#she’s in foster care so any time to be away is good time | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

dadbodbuck · 2 months ago

Text

could it shine down here with you?

Rating: G | WC: 1.7k | Pairing: BuckTommy

Loosely based on this post by @loulovingho!

Summary:

Tommy doesn't realize until later that he already asked for Thanksgiving off.

Read it here on Ao3 or continue below!

Tommy is five, or maybe six, and he doesn’t like Thanksgiving. His dad is screaming at his mom because the turkey isn’t thawed. He’s calling her a lot of words that Tommy thinks are really mean. Tommy’s dad yells a lot, but it’s rarely this bad. Tommy’s mom usually waits for it to blow over, but this time, Tommy watches from the living room entry as her face crumbles and she shoulders past Tommy’s dad, breezes by Tommy, and flees into their bedroom.

Tommy wants to follow her, but his dad grabs his arm, too-tight, and tugs Tommy away towards where the half-thawed turkey is laying on the ground, cold and slimy. When they get there, Tommy’s dad hands him a garbage bag and a roll of paper towels and says “Your mom needs some time alone to think about what she’s done. Clean up this mess.”

It’s okay, because later his mom comes out of the bedroom and kneels down, her eyes red and puffy, and she tells him, “I’m so sorry you had to see that, honey. You did a good job cleaning the kitchen. It’s okay, we can still have dinner, even if I messed up the turkey,” and she makes Stovetop stuffing, and takes cranberry sauce out of a can, dishing them up on a plastic plate for Tommy, and a glass plate for her.

Tommy’s not sure where his dad went, but he’s glad it’s just him and his mom for a little while.

Tommy is twelve, and he hates Thanksgiving. He hates most holidays centered around football, actually. It’s a double-edged sword—his dad gets drunk, and his dad gets riled up, and he’s either too loud and happy, or too loud and mad. The Superbowl is Tommy’s least favorite time of the year. Especially when the Rams are playing.

The Rams aren’t playing this year, but that doesn’t mean Tommy’s off the hook. Tommy brings his dad beers when his dad calls for them, doesn’t say a word to his old man, carefully doesn’t flinch when his dad yells angrily at the screen.

For the most part, Tommy sits alone in his room and looks at the picture of his mom. It’s her high school graduation, she’s gleaming in her cap and gown. Tommy misses her.

Tommy knows that his family isn’t normal. That it’s fucked up. But he also knows how to deal with his dad, especially now that his mom isn’t around to instigate anymore. He doesn’t know what’s going to happen if he gets sent to foster care. He doesn’t want to know.

Tommy also knows, somewhere, that it’s partially his own fault. Maybe if he was a better kid—someone his dad could be proud of, this wouldn’t happen. He was always doing something to incur his father’s wrath. Plus, it’s not like his dad doesn’t love him, in his own way. Tommy loves his dad, too.

Tommy makes his own Stovetop stuffing and cranberry sauce from a can. His dad doesn’t eat it, but Tommy doesn’t care, because at least he survived Thanksgiving without any more bruises.

Tommy is eighteen, and twenty-three, and thirty-one. Thanksgiving is in a shitty barracks at the base, a tiny studio in downtown LA, and the 118 firehouse. It’s spent wolfing down an MRE, trying to figure out how to get his horrible stove to work, and eating Stovetop stuffing and cranberry sauce and praying that the alarm doesn’t go off. There are the other soldiers, and Tommy’s rescue cat Teddy, and Howie.

The MRE is as it always is. You get used to the weird textures and instant coffee and chemical heat smell of the food warmer. The funny thing about Iraq, the thing that will keep Tommy awake for years and years, is that it gets cold during the winter. Tommy knew before he shipped out that he didn’t know what much about the country, but now that he’s here, he’s stuck with sick realization after sick realization. The people here are scared, and the Army isn’t helping. Tommy looks at the other soldiers in a way he shouldn’t. Civilians are dying. War is messy in a way that allows people to excuse inexcusable violence. Tommy cannot speak the language, of either the Iraqi citizens or the people he was told would be his brothers. Iraq gets cold during the winter.

Teddy is an orange beauty, with long fluffy fur and a penchant for mischief. Tommy didn’t ask for Thanksgiving off, but it’s a holiday at the Academy, apparently. So, he’s here, listening to the click of the gas range as it tries to light. Teddy watches from the tiny countertop with uncharacteristic judgment in his eyes. When the flame finally catches, Tommy laughs victoriously, and gets to work making stuffing and cranberry sauce for the first time in years. It’s not gourmet by any means, just the Stovetop and the canned stuff, but it feels like his mom. It feels like he’s talking to her again. Tommy wonders if there’s a universe out there where his mom got help before it was too late. He eats his food in the camp chair that furnishes his pathetic living room, with Teddy invading his personal space and trying to sneak a bite for himself.

Tommy keeps the tradition of making himself Stovetop and canned cranberry sauce. He keeps it the year Howie shows up at the 118 and immediately proves himself braver and stronger than Tommy ever could be. While everyone else is busy whining about missing their grandma’s mashed potatoes, Tommy scrapes together his sacred traditional Thanksgiving feast. While Tommy’s not looking, Howie steals half of it.

“Mm!” Howie sighs, “That childhood nostalgia fakeness.”

“Hey! That was mine,” Tommy says, without any real heat. He hasn’t been able to muster anything beyond mild irritation for Howie since he saved his life.

“Oh, because you were going to eat all of that in one sitting,” Howie scoffs, “I’ll pay you back your dollar for my half if you really want.”

“No, it’s fine,” Tommy huffs, scraping out the other half for his own portion. They sit at the table and eat together, and it’s the closest Tommy’s ever had to spending Thanksgiving with someone.

It’s not until they finish eating and the bell rings that Tommy realizes Howie’s the only one who hasn’t asked Tommy if he’s sad he’s missing out on the holidays.

For the most part, his Thanksgivings after the 118 are spent much the same way, but at Harbor, and alone. He gets to put his leftovers in the fridge and eat off them for a few days. Thanksgiving (save for deep fried turkey incidents) is a relatively tame holiday. No fireworks, at least.

Then, Evan.

A lot of things change for Tommy when Evan crashes into his life, all legs and a blinding smile. Evan is a whirlwind and the most beautiful man Tommy has ever seen. Evan is kind of everything.

When Tommy realizes he’s falling in love, it makes him sick to his stomach. He remembers loving his dad enough to excuse his anger, loving his mom enough to let her slip away, loving a country enough to enact its violence, loving the sense of belonging at the 118 enough to allow the kindest people he’s ever met to suffer. Tommy doesn’t love right. He can’t let Evan get tired of him and leave. He can’t poison Evan until he turns into something cruel. So Tommy breaks up with him. Evan asks him to move in, and he can feel the iron jaws of a bear trap closing around his throat, so he breaks up with him.

Tommy doesn’t realize until later that he already asked for Thanksgiving off.

(Thanksgiving came up between them for the first time when Evan asked if he wanted to do their own thing or go over to the grand 118 Thanksgiving Feast.

“I don’t know,” Evan has shrugged, “I mean, I want to spend it with you. I don’t want to pressure you into a big thing if you don’t want to, or if—if you’re used to smaller Thanksgivings. What does your family do for Thanksgiving?”

“Um,” Tommy had said, a little caught off-guard like he was every time they brushed up against the topic of family, “We didn’t really celebrate Thanksgiving. I usually just get a box of Stovetop stuffing and a can of cranberry sauce and call it a day.”

Evan had scoffed, mock-offended. “Well! In that case, we’re going. Mark your calendar. You’re going to cream your pants when you try Bobby’s turkey.”

Tommy had smiled and thought maybe. Maybe this will be the year.)

Tommy sighs and opens the box of Stovetop stuffing. His water and butter are already boiling, so he pours the mix in and watches it saturate. He stirs it and takes it off the heat to sit. A strange, painful sadness claws at the inside of his throat. It hurts. It hurts worse than it usually does.

He doesn’t think about Evan and Bobby’s allegedly orgasm-worthy turkey and Howie introducing Tommy to Jee-yun and how close they had all seemed at the hospital for Denny. He walks over to the mantle above his fireplace, with a small, framed pawprint inside, and Teddy 2021 written underneath.

Five minutes passes slowly without anyone to distract him. Tommy tries and fails not to think about every holiday he’s spent alone, or wishing he was alone. This is the first holiday he’s wished for someone in particular who wasn’t his mom or Teddy.

Tommy eats stuffing and canned cranberry sauce at his kitchen table. Somewhere, Evan is in a house warm with love. Somewhere, Evan is loved, wholly and unconditionally. Tommy’s glad people love him. He deserves to be loved.

Tommy doesn’t like watching football on Thanksgiving, so instead he puts on Mean Girls. After his stomach settles, he’s too tired to do anything but crawl into bed and sleep until his shift in the morning.

When Tommy gets to work, he’s surprised when Lucy says, “Delivery for you in the fridge, Kinard, you better eat it before I can get my hands on it.”

Inside the fridge is a glass Tupperware container wrapped in a plastic Chinese takeout bag. There’s a sticky note attached to it that says Bobby’s turkey is even better the next day.

Tommy texts Evan and asks about it. Evan doesn’t say anything back.

But he does get a text from Howie, and the timing is too quick to be coincidence. When you’re reheating it, remember to put half a teaspoon of water in the dish so it doesn’t dry everything out in the microwave.

#bucktommy #tevan #kinley #kinkley

204 notes · View notes

the-ace-with-spades · 1 month ago

Text

(sorry this got longer than I thought)

You know what fic I'd love to read?

One where Carole dies but doesn't get anything in order before her death (as is many times the case) and Mav is installed as Bradley's temporary guardian after her death but everything goes wrong very fast

Due to Mav's less than heterosexuals tendencies, Bradley ends up in the foster system. One day a social worker with a police officer just shows up and takes him away from school and he doesn't know what's going on. He ends up in his first not so good foster family the same evening. Mav can't even visit as he is deemed a bad influence and has an ongoing investigation if he is 'fit' to be Bradley's guardian.

He doesn't stop asking about Mav for months. Keeps trying to run away to him (he's about 50 miles away because foster homes are sparse so no dice) and finally his foster 'mom' is fed up with the constant asks to at least try and call Mav so she tells him Mav didn't want him and doesn't want Bradley to contact him.

And because Bradley is twelve, he believes it.

