invasion once they started turning into a bodysuit. It seemed like Enrique was a fighter! But so was Xavier. Xavier caught a whiff of Enrique’s sweaty musk as he fought his way in. The strong, masculine smell ignited a powerful lust inside of Xavier. He craved more and he was going to make sure he got it no matter what.

Xavier used his full strength to push himself in. Thankfully, although Enrique resisted against him, he was still turning into a bodysuit. The longer it went on, the less of a fight Enrique was able to put up. Xavier crawled his way inside of the dad bodysuit. Enrique’s body expanded and distorted as Xavier’s presence filled up the inside space. With one last burst of energy, Xavier was swallowed up by the bodysuit. The bodysuit began thrashing around on the couch as Xavier began stretching his limbs out into Enrique’s limbs.

Umphh… Stop…! Ughhnnn…

Enrique felt himself getting taken over by the young gay man as it happened. He absolutely hated the thought of it. He felt Xavier’s hands fill in his own hands like a well-fitting glove. He felt the same full sensation with his legs and feet. One finger at a time, one toe at a time, Enrique was completely powerless to fight against Xavier’s growing control over his body. And the worst part of it all was how good Enrique felt having someone wear him like a suit. As Xavier filled in the bodysuit from the inside, was hitting nerve endings Enrique didn’t even know he had. It sent shocks of pleasure that left Enrique jolting and moaning obscenely. His manhood was hardening and leaking precum from all the stimulation. 

Aarrghhh fuckkkk!!

Xavier growled out with Enrique’s voice. He slipped his own cock into Enrique’s growing member like a personal dick sleeve, sending another wave of ecstasy throughout their shared body. An unwanted smirk formed on Enrique’s face once Xavier gained full control over his body. It was over.

Hey! Stop that!! Get your hands off my dick!!

“No way man! This cock’s mine now!!” Xavier teased. He made Enrique’s hands paw at their protruding package. 

He then grabbed and lowered Enrique’s shorts with lightning speed. Enrique’s cock was at full mast and sprung out once it was released. Xavier whistled with delight as he admired his new cock. Enrique had a cock that was as thick as a beer can with a big tip and an unkempt bush of pubic hair too. After thrashing around from getting taken over, Enrique’s body was drenched and glistening with sweat. With a horny grin, Xavier lifted his arm and aired out his sweaty pit hair. The potent smell immediately filled his nostril. He leaned into his pit and took a deep sniff of his musk. The manly aroma fed his arousal, and made his already erect cock to grow even harder and longer.

Stop it! That’s gross!!

Xavier groaned when he heard Enrique complaining from inside his head. 

“Are you sure, big guy? Seems like you’re into it too!” Xavier waved his erect member around, causing precum to drip around his hairy thighs. 

Once Enrique quieted down again, Xavier decided to indulge. He leaned his face back into his ripe armpit and used his tongue to sip a few droplets of salty sweat hanging off his pit hair. He then took another few whiffs of his sweaty scent, groaning as he did so, then ran his fingers down his hairy torso. He stopped momentarily at his nipples to pinch them. Xavier loved the pain sensation jolting through his chest as he pinched his sensitive nipples. His hands continued slithering down until they finally reached his leaking manhood. Xavier ran his fingers through his new bush. His fingers got caught in the forest of thick, black hair. Xavier smirked as he tugged on his bush while his other hand began pumping his throbbing member— all while Enrique was conscious of him moving around with his body.

“Nrghh… fuck man!! Nghhh this feels so good…”

Xavier moaned loudly as he jerked off, much to Enrique’s dismay. Enrique couldn’t do anything but complain as Xavier had free reign over his body. Everytime he protested, Xavier moaned louder and louder until he stopped again. 

This continued for about another five minutes until Xavier felt himself getting close. Once Xavier felt it, he grabbed his throbbing member with both hands and stroked ferociously. His pecs were bouncing up and down with every pump. He was dripping sweat everywhere from how intensely he was jerking off. Then, at the moment of climax, Xavier threw his head back and let out a sensual gasp as load after load of warm cum came shooting out of him like a fire hydrant. His cock was twitching and throbbing until every last load was pumped out of his heavy balls. 

Xavier was breathing heavily. All of the body hair on his upper body became drenched and sticky with all the sweat and cum. He laid on the couch satisfied and completely relaxed, until he heard the garage door opening. Carlos was home.

“Oh fuck, not now!”

Xavier sprang to his feet and hurried to clean up after himself. He threw on his shorts and used nearby napkins to dry off his bodily fluids. No matter how hard Xavier tried, it made no difference. The couch was still soaking wet and he was still red in the face after his little tugging session, but it would have to do for now.

Carlos walked into the living room as soon as Xavier finished throwing away the evidence of what had happened.

“Hey Dad,” Carlos said.

“Hey… Son. How was practice?” Xavier said with a nervous stutter. 

“It was fine, I guess.”

“Hey man, that’s really good to hear! I’m proud of you!” 

“Yeah… thanks.” Carlos looked at him with a confused expression. He couldn’t access his mind even though he had perfect control over Enrique’s body. Without access to his memories, Xavier had to guess what Enrique would say. He was in uncharted territory, and he was terrified.

Carlos!! Hijo! Help me!! Your weird friend is controlling my body!!

Enrique was still shouting in Xavier’s head. Irritated, Xavier accidentally responded out loud.

“I swear to God will you just shut up already!?”

“I didn’t even say anything!!”

“Not you!!” Xavier looked over at Carlos. He shook his head to himself. “I’ve been feeling kind of weird today, I’m sorry.”

Carlos stood apprehensively for a brief moment, then lowered his guard again. “It’s alright, I understand. I had a really weird dream last night. I don’t feel like myself today either.” He took out a car key and offered it to Xavier. “Here, thanks for letting me borrow the truck.”

Not suspecting anything of it, Xavier tried reaching out for it. As soon as he did so, Carlos pinned against the couch.

“Fucking liar! I know it’s you in there Xavier!”

“Huh? No it’s not—”

“Save it. I know my Dad, and he would never say shit like ‘man’ or ‘I swear to God!’ What the fuck is going on!?”

“Okay okay I’ll tell you! Just let me get up first!”

Carlos did as asked. Xavier then explained everything to him. He explained how he used alchemy to turn Enrique into a bodysuit and took over his body and identity. Xavier explained that he wanted to help him pursue his dream of becoming an artist by taking over his dad’s identity. After he was done, Carlos stood up and paced around the room quietly.

“This is insane…” Carlos murmured. Xavier stayed quiet. “This is so fucking insane… And honestly? This might be the miracle I was praying for…”

Xavier was overjoyed that Carlos was on board with his plan. He pulled Carlos in for a bro hug, and after they hugged, Carlos told him to never do that again if he was going to act like his father from now on. Xavier chuckled and nodded.

“You got it, Carlitos, I’ll become an even better father than your dad ever was!” Carlos grinned.

“I’ll hold you to that, Dad.”

From then on, Xavier continued pretending to be Carlos’ father Enrique. Carlos had to teach him what to say and what not to say, but Xavier was a quick learner. Although Carlos still had to play rugby to keep his scholarship, he could finally devote more time to his artwork thanks to his father’s new attitude. Carlos was able to find success as a painter after he graduated. In fact, he had been invited to a gallery opening for rising new artists such as himself. His future as an artist was bright.

And while Carlos was busy making a name for himself, his best friend/new father lived happily too. Xavier loved his new dad bod, and so did the gay hunks at the local gym. They would never give him the time of the day back in his old body, but with his new DILF body? They were all over him. Although Enrique still occasionally complained in his head, Xavier learned how to ignore him. The old Enrique had become a distant memory over the years as Xavier and Carlos lived their best lives as a happy father and son duo.

Thank you for supporting!!

[a-998h]

Hey! It’s 🍉-Anon! I’ve been gone for a while, so I was wondering if I could request a SAGAU?? If I’ve already requested that’s fine, I can wait 🙂

Basically Teen!Reader was hanging out with whichever character, and in the spur of the moment they call the character Mom/Uncle/Dad/Auntie/Cuz(short of cousin) instead of by their name

Like for example, with Itto they were cheering for his bug, and in this case he won, so they yelled while hugging “You always win Uncle!” And after realizing they called him that, they pause before trying to escape- but Itto’s already put them in a bone-crushing hug

another Example, Reader is training with Ei when they say “Mom I’m so exhausted, can we stop yet?”

And a last example is Reader hanging out with Wanderer when they insult him, but call him Cuz in the same sentence

And like a bunch of other characters, and you can pick what title Reader accidentally calls them 🫠

Anyways, I hope you can do my request, take your time, and thank you!

-🍉 ANON

Author's note: sorry I've been inactive for a bit. Life has been busy. This fic does connect with Teen God! Reader.

Characters: Ei, Itto, Wanderer, Neuvillette, Ningguang

______________________ Ei

The archons had shared custody of you, and they each taught you different things that would be useful as a god. Venti taught you the arts, Zhongli taught you history , Nahida taught you science, and Ei taught you about weapons and battle tatics. It was her turn for custody, and she had started you on polearm training. She, of course, was a tough trainer. Your routine with her had you training for hours, and you didn't like it at all. You have to use a weapon you've never used before, this training lasts hours, you are sort of lazy, and wanted to explore Inazuma all day, damn it! But, Ei doesn't relent Ei "Today, will be a sparring match between you and I." Reader *sarcasm* "That's totally a fair fight." Ei "Child, I do not appreciate your sarcasm."

*hours of sparring later*

Reader *heavy breathing and sweaty* “Mom I’m so exhausted, can we stop yet?”

Ei freezes. She has been called many titles over her long life, sister, Baal,Beelzebub, Raiden,Kagemusha, but never mom. It made her feel warm, and fuzzy... so naturally this emotional closed off woman doesn't know what to do. After Yae explain Ei is not dying, and gives advice, Ei has a better grasp of the situation.

Meanwhile, you're embarrassed as all hell. She takes her new role seriously, and gets stricter, somewhat. Training is toned down, limiting the number of desserts, no hanging out with that werido Itto, stick by her or Sara in public, etc. While you want to be swallowed by the ground, she is trying to be a good mom. She will now only respond to mom, unless she has to look like the strong archon she is for the public. She will ignore you if you call her Ei, and she will be unintentionally petty about it.

____________________________________________________

Neuvillette

Yeah, Furina only has archon custody rights, on a technical level. She's more fun sister than responsible guardian, that's what Neuvillette is for. Most of the draw, you're hanging out with the Melusine, drawing, reading, walking tea times, or whatever keeps you busy while he's working. Today, Furina forced him to take a day off. His eye bags were darker than Collei's backstory, sleepier than Sayu, and Furina thought he really needed to see the sun and fees air again. Now, he's taking you on a day trip around the city. You two spent the day in a botanical garden, eating a nice lunch, and exploring the city, and now you're both stargazing.

Neuvillette *sitting on the blanket and pointing to a constatation* "That is Leo Minor, the sister to Leo Major." Reader *looking in awe*

Neuvillette *pointing to another constatation* "That is Lepus, the rabbit."

Reader *still looking at the stars* Neuvillette *smiling* Reader"Thanks for spending today with me, dad."

Neuvillette freezes. He is not good with emotions, but Furina has helped a bit. The feeling of being called dad is nice, he thought you would call him grandpa due to him being centuries old. Now, he tries to be a good dad for you, being a good mix of strict and fun. Furina helps him with the emotional stuff, and he smiles as you two interact, feeling warm agian. Like Ei, he will now only respond to dad in private, it's still Monsieur Neuvillette. He does notice how embarrassed you were, but it still makes him feel warm on the inside.

____________________________________________________

Ningguang

She has rich auntie vibes, like the stereotypical rich auntie, minus the shit talk and comparisons. How you ended up in her care, you have no idea. You just want to hang out with Xingqiu & Chongyun, but instead your being taken around Liyue Harbor on a shopping spree. She is going to take you to the Liyue Opera, but you need a nice outfit to wear. You're being taken around to different shops, and you're getting tired. Ningguang "This fabric is nice, but the colors don't compliment your skin tone." Reader *Tired and staring into the middle distance out of boredom*

Ningguang *going on a fashion tangent while looking for the best outfits for you*

Reader "Auntie, I'm tired and bored. Cab we just pick an outfit and go?"

Ningguang finds the perfect outfit, and buys it. She pretends not to hear you, but she does smirk at your bright red face. She has been called many thing, but never auntie. She knowns you're probably blushing, and worried you just embarrassed her. She leads you out of the shop, and gives you reassurance that you didn't embarrass her in public. From now on, she will fill her role as rich auntie. Buying you gifts, trying to match make you, slipping you some mora, and stuff like that. She will respond to her name, but she will incourage you to call her auntie. She shares good advice with you, and is making sure you find a good partner. Her current choices are Xingqiu, Yun Jin, Gaming, and Xianging.

____________________________________________________

Itto

You had escaped Sara and ran to Itto so you could have so real fun. It was a wonderful sunny day, and you two were being menaces. It started off with you two buying and eating snacks, playing with Ushi and other kids, trading card games, and avoiding being caught by Sara or Thoma. As you both ran away from the blonde housekeeper of the Kamisato estate, with you on Itto's back of course, you somehow ended up in a beetle fighting tournement with a bunch of 10 years.

Itto is battling a 10 year old girl, while you cheer for him. Normally, he loses his beetle fights. But, your cheering and platoic love fuels him, and he wins. He cheers and brags, happy he finally won. Itto "Oh yeah! I won! I am the onikabuto tournemeant king!" Reader “You always win Uncle!” And after realizing you called him that, you took pause, then your face goes red. You both know what just happened, and you're now trying to escape from Itto's reach. But, you still get stuck in a bone crushing bear hug. Now, he demands to be called Uncle Itto in eeyr context. He takes his role as fun uncle seriously. Remeber when grunkle Stan said, "this seems like the kind of thing a responsible parent wouldn't want you doing, good thing I'm an uncle!" Yeah, that is uncle Itto's motto now and forever so long as you're his nibling. You get to eat and do many things that Ei, Thoma, and Sara woul say no to. Stuff like, eating sweets in the morning, playing games and no tiring training. You get to wild and free, until one of the people you're both avoiding finds you and drags you back. ____________________________________________________

Wanderer

Oh god, you two are meneces to each other. Nahida loves you both as family, yet she is 🤏 close to having Cyno murder the pair of you. When Nahida and Alhaitham leave you two in a room for a short as 2 minutes, you'll both somehow look like you wrestled a hilichurl. It drives every authority figure nuts, be cause you two have no care for social settings. Now, at this point you're left alone with each other to try and become more civil. Only because you both had an insult battle in the streets of Sumeru City.