(It's not that Mav didn't try. There was a whole appeal process but Mav had a deployment right after and he couldn't explain to the social workers that no, Bradley would stay with someone trusted while he was gone, because that someone was Ice, the source of his suspected homosexual tendencies. They literally told him he's not allowed to contact Bradley and once he came back from deployment, Bradley was already in a different foster home, a few counties over and lost in the system.)

Bradley spends the rest of his childhood in the system. His first family is dubious and the following ones are a mix of constant hope and disappointment. He has at least two different families foster him every year, until he is sixteen and ends up in a group home. There are only two families that he actually comes close to calling family - a young married couple that stops fostering when the wife is diagnosed with chronic autoimmune disorder, and a couple of teachers that have to drop one of the two kids they foster when the financial requirements to foster raise and decide that Bradley is going to be that kid.

No one ever even thinks about adopting him. He's got good grades and stays on top of school, but that's about what is going well in his life. Some families he's with are average - they let him be and maybe don't care as much for anything that involves him as long it doesn't stir trouble at the fostering agency and Bradley is healthy and safe. Some families are worse - sometimes he is one of the five kids and is expected to stay and be a live-in nanny, sometimes they're only doing it for the money and he has barely anything, barely any food, barely any attention, barely any clothes, barely any school supplies, just so he doesn't cost too much. Sometimes, things get physical - it happens less, the taller he gets and by the time he starts fighting back, he has enough reputation that no one believes it and no one wants to foster him anymore. And group home it is.

By the time he's seventeen, he's enlisted. Just so he leaves the system as fast as he can. It all works out because the Navy fits the bill for his university and NROTC when the time comes - even if he's told he's not a good candidate for the USNA, even if he was told his grades and his achievements should be more than enough, even if despite the circumstances, he managed to meet the same requirements.

Finding out that it was Pete 'Maverick' Mitchell who protested his application and pulled the plug on it is Bradley's second heartbreak.

Bradley bites down any complaints he has about life and enters UVA at 21, with a military scholarship and NROTC bursary. At that point, he doesn't even know if he still wants to go into aviation, it brings so much bitterness in him. But then his grades and his overall achievement are so good, everyone says it'd be a waste if he didn't go to one of the most competitive pipelines. The Navy pays for his private pilot licence when he hesitates, and sure enough, it does feel good.

The pipeline is where he meets Jake Seresin. Jake Seresin, who has two brothers and two sisters and who has jars of homemade jam and chocolate-covered plums sent in a little package from his mom at least once a month. Jake Seresin, who uses all his leave to attend weddings, holiday parties, birthday parties, even a dog's funeral. Jake Seresin, who comes from every Thanksgiving with spare pumpkin pie, who has a new handmade Christmas sweater every year.

Jake Seresin, who, for some reason not known to Bradley, is impressed with how effortless learning to fly is for Bradley, with how much Bradley knows, with how much he leads in the lectures and the flight lessons - most guys find Bradley annoying and cold and Bradley would've agreed with them if any said it to his face. The Navy is the only good thing Bradley's had since his mom died, he has much more time to focus on being good at whatever Navy throws at him and maybe that makes him strange and aloof. But not Jake.

Jake Seresin, who is a competitive asshole that can't shut his mouth for his own good. Who has no idea of personal space, who fills the silence better than a jukebox, who will drill and drill the topic until he gets an answer he can comprehend, who doesn't care what people think of him as long as he knows his worth.

Bradley might have a bit of a crush on him, but it's an annoying crush kind of crush - one he doesn't really want to have, one he doesn't really know what to do with. Jake Seresin, who probably would never look at Bradley twice, especially in that way.

They get separate F-18 training bases and Bradley forgets for a moment Jake Seresin ever existed.

Then, summer of 2011, Jake Seresin gets restationed, right into Bradley's squadron. And he's still his annoying self, inserting himself into Bradley's private space, private time, and doesn't let Bradley have a say in it, at all.

Maybe Bradley doesn't want to have any say in it, deep down.

A few months later, DADT gets repealed. It doesn't change much for Bradley, he's not going to talk to anyone about his personal life. But it seems it changes something for Jake.

Because he asks Bradley out on a date.

Bradley's never really dated. Didn't really have the time to when he was a teenager, moved so many times, and then he enlisted, and then he was in college and NROTC. He slept with people, but he's never dated anyone.

So he gets to know Jake Seresin. Jake Seresin, who despite bringing all that food back with him any time he visits his parents, can't cook at all and who would hang onto Bradley's arm or shoulders whenever Bradley cooked. Who can sew so well that he saves all of Bradley's old shirts. Who can't keep his mouth shut, no matter the circumstances - not in the theatre, not when they eat, not when they just watch a movie at home, not even in bed. Who seems to know every single tune under the sun but can't play a single instrument. Who has elaborate, detailed plans for his life - an admiral by forty, two kids by thirty-five, a nice little house in driving distance to some body of water, a German shepherd or a border collie for a family dog once the house is there, a personal two or maybe four-person plane by the time he's forty-five, maybe co-owning aeroclub by fifty.

Bradley's never before thought about the future.

He never tells Jake even half of the things he's seen and lived through when he was in foster care, never tells him about his pulled application from USNA, never tells him about Mav. He doesn't think Jake would be able to understand, the way his family seems perfect and loving and caring. He doesn't want him to know how many things is wrong with him.

But Jake knows he's got no family, that his dad died in the Navy, his mom when he started middle school, that he's been in foster care for all his teenage years. Knows that Bradley has no one to come back home.

"Don't be a fool, sweetheart," is what Jake tells him. "You've got me."

For the first time in his life at the age of 29, Bradley requests Christmas leave.

Bradley's never had a big family, but there was a time he once had a family - or so he thought, when he was twelve and the illusion shattered - so he thought he'd be okay.

And at first, he is fine. Jake rotates him around like a prize piece, introducing him to his siblings, parents, aunts, uncles, nephews, cousins, grandparents, but it's just two or three people at once. Whenever it seems like too much, Bradley drifts away to the kitchen where he can just stay silent and listen to Jake's mom talk to the various people that come by while he slices homemade ham or he steps out onto the backyard and talks to the kids of all the ages gathered around the makeshift playground.

But then they're right before dinner starts - there are over thirty people in the open space of the house, now that everyone arrived, and Bradley feels hot, suffocating in the crowded space, in the clutter of gifts and food and colorful Christmas sweaters.

And then, before he can take any of it in, he hears Jake, saying in his typical loud and teasing tone, that Bradley can play the piano, and look at that, he could play something Christmas-y before the turkey is done, and next thing he knows, there's over thirty pairs of eyes on him and plenty of people asking questions and making teasing remarks and it all seems so tricky--

He can't imagine himself, in that room, with all those people, feeling comfortable. So he walks out.

Bradley doesn't know how to be a part of a family. There's no reason to try and lie to himself and everyone else.

They don't see each other for years after. The next time they do, it's only the eight weeks at Top Gun. The Jake that Bradley knew isn't there - this Jake is bitter and sarcastic and sharp with his tongue. This Jake wins Top Gun and never looks back at Bradley when he returns to his station base.

The next time they see each other is at the Top Gun recall when Bradley is going through a life roller coaster.

Not only is Jake being the biggest ass not just to him but to everyone, for the first time in twenty years, Bradley sees Mav. Sure, maybe he's not moved on from Jake - he still remains the only person Bradley ever dated - but he's managed to dodge Maverick, and Iceman by association, in all those years he's been in the Navy and now he's forced to pretend all is fine.

And Maverick doesn't make it easier.

He tries to approach Bradley like they're long-lost friends, saying all those things about how he missed him and how Bradley looks so much like his dad. Like he didn't leave him in the foster system when he was a kid and didn't fuck up his application for USNA.

So he pretends he doesn't remember Maverick because that's the easiest given that Maverick is supposed to train him.

On top of that, Jake mixes himself up into Bradley's shit life situation when he overhears Mav trying to get Bradley to 'remember' and 'renew their relationship' and keeps pestering Bradley. Maybe he can tell you more about your childhood, why the hell are you so rude to him, he wouldn't make up knowing you, you know, maybe he's got some of your parents' stuff and can share---

And hearing the love of his life that he let get away because Bradley didn't know how to be part of his family side with the first person that told Bradley he's not enough to be someone's family - well, it's not exactly helping the state of Bradley'e mental being.

So maybe he explodes at Jake, a little bit, in the end. You want to talk to the man who left me behind when I was twelve and the only time he looked back was to tell me he didn't think I was good enough? Then so be fucking it.

Instead of butting into Bradley's life, Jake shuts up and starts avoiding him. Bradley supposes he has what he wanted.

Bradley doesn't care what Maverick thinks or if he changed or if he wants something from Bradley.

He still turns around when he's shot down. It's not like he's got someone to come back to anyway. Not because he cares about Maverick.

"I'm not you," Bradley tells Mav. "I don't leave people behind."

The admittance - that he knows and remembers Mav and wants nothing to do with him, wants to be nothing like him - works. They survive and Bradley doesn't see Maverick again, not when they're in the med bay, not when they're in the hospital in San Diego, not when he gets discharged.

He sees Jake instead, waiting on him at the reception of the unit he had been on, patiently waiting for Bradley to sign his discharge papers without using his broken wrist.

"What, do you have someone else to take your broken ass home?"

In truth, Bradley was just going to take a taxi. Instead, Jake takes the plastic bag with Bradley's clothes and silently leads them to his truck before he asks for Bradley's address.

And in all this mess, the first thing Jake asks him is, "Are you going to stay in San Diego?" because they have the offer to stay there and make their place in Top Gun-adjacent brand new squadron.

"No, I'm going to go back to my base," Bradley tells him. There's nothing for him San Diego, but there's plenty for Jake and he doesn't want to be a barrier.

"I think you should stay in San Diego. With me."

He wishes it was that simple but the truth is, Bradley is still the same.

"I can't be the person you want to have in your life."

"But you already are the person I want in my life."

"I think this is going to end up badly."

"Only if you let it."

Bradley's never really could say no to Jake.

It all seems so easy, when he falls asleep on Jake's shoulder watching Top Gear, but at some point, Bradley knows, they will get to the point when it'll all crush again.

There is also the whole thing with Maverick, their now CO, who appears to be some kind of ashamed now that he finally knows that Bradley remembers what he did - or rather what he didn't do. He avoids Bradley like the plague and it seems to be affecting the squad - because they all love Maverick and Bradley is the weirdo who can't have fun or be friendly. He's just waiting on someone to call him out as the party pooper contrasting to their fun CO and deem the problem, as always, just because he can't pretend to be happy to be around him.

Jake hasn't said anything about the Maverick thing explicitly but he gives Bradley those looks whenever Maverick is nearby and sometimes he makes those quips

#dunno how that would resolve #probably ice would intervene at some point #just to clarify mav is feeling extremely guilty #hangster #bradley rooster bradshaw #tgm #i wish my mind could just transfer this idea into like a movie montage #but instead id have to spend hours of writing to bring it to life 😭

176 notes · View notes

undreaming-fanfiction · 11 months ago

Text

As a crazy cat lady, may I offfer...

Eddie who has always loved cats, how free and soft and elegant they are, how they purr and close their eyes in affection, how they make him forget all his worries and stress. He's loved them ever since a neighbor's cat found him crying behind the trailer after he got bullied for his new haircut, the last gift from his shitty dad before Eddie got whisked away by the social services. The cat ignored his sniffling and jumped in his lap, plopping herself over the bony knees and thin thighs, and when she started rubbing her face against his scraped palm, Eddie felt complete.

He can't adopt one yet because he lives with Wayne who is allergic. Wayne offers to take antihistamines but Eddie refuses, he doesn't want to inconvenience him in his own home. Still, he dreams of one day sometime in the future, a small apartment of his own and at least two cats who will greet him when he comes home.

Eddie finds himself volunteering in a shelter and when a new cat café opens, he jumps at the opportunity. He is hired and spends his days taking of their cat ensemble and preparing delicious coffees. Cats help him be less jittery and more grounded, so it's a win win. Eddie loves this job.

Enter Steve Harrington, an insanely handsome man who stops by to make a reservation. Eddie is his usual flirty self, although he expects Steve will bring a date and that's the end of that. But then Steve leans to Eddie and asks: "Listen, uh...I will need some help."

Suppressing an internal groan, Eddie asks: "what, do you need me to drop an engagement ring into the coffee or something? Because can do, but it needs to be sanitized first."

"Oh no. Not that, no..." Steve runs his fingers through his hair and even though it looks like a nervous gesture, Eddie is seconds away from a cuteness induced nosebleed. "Not at all. I just...I have a little sister, you know? I mean, my adoptive dad is fostering her and she's the kindest girl you've met, but she had it rough in her original family. Apparently there was something involving animals and...she loves cats so much, but is terrified of hurting them. She would never!" he clarifies when he sees a frown forming on Eddie's forehead. "It's just that whenever she showed affection to any animal, her biological father made sure it would get hurt or at least chased away. And that's gone, that man is in jail and I just...I want to show her that it's okay to love animals again. That she can pet a purring cat without worrying about its safety."

Eddie just stares at him with mouth open. "That's...wow," he says. "Sorry. Processing."

Steve does the hair thing again and laughs and Eddie thinks that this man deserves a brother of the year award, yep, he'll ask Gareth to 3D print one right fucking now. "Yeah, sorry. I didn't mean to dump all that on you, but I had to be honest because this is a big deal to her. To me as well. Just...listen, I like cats a lot, but I'm not the best at interpreting what they mean, their body language and all that. And I really need Jane to have someone here that can tell her what to do, when she's doing a good job...someone who will protect the kitties if she messes up. Her words. I know it's a lot to ask, but..."

But Eddie shushes him. "Say no more, big boy. I'll be here and I'll give the young lady the cat experience of a lifetime."

Eddie used to think he couldn't love his job any more. But with Jane's uncertain smile and big eyes, her incredulous squeal when a cat chose her for the first time, when she kept asking Eddie for specifics of each cat in his care - "which one is more shy, which one likes to be picked up, which one is a picky eater?" - he thinks he's finally found his calling. Steve beams at him and comes back the next day with a bag of approved cat treats for the cats and a box of chocolates for Eddie as a thank you, then asks him out for a dinner - "if that is even appropriate, shit, sorry, I don't want you to feel pressured or something, this is your job, I get it, but I just really admire you and you were amazing to Jane, uh, and the stuff you say about cats is so interesting I'd just love to hear more". Eddie's heart flutters like the traitor it is and he thinks - maybe this is someone I could adopt a cat with one day.

And unsurprisingly, he's right.

#steve harrington #eddie munson #eleven stranger things #jane hopper #steddie au #cat cafe au #steddie #steddie drabble #stranger things #THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE ONE PARAGRAPH FFS

577 notes · View notes

yandereforme · 1 year ago

Text

Yan Jason x Joker’s Kid! Reader (Non-binary Reader)

You found out about your parentage when you were 16. Your mom, the woman who had raised you, had never indicated you weren’t her flesh and blood until that day.

Your mom had gone to school with Harley, and they had been close. They lost touch after a while, however, and didn’t see each other again until Harley was admitted to Arkham during her relationship with the Joker.

Harley hadn’t told anyone she was pregnant, and it was kept need to know. As far as most knew, she was being kept away from others due to illness.

When Harley gave birth, she asked your mom to raise you. Even though she was still somewhat blinded by her love for the Joker, she could still see that raising a kid with the Joker wasn’t a good idea.

Your mom was infertile, and had always wanted a kid. So, after that day, and after Harley was broken out of Arkham, your mom took you and left Arkham, only stopping to have a friend of hers forge papers making you her kid. Only five people knew about you, and her coworkers who helped deliver you died not long after, only leaving three to remember where you came from.

The reason your mom was telling you was because she had been diagnosed with an illness, and would require full time care in a facility, meaning you would have had to go into foster care, since your only ‘relative’ was your goon uncle, who would never be cleared to take care of you. She managed to sort out papers to emancipate you, but she knew that she couldn’t let you leave without his telling you the truth.

Fast forward to the Red Hood Era, you are a book shop owner, having inherited a building from your uncle when he died, and turned it into a bookshop, just on the edge of Crime Alley. You were known to offering homeless people jobs like delivering books or helping you stock shelves in exchange for food, money, clothes, and/or a place to sleep, depending on preference. Your good reputation with the street kids was what made Jason learn about you.

He decided to visit as Jason and make sure you didn’t have any nefarious purposes for your deeds. Not only do you two hit it off immediately, but you also care about the street kids, and aren’t taking advantage of their desperation.

Jason started visiting you every other day, often walking you home at night. He has a few of his men watch your house, and even has them make sure you get home safe when he can’t. However, he was still in heavy denial about his feelings….

Until the Joker Broke out of Arkham

Notes: In this au, the Batfam know Jason is Red Hood. Also, the Batfam will become yandere for you too, don’t worry. Probably won’t be posting much, I’m traveling a lot over the next couple weeks, but I will try. Let me know what you think!

#yandere #yandere batfam x reader #romantic yandere #platonic yandere #yandere jason todd #yandere Jason x joker’s kid #non binary darling

514 notes · View notes

krirebr · 3 months ago

Text

I Know I Should Know Better 7/End

Pairing: Curtis Everett x Female Reader

Word Count: ~3.6k

Summary: Curtis has been working as your body guard for almost two years now. Standing by and watching you work and party your life away is becoming more and more difficult, but is there anything he can do about it?

Warnings: Angst, adult themes, explicit language, anxiety, but mostly, it's a goddamn happy ending, you guys!! Finally!!! All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

A/N: Holy shit. I can't believe it. We've made it to the end of this series. Thank you, thank you, thank you to everyone who's been along on this ride. Your support of this story has really bowled me over. I so hope you love this ending as much as I do.

For this one, especially, any comment, reblog, or ask will mean so much to me. I can't wait to talk to you all about where we leave our sweet beans.

Curtis stood on the front step of your house, waiting to be let in. He'd never gone in this way before, not even the first time. But he didn’t work for you anymore. He was the boyfriend now. A guest. So he'd play by the rules he'd always been so annoyed with Colin and Johnny and the like for flaunting.

It only took a few minutes for Jensen to open the door. “Hey man,” he greeted warmly. “You know you don’t have to stand out here. Come on, get in.” Curtis followed Jake in, then stood somewhat awkwardly in the entryway. Luckily, Jake kept talking. “I should’ve texted you, but I was really sorry to hear how that whole thing went down. It wasn’t fair to either of you.”

“Thanks, Jake,” Curtis said sincerely. “I appreciate it. And I’m sorry, for all the secrecy.”

Jake shook his head. “No, don’t be sorry. You didn’t owe me any of that.”

Curtis gave a slight nod. “I hope you at least got a promotion out of it.”

Jake ducked his head and rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, kind of. Although I’m sort of pulling double duty right now while we try to find a new driver. But I think the trip went well, so…” he trailed off and shrugged. “You found something, yet?”

Curtis just shook his head. Honestly, he’d barely started looking for his next job. He’d been tired of personal security for a while now, and this seemed like a good opportunity to see what was next. Figure out what he actually wanted. Growing up in foster care, he’d been too aware of how easily things could be taken away, so as soon as he’d started making money, saving had been a priority for him. He had a decent rainy day fund set aside now. He figured he might as well make use of it. And if he got to a point where he needed to pick up a short-term gig here or there, he was sure, with all of his connections now, that he’d be able to do that. “No,” he said, “I think I’m gonna take my time.”

“Nice,” Jake nodded. “Good for you. Well, if there’s anything I can do to help, let me know. I always liked working with you.”

That got a genuine smile out of Curtis. “Thanks, Jake, you too.” He glanced around your house anxiously. He thought he heard Michelle in the living room, but he didn’t know who else might be here, occupying your time. “Everybody still busy with her?”

“No, the stylist and makeup artists left a couple of minutes ago. I think she’s just getting dressed now, in her room. You should be good.”

Curtis nodded, patted Jake on the shoulder, and made his way through your house.

Two weeks apart. They’d been filled with constant texting, evening phone calls, as much checking in as he could manage in your busy schedule. Hearing about your appearances, junket days, meet and greets. You were finally back, as of that morning, but he still had to steal time for your reunion before the last of your late-night talk show appearances. Your schedule never stopped.

He took the stairs up to your bedroom two at a time and gave a light knock once he got to your door. It immediately swung open to reveal you standing right in front of him in your underwear. He barely had a moment to process before you were throwing yourself at him, filling his arms with you, burying your face in his neck. “I’m so happy you’re here,” you breathed.

“Yeah,” he whispered, holding you as tight as he could. “Me too. Me too.” He shuffled you further into the room so he could kick the door shut behind him and then stood there with you in his arms for as long as you both needed.