Wanderer *Glares at Reader*

Reader *Glares at Wanderer*

Wanderer "Cry baby!" Reader "Goblin man!"

Wanderer "Deranged god!"

Reader "Tiny choas man!" Wanderer "At least my fashion makes sense!" Reader "Aww, tiny goblin mad, Cuz?" You both pause, realize what happened and both want to be swallowed by the ground. Then, you both start cackling like a pair of lunatics. Now, you two get along like a house fire. You both now call each other "Cuz" when playfully insulting each other. The adults in your lives are happy you get along, but they're now mad you two act even more menece like. You both only do it when you're alone, having Alhaitham scold you both was not fun. All an all, you two cause problems are love it.

[joi-me-hoi-me-noi]

Getting Kidnapped - BNHA/MHA

Features: Tomura Shigaraki, Shouta Aizawa and Kai Chisaki

A/n: I thought of this while I was taking a nap LMAO, let's get started and be sure to check out the rest of my writings...(there's only like 3 or 4 at this point :sob:)... it's very short but whatever, I enjoy being funny and writing this so yeah baby :))))

TOMURA SHIGARAKI -

You really didn't know how you got there. You were shocked but not that shocked, it was bound to happen eventually.

"Damn it's dark as a motherfucker in here. I just know they can't pay the light bill." Then the lights turn on to reveal the LOV.

"Oh...I guess you do pay the light bill. Hello." You go to wave but your hands are tied against the back of the chair.

"Greetings, L/n Y/n. Do you know why you're here?" "Nope." He pauses and just stares at you.

"You know some information that we don't, I'm going to need you to talk doll. Or else we'll torture you."

"You calling me pet names is already enough torture for me, crusty." You hear someone stifle a laugh from behind you.

"Glad to hear that someone enjoys my humor. Anyways, you got some water or something." Then your chair starts to get dragged into another room.

"That's right Dabi, take them into your room. Interrogate them." The door closes behind the two of you.

Time to work your own personal magic.

A couple of hours later, Shigaraki opens the door to Dabi's room, somber music plays in the background while you sit on the floor, untied, having a conversation with the burned man.

"Dabi! What are you doing?!" Tomura rips the hand off of his face and holds it tightly in his hands.

"Talking." He lays back on his bed, his head falling off the side of the bed.

"Why did you untie them?" He points at you and all you do is wave back with a big smile.

"They said the restraints were hurting them so I just untied them." Tomura shuts the door and lets out a scream of annoyance.

You laugh and whisper to Dabi. "Somebody's got their panties in a twist, don't they?"

SHOUTA AIZAWA -

As soon as you reached for an item inside of a random home, something tied tightly around your wrist.

"What the?" One sharp tug later and you're wrapped up tight, hanging upside-down from the ceiling. "Fuck..." You draw out the word in annoyance

You go to use your quirk and it doesn't work, nothing happens. Then a man with long black hair and tired eyes steps into the brightness of the moonlight from the darkness.

"Couldn't you do this another night or something?" He rubs his eyes and stares at you.

He walks around your bounded form as you try to spin yourself to look at the powerful homeowner.

"I mean I could, if you let me go that is." You flash a smile at him as he raises his brows.

"Afraid I can't do that. You'll be coming with me to the police station...in the morning. It's too late to be doing that now." Your eyes widened.

A handsome stranger taking you to jail...in the morning. IS HE STUPID?

"What if I find a way to escape from the restraints? What then?"

He tilts his head, a small grin finding its way onto his features. "You won't. You can't break this material."

He ties the end of the fabric to a hook and walks into a different room.

"Wait what about the blood rushing to my head!"

He comes back in and with a single pull of the fabric, you're tilted sideways like sleeping on a bed.

When the morning comes, a little girl is looking at you very confused. "Who are you?"

"Your Dad's friend, I was playing around with his scarf and got stuck. Could you help me?"

The little girl, without a second thought, unties the fabric from your body. You find a pen and a piece of paper to write down your number on to then, hand it to the girl.

"Give him this when he wakes up and no peeking."

You open the balcony door and wave goodbye to the girl before jumping off the glass railing. You shoot upward and rest on the roof, holding your phone in your hand, waiting eagerly for his response.

---inside the home---

"Mr. Aizawa." She pokes his side a bit hard which wakes him up.

"What's wrong Eri?"

She hands him a folded piece of paper.

"Your friend told me to give you this. They just left a bit ago."

His eyes widened as he shot up from his spot in bed, rushing into the living area. He opened the note and smirked, shaking his head.

The note read: 'that cute little girl let me out, told you I could leave...call me! xxx-xxx-xxxx XOXO'

KAI CHISAKI -

"Wow...this is a beautiful place you got here? Why am I tied up?"

He rolls his amber eyes and lays the chair against the couch behind you. He almost straddles your waist but he just stands there, looking down at you.

"You're filthy, I plan on fixing you."

You look at him with confusion. "I literally showered as soon as I got home from my job, what do you mean weirdo?"

He hated that nickname, his fingertips played with the bottom of his gloves. The glove comes off and he reaches forward to touch you, nothing happens

...his hands are really warm and soft.

"You must not do a lot of hard work since your hands are soft... you either moisturize or you're just lazy and have servants."

He's in shock but then scoffs at your comments.

"I'm a doctor but I can't cure you. You're still filthy."

You just shrug and smile up at him happily. "Okay, whatever you say plague guy. You'd probably die if you had a sip of McDonald's Sprite."

...what?

[redr0sewrites]

ATSV Characters with a Goth S/o

heeeeeyyyyyy guys 😇 *slowly sliding the 100+ REQUESTS in my inbox to the side to make room for a new special interest*

🥀Cw: none, mostly fluff!!!

🥀Pairing(s): Hobie x reader, Miles x reader, Miguel x reader, Spot x reader

Hobie

he would LOVE any type of alternative partner tbh- he just LOOOVESSS that ur goth and will support you 100%

people who go against societies expectations/standards and don't fit in with the norm intrigue him, and your style is probably what piqued his interest in the first place

y'all definitely wear matching fits sorry i don't make the rules- hobie just can't pass up the opportunity to match w you!!! whenever you go to meetings within the spider society he always brings you along, regardless of whether or not you're a spiderperson and hobie loves showing off you and your style

MAJOR "THATS MY PARTNER‼️" VIBES

look me in the eyes and tell me hobia would not absolutely rock some funky eyeliner LIKEEEEE- he def lets you practice on him and will do your makeup for you too!!!

hobie loves thrifting with you, there is no way he isn't a major thrifter and you both definitely DIY a lot of your clothes

HE MAKES YOU GUYS MATCHING PUNK BATTLE VESTS FOR YOUR ANNIVERSARY, AND MAKES SURE THAT IT MATCHES UR AESTHETIC AS WELL!!

hobie absolutely has BLESSED music taste, but while he usually listens to rock, punk, dad rock, or post-punk type of music, i def see him enjoying more gothic/new wave music- especially if u introduce it to him!!!

i see him enjoying bauhaus, sisters or mercy, scary bitches, etc- he'll also give YOU a lot of music recommendations and help to expand ur taste!

hobie would also accompany you to any protests or conventions that you wanted to attend, and would act as your scary dog privileges

YOU TWO DEFINITELY GO TO CONCERTS TOGETHER OMG. I TOTALLY SEE THAT AS A SPONTANEOUS DATE THAT YOU TWO ENJOY A LOT

honestly hobie is a lovely partner to have if you are goth, and he's not only supportive but VERY enthusiastic about your fashion and lifestyle!

Miles

hes such a sweetheart!!! he definitely supports you if you're goth and asks a LOOOT of questions lmao

miles draws you and your fashion a lot, and will def design makeup or eyeliner ideas for you too!!! while ik this is more associated with punk, i also see miles drawing you a few custom patches and stuff like that

your kind of like his muse in a way, and miles just really enjoys sketching you, especially since you have such a unique aesthetic and such cool outfits

HE HAS DEFINITELY GRAFFITIED U SOMEWHERE‼️

he loves watching you get ready and do your makeup. seeing you do perfect eyeliner wings and heavy makeup in general lowkey relaxes him, and he just loves admiring you

im sorry but miles knows absolutely nothing about goth music or culture, ur gonna have to introduce him to a lot of the songs/bands!!!

while i don't think he's huge on the music at first, i think it would grow on him over time. its definitely the type of thing that he loves because YOU love it, and he sees how mu much you enjoy it so he starts listening to it as well so he can talk to you about it

i think his favorite band would be the cure, and his fav songs would either be boys dont cry or the walk (both by the cure- idk why thats so specific but they just kinda fit his vibe yk?)

miles likes holding hands a lot, and he loves when you wear rings or gloves or something along those lines because it just reminds him so much of you! your hands just feel different compared to other peoples and he just loves how unique you are

if you have a lot of piercings, miles would definitely ask about them or buy you specific jewelry for piercings!!!!

overall, very very cute and supportive about your style!!! (he lowkey gives bi wife energy, and iyk what in talking ab then ily mwah)

Miguel

he's pretty indifferent to your style at first, i don't see him as the type to judge much based on appearances. its your personality that really throws him for a loop, and a part of him admires your dedication to making yourself look how you want to look and truly living to be your best self, regardless of what others think

if you think miles knows nothing about being goth then be prepared for miguel bc he knows NOTHINGGGG- no music, no history, no political views, zero, zilch, nada, goose egg

if he cares about you i do see him being intrigued about your style, and once you two are officially dating is when he'll show more interest in your personal fashion sense

he strikes me as the type to like, NEVER listen to music, so he literally only listens to the music you like!!! he does find himself occasionally humming the tune of some strawberry switchblade song or casually listening to a siouxsie and the banshees song while he works, and over time you influence him a LOT with your music taste. he definitely associates any and all goth music with YOU, and that's probably why he starts enjoying it.

he's a "hand on you at all times" type of guy, and while he is rarely touchy with others, miguel is definitely keeping you close. your fashion makes that convenient for him, and he loves pulling you into a kiss by grabbing onto your belt loop or something of the sort

miguel loves how you look with and without makeup on and isn't afraid to tell you that, however, he really likes it if you incorporate his colors or color scheme into your makeup one day. he'll never admit it, but you keep catching him admiring you with the smallest smirk on his face every few seconds

if anyone ever gave u shit for what you wear and how you dress, especially someone in the spider society, you'd practically have to restrain miguel from drop kicking them across nueva york- he doesn't want anyone to be rude to you , and while he knows you can stand up for yourself, he just gets protective at times

Spot

goth? whats that???

he's lowkey such a nerd, and spends too much time being science-y and planning on how to beat spiderman to actually get caught up on fashion

spot doesn't know how he pulled you tbh, but he appreciates you nonetheless!!! he thinks you and your aesthetic are something to be admired, and will unabashedly tell EVERYONE he knows about you

he will shoplift any clothing or jewelry that you want, and he'll even take you to other dimensions where there are better alternative clothes as well

spot doesn't really have a face to do makeup on, but he'll offer to do yours for you! surprisingly enough he's pretty good at it, though he does work pretty slowly

spot loves fiddling with your accessories, whenever he's standing near you he's always reaching out to touch you in some way shape or form. he loves playing with any chains or necklaces you wear, and will help adjust them so that they lay correctly

he helps you get ready in the morning!!!!! if ur the type of goth to wear corsets, he makes lacing them up SO easy and will gladly do it for you

i personally hc that spot HATES seeing himself in mirrors/pictures, it reminds him sm of what he used to look like, but he LOVES taking photos of you and your style!! whenever you are wearing a cute outfit or have funky makeup on, spot adores just taking photos of you

if you ever did a makeup look inspired by him and his spots he would probably CRY :(

URGRHHRHHRRR I LOVE ATSV SMMMMMMM!!!! this post will DEFINITELY have a pt2 w more characters!!!!! i swear tho atsv literally pulled me out of the most horrendous burnout ever i FELT the artblock and writing block lift off of my body as i watched it. IM SO INVESTED I MADE A SPIDERSONA...

[nova-is-a-writer-now]

Hidden embers

Chapter 3

Chapter summary: Joel needs help with his yard, you need help with figuring your feelings out

A/N: Im so excited you guys have been liking this!! last chapter was a good one, but this is my favorite so far. I also started a tag list so if y’all want to be part of that comment down here <3 Hope you enjoy!

Warnings: No outbreak AU, Age gap, DBF!Joel, Mean!Joel if you squint, some accidental physical contact lol, sexual tension but no smut

Series masterlist

“You can’t spend your whole summer doing nothing. You should really find something productive to do while you’re back home.”

Four years of college, every summer break, and most holidays spent working to cover tuition and other expenses—a lifetime of never catching a break until now—and that’s what your mother tells you after just two weeks of "doing nothing"?

You knew this was coming. It was only a matter of time before she decided to insert herself into your life and dictate your every move. It’s nothing you haven’t dealt with before. “I’ve been helping out around the house,” you say, trying to sound casual.

“Oh, sweetheart,” she says with a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes, “that’s not what I meant. You can’t be locked up in here all day. People will think you’re wasting your life away. I’ve been asking around at the town’s pageant commission, and they would be absolutely delighted to have you around to help us organize this year’s Teen Country Queen Pageant.”

There it was. Nothing your mother did was ever for anyone’s interests other than herself. If she had no interest in parading you around her pageant organizer friends, you were absolutely sure she couldn’t care less what you did with your days.