You finally pulled away and he took his chance to look around. A rolling rack of clothing your stylist must have brought over was against one wall. Two outfits were laid out on the bed. Your suitcase was flung open in the far corner of the room, items spilling out of it. And then he took you in. Your hair and makeup were already done, but if he looked very closely, he could see the barest hint of bags under your eyes. Your smile was a little sad and you were picking at your nails, seemingly without realizing it. “How are you doing?” he asked, softly.

“I’m alright. I’m– I don’t know. I’m really tired, but,” you looked around yourself, “I’m happy to be home.”

He nodded. The exhaustion was radiating off of you. You’d told him in one of your late-night phone conversations that you’d barely slept on your trip. He wished he could wrap you up and tuck you into bed right now. “Were you able to sleep on the plane at all?”

You shook your head. “No, there’s just been,” you shrugged again, “too much to think about.”

He opened his mouth to ask what was on your mind, but you were already turning away. You went to the foot of your bed and stared at the outfits laid out there.

“Which do you think?” you asked, your hands on your hips.

He looked at the two outfits. He wasn’t sure what exactly he was looking for. He didn’t feel like he really knew clothes well enough to offer any sort of an opinion. One was a dress, low-cut and mid-length, maybe. The other was a pair of shiny black pants, although not leather, and a billowy metallic tank. Each outfit had a corresponding pair of sky-high heels sitting at the foot of the bed. “What are you gonna be most comfortable in?” he finally asked.

You sighed ruefully. “Yeah, I'm sure jeans and a t-shirt would go over real well.” After a moment of thought, you picked up the pants and blouse and started putting them on.

You were both quiet as you put on the finishing touches. He helped you with the necklace and bracelets, his big hands carefully opening and closing the clasps.

You stepped away and turned to him. “What do you think?” you asked, a touch of shyness in your voice.

He closed the space between you and put his hands on your hips. “You’re beautiful,” he said, sincerely.

You just looked at him for a moment, studying his face for something, he didn’t know what. Finally, you asked, “You really do love me, don't you?” with just a touch of awe in your voice.

“Yes,” he said without a moment of hesitation, trying to infuse that one word with all of his certainty.

He'd only told you he loved you a few times, since that first time, not wanting to overwhelm or pressure you. He knew he'd jumped ahead. You hadn't said it back yet which was fine. He understood. You'd get there when you were ready. But even if he was trying to go at your pace, he never wanted you to doubt him.

You kissed him unabashedly at that and it did something to settle the worry he'd felt since he laid eyes on you. You pulled back and grinned, the first real smile he'd seen from you since before you left for New York. “I'm gonna get yelled at for messing up my lipstick, but I don't care,” you said, before going in for another, shorter one. He gripped your hips tighter as you pulled your head away, giving him a knowing smirk. “Come on, I’m sure I’m already running late.”

He didn’t let go. Something about this time, just the two of you, felt too precious. “I don’t work for you anymore. I’m the boyfriend now, so I don’t fucking care if you’re late.”

You laughed, big and loud, and it quieted the rest of the unease he’d been feeling about how you were doing. When you were done, you leaned into his chest and just stood there. “I missed you so much,” you whispered.

“I missed you too,” he whispered back wrapping his arms around you. He took a deep breath, savoring the fact that you were there, in front of him, in his arms. Right now, he had you.

And then, of course, there was an impatient knock on the door. “I'll be right there!” you called out, then knocked your forehead against his shoulder, taking a deep fortifying breath.

“Hey,” he said quietly, “you're so good at this. No matter what, this is something you can do. I've always admired the way you handle this stuff. OK? You can do this.”

You sighed and nodded into his shoulder. He was quiet for a moment, thinking. You’d talked, a little, about how upset you’d both gotten the night before you’d left for New York. He couldn’t help but feel that maybe in his frustration and desperation and worry, he’d come on too strong. He knew you weren’t upset with him, but– “I just want you to be happy. No matter what that looks like, I just want to help you get there.”

You moved your head from where it was tucked into his shoulder so you could look him in the eye. “I know,” you said, gratefulness shining in your eyes. “If I know anything, I know that.” You kissed him again, short and soft and sweet. “Come on. Let’s get this over with.”

It was an odd experience, climbing into the back of your SUV instead of sitting with Jake in the front. Michelle sat in the middle row, acting pointedly cold to him. That was fine, honestly. He wasn’t quite ready to forgive her for the things she’d said when the news of your relationship broke. He didn’t know when he would be. You deserved better.

You were very quiet. He wanted to ask, again, about what was on your mind, but he didn’t want to do that with an audience. So he held your hand, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles, and didn’t move a muscle when you rested your head on his shoulder.

Curtis couldn’t stop fidgeting. He was sitting by himself on what he used to derisively think of as the boyfriend couch. Michelle was on the other couch, focused on emails as always, while Tanya hovered in the middle of the room. There were snacks and drinks laid out on the green room’s coffee table that he was welcome to now, but he hadn’t touched them. He couldn’t take his eyes off you, filling up the big TV on the wall as you chatted with one of the countless late-night Jimmy’s. You looked okay. A little stiff. A little tired. But that was probably only because he knew all the signs to look for.

You’d covered all the benign greetings and small talk and were now getting into the meat of the interview. Whichever Jimmy this was reached across his desk and held up a black paperboard-backed picture of you, twelve or thirteen years old, complete with braces and awkward pigtails. It was from that fucking show.

He saw the anxiety flash across your face, quickly followed by your cheerful mask, although he didn't think he imagined the way it was more strained than usual. Tanya saw it too, judging by the way she took a step forward.

Jimmy was blathering on about the recent influx of TV reunions and reboots and wouldn’t it be fun, wouldn't everyone just love it if there was some sort of reunion for this? The audience roared in agreement.

You forced a chuckle that wouldn't have fooled anyone, pure panic in your eyes. And then you looked directly into the camera and Curtis knew, he knew, that you were looking at him. He tried to send you all of his confidence, all of his support, all of his love. All of his certainty that however you wanted to handle this, you could do it.

He was fooling himself, he knew, but he was sure that you felt it, because in the next moment you took a deep breath, turned to Jimmy, and said, “No, I don't think so.”

Jimmy just gaped at you for a second, clearly taken aback by you suddenly not playing along. He tried to cover with a good-natured laugh and “What? Oh no! Why not?”

You didn't match his tone. You responded seriously, “I really hated making that show.” There were a few audible gasps from the audience, but you ignored them. “Everyone did. It was a miserable place to be. Everyone hated each other. Everyone fought all the time. For seven years! I was a child and no one protected me from that. I went to work every day, as a child, in the most toxic environment. But I was making money. So I guess it was ok.

“And now, god, it’s been ten years! And everyone just keeps bringing it up. It’s all anyone wants to talk to me about. And I just can’t talk about it anymore. I really can’t. I’m not gonna do it again. I’m done with that.”

“What the hell is she doing?” Tanya muttered next to Curtis, who was standing up now, unable to take his eyes off you. Whatever you were doing, it was incredible.

He could tell that the host wanted to break in, he kept looking wildly off-camera to someone for help, but you just kept talking. You wouldn’t stop.

“There’s just– There’s so much I don’t want to do anymore. I’m not doing ok, you know? I mean, you must know. It’s all over every gossip site. I’m not ok. I haven’t been ok for a very long time, maybe ever. But I just keep going forward in the same way, because that’s all I’ve ever done since I was a kid. That’s all I’ve known how to do. But I think– I think I’m done doing that now. I want to figure out how to be ok.”

Curtis took a step closer to the screen. “Holy shit,” he mumbled, deep pride filling his chest, “she’s doing it.”

“What is she doing, Curtis?” Tanya asked, somewhat hysterically.

He ignored her. He couldn’t see or hear anything other than you.

Back on the TV, Jimmy cleared his throat and opened his mouth, trying to somehow stop his show from careening wildly off the rails. But you put your hand up to stop him.

“Please, Jimmy, I know. You asked a simple question and you got all this instead,” you laughed, unabashed, and there it was. There you were. Curtis beamed at seeing it. “Just let me say this one last thing.” You looked directly into the camera again. “I– I am really proud of this movie. We worked really hard on it, and I hope you go see it.”

A laugh escaped Curtis. God, you were so good at this, knowing exactly what you were contractually obligated to do. He glanced quickly at the other end of the green room. Michelle was standing now too, her mouth wide open in shock, while Tanya looked like she might have a stroke.

“And I think–” you continued. ”I think it might be the last movie I do for a while. The last anything. We'll see.”

A wave of murmurs went through the studio audience. Curtis had fully forgotten they were even there during all this, they’d been so quiet since you’d really gotten going, just as enraptured by you as he was.

“Ok,” you said, with a sheepish smile. “That’s it. I’m– I’m done.” Then you stood, took off your mic pack, gently laid it on the chair, and walked off stage.

As Jimmy awkwardly threw to a commercial break, Curtis raced into the hallway. He walked towards the stage as fast as he could, intercepting you about halfway there, a lost-looking PA trailing behind you. You looked a little shell-shocked but good. You looked so fucking good.

He gently touched your face with both hands as soon as you were within reach. “Holy shit, that was incredible. You’re incredible. I can't believe you did that. I'm so fucking proud of you.”

“Yeah?” you asked, your voice a little shaky, your eyes a little watery. “I didn't– I wasn't planning to. But then he asked about the show and, I don’t know. I’ve been thinking a lot about all of the things you're always telling me. About living my own life and what I'm worth. And I just thought, ‘What if I actually do what I want for once?’ And, yeah.” You shrugged.

“Fucking incredible,” Curtis whispered and leaned in to kiss you. It was soft and a little desperate and so, so happy.

So of course it was cut short when Tanya called out your name. You both turned around to look at her standing at the end of the hall, looking harried. “What was that?! How on earth am I supposed to clean that up?!”

“Tanya,” you said, your voice shockingly calm and firm. “Stop. There's nothing to clean up. You're fired.”

It took everything inside of Curtis not to whoop with joy or pick you up and spin you around. But, shit, he wanted to. He really, really wanted to.

Your gaze moved to where Michelle stood behind Tanya. “Sorry, Michelle,” you said with a frown, “you too. I don't think I'll need a team or an assistant for a while.”

“You need to stop and think about this,” Tanya said, her tone placating.

“I already have. Thank you both, sincerely, for everything you've done for me, but it's time to try something new.” And then you grabbed Curtis’s hand and led him back down the hall.

You quietly got your things from the green room and changed your shoes, then brought Curtis outside through a side door, far away from where fans were gathered, expecting you to run into your SUV.

You took a deep breath as soon as you hit the fresh air. “I kind of just want to walk around for a while. That ok?”

“Yeah, whatever you want,” he said softly, squeezing your hand. There were a few hours before the show aired on the East Coast. A few hours, hopefully, before the bomb you’d just set fully exploded. A walk sounded nice.

You headed away from the studio and Curtis was content to follow your lead. You didn't say anything, which was fine. He figured you had a lot to process.

After several minutes, you let out a long, deep breath. “Holy shit. I can't believe I just did that. Holy shit, Curtis, I just quit!”

“How are you feeling?” he asked, carefully, wanting to make sure you weren't wracked with regret.

You took your time answering. Then finally, “So relieved. Just so fucking relieved.”

He stopped you from walking, using his grip on your hand to turn you to face him. “I hope you understand just how incredibly proud of you I am. How brave I think you are.”

“Curtis,” you said quietly, ducking your head, clearly overwhelmed.

“I mean it,” he said as he squeezed your hand and started walking again.

After several more minutes of companionable silence, you slowed down a little. “So, where do you think we should go?”

He shrugged and glanced around the area. “I don’t know. I could eat. Think you can get away with ducking into a burger place?”

You laughed and he stopped short at how nervous you sounded. “No, that’s not– I didn’t mean–” You shook your head and he turned so he was fully facing you. “I don’t know, it’s just– You said a year, remember? Back on my couch, you said I should take a year.” You were avoiding his eyes now, and you sounded so shy.

Your couch. That night, however many months ago. When you’d let him really see behind the mask, and he brushed his fingers against yours for the first time. As he realized what you were trying to ask him, the weight of it, the enormity of what you were offering, all he was able to do was whisper, “I remember.”

“Ok, well, I thought that maybe we could do that. Take a break. Go somewhere maybe, if there was somewhere you wanted to go.”

It took him a minute, as he was flooded with so many things—how much he loved you, how much he wanted to do for you, give to you, how happy he was in this moment—but once he found his voice, he gently grasped your chin, forcing you to look at him. “Wherever you are,” he said, with the most conviction he thought he had ever said anything. He leaned in and kissed you. It was short and more chaste than he wanted, but he was too conscious of how out in the open you were. He pulled back and rested his forehead against yours. “Absolutely anywhere you are.”

You threw your arms around him and moved your head so your lips were right next to his ear. And then you said, so so softly, so that it was just for him, “I love you. I'm so in love with you.”

A warmth he didn’t think he’d ever felt before filled his whole chest. All he could do was just hold you, right there, in the middle of the sidewalk, murmuring in your ear just how much he loved you, too.

Eventually, you’d start walking again. You’d find a little restaurant to duck into for a bite to eat. He’d make you put your phone on speaker as you told Lloyd and Wilford they were fired. And you’d figure out what came next, where you would go, what the logistics of quitting actually entailed. Then you’d get an Uber home and show each other with your bodies just how much you cared.

But for now, he just wanted to hold you in the middle of the sidewalk.

I love you all. Thank you so much for reading. 💜

Tag List

@stargazingfangirl18 @thezombieprostitute @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @bval-1 @km-ffluv @texmexdarling @ladyvenera @roxyfan14-blog @darkserenity24 @before-we-get-started @veltana @andydrysdalerogers @royalwriteroftheuniverse @whosana-maria @dancer3205 @ijustneedpopcorn @mrsevans90 @pekusofixus @i-can-do-this-all-dayy @jamneuromain @kmc1989 @geminiflanagansblog @stcrrjoon @blogbog710 @blackhawkfanatic @ronearoundblindly @king814318 @zaraomarrogers @steviebbboi @midnightramyeoncravings @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @brandycranby @missaprilt23 @quebruv @marvelouslyme96 @yenzys-lucky-charm

#curtis everett x reader #curtis everett #curtis everett x you #curtis everett x female reader #bodyguard au #snowpiercer #chris evans fanfiction #fanfic #bodyguard!curtis everett #bodyguard!curtis everett x actress!reader #reader insert #i know i should know better #kris wrote something

105 notes · View notes

heavyhitterheaux · 1 year ago

Text

Ghost Part 1

AN: everyone ignore the fact that it took me almost a year to finish this lol

Synopsis: You're an OnlyFans model that gets pregnant by none other than Jack Harlow, who runs at the first sign of taking responsibility for his actions. But soon enough, his responsibilities get to be too much for him to ignore

Pairing: Jack Harlow x Reader

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

'I'm a good girl'

At least that’s what you told yourself

But good girls didn't go to school by day and were a cam girl at night.

However, you were

It was only for a little while

Just until you finished school

You needed a way to pay for it somehow

Besides the money was good and it kept a roof over your head

You admit that this wasn't your first choice in a career path obviously, but you had to do what you had to do in order to survive.

You had been in foster care since you were 9 because your parents and brother passed away in a car accident while you were the lone survivor

Your grandparents were older and they couldn't take care of you so that's when you went into the system

Your aunt which was your mother's sister and your mother didn't get along and she said that there was no way in hell that she would take you and that you were someone else’s problem

I mean she did have five kids of her own to take care of, but to be that cold hearted to a nine year old?

You admit that you had survivor's guilt and would do anything to have all three of them here with you. But you knew that they would have wanted for you to have the best life that you could possibly have and that you were going to make sure of it.

But if they were here, then maybe just maybe, your current life would be different.

You had dreams of becoming a preschool teacher since you were diagnosed at 15 with PCOS and you were told that your chances of getting pregnant were slim to none. It definitely hurt because since you didn’t have any immediate family left, that you wanted to have as many as you could.

But you figured if you couldn’t have any of your own that you would teach them instead. If you could plant little seeds into their minds that will be able to set them up for greatness then you were all for it.

You put on your newest lingerie set that was gifted to you by one if not your favorite supporter you would say who went by the name Mr.Missionary and was setting up your camera in order to get the perfect view.

One thing about you is that you never showed your face

Only thing they could see was from the neck down

You did that on purpose because the last thing you wanted was for someone to know what you looked like.

It wasn't the fact that you were embarrassed of what you did, but you wanted to remain as anonymous as possible so for the future, your career wouldn't be impacted. You could only imagine what would happen if someone found out what you had done in college when you were teaching their small children. It probably wouldn’t be good and the next thing that would probably happen is you being out of a job.

You saw time and time again that happening to different people and that's one thing you did not want to deal with.

But, back to Mr. Missionary

He was a sweet talker and knew exactly what to say.

It all started with a message from him asking you if you were comfortable showing your face to him.

Since he had been supportive of you since day one, you figured why not. But also told him not to share any of the photos that you sent him to anyone else.

So your jaw definitely dropped when you answered the incoming facetime call and was staring back at no one other than Jack Harlow.

The two of you would talk every week and you mentioned one time how you had never been off the east coast before and would love to go. Only Fans did pay well now that you had a lot of subscribers, but it hadn’t always been that way. However, you really only used the money for school and to make sure that you had a place to live.

The semester had just ended and you weren't taking any classes during the summer so Jack offered to fly you out to L.A. to spend a week with him while he was recording new songs and you quickly said yes.

This would happen periodically, him flying you out to different cities to meet him all summer long and soon you found yourself getting ready for the new semester to start.

You had about another year to go at Howard University in D.C. until you graduated with your degree in early childhood education while your friend Nadia was majoring in business administration.

The two of you met your freshman year and had been close ever since when you had to take a few prerequisite classes together.

She was from Louisville and was a big fan of Jack, but you didn't bother telling her what had happened between the two of you.

You signed an NDA anyway.

And since she had gone home for the summer, she had no reason for the thought to even cross her mind.

But when you just so happened to go to your OB/GYN appointment you had gotten a huge surprise.

You were pregnant and apparently had been for three months.

Your period was irregular and you would often go for months without getting one so you thought nothing of it.

The first thing you did when you got back to your apartment was call Nadia and couldn’t help but to blurt it out.

"I'M PREGNANT!"

"Well first of all hello to you too and WHAT?!”

"I can't get pregnant! At least that's what I was told. They told me that when I was fifteen!"

"Well apparently you can. How far along are you?"

"Three months apparently and I had absolutely no idea. I wasn’t craving anything, no morning sickness, no nothing. None of the usual symptoms."

"Oh so when the semester ended, those legs were open for business, huh?"

"NADIA! BE SERIOUS PLEASE." You said while pacing around your bedroom.

"Well, who's the father? Did you tell him?"

"Sooo, this is probably going to sound really bad." You muttered while pouring yourself something to drink.

You couldn’t see Nadia’s face, but you could just imagine how it looked.

"I mean, how bad? You're an adult who can do what you want."

"Ummm…. He’s one of my supporters for my cam show."

"Y/N!!!! IS THAT WHY YOU WERE FLYING EVERYWHERE THIS SUMMER!? YOU WENT TO SEE HIM DIDN’T YOU? DO YOU KNOW HOW DANGEROUS THAT COULD HAVE BEEN?"

"Um, maybe and well, I didn’t die."

"What do you mean maybe?! It's either yes or no! And you didn’t die, but now you came back pregnant!”

"Uh, then yes."

"You need to tell him NOW. It’s his responsibility as much as it is yours."

"I will and then I'll call you back." You said while sighing.

You didn't have enough courage to call him, but you needed to. It was better to get it over with sooner rather than later.

You knew he was busy and decided to text him first.

You- Hey, call me when you get a chance

Jack- I will right before I go to sleep tonight. Hopefully I can get another private show 😉

You didn't even bother responding and just waited for your phone to ring while working on assignments you had to do for class instead.

Another thing you had to worry about now was graduating on time since you were now pregnant and would be due at the start of the last semester before you graduated.

It was around 11:52 pm when your phone finally rang indicating an incoming facetime call from Jack.

"Hey pretty girl. I'm sorry it took me so long to call you.”

"Hey. It's okay, I was just studying while I waited.” You quietly said and Jack was immediately eyeing you knowing that something was wrong.

"You okay?" Jack curiously asked while looking at your solemn expression.

"No, not exactly." You quietly responded while starting to fidget as you closed your textbook that was in front of you.

It was now or never.

"What's going on?"

You took a deep sigh before the words left your mouth. Might as well get it over with.

"I'm pregnant."