Right on cue, just before you’re about to give her a piece of your mind, your dad walks in. “What’s the long face for?”

“Oh, Hank, great! You can back me up here. I was telling her she needs to find something to do with her days. All this lazing around can’t be good for her. My friends at the—”

“Actually, I was thinking the exact same thing,” your dad says, surprising both of you.

“Really?” you ask incredulously. For all his flaws, your dad has never been one to meddle in your affairs.

“Yeah, Joel has been complaining about his front and back yard looking like shit since Cindy left.”

“Hank! Language!” your mom’s voice rises to that ear-shattering pitch she uses when she’s trying to be stern.

“Sorry, looking terrible since Cindy left,” your dad corrects himself, laughing it off. Sometimes he forgets he can only be that relaxed when he’s alone with you; your mom is a whole different ballgame.

“Um… Cindy?” you ask, drawing a blank on the name.

“The ex-wife. That’s not the point, kiddo. The point is he’s been whining about it for the longest time but is always too lazy to figure out gardening by himself. Then I remembered you were in the gardening club back in high school. It’d be nice of you to offer him some help. Poor man doesn't know how to keep a cactus alive.”

“Dad, that was ages ago. I don’t know if I remember much of it anyway. I only joined for my college applications,” you retort.

“It’s just a few plants and flowers here and there. How hard can it be? He even said he bought everything he should need for it but never got ‘round to actually doing it, so it’s all laid out for ya.”

Your choices were clear: spend however long it took to finish Joel’s yard while pretending you don’t have a massive crush on your dad’s best friend, or run around town with your mom organizing a beauty pageant. The decision wasn’t hard at all.

“I’ll go over and check it out.”

The walk to Joel’s house should’ve been short—barely a five-minute stroll up the road—but a nasty crack in the pavement had other plans. You were so lost in your thoughts today that you missed it entirely, stepping right into the trap.

Alright, maybe it wasn’t just today. You’ve been in your head ever since you first saw Joel standing at the bottom of your stairs. The way his hands had gripped your arms, steadying you, had left an imprint that you couldn’t seem to shake. And now, here you were, back in that same position, your mind consumed by this man who seemed to be as bad for your sanity as he was for your attention span.

So what should’ve been a walk up the road turned into a drawn-out pause as you sat on the sidewalk, waiting for the sharp pain in your twisted ankle to dull.

About ten minutes later, you finally make it to Joel’s lawn. You brace yourself to climb his porch stairs, pretending your ankle wasn’t bothering you, when you notice his garage door open. You hadn’t seen him from your previous angle, but as you got closer, the view of Joel's back muscles came into frame. And what a view that was. He was leaning over his truck, completely absorbed on whatever needed fixing under that hood.

For a moment, you just stand there, staring at the way his shirt clings to the sweat glistening on his skin. It takes a few seconds to remember that it isn’t socially acceptable to ogle someone from their front lawn, so you clear your throat and take a few more steps toward him.

“Hey” he greeted you, looking up from his work.

“Hey, yourself” you say back, playing it as cool as you could. It wasn’t a particularly hot day, but Joel's face glisten with sweat, as do his arms and you don’t not even want to think about what’s going on under that t-shirt.

“Come to pay me a visit?” he asked with a smirk

“My dad didn’t tell you? I’m your gardener for the day… or however long it takes to make your front lawn and back yard all pretty.”

Joel’s response is a breathy laugh, followed by him dropping his head between his forearms resting on the truck.“My gardener, huh?” he finally brings his eyes back up to meet yours. “Your daddy don’t know how to mind his own business, do he, sweetheart?”

Let’s unpack that. This man didn’t just throw in a new pet name you’d be replaying in your mind at any random moment of the day, but he also said it in that tone he seems to reserve only for you—or so you hoped, at least.

And that other word coming from his lips… you were aware people in the south used it more casually, without the connotation it had in your mind, but the way it sounded coming from him…

Oh, it made you think of a million ways Joel Miller could say the word Daddy in plenty of different contexts.

You quickly drop your gaze, hoping to hide the intense blush creeping up your cheeks. “I uh… I’m afraid not.”

The sound of his boots on the garage floor pulls you back to reality as he steps closer. “You don’t gotta do this, y’know?” His tone shifts, becoming more serious. “It’s no big deal, I’ll get to this mess eventually.”

You look up at him once again, more desperate than you’d like to admit. “Joel, I’ve been cooped up in my house with my mother and her pageant friends for weeks now. Please, give me an excuse to be anywhere else.”

A chuckle. You could live for those, make it your entire profession to earn them. You really need to calm the fuck down and get a grip if you are to spend the entire day around this man.

“Alright, then. If it’ll make you happy, I’m not gonna say no” says before turning back into the garage. He returns with a small crate filled with gardening tools and a few potted plants, setting them down on the grass. “Got most of what you’ll need here. Not much, but it’s a start.” His gaze drops to your ankle. “You doin’ alright? You’re limping.”

You wave off his concern, not wanting to admit just how much your ankle is actually bothering you. “It’s nothing, just a little misstep on my way here . I’m fine, really.” You flash him a smile you hope is convincing enough.

Joel studies you for a moment longer, then nods. “Alright, but if it gets to be too much, you let me know, okay? Last thing I need is you hurtin’ yourself on my account.”

“Deal,” you lie. There’s no way in hell you’re backing out of this now.

He gestures toward the mess of overgrown grass, weeds, and flower beds that haven’t seen attention in who knows how long. “I guess that’s the worst of it. Clearing out the weeds should leave enough space for these plants. Don’t overthink it, I trust your instincts.”

You take your first good look at the pots he brought from the back of the garage. “Oh, daisies! They’re my favorite.” You glance up at him, sweetness lacing your tone.

He pauses, something unreadable passing over his face. “ ‘Course they are.” He says, the corners of his mouth tugging up a bit. “Well, let me know if you need anything else. I'll be working over there.”

With Joel back under the hood, you set to work on the lawn. Despite the dull throb in your ankle, you find a steady rhythm in the repetitive motions—pulling out stubborn roots, digging small holes for the flowers, and patting down the soil around them. It’s oddly satisfying, watching the neglected garden start to come to life under your hands. You’ve always had a knack for taking rugged things and making them pretty.

Every so often, you glance over at Joel, who’s completely engrossed in whatever he’s tinkering with under the hood. The way his muscles flex as he works, the concentration etched on his face and how it makes him look a lot more serious than he ever is when talking to you—it’s hard to not get distracted.

There’s something about him, something that pulls you in despite your better judgment, despite every self-preservation instinct in you. Maybe it’s the way he makes you feel grounded, even when your mind is spinning out of control. It’s such a foreign concept for you, you’ve always been the one who has to defuse tensions, be the bigger person, manage the chaos. It’s never like that with Joel.

You’re careful to keep your ankle steady, not wanting to give Joel any more reason to worry. But as the hours pass and the sun climbs higher, you can feel the strain starting to build. Ever the overachiever, you push through it, there isn’t much left to get done in the front lawn anyway.

By the time you’ve planted the last of the daisies, you’re more than a little proud of yourself. There are still a few bare spots here and there and a handful of marigold pots waiting to be planted, but the lawn is starting to look less like a jungle and more like somewhere you’d actually want to spend time in. You wipe your brow, satisfied.

Joel must’ve noticed you slowing down because he calls out from where he’s working, “How’re you holding up? You thirsty?”

You hadn’t realized how parched you were until he mentioned it. “Yeah, a drink sounds good.”

Joel gives you a quick once-over, his eyes lingering on your ankle for a moment longer than you’d like. But he doesn’t say anything as he leads the way into the house, holding the door open for you.

The cool air inside is a welcome relief from the midday sun, and you sigh as you step into the kitchen. Joel pulls a couple of glasses from the cupboard and fills them with ice water, handing one to you. You take a sip, feeling the cold liquid soothe your dry throat.

You lean against the counter, trying to take some weight off your bad ankle. But as soon as you shift your weight, a sharp pain shoots up your leg, and you can’t hold back the small whine that escapes your lips.

Joel’s eyes snap to yours, his brow furrowing with concern. “You sure you’re alright?”

“Yes, Joel. I’m fine,” you insist, even though you know you’re not fooling him. “It’s just—”

“ ‘S that why you’re whining every time you put weight on it?”

“It’s just a bit sore. Don’t—”

Before you can finish, Joel’s on you in a flash, closing the distance between you. He’s careful but firm as he lifts you effortlessly, setting you down on the kitchen counter. “Let me see.”

“Joel, really, it’s not a big deal,” you start to protest, but the look he gives you silences any argument you might have had.

“Humor me,” he says, his voice low and steady. There’s a note of authority there that makes your heart race. There’s no disobeying him when he uses that tone.

You sigh dramatically, letting him gently take your injured ankle in his hands. His touch is warm, and the way his fingers graze your skin sends shivers down your spine. He inspects your ankle with a seriousness that makes your heart flutter, his brows knitted in concentration.

“This is more than a ‘little misstep,’” he looks back up, his eyes stern and serious. He slowly drops your leg, turning back to reach into the freezer and pull out a pack of frozen peas. He presses it against your ankle, holding it there with one hand while his other hand lingers on your calf.

It doesn’t take long for his thumb to start brushing up and down in a way that feels more comforting than it should. He starts adding a little pressure to his touch, the lingering touch from before turning into a massage up and down your calf.

Your breath catches as you look down at him, the way he’s so focused on taking care of you. The tenderness in his touch is at odds with the roughness of his hands, and the combination is making it hard to think straight. It’s even harder to keep the little sounds his touch arises in you contained, some of them escaping out of your parted lips despite your best efforts.

“Joel,” you start, your voice softer now, almost hesitant.

He looks up at you, his eyes meeting yours with an intensity that makes your pulse quicken. His hand is still on your leg, his face overtaken by a dark expression you hadn’t seen on him until now.

For a moment, neither of you says anything. The air between you feels charged, like something unspoken is hovering just out of reach. You can feel it in the way his grip on your leg tightens ever so slightly, in the way his breathing seems to sync with yours.

And then, as if realizing where his hand is, Joel slowly pulls back. “I should get you back home, let you rest that ankle.”

You frown slightly, the way he spoke such a stark contrast to the tenderness of his touch still lingering on your leg. “I’m alright. I’m gonna have to be kneeling down for most of what’s left anyways, so I won’t be putting any weight on it.”

“No, it’s best if you just go. I’ll sort the lawn out later.”

The words hit you like a bucket of cold water. You’re left staring at him, confused by the sudden shift in his demeanor. Normally, your pride would keep you from asking, but something about Joel makes it impossible to let this go. “Did I… do something wrong?”

Joel pauses, his eyes softening for a split second before his expression hardens again. “No, you're fine. Thank you for your help, but I’m taking you home.”

He doesn’t leave room for discussion as he brushes past you, heading into the living room to grab his truck keys. Your chest tightens, the shame of the moment crashing down on you all at once.

Except… you didn’t do anything wrong. You weren’t the one who was running her hands up and down his body, or pulling him close and throwing him on the counter like it was nothing. He did all that. He made you feel like something more was happening, and now he’s treating you like some desperate girl who threw herself at him, needing to be ushered out of his house as quickly as possible.

The ache in your heart is quickly overshadowed by a fiery rage, building more and more with each passing second. You turn sharply in the kitchen, your mind made up as you march toward the open door leading to the garage.

“Don’t bother,” you snap, your voice cutting through the silence as you head for the exit.

“What?” Joel turns around just in time to see you storming out.

You don’t even answer him, your steps quickening even as pain shoots up your leg with every movement.

“The hell are you doin’? You can’t walk home with that busted ankle,” he calls after you, his tone much harsher than it was just moments ago.

You laugh bitterly, not bothering to look back. This man clearly doesn’t know you and your stubborn ass well enough yet. “Oh, I’ll fucking live.”

Without another word, you push through the pain, taking it one torturous step at a time. Each step feels like defiance, a middle finger to your own pride and to Joel’s sudden coldness. But it’s better this way—better to feel the sharp sting in your ankle than the dull ache in your heart. The whole way home, you curse yourself for being so goddamn stubborn, even as the fiery rage keeps you moving forward.

Tag list:

@yesjazzywazzylove-blog , @untamedheart81 , @mellymbee

[rogueddie]

Eddie had thought that, like always, getting back from tour would be a fun affair. Ever since his and Steves little Robin started school, just three years ago, it had become a celebration. Steve and Robin always made sure he understood how they would always miss him so much that it hurt.

Still, he hadn't expected to find Robin sobbing. The distressed, lost look Steve gives him only makes it sting more.

"Baby, hey," Eddie says, voice hushed, practically joining her in Steves lap with how close he sits next to him. "Birdy?"

"She won't talk to me," Steve explains. "Its... she was so happy this morning."

Eddie turns his attention back to her. "Did something happen at school?"

She pulls back, suddenly. Eddie barely has time to notice that Steve's shoulder is left soaked with how much she'd been crying- she grabs Eddie's forearm tight, eyes wide.

"Are you and mama gonna get divorced?"

"I sure fucking hope not," Eddie says without thinking.

"Eddie!"

"What?"

"You sleep in different rooms," she sniffles, drawing their attention back to her. "And you always go away, dad, like... like, all the time."

"I go away for work. You know how much I hate leaving. I checked that pretty little calendar you made me, every single day. You two mean the world to me, sweetheart."

"You have separated bedrooms. Kyle said that only divorced parents do that!"

"Kyle," Steve says the name like it's a curse. "I swear, I'm going to cause mayhem if Carol doesn't get that brat to behave himself."

"Steve-"

"What? This is the fourth time he's said something that's upset our girl!"

"He's a dumb kid." Eddie pulls Robin off Steve's lap, into his arms. He sticks out his tongue when Steve tries to complain. "Do you wanna know why me and mama have separate rooms?"

Robin nods, looking more confused than distressed. She slaps his shoulder when he tries to walk ahead, making him wait for Steve to get up so she can hold his hand whilst Eddie carries her to Steve's room.

"Ok, birdy. How would you describe mamas room?"