Jack immediately went quiet and pinched the bridge of his nose before he said anything.

"I thought you said that you couldn't get pregnant and I always wore protection every time just in case."

"I thought so too and obviously you didn't."

"How do you know it's mine?" You immediately rolled your eyes.

"Didn't I spend basically the entire summer with you?"

"Some of it, not all of it. I don't know what you were doing when you weren't with me." Your jaw had hit the floor. He had some nerve.

"Don't do that. Why would I lie?"

"I'm being honest. Don't get mad at me for telling the truth. And why would you lie? Because I’m a millionaire the last time I checked, that’s why. Sounds like you tried to trap me."

"Look, I just want them taken care of. AND EXCUSE ME? TRAP YOU? ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS RIGHT NOW?"

"I still don't see what that has to do with me and yes trap me, you heard me the first time."

"Seriously? How could you even say that? I have given you no reason to think that about me."

“Well people can surprise you, everyday. Until I get a paternity test, I'm not believing anything."

That was about three years ago and nothing has changed since then.

You were basically a single mother and Jack popped in occasionally when he wanted to.

Which wasn't often.

You were struggling living on your own with no support system in D.C. and Nadia had convinced you to move to Kentucky to be near her so she could help out as much as she could. Her business was finally taking off and she told you that you could find a teaching job at one of the elementary schools since they were hiring for preschool teachers.

When Jack found out that you had moved to Louisville he was not only convinced that you trapped him, but now you were stalking him too.

He had no idea that you were in this by yourself, literally. No help from family or anything.

You could count on one hand how many times Jack had seen Ace since birth and you came to the conclusion that you were probably going to be a single mother and stopped asking him for anything. The last time that he had talked to you was almost two months ago. During that three minute conversation he didn’t even ask how his son was and he only lived less than fifteen minutes away from you.

After the paternity test was done and Jack was proven to be the father, he had accidentally left the paper out on the table and no one other than his younger brother Clay found it. He had questioned Jack about it and because Clay was holding the obvious proof in his hands there was no possible way for him to back out of it. Clay then took it upon himself to reach out to you because he wanted to meet Ace. He met him when he was a month old and at that time Jack had only been to see him once. Because of how he acted, you knew early on not to put his last name on Ace’s birth certificate.

After moving to Louisville, you met two of Nadia’s close friends, Blaire and Liv. Blaire was a baker who had her own bakery and would have breakfast waiting for you every day for you and Ace before you dropped him off at daycare and went to the school to teach while Liv taught kindergarten at the same school where you were. All four of you had become extremely close, but none of them knew who Ace’s father was.

Because you signed an NDA, all you ever told them was that he really wasn’t a part of his life and that you were doing this all on your own and they accepted that as an explanation, but it was only a matter of time before they found out the truth. You knew that they would all look at him differently because they were such big fans of him. Plenty of times they had asked you to go to his concerts with him, but you steadily declined, but they never questioned why.

All Jack did was send money to help with daycare and that’s when he actually remembered to do it. You got a discount since it was actually in the same school as where you taught, but it was still expensive. Especially on the salary that you got.

It was currently almost four in the afternoon and Jack was supposed to pick Ace up to spend time with him and you were hoping that they would be able to spend more time together. You knew that his career was demanding and he was at the height of it, but you just wanted Ace to have a relationship with him. He told you that he would be coming around 2 and that he would take Ace to the Louisville basketball game later with the rest of PG and spend the weekend with him.

From what you knew, Urban was the only one who knew about Ace and was guessing that this would be his opportunity to tell them. You sighed as you looked at your baby waiting at the door with his little backpack on wanting to see the moment his dad was going to come through the door.

After a while, he just sat down and sighed which made your heart break.

“Mommy, daddy not coming is he?” He quietly asked you and all you did was sigh.

“We just have to wait and see, bub. Maybe daddy got busy and got caught up with doing something.” One thing that you were tired of doing was making excuses for Jack.

“Does daddy love me?” He looked up at you with tears in his eyes and you quickly sat down next to him and slid him into your lap.

It took everything in you not to cry right then and there, but immediately pulled out your phone to call him.

“Of course he does. Here, baby. Let’s call him to see where he is.”

You didn’t know if you were trying to convince Ace or convince yourself.

You put the phone to Ace’s ear and Jack actually picked up on the third ring which you were surprised by.

“Hello?”

“DADDY! Where you at? Still coming to get me?”

“Oh, hey little man. Um, something came up, but I promise to get you another day.”

“But you promised you were coming today. You said that last time.”

“I know, bubs but I’ve just been so busy.”

Not wanting for the conversation to go on any further, Ace handed the phone to you with tears in his eyes, threw off his backpack and ran down the hallway into his room.

“Ace!” You called after him, but he continued down the hallway.

“Are you…..? Are you serious right now?! You made him cry because all you do is fucking lie to him and to me!” You took a deep breath before letting him have it.

“Y/N, please don’t fucking start.” You heard him say before sighing and you could hear cheering going on in the background indicating that he was already at the game.

“Oh, I’m going to fucking start because he has been excited for this all week! Why would you bail on your son like that? You did the same shit last time. You begged me to come and see him and when I told you what time would work best, what did you do? Not even bother to show up. Either you want to be in his life or you don’t and you need to make a decision. Tired of my child constantly being disappointed in his father.”

“Look, I’ll talk to you later.” Jack said and then hung up without another word leaving you fuming from your conversation.

You simply got up while grabbing Ace’s backpack and made your way to his room. Once you opened the door, you found him laying down with his head resting on his hands just staring off into space.

“Ace….”

“Mommy, can we just go to the park?” He asked not even mentioning what Jack had done.

“Sure, baby. Whatever you want. I also think that it’s a perfect day for ice cream. What do you say?”

At the mention of ice cream, Ace immediately perked up and eagerly nodded his head.

“Can I get chocolate chip cookie dough?”

“Whatever my Ace wants, he gets.”

Upon hearing this, he immediately smiled and you were happy that you could take his mind off of what his father had promised him, at least for a little while.

Two weeks had passed and you were rushing to get both of you out of the door and to Blaire’s bakery for breakfast so that the two of you would at least have something on your stomach for the busy day ahead.

You had sent a text last night to Jack asking him to send you money for daycare for the month of October, but he never responded leaving you frustrated because you literally now only had 24 hours to come up with the money otherwise you weren’t quite sure what you were going to do.

Your Only Fans was still active, but that was a last resort.

While driving to the bakery, Ace fell asleep in the backseat when you decided to call him.

“Yes, Y/N? What now? I’m busy.”

“Good morning to you too. Did you get my text last night?” You asked after rolling your eyes at how he greeted you.

“Didn’t I just give you money for daycare? Why do you need more already?”

“You see, Jackman….”

“Don’t call me that.”

“That’s your name isn’t it? Given to you by your parents?”

“Look, what do you want? I’m in the studio.”

“No need to be rude. I need more money for daycare. I have to pay it every month.”

“Why the fuck is it so expensive? Got damn a round trip to L.A. is cheaper.”

“I don’t know, but I already get a discount and I have to pay it by tomorrow so can you just send it to me?”

“1600 dollars?!? That’s the discounted price? You have got to be fucking kidding me. They act like you have six fucking kids. He’s one person.”

“Just… can you do it or not? I wouldn't ask you unless I absolutely had to.” You asked, hating that you even had to do so.

“Yeah, I’ll send it and you better be using it for daycare and not something else. Because if I find out you did, you better not ask me for it again. Anything else you want to bother me about?”

“Ace is in the car. Do you want to say good morning to him?”

“Not really. I’ll call him later. Bye.”

“I-....”

Jack hung up without another word and all you did was shake your head at him and how your three year old is more well mannered than he is.

Once you pulled up to the bakery, Blaire met you outside on the curb and immediately ran to your window with a bag of food as well as two drinks. A hot chocolate for Ace and her specially made coffee for you. You swore that she put jet fuel in it and as many times as you asked her for the recipe, she never told you.

It literally allowed for you to stay energized throughout the day and didn't even want to know how much caffeine was in it.

She handed you yours, while she opened Ace’s door and handed him his.

“Thank you, Auntie Blaire.” He quietly said before taking it and you looked back at him to see that he was pouting and Blaire immediately asked him what was wrong before you could.

“Daddy didn’t say good morning to me when he talked to mommy.”

Oh.

So he was awake.

“I’m just sure he was really busy. You can try calling him later once you get home, yeah?” She said to try and get a smile at him, but all he did was nod his head.

So much for getting a good start to the day.

Ace had been upset the entire time he was in daycare even when you went to go and check on him and brought a cookie as a peace offering which he wasn't excited by and thought that making his latest favorite dinner might take his mind off of it.

You never in a million years thought that Ace would love to help you cook, but here you were. He told you that he wanted to be a chef when he grew up, so you obviously set him up with everything that he might need.

He told you on the way home that he wanted to make chicken parm with noodles so you stopped by the store to grab the ingredients.

Ace was wearing his apron that you had gotten him as a gift for his birthday which said Chef Ace on it and standing on his step stool to add salt to the boiling water for the noodles while you were finishing cutting up the chicken and about to start making the breading for it.

He didn't bring up for the rest of the day what had happened with Jack earlier, but you had a feeling that it was coming and more than likely it would be around bedtime. But for now, you were simply going to focus on spending time with your little one.

“Ace, do you want to grab the Italian seasoning for mommy to use?”

“Yes!”

He promptly moved his step stool to be in front of the spice cabinet and climbed up when there was a knock on the door.

Ace had handed it to you and stepped down before going to get a sip of juice out of his sippy cup.

“Be right back, bubs. Remember don't touch anything without mommy being in here with you. We don't need you getting hurt.”

“Okay, promise.” He quickly answered before taking another swig of his juice as you went to answer the door to come face to face with Nadia, Blaire, and Liv.

“Heyyy. Blaire told us baby daddy troubles this morning sooooo…. We brought wine and lemon cake that Blaire made for Ace.” Nadia said as she held up the wine and Liv held up the cake and all three of them were smiling back at you.

“You guys didn't….”

“Shut up and let us in. Yes we did and what is our little chef making tonight?” Liv asked as you moved to the side and let them in while closing the door behind you.

“Chicken parm and salad and Blaire’s cake can be added to that now.”

“HI AUNTIES!” You heard Ace as he ran full speed towards the four of you.

“Auntie’s baby!” Nadia exclaimed as she opened her arms to engulf him into a hug.