She hesitated, looking around. "Pretty?"

"Exactly. So pretty, all these pastels and whites. Very bright and happy, right?" He waits for her to nod, before walking them across the hall and into his room. "Would you say my room is pretty?"

"No!" Her face scrunches up. "It's all dark and scary!"

"You wouldn't want to be in here too much, would you?"

"No! I only come in here if you and mama are. It's not nice or pretty."

"Mama wouldn't like being in here too long either, would he?"

She looks to Steve, understanding slowly dawning on her face. "Mama doesn't like your room either, he told me."

"Robin!"

Eddie laughs, loudly, bouncing her so she laughs. "I know, baby. But, you know, I don't like mamas room either. It's all so bright and I like this; dark and scary."

"We take turns," Steve adds. "We get our own space, but we never sleep alone. Not if we can help it."

She's quiet as she thinks about it. "Ok. I don't think I understand it yet but... that makes sense. I need to think about it."

"Is that my cue to put you down?"

"Yeah! We can party later, this is more important."

As soon as he puts her down, she darts off into her room.

Steve snorts at how hard she slams the door. "She's just like Robs."

"Maybe we should've named her after El."

"Maybe. She'd be a better role model."

"I'm telling Robin you said that."

"Go on, she'll agree with me. Why do you think she refuses to babysit anymore?"

"Ah, can't handle a taste of her own medicine."

Steve hums, finally stepping closer, arms curling around Eddie's waist. "I missed you."

"Missed you more, big boy."

[jrob64]

Exacting His Revenge

- Chapter 3

I apologize for the long wait for this chapter. To reward you for your patience, I will give you another chapter after this one, for a total of 4. (You would have gotten it anyway because I am apparently just too wordy)

Happy birthday again to @kmomof4 and thank you again to @hookedmom for betaing this story.

Story Summary: When Hook sees an opportunity to finally get his revenge on Rumplestiltskin, he seizes it, putting him in the company of Emma Swan. A season 2 canon divergent story.

Rating: M (for eventual smut in chapter 4)

Words (Ch. 3): 6666

Posted on Tumlr - Chap. 1 Chap. 2 and also on ffn and Ao3

Story found under the cut

*********

As the ship got closer to Storybrooke, Hook noticed Emma frequently glancing at him out of the corner of her eye. When the lights of the town appeared on the horizon, he saw her draw in a deep breath, turn, and walk toward the steps leading to the helm. Slowly climbing them, she looked up and met his gaze.

“Is there something I can help you with, Love?” he asked.

“I was just wondering…what do you plan to do, now that you killed Gold?”

He chuckled lowly. “I’ve been wondering that myself.”

“Technically, you’re still under arrest. Now we’ll have to add escaping from jail to your charges.”

Hook reached up and scratched behind his ear. “Probably another assault charge, too.”

She widened her stance and crossed her arms. “What did you do?”

“I may have knocked your father unconscious with a pry bar.”

Rubbing her forehead in irritation, Emma sighed, “You’re a walking menace, you know that?”

“I couldn’t just sit in that concrete brig, while you were off by yourself with the bloody Dark One.”

Her eyes shot up. “You broke out of jail because you thought you had to save me?”

He dipped his head in a slight nod. “Aye.”

“Why?” she asked, disbelievingly.

“I knew what the crocodile was capable of doing. He would stop at nothing to get what he wanted. Even though he needed you to help him navigate his way to his son, you were disposable once you found him.”

“You think he would have killed me? Knowing I had a son waiting for me back in Storybrooke?”

“He killed Milah knowing she had a son. Why would you be any different?” He watched her mull over her question. When she didn’t say anything else, he asked, “Do you think Baelfire will stay in Storybrooke?”

She shrugged indifferently. “I don’t know.”

“Do you wish for him to stay?”

“I don’t, but if Henry does, I guess I’ll have to accept it. First, I have to figure out a way to tell Henry about him, though.”

“You haven’t told him about his father?”

Her face scrunched into a grimace, something that Hook found to be quite adorable. “I sort of lied to him about Neal. I told him his dad was a firefighter who died saving people from a burning building.”

“Why did you do that?”

“Because I didn’t think there was a chance in hell I would ever see Neal again. And also because I didn’t want my kid to know his father was a lying thief who abandoned me.”

Hook glanced at Bae, still sitting beside his father’s body. He was glowering at them and Hook wondered if he had heard what Emma said, or was simply angry seeing Emma talking to him.

“The lad seems to be quite adaptable. I’m sure once he hears the whole story, he’ll understand.”

“I hope so,” Emma sighed. “The thing is, it’s already complicated enough trying to juggle his time between me and Regina. If Neal is added to the mix, I’ll get to see Henry even less.”

“He does have a right to see the boy, though, doesn’t he?”

“Yeah. It’s not like Neal abandoned him, too. He didn’t know I was pregnant when he took off.”

“You don’t think that the two of you, for the boy’s sake…”

“Not a chance!” Emma snapped. “Look, a lot has changed since Neal and I were together. I’ve matured and I’m assuming he has, too. But the only feelings I have for him are…well, they aren’t anything close to love, let’s put it that way.”

Hook nodded, trying to keep the happiness he felt about her declaration from showing on his face.

“I don’t know why I’m telling you all of this,” she said. “I guess I just needed to blow off some steam, and you happened to be available.”

“I’m very happy to oblige, Swan,” Hook assured her.

Emma shifted her gaze forward and saw they were rapidly approaching Storybrooke. “If you want to sail away once we get Gold’s body off the ship, I won’t stop you,” she said conspiratorially.

“Why, Sheriff, do you intend to set your prisoner free?” he asked, a teasing lilt to his voice.

“I’m just saying that since you don’t have any reason to stay in Storybrooke…”

“Ah, but I do have a reason, Love.”

Emma’s brow furrowed. “You do?”

“You promised to join me for dinner, remember?”

Her mouth dropped open. “Are you telling me you would give up your chance at freedom just to keep our deal?”

“A gentleman keeps his word, and as I told you atop the beanstalk, I’m always a gentleman.”

“You know I’ll have to lock you up as soon as you step foot off this ship.”

“And you know I won’t stay in that cell.”

“Seriously?”

“Pirate,” he said smugly.

“Are you going to dock the ship, Hook, or are you two going to keep making eyes at each other and let it crash into the pier?” Baelfire asked, his tone venomous.

“We don’t make eyes,” Emma said, rolling hers.

“Coulda fooled me,” he grumbled.

Hook began giving directions to the two of them, as he guided the ship into a berth. Emma was quick to follow, but Bae purposely lagged, earning him some sharp words from the captain.

Once the ship was tied off, Emma pulled out her phone. “I’m calling my dad. Hopefully, he can arrange transportation for Gold’s body as quietly as possible. I don’t want Belle to find out about his death until I get a chance to tell her.”

Hook and Bae stood on either side of her as she spoke to her father. When she ended the call, she looked from one to the other. “Are you going with me to talk to Belle?” she asked Neal.

“I thought you were going to take me to meet our son.”

“Not tonight. It’s late and he’ll be in bed.”

“But I…”

Emma angrily planted her hands on her hips. “Neal, if you want to meet him, you’re playing by my rules, got it?”

He stared at her for a few moments before dropping his eyes. “Fine. I’ll come with you to talk to Belle and wait until tomorrow to meet Henry.”

Pivoting to face Hook, she said, “You can stay on your ship tonight. If you’re still here tomorrow, I’ll deal with you then.”

“I look forward to it, Love,” he smirked.

If the look Baelfire gave him could kill, there would have been another body joining Gold’s on the deck.

*********

Hook lay in his bunk, staring at the ceiling of his cabin and replaying the events of the day. It should have been the most satisfying day in his long life. Milah’s murderer was finally dead and the darkness was permanently dispelled. Milah was avenged, her soul could rest. For the first time in hundreds of years, he should be able to sleep peacefully.

Then why was he so restless?

Oddly enough, the stabbing of Rumplestiltskin and his subsequent death weren’t foremost in his thoughts. It was his interactions with Emma Swan - every word, gesture and facial expression - which were keeping him awake. She was under his skin and he didn’t know what to do about it.

He felt guilty about the direction of his thoughts. Ever since that most horrible of days, he mourned his Milah and promised anew that he would love her until the day he finally died. Sometimes he sought female companionship, but it was only ever for a single night, never with the same woman twice, and never on his ship. He didn’t want to besmirch the love he and Milah had for one another by bringing another into their bed. Now, he was lying here, his mind filled with images of a lass whom he longed to know better and whose heart he had decided to win.

“I’m sorry, Milah,” he whispered into the darkness.

Knowing sleep was going to continue to elude him, he sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Grabbing his flask off of the nightstand, he took a healthy swig and savored the familiar burn down his throat. Then he got up and lit the lantern on his desk. If he couldn’t sleep, he might as well read.

He gave up after ten minutes. Sighing, he slammed the book closed, then donned his leather duster and ascended the ladder. He walked the decks of the Jolly Roger, rubbing non-existent smudges from her highly polished railings, double checking that her sails were folded correctly, and trying to convince himself that she was the only love he needed in his life.

The problem was, his heart wasn’t listening to logic.

Sleep didn’t come until an hour before daybreak. Thankfully, he didn’t enter REM sleep, so he wasn’t able to determine which woman would appear to him in his dreams.

*********

It was almost noon when Emma made it back to his ship. “Still here, I see,” she called up to him from where she stood on the pier.

“I assured you I wasn’t going to leave.”

She eyed him critically. “Are you alright? You look like hell.”

“Why, thank you very much, Swan. How kind of you to notice.”

“I thought you would be the happiest person on Earth, now that you’ve finally gotten your revenge.”

He shrugged. “Perhaps the day was too stimulating to allow me to sleep well.” Seeing her about to speak again, he cut in. “Where is Baelfire this morning?”

Emma closed her eyes and shook her head disgustedly. “I already regret bringing him here. He’s driving me crazy, asking to meet Henry.”

“You haven’t introduced the two of them yet, I take it?”

“No. Henry was at Regina’s last night and was off to school before I woke up this morning. Neal thinks I should pull him out of school. I keep telling him I want the chance to talk to Henry first, but he’s really pushing it. I managed to sneak away from him while he and Belle were making arrangements to bury Gold.”

While she was talking, Hook was making his way down the gangplank to stand in front of her. “I have no doubt you will stand your ground against him, Love.”

“I know. It’s just…things were good between me and Henry since Mary Margaret and I got back to Storybrooke. Now I have to tell him I lied to him and I’m afraid he’s going to hate me.”

Hook’s mind flashed to Baelfire’s reaction when he discovered the drawing of Milah in the captain’s quarters. His words were full of hatred and betrayal. To this day, he hadn’t forgiven him. Hook certainly hoped Henry wouldn’t react the same way.

Hoping to divert Emma’s worries, he asked, “How did Belle take the news last night?”

“Just as you would expect; she’s devastated. She was relieved to know that Gold found his son before he died. We didn’t tell her Neal was furious with his father for killing his mother and refused to forgive him. I’m assuming Belle didn’t know Gold’s role in Milah’s death.”

“Do you think if she did, she would have ever become involved with the bloody demon?”

“No, probably not. Belle tries to find the best in everyone, but hearing that bit of news might have been too much for even her.”

“You told her the, uh, the circumstances of his death?”

“Yeah. Let’s just say you’re definitely not her favorite person. She’s still recovering from the gunshot wound you gave her and now you killed her boyfriend.”

Hook grimaced. Thinking of the Dark One as someone’s ‘boyfriend’ turned his stomach. Not wanting to think about Rumplestiltskin anymore, he changed the subject. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit this morning, Swan?”

“I have to take you back to jail. Everyone in town knows you’ve returned. Letting you go free after you shot someone isn’t going to sit well with them.”

“Even though I rid your fair town and the world of the Dark One’s power?”

“The people in town don’t know that yet. Belle isn’t planning to tell them until after Gold is buried. I’m sure the news will leak out soon. Until then, I don’t want Leroy running around town yelling, ‘Killer on the loose! Killer on the loose!’”

Reaching around behind her back, she extracted handcuffs and held them up between them.

“Again?” Hook sighed. “You’re really into this, aren’t you?”

“Standard procedure,” she explained. “Hand and hook behind your back.”

With a dramatic display of reluctance, he did as told. They walked down the pier and onto the beach, then over to the squad car in a moment of deja vu.

On the way to the sheriff’s station, Hook asked, “How is your father, Swan?”

“He has a headache and a good sized lump on his head, but he’ll be fine. You’re not his favorite person, either. In fact, you don’t have many people on your side in this town, which is why I figured you would take the opportunity to leave when I offered it to you.”

“There’s only one person I wish to have on my side, Love. I couldn’t care less about anyone else.”

She glanced at him in the rearview mirror. “You’re really adamant about having that dinner with me, aren’t you?”

“I would never have allowed the bloody crocodile aboard my ship if you hadn’t agreed to that. I fully intend to collect what is owed to me.”

“You might have to settle for Granny’s takeout in your cell, while I eat at my desk.”

“I believe the deal was dinner on my ship.”

“Yeah, well, you might be locked up for quite a while, depending on what Regina says.”

“What does Regina have to do with it?”

Emma pulled up to the station, put the car in park and turned it off. Twisting in her seat, she said, “We don’t have a court system in Storybrooke, so the mayor decides on punishment for crimes. That’s the way she set it up during the curse and we never changed it. Considering the fact you killed her mother, I doubt Regina will be lenient toward you.”

“Regina and I had…an understanding before the curse was cast. I’m sure she will consider that.”

“What sort of understanding?” Emma asked.

Hook leaned forward, putting his face close to the divider between the front and back seat. “Let’s just say we also had a deal. It took a while, but I finally kept my end of it.”

Emma’s eyes widened. “You made a deal with Regina to kill her mother?”

“The two of them never had what you might call a close mother-daughter relationship.”

“Just when I thought I heard it all,” Emma mumbled, unbuckling her seat belt and opening the car door.

After releasing him from the back seat, she walked him into the station, her hand gripping his elbow. Upon entering the main area, David rose from the desk, strode across the room and punched Hook in the face.

“Dad!” Emma yelled.

“That’s for the last time we met,” David said, shaking his hand slightly.

Hook licked his bloodied lip before replying, “I thought you might be a bit more genial, considering I brought your daughter home safely.”

“You knocked all the genial out of me when you hit me with that crowbar.”

Emma led Hook across the room, removed the cuffs, unlocked the cell and gestured for him to enter. Dabbing at his lip, he walked in, winking at her as he passed. It might have been his imagination, but he thought he detected the hint of a smile on her face.

She slammed the door closed, then turned as an afterthought. “I almost forgot. Give me your hook.”

“If you want to hold something, Love, I have a perfectly good hand,” he offered slyly, holding up his hand and wiggling his fingers.

She huffed, but he saw the corners of her mouth turn up again. “Just hand over the hook, funny guy.” As he twisted the hook out of the brace, she added, “And while you’re at it, give me whatever you used to pick the lock last time.”

“I thought you didn’t care if I escaped and sailed away, Swan.”

“You said you wouldn’t leave until I kept my part of the bargain.”

“Ah, yes, our dinner together,” he said, glancing toward David as he said it. His reaction to Hook’s statement didn’t disappoint.

“Your what?” he shouted.

“Calm down, Dad,” Emma said, rolling her eyes. “I had to make a deal with him so he would agree to bring Gold back to Storybrooke. It’s just dinner.”

“On my ship,” Hook contributed.

“On his ship?!”

Emma threw Hook a frustrated glare, before turning to her father. “I’ll say it again - it’s just dinner. And it’s probably not going to happen anytime soon. Regina will have to decide what to do with him. In fact, I need to go to her office to bring her up to speed.”

David checked his watch. “I’m supposed to be over at the cemetery in ten minutes to guard against anyone going in while they’re burying Gold.”

Emma sighed. “We probably shouldn’t leave Hook alone. Can you get Leroy to come over and keep an eye on him again?”

“Is that really necessary?” Hook asked.

David narrowed his eyes at Hook for several seconds before picking up the phone.

Turning back to Hook, Emma stated, “Guess that answers your question. Now, hand it over.”

With a dramatic sigh, he passed his hook through the bars into her waiting hand. She accepted it, then held up her other hand. He threw her his most charming smile, but she just tilted her head and speared him with another meaningful glare. Reluctantly, he reached into his pocket and removed the long hairpin.

As she accepted it, she asked, “Why do you have this thing, anyway?”

“As you can imagine, managing all of these buttons one-handed is quite difficult, so I use that to help pull them through the buttonholes.”

“I think you missed a few,” she murmured.

“Ah, so you’ve noticed,” he cheeked.

She turned away, but not before Hook saw the blush that colored her cheeks. With a satisfied smirk, he crossed the cell and took a seat on the cot.

David left before Leroy arrived, giving Hook some time alone with Emma. “Do you have a preference of what to eat for our dinner together, Swan?”

“You’re awfully presumptuous, thinking you’ll be out of jail anytime soon.”

“I did Regina a favor by killing Rumplestiltskin. I have a feeling she’s going to take that into consideration when she decides my fate.”

“People in town love and respect Belle. They won’t be happy if you get off scot-free for shooting her.”

Hook scuffed his boots back and forth on the floor. “I do feel bad for shooting the lass. I’m glad I only wounded her.”

“At least you’re remorseful,” Emma remarked.

Before Hook could respond, Leroy burst into the office. “I’m here, Sister,” he blustered. Walking straight up to the bars of the cell, he spouted, “No funny business. I’m watching you, Pirate.”

Hook stood and sauntered over to stand in front of him, “Yes, Dwarf. That should deter me from any malfeasance.”

“I don’t know how long I’ll be gone,” Emma said.

Leroy and Hook continued glaring at each other for several seconds, until Leroy broke eye contact to say, “Charming didn’t tell me why he isn’t able to be here. Is he out on a call?”

Emma and Hook exchanged a quick look. “Um, yeah. Something like that,” Emma mumbled vaguely.

“Well, as long as one of you is back by dinner time. Granny will run out of bacon for my burger if I get there too late.”

“It looks like you could afford to forgo dinner now and then,” Hook muttered.

“Behave yourself, Hook,” Emma cut in before Leroy got a chance to respond.

After she left, Leroy sat down and began swiveling in the chair, keeping an eye on Hook. “So, I’m assuming you followed Sheriff Swan to New York after you knocked out her father?”

“You must be the smart dwarf,” Hook said, resuming his spot on the cot.

“Then how are the two of you back, but there’s no sign of Gold? Did you leave him in New York?”

“I have no idea of the Dark One’s location.” He wasn’t technically lying. The darkness dissipated, but he didn’t know where it went.

Leroy crossed his arms over his chest. “You expect me to believe that?”

Hook shrugged. “It makes me no difference what you believe. I went to New York to ensure Swan’s safety and as you can see, I accomplished that objective.”

Leroy leaned forward, narrowing his eyes. “Are you sweet on the sheriff?”

Hook very deliberately laid down and turned toward the wall, his back facing the dwarf.

“Because if you are, you’re never going to get her,” Leroy continued. “Her parents and most of the town won’t allow it. She’s too good for the likes of you, Pirate.”

Hook closed his eyes, trying to go to sleep so he wouldn’t have to listen to the grumpy man any longer. It didn’t work. Even though Leroy stopped talking, the last words he said kept replaying themselves over and over in Hook’s mind.

She’s too good for the likes of you, Pirate.

*********

Word of Gold’s death did indeed leak out, and soon the entire town was aware that they were free of the Dark One forever. Besides expressing their condolences to Belle, they didn’t show any signs of sadness over his loss.

Neal was greeted with trepidation. Granny reluctantly offered him a room at the boarding house and reassured the townspeople that she would keep an eye on him. If he showed any inkling of being like his father, she wouldn’t hesitate to use her crossbow.

Regina stopped in at the sheriff’s station the day after the ship arrived back from New York. After telling David she needed to speak to Hook privately, she stepped in front of his cell and glared at him through the bars.

“Your Majesty,” he drawled. “Or should I say ‘Madam Mayor’?”

“Is it true you’re responsible for my mother’s death, Hook?”

“Where did you hear that?”

“Word gets around. Now answer the question.”

“Aye, Love. I finally carried out your noble request.”

“Once the curse was cast, the request was null and void.”

“I wasn’t made aware of any alteration in plans or any changes in your feelings toward your mother. Just because I didn’t do it when you initially sent me to do so, the result is still the same. Now don’t try to tell me you grieve her passing, or that you would have welcomed her to Storybrooke with open arms.”

Regina’s mouth tightened into a straight line before she answered, “You know I didn’t want her here.”

He gave a slight nod. “That’s correct, so I did you a favor. And another by killing Gold. I’d say you owe me, Your Majesty.”

“I suppose you think I should give you some huge reward,” she growled. “What’s your price, Hook?”

He rose from the cot and slowly moved to stand in front of her. “My freedom will do nicely.”

Regina’s perfectly groomed eyebrows raised in surprise. “That’s all you want? That doesn’t sound like the greedy pirate I know.”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “My life’s goal has been met. I have enough doubloons to last me for another three hundred years. What more could I possibly need?”

She crossed her arms and studied him. “If I grant your freedom, I assume you will leave town.”

“Never assume anything.”

“Why would you stay?”

Hook studied his fingernails. “I don’t believe my plans are any of your business.”

“I’m the mayor of Storybrooke. Everything is my business.”

He narrowed his eyes. “You might control your townspeople, but…”

“I brought lunch, Hook.” He looked over Regina’s shoulder to see Emma coming into the room, holding a brown paper bag aloft.

Regina heaved an exaggerated sigh and turned to look over her shoulder. “Didn’t your idiot father tell you I wanted to speak to Hook without being interrupted?”

“I haven’t seen David,” Emma replied coolly. “I’ve been out on patrol all morning. I’m happy to report no one is breaking any laws.”

“No one except him,” Regina said, jerking her head towards Hook.

Emma set the bag of food on the desk. “Well, he’s locked up, so I don’t think we’ll have to worry about him.”

“Apparently he broke out once before and he’s a pirate. Locking him up doesn’t guarantee he won’t break out.”

“He doesn’t have any reason to break out this time, do you, Hook?”

“Alas, no. All of my objectives have been met.”

“I still don’t trust him,” Regina said.

“You needn’t worry, Madam Mayor. Your sheriff is quite efficient,” Hook said. “She particularly enjoys using her handcuffs on me, don’t you Swan?”

He was satisfied to see her cheeks turn pink. She changed the subject by asking, “Have you decided on his punishment yet?”

“Perhaps she’ll sentence me to house arrest with you. Do you have a spare bed? If not, I’m willing to share.”

Regina looked back and forth between them, her mouth set in a firm line. “Miss Swan, if you don’t mind, I haven't finished speaking with your boyfriend.”

Hook suppressed a chuckle, as Emma’s mouth dropped open. “My boyfriend? Hook? What’s your problem, Regina?”

“My problem,” Regina spat, “is that you’re impeding my job.”

“Fine,” Emma shot back. “I’ll be in the other room, eating lunch. When you finally finish your job, let me know.” Picking up the sack, she turned on her heel and went into the small inner office, slamming the door behind her.

Seeing her stand up to Regina filled Hook with pride and more than a little desire. Emma Swan was fiery and fierce, just the way he liked his women.

With effort, he turned his attention back to Regina. She was drumming the manicured fingernails of her right hand on her left bicep. “I’m willing to bet one of your reasons for remaining in Storybrooke involves Miss Swan.”

“I would have never guessed you were one for gambling, Your Majesty.”

She glared at him as Hook stared back at her unflinchingly, plastering a bored look on his face. After nearly a minute, she called loudly, “Sheriff Swan, come out here!”

Emma emerged, chewing and rubbing her hands on her jeans. “You bellowed?”

“I do not bellow,” Regina remarked snarkily. “I’ve come to a decision about this prisoner. He needs to be punished for the attempt he made on Ms. French’s life. Therefore, I sentence him to one month in jail. By that time, maybe he’ll be ready to board his ship, sail away and be some other realm’s problem.”

With that, she spun around and walked out the door, heels clicking on the cement floor.

Emma watched her go, then turned to face Hook. “Looks like you’re going to be our guest for a while longer.”

“Aye, but at least my jailer is a welcome sight to behold.”

“You told me you won’t stay in this cell. Do I need to make sure someone is here to watch you around the clock? Because I’ll be damned if I’m going to chase you down every other day.”

“As tempting as it is to have you running after me, I give you my word as a gentleman that I will not escape.”

She narrowed her eyes as she studied him to detect any trace of deceit. Finding none, she said, “Don’t make me regret trusting you, Hook.”

He wrapped his hand around the bars of the cell. “You’re going to take my advice and try something new, eh Swan?”

Hooking her thumbs in the back pockets of her jeans, she shrugged. “You went all the way to New York to make sure I was safe, and didn’t leave when I gave you the chance. I guess you’ve earned my trust.”

Hood couldn’t keep the grin off of his face. The fact that she trusted him was definitely a step in the right direction toward winning her heart. He reached through the bars and twisted a lock of her hair around his finger, enjoying the silky feel of it against his calloused skin. “I’m very happy to hear that, Love.”

She was just opening her mouth to reply, when Baelfire entered the room. Hook’s eyes shifted to the other man, causing Emma to look over her shoulder. As soon as she saw Neal, she stiffened.

Bae stopped short when he saw how close the couple was standing. Then he saw that Hook had a lock of Emma’s hair wrapped around his finger and his face turned crimson.

“What’s going on here, Ems?” he blustered.

“Nothing,” she answered tightly.

“Doesn’t look that way to me. Looks like the fucking pirate is trying to seduce you, just like he did my mother.”

“Give it a rest, Neal. He’s behind bars and that’s where he has to stay for a month.”

“A month?” he shouted. “That’s all he gets for killing my father?”

“Actually,” Hook began, “that sentence is for shooting Belle French. Regina felt I did the town a favor by ridding it of the Dark One.”

“What the fuck? You’re just going to get away with murder?” Neal raged.

“Oh, come on, Neal,” Emma groaned. “You’re the one who said to just let your dad die. Now you want to act like the grieving son? I don’t buy it.”

He walked over to stand in front of the cell, looking back and forth between Hook and Emma. Hook untangled his finger from her hair and pulled his hand back. As much as he wanted to smirk at the angry man, he decided it was best not to add fuel to the fire. He didn’t want to put Emma in an even more uncomfortable position.

Bae turned his back toward Hook and tried to step between Emma and the bars. “Isn't it about time for Henry to come home from school, Ems?”

She heaved a sigh and turned to look at the clock on the wall. “School lets out in half-an-hour. Once my dad gets back to the station, I’ll leave to go pick Henry up.”

“Cool. I’ll come with you.”

Emma folded her arms over her chest and fixed him with a fierce scowl. Hook was quite happy not to be on the receiving end of it. “No, you will not. I’ve already told you that I need to talk to Henry first. I want to prepare him to meet you.”

“What’s there to prepare? You just say, ‘Henry, this is your father.’ What’s so hard about that?”

“For fuck’s sake, Neal! He thinks his father is dead!”

“Why the hell would he think that?” Neal yelled.

“Because that’s what I told him! I said you were a firefighter who died as a hero…”

Neal leaned forward until his face was mere inches away from hers. “What the fuck, Emma? Why would you do something so idiotic?”

Emma didn’t back away from him as she spoke through gritted teeth. “Would you rather I told him that his dad was a thief and a liar who abandoned me and let me go to jail for a crime he committed?”

When Hook saw Neal grasp Emma’s arms, he had enough. “Let go of her, Bae!” he demanded, reaching through the bars to grab the other man’s jacket.

“Stay out of this, Hook!” Baelfire shouted, jerking away from Hook’s grip, letting go of Emma at the same time. “She’s not yours to protect!”

“She’s not yours, either!” Hook shot back.