“Food should be about done in another thirty minutes.”

“Well until then, we have the wine to keep us occupied.”

After gushing over how good the meal was along with Blaire’s lemon cake, Nadia pulled out her phone and shoved it towards you.

“What am I looking at?” You asked her as Ace had climbed into your lap.

“Jack Harlow and his No Place Like Home concert. I thought I would get tickets for all of us to go.”

Ace then peered at her phone and got a confused look on his face.

“Oh, that's daddy!”

Silence.

Looks of shock.

Looks of disbelief.

Nadia, Liv, and Blaire knew how intelligent Ace was so they didn't think that this would be something that he would lie about all while trying to wrap their heads around it.

When no one said anything, Ace turned to look at you.

“Are we going to call him before I go to sleep?”

“Um, sure bubs. We’ll call him. Do you want to go and pick out a book for us to read tonight before we do?”

He eagerly nodded before hopping down off your lap and heading to his bookshelf in his bedroom.

All you did was sigh and wait for the interrogation to begin.

Nadia was first.

“Y/N!!!!! I…. WHAT!?”

“Do not say anything because the last thing I need is him finding out that other people know.”

“He is a literal ASSHOLE to you and Ace. The mother of his son and his actual son. All the shit that you’ve told us he’s done!?! Or hasn't done for that matter.” Liv exclaimed as she poured herself another glass of wine.

“So that's who was flying you out that summer?”

You simply nodded.

“Y/N…..”

“Look, I don't need the looks of pity. I’m fine, my son is fine and that's all that matters. We’re going to be okay with or without him.”

Blaire who had been quiet the entire time simply shook her head.

“I can always call my brothers to jump him.”

“NO, BLAIRE!”

“The offer still stands. Just say the word.” She replied while shrugging.

“I know how you three love his music so get the tickets and have fun. Me and Ace will be okay.”

“No. One band, one sound bitch. If you have beef with Jack Harlow, so do we.” Nadia said while crossing her arms.

“Come to think of it… Ace does look an awful lot like him.”

“All I can do every day when we go out is pray that no one notices. I have to protect him and it’s sad that I actually have to do it from his father.”

It was around 7 PM when you had finished giving Ace a bath and had finished reading the book that he picked out earlier to him when he asked to call Jack.

“Can we call daddy now?” He asked looking up at you hopeful and all you did was give him a small smile.

“Of course we can.”

You grabbed your phone and attempted to call Jack on facetime while handing it to Ace.

All it did was continuously ring and you saw the pout on Ace’s face become more pronounced.

“Maybe, he’s just busy, bubs.” You quietly said before you took your phone back and the look of disappointment across his face broke your heart.

“He’s always busy, mommy.”

“But, at least you get to spend the day with him tomorrow! That’s something to be excited about. Do you have any idea about what you want to do?”

Jack had begged you to come and get him tomorrow to make up for not taking him to the basketball game with him and as much as you felt that he was going to go back on his word, but you were willing to give him another chance. But the chances were slowly running out.

“No, I’m just sleepy.”

“Okay, let’s get tucked in so we can sleep.”

Once you had gotten Ace settled, you went into your room and logged onto your banking app to see that Jack in fact did send you the money to pay for daycare and you let out a sigh of relief that you didn’t realize that you had been holding.

Ten minutes later, you got a text from him.

Jack- I’ll come and get him tomorrow. Be there around nine.

Hopefully this was a way for him to redeem himself for not showing up the other day and prayed that he would follow through.

You were tired of seeing your child disappointed.

The next morning after getting Ace ready, Clay came to get him and you would say that you were surprised that it wasn’t Jack, but that would be a lie. Ace was still excited to see Clay, so the last thing you wanted to do was upset him. You got to have a full day to yourself which you hadn’t had in a while.

Your time was spent going to the mall, seeing a movie, and even going to your favorite restaurant by yourself.

You made sure to soak this all in because you didn’t know the next time that you would be able to get another opportunity to do this and spend your time and money on yourself.

It was around 5 PM when Clay dropped off Ace who you could tell was still on a sugar high since he was running around the apartment and not able to keep still for three minutes when you got on the topic of Clay’s brother since you knew that it was inevitable.

"Clay, I have given him chance after chance to do right by him and he literally disappoints me and him every time."

"I know and I'm…."

"No. Do not apologize for him. If he could have just seen his face when he promised to come and get him to go to the game with all of you and to have a cooking date and he didn't show. Like my baby was bawling with tears running down his face and asked me does daddy even love me? Clay my heart can't take too much more of this. This has been going on for way longer than it should have. My son is my entire world and he deserves a father in his life that wants to be consistent and be there for him. I don't think Jack will ever get there."

"So I guess I shouldn't tell you that he still hasn't told our parents about you or Ace?" Clay asked while scratching the back of his neck.

You then looked at Clay in disbelief as Ace came up on your left side and lifted his hands up to indicate he wanted to be picked up by you or his uncle and Clay quickly did.

"Your brother is just full of surprises isn't he? You're more of a father to him than he is."

"Reality hasn't hit him yet."

"It doesn't take three years. It's just crazy how you were the only one who welcomed him with open arms, but then again you had already saw the DNA results so you had no choice but to believe me. I guess Jack never thought in his wildest dreams he would sleep with a cam girl and end up with a kid."

Just then your phone went off indicating a text from the man of the hour.

Jack- Y/N, I know you're mad at me but I promise to get him next time.

You- Don't even worry about it. Once again your little brother is stepping up and doing what you should have done. So much that he actually called him dad the other day. Think about that.

You saw Jack would start texting and then stop indicating that he didn't have a good comeback for that one.

How could he?

It had been a quick slip up a few weeks ago by Ace, but Clay simply brushed it off and thought nothing of it. You remembered him saying to Ace, ‘Well we do look alike, don’t we?’ And he quickly agreed.

And just then your phone went off indicating Jack was calling you.

"What?" You asked as you rolled your eyes.

"I'll be outside in 20 minutes and I want to see my son."

Once you hung up, Clay turned to you and asked you what he said.

“He said that he wants to see him, but my thing is that if you really did want to see him then you would have gotten him earlier. The last thing he better do when he comes in here is make a scene.”

Twenty minutes didn’t even pass before you heard knocking on the front door and you immediately rolled your eyes before getting up to answer it.

Once you did, Jack was clearly annoyed and was looking right past you to see where Ace was.

“Where’s my son?”

“Oh, so now he’s your son? Are there certain days of the week that you claim him or?”

“Y/N, I’m not doing this with you right now, where is Ace?”

“He’s with your brother in the kitchen if you must know and you better not go in there and make him upset.”

“Now, why would I make him upset?”

“I don’t know, you tell me. Since all he knows you’re good for is disappointing him.”

Jack didn’t even bother to respond as he walked past you to come face to face with Clay playing with Ace.

Once Ace saw him, he quickly ran to hide behind Clay.

“Bubs, it’s me, daddy. No reason to be scared.”

All Ace did was peek out behind Clay’s leg who was trying to also tell him that it was okay.

“I’m sorry that I didn’t come and get you today, but I promise that I will next time.”

This led to Ace shaking his head no and holding onto Clay’s leg tighter.

“Ace, what’s the matter?” Jack asked seeing as Ace had never acted this way towards him before.

“Daddy, you forgot about me….. Again.”

“I… I didn’t forget. Daddy’s just been really busy, but I’m here now.”

“Maybe if you actually showed up when you were supposed to this wouldn’t be happening.” Clay snapped at Jack as Ace quickly ran to you and you picked him up as he hid in the crook of your neck.

“Clay, I already get it enough from Y/N, I don’t need to hear it from you too.”

“Well obviously you do, because hearing it from one person obviously isn’t enough! Now, why is your kid calling me daddy? Oh, right. Because his real dad actually ignores him.” Clay said while raising his voice at his older brother.

“I DON’T IGNORE MY SON!”

“WHEN IS THE LAST TIME YOU ACTUALLY SPENT TIME WITH HIM? I’VE SEEN HIM MORE TIMES SINCE HE’S BEEN ALIVE THAN YOU HAVE!”

At their heated exchange, Ace began to cry and you knew that you needed to put a stop to this immediately.

“Okay, you two, we’re done. Jack, get out.”

“If I leave, I’m taking Ace with me.”

“You are not taking MY son anywhere. Can’t you see how upset you made him? And I told you once you step foot in here not to upset him and you did the exact opposite. Just leave. You've done enough.”

Jack had let out a frustrated sigh as he was contemplating his next move. He stepped towards you, but was immediately blocked by Clay stepping in front of you.

“Just do what she asked you to do and leave.”

Taglist:

@harlowsbby

@babyharleezy

@hoodharlow

@stefansalvatoresgf

@jackiehollanderr

@primadxna-girl

@dessmxsworld

@cockslutslurper3000

@raelorns21

@variety-fangirl

@gbaabyyyy

@kamorsstuff

@harlowthot

@sinsandsuccubus

@curlyhairclub

@bootlegroach

@haylexo10

@thinkingaboutjharlow

@fluidsentiment

@charli123456789

@moody4world

@yourstrulymayah

@yana4life

@beanbagbitch

@alinaharlow

@carma-fanficaddict

@minaxcarter

@arination99

@xjup1t3r

@venusvinc

@jackharloww

@midnight-star47

@minkookie95

@inluvwithladybug

@exoticr0ses

@jharlowsangels

@jackierose902109

@knack4harlow

@cmalass

@megawhoree

@softtcurse

@sia2raw

@miniaturehideoutmentality

@hoya122

@nattinatalia

@jackslover12

@skyesthebomb

@jackharlows-world

@louisianalady

@fdl305

@automaticpeachsong

@harlowcomehome

@gassyandsassy1

@babygirlwilly

@amethyst09

@harrycanyonmoonn

@bout-mine

@tattered-tales

@sisiking99

@dessxoxsworld

@gillybear17

@jacksdaycare

@iheartharlow

@disaster-rose

@babyvinnie

@evansxchalamet

@chtkmyharlow

@itsyagirljaz

@neon-lights-and-glitter

@awhore4moree

@a-moment-captured

@jackmans-poison

@valentinqee

@lightsoutstyles

@j-worlds-blog

@middlechild404

@0elliotswhore

@iknowdatsrightbih

@w1ldthoughts

@love2loveonme

@hufflewhore128

@shawtypoison

@fantasywritersstuff

@harlowtales

@its-jennarose

#jack harlow #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow x black reader #jack harlow fic #jack harlow fanfic #jack harlow imagine #jack harlow concepts #jack harlow angst #jack harlow x y/n