“That’s enough!” Emma exclaimed. “Neal, you need to leave. After I’ve had a chance to talk to Henry, I’ll call you. That is, if he wants to meet you today. If he needs more time to process everything, that’s what he’ll get. And you will agree to it, or you won’t meet him at all. Is that clear?”

“I came all this way and he’s my son. You can’t keep me from seeing him.”

“I can and I will if you don’t back off. Go back to your room at the boarding house and wait for me to call.”

Hook watched carefully to see what Baelfire would do next. If he continued to defy and bully Emma, Hook would find some way to get out of the cell and go to her aid.

After several more moments of glowering at Emma, Bae finally stomped out of the office, nearly running into David, who was on his way in.

“What’s wrong with him?” he asked.

“He’s demanding to see Henry and I’m making him wait. I need to talk to Henry first.”

David took off his jacket and hung it over the back of a chair. “I can understand his impatience. He just found out he has a son; it’s only natural to be anxious to meet him.”

“You’re taking his side?” Emma asked.

“I didn’t realize you two are on opposite sides. I thought you were, um…”

Emma’s eyes widened. “Do you think we’re together?”

“Well, you do have a child together and you just found each other again after so many years.”

She put her hands on her hips. “If I had my way, I would have never seen him again.”

David’s jaw dropped. “But Mary Margaret and I thought the two of you…”

“Well, you thought wrong!” she spouted, then angrily grabbed her keys and pushed past him.

He stood rooted to the spot, staring at the door through which she just disappeared. Almost to himself, he murmured, “I’m so confused. Why wouldn’t she want to…”

“Be with Baelfire?” Hook interrupted. “Have you ever asked your daughter about the father of her child?”

David turned around, the look on his face making it clear the answer to Hook’s question was ‘no’. Instead, he said, “That’s none of your business.”

“Perhaps not, but Emma did share with me what happened between them, and let’s just say she has good reason not to want to be with him.”

“Why would she tell you and not her mother and I?”

Hook shrugged. “I think she felt a bit…trapped by the whole situation of him coming to Storybrooke and she wanted to share her side of the story with someone. I just happened to be available.”

“Did he hurt her?”

“Not physically, but that’s all I’m going to say. It’s not my story to tell.”

David eyed him critically for several seconds, then stepped closer to the cell. “Let me give you a bit of advice, Hook. She’s never gonna like you.”

“Is that so?”

“Well, how could she? You’re nothing but a pirate.” With those words, he spun on his heel and walked away.

The cocky smirk on Hook’s face faded as he watched David go. For the second time in two days, he had been told that Emma Swan would never be with him because he wasn’t good enough for her. The one consolation he had was that neither time, it was Emma who said it. He would have to cling to the hope that she didn’t feel the same way.

*********

Hook didn’t expect to see Emma any more that day, so when she came into the station soon after he finished eating the meal Granny provided, he was pleasantly surprised. However, seeing the agitated state she was in, his pleasure soon turned to concern.

“I thought I was finishing out this shift,” David said.

“I know, but I figured you would want to spend the evening with Mary Margaret, and since Henry is staying at Regina’s…”

“What? Why is he doing that? I thought you were introducing him to Neal.”

“Yeah, well, let’s just say things didn’t go as planned,” she said sadly.

“Emma, if you need to…”

“Look, Dad,” she sighed, “I really don’t want to talk about it right now. I’ll be home in a couple of hours, okay? Maybe by then, I’ll be ready to tell you what happened.”

Hook thought David was going to argue with her, but after a few moments, he blew out a heavy sigh and said, “Okay. I’ll see you at home. Be careful.” After kissing her forehead, he gave Hook a warning look, then left.

Emma dropped into a chair, threw her head back and groaned.

“Alright there, Swan?” Hook asked.

She was motionless for so long, he thought she wasn’t going to answer. Finally, she sat up and put her head in her hands. “Not really. Henry is very pissed at me for lying to him. He had no interest in meeting Neal and insisted on going to Regina’s because he doesn’t want to be around me. Then when I called Neal, he went off on me, saying it was all my fault his son refused to meet him.”

“I’m sorry, Love.”

She didn’t reply. He felt helpless seeing her sitting there, looking so defeated.

When she finally stood up, she paced back and forth in front of his cell. “Why did I ever think I could do this? I know nothing about being a mom. I probably screwed him up for life. First I gave him away, then I lied to him about his father…”

“Emma, stop,” Hook said firmly.

She stood still, looking at him with tear-filled eyes. “It’s true.”

“No, it’s not. It sounds to me like you made a very courageous decision by giving him up for adoption. Bae abandoned you and left you with very little choice. As far as telling him Baelfire was dead, you had no idea Henry would have a chance to meet him someday. You wanted to spare him the pain of knowing his father was a bloody coward, just like his own father before him. In my opinion, there was nothing wrong with telling Henry he was a hero. It was far kinder than the truth.”

“He was so angry,” she whispered hoarsely. “He may never forgive me.”

Hook’s heart ached for her. “Come here, Love,” he said softly, stretching his hand out through the bars.

She shook her head, wiping at her eyes. “It’s okay. I’m fine.”

“Emma, look at me,” he coaxed.

Slowly, she raised her eyes. Even more slowly, she reached forward to place her hand in his. He gave a little tug to pull her closer. When she was near enough, he attempted to put his arms around her, frustrated that the cell bars were between them.

“This is stupid,” she said, turning her back and walking away. He almost groaned in frustration, until he realized she was pulling a set of keys out of the desk drawer. She approached the cell again, hesitating briefly before unlocking the door. After swinging it open, she stood uncertainly, shifting from foot to foot.

Hook stepped through the doorway and into her space. Locking eyes with her, he silently asked permission and upon receiving it, gently pulled her into his arms.

At first, her body was stiff and unyielding, but as he rubbed his hand and wrist up and down her back, she gradually relaxed and let him comfort her. “You’re a good mother, Emma. Henry knows that, and he will forgive you.”

“How can you be so sure?” she mumbled into his chest.

“Because I know first-hand how hard it is to stay away from you.” He heard her scoff lightly, but she didn’t say anything. He didn’t know how long she let him hold her, but he relished every second.

Finally pulling away from him, she said, “Thank you, Hook.”

Using his finger to lift her chin, he looked into her beautiful jade eyes and requested, “Will you please call me Killian, Love?”

She blinked, then gave him a small smile. “Okay…Killian.”

*********

Thank you for reading! The final chapter is probably about half written, so hopefully it won't be as long a wait for it.

Tagging:

@qualitycoffeethings @grimmswan @cs-rylie @wyntereyez @kmomof4

@hookedmom @ultraluckycatnd @paradiselady19 @xarandomdreamx @motherkatereloyshipper

@lfh1226-linda @pawshapedheart @vampcoffeegyrl23 @tiganasummertree @bluewildcatfanatic

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@teamhook @soniccat @jarienn972 @softkilly @kymbersmith-90

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@beckettj @killihan-jones

[negans-lucille-tblr]

Look What You Made Me Do | Step Dad!Negan | Dark Oneshot

Summary: Negan’s there to welcome home his step-daughter after her first date, but he doesn’t like what she chose to wear, and decides to show her what the consequences of dressing like a slut might be. 

Rating: 18+ (Dark smut)

Pairing(s): Step Dad!Negan x Step Daughter!Rachel

WARNINGS: non con, forced sex, step-incest, dirty talking, p in v, daddy kink, forced blowjob, slapping, victim blaming, forced loss of virginity, mentions of blood, crying during sex, pain

WC: ± 2K A/Ns: This was commissioned by the lovely @ruewritesstuff, and it almost made me feral. So enjoy &lt;3

Negan Masterlist || Want your own commission? Find out more here!

Negan’s fingers bounce on the arm of the couch as he watches the time, the second hand on the clock ticking around, the minute hand drawing closer and closer to the twelve. The house is practically silent, not that he’d hear his wife from where he’s sitting, anyway. Their house is fairly large, and there are about four doors closed between them right now. He’d encouraged her to go to bed after her fifth yawn sitting beside him, and he knew it would be a matter of minutes before she was knocked out on the Xanax she needs to take to help her sleep. He’d insisted he could wait up until her daughter returned home from her date, but now he’s growing impatient. 

He hadn’t been there, still stuck in work when whatever college boy showed up to take his eighteen year old step-daughter on a date. What business has some college boy got with her, anyway? Negan’s fairly sure she’s a virgin, and she’s not had a boyfriend that he’s been aware of in the two years he’s been in her life. But then Negan scoffs to himself. Of course a college boy would be interested in a naive, virgin senior. Even Negan finds himself interested. But that’s different, because he’s older and wiser, and he can protect her from all the boys that wanna fuck her and leave her heart broken. The thought of someone taking her innocence away and not even having the common decency to call her back makes his skin crawl. Though, if Negan’s truly honest with himself, maybe that’s just the jealousy talking. What he wouldn’t give to be the one to take her innocence, and he’ll be fucked off if some frat boy beats him to it. 

He hasn’t gotten his dick wet in months. His wife hasn’t shown an interest since she half assed giving him a handjob on his birthday, and the longer he goes only thinking about sinking his cock into someone as tight and warm as his little girl, the more desperate he is for relief. He would go out and find some random slut to fuck, but he wants to save himself for her, just like she’s been saving herself for him; she just doesn’t know it yet. 

Negan’s attention is once again drawn to the clock, and he notices that it’s eleven PM on the dot, and as if on cue, he hears the rumble of a car engine and rises to his feet to see a guy opening his passenger door, and Rachel climbing out of it. She looks good in the mini skirt and shirt she decided to wear, her red hair tied up as Negan imagines wrapping it around his fist as she chokes on his cock, and he grunts when the guy takes her hand and walks her up the garden path to the front door. Negan stalks to the door and opens it just before they can kiss, and he’s secretly elated with his timing, and far less impressed with theirs. 

“You’re late,” he grunts out, and Rachel blushes, clearing her throat. 

“I’m sorry,” she mumbles. 

“It’s my fault, sir, I didn’t realize the time, we were star gazing.” 

Negan’s nose crinkles at the very idea of Rachel and this boy laying on some shitty picnic blanket looking up at some fucking stars like they’re in some rom com, bet the pervert even tried to get his hand up her skirt. Maybe he even succeeded, and just the thought has Negan slamming the door in the boy’s face the second Rachel crosses the threshold. 

“I’m not even five minutes late,” Rachel argues, narrowing her blue eyes at him. 

“I don’t fucking care, late is late,” he growls, noticing her lipstick is far more faded than it probably should be, and he wonders if she wore it off by kissing that low-life, or maybe even worse; sucking his cock. “What the fuck are you even wearing? You look like a whore.” 

Rachel looks down her body and tugs on the hem of her skirt, only blushing more violently, and she swallows thickly. 

“Mom said I look nice,” she mumbles, looking around as if to seek out her mother. 

“Well your Mom doesn’t fucking care if you get fucking raped in the back of some college boy’s shitty Sedan then, does she?” 

“Callum wasn’t like that,” Rachel insists, stubbornly. “He didn’t even kiss me.” 

“Yeah fucking right,” Negan scoffs. “Look at the fuckin’ state of you,” he growls, reaching out to smear her lipstick some more. “Bet you sucked his cock the whole fucking ride home.” 

“What?” Rachel blinks, shaking her head as horror washes over her face at the very accusation. “No, nothing like that happened, I’m still a virgin.” 

“Mhm,” Negan nods, pretending to believe her, the idea that she might not be only making him angrier. “Of course you fucking are. You think you can fuckin’ lie to me?” 

“I’m not lying, Negan, I swear,” she whimpers, tears filling her eyes. “This was only our first date… my first date,” she explains. 

“Well if you didn’t fuck him you were still fuckin’ asking for it,” Negan accuses. “Weren’t you?” He prompts, making her shake her head. “Of course you were, look at you,” he goads, reaching forward, playing with the slightly open neckline of her shirt. “Your tits are fucking hanging out, and your skirt is so fucking short, I can nearly see your panties, if you’re even wearing any.” 

He can’t help himself from lifting her skirt to find out for sure, and sure enough he can see simple white cotton panties, and she whimpers, pressing her thighs together. Instantly, his cock begins to harden, and he resists the very real urge to tear the cotton from her body and bend her over the couch, fucking into her so hard she’ll feel him for days. Maybe he should do that, maybe then she’ll think twice about letting some random boy take her out. 

“Do you even fucking know what you’re doing?” he asks. “Do you fucking know all those thoughts you put into men’s heads when you dress like this?” Rachel weakly shakes her head, and Negan’s cock only throbs harder. He reaches for her hand and instantly presses it against his crotch. “This. This is what you fucking do to us. Do you think I want to be this fucking hard for my own step-daughter?” Rachel’s tears now stream down her cheeks as she shakes her head and her hand trembles beneath his. “No, of course I fucking don’t, but you don’t fucking care about that, do you? You just want to wear your slutty little clothes, and it’s gonna get you into real fucking trouble one day, sweetheart. Maybe I should teach you a lesson. On your fucking knees.” 

Rachel is now crying aloud as she slowly lowers herself to her knees, and Negan wastes no time freeing his aching cock from his jeans, reaching down to once again take her hand and force her to wrap it around his cock. He works her hand up and down his shaft to show her what to do, but quickly realizes she won’t do it unaided, so he keeps his hand wrapped around hers. 

“I’m sorry, Daddy, I’m sorry,” she begins to sob, and Negan grunts at the feeling of her skin on his, and the sound of ‘Daddy’ on her lips like that’s going to save her. But the name only turns him on more. 

“You fuckin’ will be,” he promises, “Open that mouth.” She whines, squeezing her eyes shut, and Negan instantly reaches forward and tugs her hair hard, slapping her across the face, making her cry out in pain. “I said open that fucking mouth.” 

With a shaky jaw, Rachel complies, and he wastes no time pushing his cock into her mouth, fucking into the back of her throat, making her gag and splutter around him, spit already indignantly dribbling down her chin and front as it mixes with her tears. 

“Look what you made me do,” he snarls, gasping for breath with each punch at the back of her throat. Fuck, this feels better than he could’ve imagined. “This is all your fault and you fuckin’ know it.” 

Rachel continues to cry, but the sound of it only seems to stir Negan on more, his cock throbbing between her lips, and when he pulls back completely she gasps and splutters for air, dry heaving. 

“Time to find out if you were fucking lying,” Negan tells her, yanking her to her feet by her arm, shoving her over to the couch as she stumbles. He spins her around and forces her to bend over the arm of the couch, throwing her skirt over her ass, seeing that the white cotton panties are actually a thong, and her round, bare ass is right there for him. 

“Rachel,” he tuts, disappointment dripping off of his tongue. “Who the fuck do you think you are wearing panties like this, hm? You think you’re a big fucking girl, don’t you?” 

Rachel doesn’t reply, she just continues to cry, and Negan eagerly pulls the material to one side, exposing her pink, unused pussy, all tight and closed up, yet to be ruined or spoiled by anyone. He’s going to be the first, and if he gets his way, the last, too.

“Have you ever touched yourself?” he asks, looking at the back of her head for any sign of a reply. She doesn’t reply, which gives him his answer. “Have you fucked yourself with toys before? I bet a fucking whore like you has toys.” She shakes her head ‘no’ this time. “Fingers?” Another shake of her head tells Negan everything he needs to know. “Poor baby girl, you have no fucking idea what you’ve gotten yourself into.” 

Negan spits on his fingers and roughly pushes them between her folds, forcing them inside her as she screams, and he rushes to cover her mouth with his free hand. Not that her mother will hear her through all those walls and Xanax. Such a shame. He forcibly fucks into her cunt with his fingers, scissoring them in a bid to open her up just enough to take his cock, but he’s doubtful he’s going to fit without a lot of force. He’s still willing to try, though. He spits onto his cock, once again spitting on his fingers too, spreading the wet around her slightly opened hole. 

“No, no no no,” Rachel starts to panic, reaching back to push him away, but Negan’s strong enough to have her trapped there, and even when she tries to stand back up, he only has to push down on her back to get her to double over once again. “Please don’t, please, I’m a virgin, Daddy, please,” she begs. 

“Imagine this was Callum, hm?” he reminds her, teasing the tip of his cock against her tight opening, wondering if he’s going to manage to get inside. He pushes forward, making her scream once again, his hand once more silencing her. “It could’ve been. Could’ve fucking raped you on his backseat. Dropped you home with his cum dripping down your fucking legs and never called you again. You would’ve been just some dumb fucking whore he got to fuck,” he snarls, getting inch by inch inside her slowly. Blood smears over his length and he smirks at the sight, happy to have taken his little girl’s virginity. “You’re fuckin’ lucky it’s me, sweetheart,” he tells her. “You’re fucking lucky it’s someone who loves you.” 

Want me to write your idea? Find out more here!

[atinylittlepain]

Not What You Expected - A Joel Miller Story

dad!Joel x f!reader

Joel Miller masterlist

They're still acclimating to life with baby Miller, a far cry from how they first met.

warnings | 18+ canon-typical violence, angst-ish, mostly fluff tho

a/n | another installation in the Unexpected Expectings universe after much request! This can certainly be read as a standalone, but it's much more fun alongside the other pieces in this world :)

..........................

“She just spit up on me again, didn’t she?”

“Just a little. Here, I’ll get it.” Ellie huffs while she steps behind the girl to wipe off her shoulder where Libby just dribbled her breakfast. Perhaps not surprisingly, Ellie has been as hands on as she can be with her little sister, helping out at bath times, feeding her, reading to her. But she draws the line at changing diapers. 

She sighs, stepping out from behind Ellie and leaning against the crib to take in the sight of her gently bouncing Libby in her arms, making ridiculous faces at her wide-eyed little sister and murmuring nonsense.

“You’re pretty cute, huh, Libs? That must come from your mom’s side because it sure as shit doesn’t come from Joel.” She can’t help but laugh at Ellie’s little jab, but, having just come into the doorway to the nursery, Joel seems to feel a bit differently, clearing his throat as he frowns at the girl.

“Kid, I’d rather that one’s first word isn’t some kind of swear, huh? Watch yourself.” It’s obviously lighthearted as Joel’s lips crook into half a grin and he shuffles over to Ellie to gently take Libby from her arms. Even after ten months, she’s still not over the sight of Joel Miller with a baby, with their baby, perched on his hip, his broad palm cupping her back. Ellie doesn’t seem over it either, snorting as she watches Joel rock side to side.

“Easy, killer. Gonna knock someone out with the blinding ray of sunshine you’ve turned into.” Joel scowls over the top of Libby’s head at Ellie who has dissolved into laughter, glancing over at his woman to see that she is also giggling. Not wanting to be left out, Libby lets out a shriek, bouncing her tiny fist against Joel’s cheek. He’s quick to smack kisses to her little fingers, grumbling as he does it.

“You three are gonna kill me, goddamn.” 

“With the way you two talk, Libby’s gonna be swearing like a sailor before she can even walk.” Both Joel and Ellie grin at her exasperated look, Ellie sidling up next to her to swing her arm over her shoulder.

“You’re no better. Heard you let out a few choice words in the kitchen the other day when you dropped her bottle.” She huffs at Ellie’s smug look, nudging into her side.

“Alright, alright, kid. Don’t you have a shift starting soon?” Ellie glances at her watch, sighing.

“Ah, fuck.”

“Ellie.” Both she and Joel gripe at her words. Ellie just shrugs, already hustling out of the nursery to get to the stables. With the sound of the front door closing, they look at each other, shaking their heads. Some things never change.

Joel sighs, moving over to the rocking chair and sitting down with a groan as he shifts Libby to cradle her in his arms. She slips behind the chair to lean with her palms on his shoulders, smiling down at their girl who’s quickly dozing in her dad’s hold. She lays a kiss to his temple, and Joel cranes his neck to look at her questioningly.

“What was that for?” She shrugs, grinning crookedly at him.

“Nothing, my ray of sunshine.” She tries to quiet her laughs, not wanting to startle Libby awake, while Joel scowls at her teasing.

“Hey, ain’t the only one softening up, darlin.” She raises a brow at him and he smirks.

“Still remember when I met you. Practically feral, woman. Now look at you. Being all sweet. Wearing my clothes.” She scoffs as she thumbs the collar of the flannel, his flannel, that she’s wearing.

“Oh this? I just wear this whenever I think Libby’s gonna spit up. Better yours than mine, Miller.” He huffs at that as she snickers. She squeezes his shoulder as she continues.

“I may have softened a little. But if I’m remembering that day we met correctly, I did nearly kill you, so you better watch it, sunshine.” Joel chuckles lightly, still gently rocking their girl who is completely out now.

“Mm, I remember alright. Was pissed as hell at the time. But I can say this now – was the hottest thing I ever saw.” They both laugh, their minds now swirling with the memory.

With ten years come and gone, they can both still remember the day they met, clear as anything. Oh, how things have changed.

…

Boston QZ, 2016

He’s exhausted. Another day on burn detail, another day hustling pills to soldiers. The only bright spot, if you could call it that, is the deal he’s working on with Bill and Frank. He and Tess had managed to get their hands on a generator in one of the old apartment buildings, taking it apart to transport to Bill and Frank who had been having some trouble with their own. In return, Joel and Tess had been promised new guns, and ammo, something hard to come by unless you were with FEDRA or those damn fireflies. They’re planning to go in two days. Until then, he’s been keeping the parts under the floorboards in their apartment, so when he gets back to their place that night, Tess still out on some work detail, and lifts the boards to find the parts gone, Joel’s mind reels. 

Racking his brain for any possible reason the parts could be moved, he lets out a quiet curse in frustration. He comes up with nothing and the word thief starts to blare through his mind like an alarm. His fingers rest on the hilt of the knife he keeps tucked in his belt as his eyes scan over the apartment. He tries not to let out a chuckle when he sees it. The closet by the door. He and Tess always left it open, didn’t keep anything in it. It’s closed firmly now. Got him. 

He moves gingerly over to the closet, drawing out his knife as his hand settles on the doorknob. Before he can swing it open, however, someone is bursting out, knocking him to the ground, his knife skittering across the floor. He can’t get a good look at him as they tumble on the ground, hands at each other’s necks as they roll for dominance. He manages to pin the other man to the ground, but is shocked into stillness by what he sees. He is a she. She sneers at him, a toothy grin.

“Not what you expected, huh, Miller?” Before he can pick his jaw up off the floor, she’s kneeing him hard in the groin, effectively toppling him over as she pins him with her hands around his neck. He grabs at her hands, but she’s strong, stronger than she looks, pressing hard into the sides of his throat and making him gasp for air. He has seen her before, on a few work details, but he had no idea she had this kind of fight in her. It’s all he can do to choke out his question.

“You with Robert?” She laughs hard at that, fingers flexing in the sides of his throat.

“Hardly. His little band of idiots wouldn’t have the brain cells for this.” It’s getting harder for Joel to breath, black spots starting to fuzz his vision. She leans a little closer, unwavering gaze holding him still.

“You got two options here. Number one, you let me in on whatever little business you got going with Tess and I don’t kill you right now. Number two, I kill you and take your parts and your radio and figure it out myself.” He can’t help the wheezing laugh he coughs out. This woman has some serious balls. She doesn’t seem to like that though, her grip around his neck tightening until he really can’t breathe anymore, his legs flailing uselessly on the floor.

“That mean you’d prefer option two?” He shakes his head as best he can in her grip, trying to choke out the word no, and she seems to understand, releasing his neck but keeping him pinned with a forearm across his chest. Joel takes several heaving breaths, trying to clear the haze that had crept into his mind. The first real thought he has as oxygen returns to his brain is that she has pretty eyes. Angry, but pretty.

“I’m not letting you up until I hear you say it.” He takes a few more steadying breaths before he responds.

“I’ll let you in on our business. But you try any shit like this again, I’ll be quicker next time and you won’t get so lucky.” She huffs a laugh at that, finally letting up and sitting back on her haunches as Joel sits up. He rubs tenderly at his neck, wincing at the already forming bruises and muttering to himself.

“You got a grip on you, woman, goddamn. Some first impression.” He’s surprised when she holds out her hand to him. He’s more surprised that he actually takes it, shaking her hand lightly as she smirks at him, telling him her name. 

“Figured I’d have to do things a little unorthodox to work with you two. And hey, looks like it worked.” All he can do is shake his head at this woman who has so suddenly become his business partner.

…

Jackson, 2026

“I was going easy on you. Caught me off guard. And you were pretty, even then. Didn’t wanna mess up your face.” She scoffs, nudging him in his side as they stand in front of the crib, watching their sleeping girl.

“Oh yeah? Tell that to the bruises you had on your neck for the next, what was it? Three weeks? Totally going easy on me, uh-huh, so easy you let me nearly crush your windpipe.” Joel huffs around a grin.

“Suppose that’s another thing our girl gets from you. You ladies sure know how to make an entrance.” She stifles her laugh behind her hand as they both dip out of the nursery. Before she can get too far down the hall, Joel slips a lazy palm around her one hip, turning her back toward him and smearing a brazen kiss across her lips, pulling away with a wet smack that makes her eyes widen. He just grins.

“What the hell was that for?” Joel keeps his one hand cupping her hip, the other coming up to stroke along the arc of her jaw as he sighs.

“All this talk of you crushing my windpipe has got me worked up, darlin. Take pity on a poor man, huh?” She lets out a sputtering laugh at his words, but he’s quick to silence her with another kiss, licking into her mouth like a heathen. She pulls back with a gasp, lightly smacking his chest as he gives her a smug smile.

“Watch it, Miller. Or I’ll have to finish what I started ten years ago.” He shakes his head.

“Has it really been ten years? Christ– that’s hard to believe.” She rakes her fingers through his hair as she hums at his words.

“I know. How the hell did we end up here, huh?” He sighs, glancing back into the nursery.

“No clue, darlin. I think you’re the one bit of luck I got in this fucked-up world.” Her fingers still, hands sliding down to wrap behind his neck. She can feel tears welling up hot and fast in her eyes, and to keep them at bay she steals another kiss from him, quick and chaste that leaves them both smiling.

“I’m glad I didn’t kill you, Joel.” He squeezes her hip, still smiling like a fool.

“I love you, darlin. Thank you.” 

“What? For not killing you?” 

“No. I mean– yes, that too. But, thank you for sticking with me. Fuck– for giving me all this. Just, thank you.” His thumb brushes away a rogue tear that has dripped down her cheek and she sighs under his touch.

“Well, now you’re just trying to make me cry, goddamn it.”

“Hmm, look who’s soft now, darlin.” She smacks his chest as he laughs at her exasperated expression, tugging her into a tight hug. She murmurs lowly into his shirt.

“I love you too, Joel. Love you so much.” They stay like that for a while, his arms wrapped firmly around her, her cheek pressed right over his heart. They’re finally broken out of their quiet moment by the sound of fussy coos coming from the nursery. Joel sighs, pulling away and squeezing her shoulders.

“I’ve got it, mama.”

“You sure? She probably needs a diaper change.” 

“I’m sure I can handle that. You should get some rest, were up half the night after all.” She slackens under his touch, nodding lightly as he’s already moving back into the nursery. 

She goes to head downstairs, but quickly stops when she hears him start to talk in a soft murmur to Libby. It’s a voice Joel won’t use if he knows anyone else is around, she had only caught him talking in it a few times to their girl, gentle and low. Ellie would have a field day if she heard him.

“Hey, baby girl. Let’s get you cleaned up, huh?” She slides along the wall, stopping just outside the doorway to the nursery to listen in as Joel continues talking to Libby. She can hear Libby’s sweet babblings as Joel keeps murmuring to her.

“My girl’s a talker, aren’t you? Get that from your mama. Woman’s got a mouth on her, let me tell you. One of the things I like best about her. But don’t tell her I said that.” She presses her hand to her mouth, keeping in her giggle at his ramblings.

“I know your sister’s been trying to get you to say her name, but I’d really like it if your first word is mine. Also may have a little bet going with her, but I’ll split the winnings with you if you just say my name first.” She makes a mental note to smack both him and Ellie later for their “little bet,” but continues listening as Libby’s babbling picks up. Joel lets out a laugh.

“That’s it, baby girl. Just string ‘em together. Da-da. I know you can do it. Whip-smart just like your mama, huh?” Libby’s babbling continues, still just nonsense sounds and syllables. Joel sighs.

“Gonna do it in your own time, huh? Think you get that from me. That’s alright, baby girl. Ready whenever you are.” She figures he’s picking her up again from the hesitant coos Libby lets out, Joel quick to shush her.

“I got you, my girl. It’s ok. I got you.” She rests her temple against the wall outside the doorway, closing her eyes and continuing to listen to his gentle words to their girl.

“Love you so much, baby girl. Your mama loves you just as much, and your sister, even if she is already corrupting you. You’ve got all of us on your team, my girl. We’ve got you.” 

She smiles to herself. It’s been a long ten years, most of it bad, some of it good. But they really have made a little team for themselves, a little family. It’s certainly not what she expected when she went into business with Joel Miller, but she wouldn’t have it any other way.

[river13245]

Idjiots (sam x male reader)

Navigation / SPN masterlist

Warnings: Few cuss words? Sam and reader being idjiots, Alcohol.

The store was a busy place, it was full of human people. People who had blood running through their veins without a care in the world. Humans who had a family to get home to take care of. Human, that's all you could smell. It filled rooms wherever you went.

After years or practice you could control yourself in a room full of people. However that doesn't stop the smell from circling you. You had being working on self control for years now. With the help of your father...well with whom you considered your father.

Grabbing some fruits and some more vegetables after getting the basic things someone would get at the store you paid with the money you had brought with you and started heading home.

Once you exited the store the smell of the world was now around you. No longer were the strong temptations around you. Carrying the five bags you had in your arms you passed through people on the sidewalk and crossed the streets.

When you arrived home you hadn't been paying attention to if anyone had been there since its usually just you and your dad. You cant tell just anyone that Bobby Singer is your dad given his history and your own. Opening the door you start talking as you head straight to the kitchen. "so they didn't have everything that you needed on your list but i got other things that should work instead"

The three men who were sitting with Bobby all looked over at you before the oldest spoke up. "who the hell are you?" Turning around as you place down your bags onto the counter you look over at him. "I'm y/n and who the hell are you?"

" Im dean" after hearing his name you were finally able to put a face to the name. Bobby had told you stories about them and how they wouldn't take to kindly to you if they found out your a vampire. So he had said if you ever met them that you would have to get them to like you first before telling them.

Reaching for your items you begin putting them away as you speak. "well I pictured you to be very different. From all the stories I was told" Bobby knew what you were doing. He had told you about how Dean had a big Ego.

"Am i not living up to the idea you had of me?" he asked as you finished putting everything away and walked into the room with them. You looked at him and looked at Sam momentarily "I pictured you more attractive...and taller but I guess I was thinking of the wrong brother"

Sam looked up at you while Dean Smirked a little bit. "Well not all of us can have good taste" Which ended up with dean getting punched in the shoulder by Sam. "what did you say your name was again?"

"His name is y/n and he is my son..i guess you could say" Bobby answered "its a long story" Sam looked at him and shrugged "We've got time"

As you sat down Bobby began to tell them the story of how you two met and everything. Leaving out the part of you being a vampire. He always told you that if you ever wanted someone to know, you should tell them. Not him.

Once the story is finished you all talk for a while about their current hunt and some other things. And before you know it, its late and everyone is getting tired. "you guys can stay a few nights. So you don't have to worry about a hotel or anything while you hunt"

-----

Early in the morning you were sitting at your desk drawing. However the sounds of snoring were filling your ears since you could hear everything with your vampire abilities.

The sun had started to rise which caused you to finally look at the clock seeing its 7:00. You sigh and get up from your seat heading downstairs to see Sam passed out on the couch looking extremely uncomfortable. He got the choice of the couch since Dean and him played rock paper scissors and lost.

Feeling sorry for him you walked over and knelt down beside him and run your hand up and down his arm lightly. "Sam, wake up." Soon enough his eyes open and he looks at you "sorry you just looked very uncomfortable." taking your hand off him you stand up. "I'm going to make breakfast for everyone. Why don't you just go take my room in the meantime"

He slowly wakes up and sits up on the couch running his hand through his hair. "no no I need to get up. I'm usually up by now." Laughing a little as you walk to the kitchen "Must have had a long night then. You and Dean did drink a bit last night"

You were met with silence as you got out some eggs, bread, bacon and potatoes. Thinking that Sam went to your room to lay down you started to play some music, making sure to keep it at a low volume.

When you started to cook you hear footsteps behind you and its Sam beginning to scramble the eggs. He must have felt your eyes on him cause he smiled a little "I wanted to help. You made us dinner last night its the least I can do" You smiled softly as you continued to cook "thank you Sam"

---

As you guys cook you hum along to the music that plays. Sam remains quiet, just listening to the food cook and your humming. However when Paramore comes on you begin go sing a little louder. Still remaining at a quiet tone since everyone is still asleep.

"I should be over all the butterflies, but I'm into you. I'm into you" You sing as you plate food for you and Sam.

"And baby even on our worst nights I'm into you, Let them wonder how we got so far" Sam joins in causing you to look at him and continue.

Let them wonder how we got this far, cause I don't even need to wonder at all" you sing and then you both sing the next line simultaneously. "after all this time I'm still into you"

You both continue to sing as you finish the food. Only stopping when you hear deans voice "okay you two love birds. I smelled food, didnt know a concert was available too" Turning around you see Dean grabbing a plate while your dad looks at you shaking his head chuckling to himself.

-----

The week goes by pretty fast. Too fast for your liking. You and Sam had gotten extremely close over the week along with everyone else. Your dad seemed happier when they were home, it was obvious to you but not to everyone else.

You were always super observant over peoples attitudes and feelings. However what you weren't observant of was Sam's feelings for you.

Since day one you had found Sam attractive, the fact that he was tall also didn't help at all. You and Sam watched movies together in your room at night when everyone was asleep. Made breakfast for everyone since the day you guys got caught singing.

Sam also couldn't help but start to like you too. First impressions are everything to him and you gave him a hell of an impression. When you joked with Dean the first time you guys met. Then how you were so caring towards everyone you cared for and yes that included him and Dean.

You two were oblivious even though you both flirted with each other all the time. However who wasn't oblivious to all of this was Dean and Bobby. They planned on doing something about it because they were tired of seeing the back and forth shit.

----

On the last day they were going to be there it was a sunny day after raining for days. You felt yourself grow sad and slightly moody the longer the day went on. Sam and Dean were out catching the monster/s while you had stayed behind since they didn't need extra help.

Your dad is sitting on the couch drinking a beer when you sigh and grab a water bottle before walking into the living room. Bobby was reading his journal when you grab his beer and replace it with a water. "hey what the hell?" he says as you roll your eyes "Your liver has to be shit by now. With how often you drink."

He sit on the couch looking over at you now glaring at you. "listen just because you are upset over dean and your precious Sam are leaving today doesn't mean you get to take my beer!"

His tone wasn't actually upset he was just trying to get a reaction out of you and you knew that. So now you glare at him "just drink the damn water Bobby. Please" you say and he sighs before taking a drink of his water and continuing his reading.

A few hours go by and you had been keeping yourself busy not wanting to stop moving because you know if you did then you would think about how Sam is going to leave for who knows how long.

You were currently cleaning the kitchen making it spotless when the door opens the guys come back. When they come in they see Bobby drinking water causing dean to speak "I didn't know you knew what water was Bobby"

Bobby looks over and shrugs "y/n over there is in one of his moods. He hasn't stopped moving since you guys left" Dean knew why that was but Sam was to busy walking over to you and grabbed your arms lightly stopping you from cleaning the counters which were already clean "y/n slow down. There is nothing to clean"

Stopping your movements you look over at Sam and place down the rag onto the counter and let out a breath you hadn't known you were holding. "I'm sorry" you say as Sam pulls you close to him and he rests his head on top of yours. "its okay. No one is mad." he pulls away and gives you a small smile before Dean places his hand on Sam's shoulder "okay Sammy lets go grab our things and put them in the car"

Sam goes to the extra room and gets everything. While you go to the living room waiting to tell the both of them goodbye. Bobby ends up walking over to you "Tell the guy how you feel son." you shake your head "no there is no point. We never know how long they will be gone for. Or if they will even come back and we both know you wont let me go with them because of my...condition"

Bobby is silent especially when the both of them come down with their bags. He does go help Dean carry the stuff leaving Sam and you by the door.

Looking up at Sam you nod "well looks like its goodbye for now huh?" Sam nods and looks down at you "You know ill be back. Cant stay away from Bobby for long. ya know?" His words cause you to chuckle "oh yes sure. Bobby is always such a joy to be around"

Sam looks around and notices Dean give him a look encouraging him to do something. So he takes places his hand on your shoulder "look I will call you every day. Hell id invite you to come along but Bobby would probably have some words to say about that one. But i dont want to leave till I do something"

"do what" you ask as he brings his hands to the sides of your face pulling you into a kiss. He leans down quiet a bit as you wrap your arms around his waist.

When the both of you pull away you're both smiling like kids at a candy factory. You place your hand on his chest "I might just have to sneak away and come join you guys on your adventure"

Sam laughs and you both look over at Bobby when he whistles for everyone's attention. He holds out a bag and its the same one you had in your room. "well what are you waiting for Idjiots. Better leave before I change my mind"

Sam who was holding onto your hand walks with you to your dad and you hug him. He pats your head "be safe alright."

"yes ill be safe and blah blah blah. As long as you promise me one thing?" he looks at you with a questionable look "alright what do I have to promise to"

"drink more water, try to be a bit more healthy. Trust me i will know if you don't" he rolls his eyes "alright. Now you boys better get going"

The three of you nod and say quick goodbye and you say a quiet "i love you" to your dad before getting into the car in the backseat as the two boys sit in the front and start driving off.

[gxlds-doodles]

was thinking abt how much i miss the 2014-2015 era fnaf fandom and it's interpretations of the characters (oh vincent purple guy how i miss you.) so new au alert!! lil chibis of my vincent n phone guy <3 designs are very much inspired by the popular designs for them around that time (originally popularized/created by rebornica i believe - though these are completely separate from their au i am not associated with them in any way shape or form) 🎉✧ SUPER COOL EPIC LORE INFO UNDER THE CUT!!!!!!! ✧🎉

general lore ☆ basically a whole rewrite - not because i have issues with the story (i stopped paying full attention after sister location tbh) just for fun!! again very much based on me missing 2010s fnaf fandom that was PEAK to me ☆ i still tie in some pieces of the lore but for the most part. forget what u know abt fnaf this is a whole rewrite (ex. animatronics are sentient but not possessed by children - not possessed at all in fact!! except for perhaps a few exceptions but i'm working on it) ☆ these two have quite a lot of canon lore tie-ins but beyond these two it's different LOL ☆ set in or around 2014, timeline is a wip vincent dorian (formerly afton) ☆ italian on his dad's side, armenian on his mom's side ☆ william afton's only child, born while freddy's was open but doesn't remember it rlly - his father and henry emily were co-owners/business partners but split ways (aka william got fired bc henry found out what he did. why he didn't bring this to the cops i'm still working out) soon after he was born ☆ raised by william as a single father ☆ was forced to help his father kill since he was like 12 this guy's got TRAUMA. ☆ still deciding on why he's purple (boy why you ourple.) but ik that it's william's fault. idk if i wanna go the walking corpse route like with michael in canon yet ☆ cuts off his dad when he's 18 - moves out on his own, etc. ☆ still kills for reasons i am currently working on however he does NOTTTT kill children ☆ starts working at freddy's at 27 as a way to 'rebel' against his dad, even if he hasn't seen him in yeeears by this point ☆ night guard at first, eventual day shift guard and sometimes a technician when needed ☆ his hair is naturally still black - he dyes it purple bc he thinks it looks cool ☆ his red scrunchie matches the red of phone guy's head <3 scott emily ☆ THE DRAWING IS OF A VERY SPECIFIC POINT IN THE AU I HAVE YET TO FLESH OUT it's not the most reflective of his character overall ☆ puerto rican ☆ henry emily's only child - remembers a tiny bit about william, remembers being scared shitless of him ☆ gets caught in a fire set by william when he's 16. he barely makes it out alive ☆ henry makes him the phone head mask thing. it can *technically* be removed but it never is bc it keeps the scars that never quite fully healed from getting worse ☆ head somehow works like a real phone... don't ask i just thought the idea of him ringing when he feels strong emotions is rlly funny (henry makes sentient animatronics in this au he can do anything. everyone say ty plot device dad!!) ☆ has some sort of contacts made by his dad that allow him to see through the phone ☆ grew up with the restaurant, his dad managed the location he's currently at until passing the business and the manager position onto him when he was 25 and henry was ready to retire ☆ henry told scott the full truth about william shortly before retiring - including that he set the fire that he got caught in. it's made him pretty paranoid that he's coming for him or something's gonna happen to him, even if neither of them have heard from william since then and he's essentially off the grid ☆ always at the restaurant during opening hours but rarely ever seen bc he doesn't want to scare any of the kids with his phone head vincent & scott ☆ yes they're dating. everyone cheer!! early fandom purplephone was my SHITTTT i love them so much ugh they r everything 2 me ☆ ngl they remind me of poolverine (deadpool x wolverine). vincent is deadpool (VERY accurate.) and scott is wolverine (less accurate but their dynamic stands) ☆ scott finds vincent annoying at first but eventually warms up to him and now he loooooves him. he's still annoying but he loooooooooves him ☆ scott doesn't know vince is william's son at first since he changed his surname and looks completely different ☆ they're just rlly cute and deeply in love and got some angsty shit going on later but that'll be a surprise oooo