472 notes · View notes

eff4freddie · 8 months ago

Text

After She Left | One

Joel Miller x AFAB Reader Ongoing

Words: 3k Two | Series Masterlist

Series Summary: You've lived in Jackson a long time, finding a sanctuary of comfort and predictability at the end of the world. As Jackson's only teacher, your role is to foster the curiosity of the youngest residents. Including the newest arrival, Ellie, and her weirdly cranky not-Dad, Joel. They threaten to upend your life more than any fungus. Series Warnings: slow burn, smut, Ellie being a little shit but we love her, friends to lovers, grief and loss, complicated feelings, canon-typical violence, Joel is a good dad, Joel has a complicated history, so do you Minors DNI 18+

Chapter warnings: Canon typical violence, reader is a little ambivalent about being alive, grief and loss, no Joel yet but he will make his appearance next chapter

You’d been 18 when the world ended. Surviving the first few days thanks entirely, as it turned out, to your baby sister’s gluten intolerance, you’d boarded the back of a military truck with a bag of your belongings and her little hand tucked into yours. You’d been separated from your parents, their truck ahead of yours, and when it veered off in the other direction on the highway you never saw them again. You heard rumours about what happened to the other trucks, and if you allowed yourself any time to consider them you knew in your gut they were true. You’d known the moment your mum and dad’s lives were snuffed out, because you’d felt it in your chest, miles and miles away. You didn’t burn candles for them on the windowsill in the hope that they would find their way back.

Old enough to get drafted into FEDRA, smart enough to stick around until the shit started hitting the fan, you kept your head down and your mouth shut and lasted years, until you were finding yourself lying more and more to your commanding officers just to keep yourself safe, to keep the people you cared tucked out of the watchful eye of your superiors. Until you were slipping scared families out the perimeter and wondering how long before you joined them.

Not long, as it turned out. You were 32 when the world ended, again. When your sister contracted something nasty, cut herself on a fence or stepped on a nail, the infection coursing red and angry up her veins towards her heart. There were no antibiotics, another shipment was due in a few weeks, but all of the higher ups were stockpiling, knowing that their time was limited, that eventually they would come to need the supplies to barter for their lives. You tried all your connections, you worked every rank you had to get her some, and when you failed you carried her into the bathtub and poured boiling water into the wound, her wasting body too exhausted to howl in agony at the burn. She died as you held her hand, stretched out on the bathroom floor beneath her. It was a mercy for her, you knew, and your penance for having propped up a cruel system, for having played a part in it at all.

You carried her body to the centre of the QZ, not letting her burn in the pyres built for the infected, not letting her mix in with the crawling vines. You laid her at the bottom of the steps to FEDRA HQ and left her there, the entire QZ peeking out from behind their curtains to witness her, a signpost at the edge of an impermeable, intractable border; who you had been, who you had become.

You were threatened with hanging, and you didn’t care. Your patrol partner packed your bag for you and smuggled you out, your QZ-issued rifle strapped to your back. You had left the QZ without even really knowing it, your partner hissing at you to just keep moving as he pulled back the barbed wire to let you through, and you did what you had been doing since you were drafted, which was just exactly what you were told.

You stumbled through the landscape, all amygdala and hind-brain, alone and unable to feel anything but the absence, but the loss. Knee-deep in a ravine you contemplated filling your bag with boulders and letting it pull you down into oblivion. You were never sure, even years later, why you didn’t. It scared you that there was something you couldn’t name, were never sure what it was such that you could ever rely on it to be there again.

You kept going. You were reasonable enough with your rifle, and you ate what you killed, and you stayed on the move. Headed west because you liked following the sun as it set, feeling like you were trudging towards an end of something. You passed camps, watching for the warm glow of fires or smoke on the horizon and heading in the other direction. You’d heard about raiders, about the weird religious cults that had set themselves up all over the country. As the trees thickened up, as the paths became more overgrown, you grew less and less cautious, began to feel like it was just you and the sky. You did well, considering you didn’t know why you were bothering, or where you were going. Some days you sat in the warmth of the sun and let it filter down to your bones. Some days you were so weary, so heavy, that you slumped against trees with your bag strapped to your chest and let your mind empty itself completely. You knew that if you pressed too hard and too long on a limb it would go numb.

Before the end of the world your family had gone camping every summer, and out here you felt more connected to them then you had in years. You couldn’t be sure how long you travelled, but you watched the leaves going brown and red on the canopy overhead. Your Dad had taught you enough to survive until the cold came, you realised. Your entire knowledge of the wilderness ending with the summer solstice. You had no plan to survive the winter, nothing other than a tarp you would string up between trees for shelter, a box of matches you fought tooth and nail to keep dry. You didn’t mind the idea of your story ending out here, found yourself ambivalent about it. If there was a place to wink out of existence it would be here, alone with the birdsong and the gradually freezing dirt beneath you. You had done well to last this long, had picked up more than you’d realised in your years with FEDRA, in the end of the world.

The nights though, were different. You found you could be philosophical about your impending death in the daylight, but as the nights grew colder and the chill got into your bones you were forced to consider the realities of this particular kind of end. You remembered reading about hypothermia in school, that people go mad from it, from the cold and the disorientation as their body temperature drops, as their muscles stop working. That they go delirious, suddenly feel like they’re burning up, strip off all their clothes and hasten their deaths. You didn’t particularly want to be found naked, didn’t particularly wanted to be found at all.

You started keeping the fire going in the darkness, knowing your Dad would admonish you if he was there, tempting fate and the lurking dangers right to your feet. It wasn’t like you had all that many alternatives. You hoped that when you saw him he would understand.

So it was on one particularly cold night, when the wind whipped the branches above you and rippled the long grass, that you were joined at your fireside. You had heard the rustle of the footsteps, had your rifle over your lap. You were eating the last of the rabbit you’d snared the day before. You wanted to go with a full belly, wanted the victory of at least not having starved.

‘You out here alone?’ the voice said from the darkness, and you raised your hands above your head.

‘Yes,’ you said, your voice rusted over from disuse.

‘You hurt?’ the man said, and you were surprised by this line of questioning.

‘No?’ you answered, peering into the darkness over the fire. You could see that he was holding a gun on you, that he was peering at you through its sight. You weren’t afraid of him. The fire was warm on your face.

‘You’re out here alone in the night and you’re not hurt?’ he answered, and you nodded. ‘Why you out here at all?’ he asked, and you sighed, dropping your hands to your sides.

‘That’s a long and boring story,’ you said, and you watched as he stepped forward, sensing you were neither a threat nor treating him as one.

‘That’s FEDRA issued,’ he said, gesturing to your rifle. You nodded. ‘Kansas?’

‘Chicago,’ you replied.

‘Heard things aren’t great in Kansas.’

‘As opposed to everywhere else’, you said. You saw him grin at you. As he came closer you could make out his black hair, his wiry frame. He looked tired and cold, but better fed then you. You might be able to outrun him, but not out-muscle him. Were you in any way inclined.

‘You’ve made it far,’ he said, and you shrugged.

‘Have I?’

‘Yes ma’am.’ You noticed his southern twang, and you liked it more than you expected. ‘Tommy,’ he said, pointing to his chest. He regarded you for a moment more. ‘If you’re lost in the darkness…?’ he asked, his eyebrows raised.

‘What?’ you asked, and he shrugged his shoulders.

‘Nothin’, he said. ‘Just…wondering.’

For a long moment you examined each other. He had an entire pack on his back, a rolled-up swag and a knife on his belt. He swung his gun over his shoulder, an older rifle, duct tape strapping it together in places. You looked down at yours in your lap. You wondered if he was out of bullets, too.

‘Mind if I sit?’ he asked, coming forward again, his hands in the air. ‘Just want to get warm, the cold is bitin’ tonight.’

You put your hands on the barrel of your rifle, and he watched them, gently. ‘Ain’t gonna hurt ya,’ he said, and you swallowed. Maybe you wanted him to. You weren’t sure anymore.

‘Haven’t really been around anyone for a while,’ you said, because you were starting to realise you were being awkward, had forgotten how to be a person when all you’d been doing for months was hanging out with trees.

‘You don’t wanna,’ he said, and you smiled.

‘You included?’ you asked.

‘Nah,’ he said, raising his palms to the fire. ‘M’alright. We all done things, I guess.’

You didn’t particularly want to think about those things. Truth be told you hadn’t actually done that much, had made a fucking terrible FEDRA soldier, kept trying to do community liaison and relationship building to the ire and suspicion of your commanding officers. You’d tried to argue that people would trust them more, that there would be better outcomes for everyone that way, that FEDRA had a duty, something something serve and protect.

They had told you, quite squarely, that no one gave a flying fuck about trust.

Which wasn’t to say you hadn’t been around death; you had, it was everywhere. You had witnessed hangings, had seen people beaten to death in the streets, never really knowing if it was at the hands of civilians. But you’d never been selected for the quarantine centre, rarely had to venture outside the gates to patrol. You’d been on cleanup, had been on curfew, had stood at the top of the gates and stared at the perimeter until your eyes watered. But you weren’t a killer, as much as your superiors wanted you to be. They couldn’t put you on the line where you might hesitate. For the longest time you had been ashamed of it, had considered it a weakness. Out here in the long grass you felt your 19-year-old self take you into her arms and forgive you for it.

‘Where you headed?’ he asked, and you shook your head.

‘Stayin’ put,’ you said.

‘Out here? There’s nothin’ out here.’

‘I’m here,’ you said, and you were feeling like you wouldn’t mind if he just left you to it, actually. Shot you and took your stuff. Whichever, just to get it done.

‘You know, there’s a group of people you might be interested to meet,’ he said, and you gawped at him.

‘What about me right now makes you think I want to meet anyone?’ you asked, and he chuckled.

‘People are trying to turn the tides, on FEDRA, on the whole…QZ situation. You have any…unrest back in Chicago?’

You had heard whispers of uprisings in other QZs, of little pockets of resistance. Things were going badly in some of them, Kansas having to get more brutal to keep things under control.

‘Nothing organised,’ you said.

‘Mmm. I came from Boston, things are getting…hotter out there. I’m on my way, actually, trying to-’

‘Don’t recruit me, don’t even bother,’ you said. ‘I’m not one for community life.’

Even as you said it you knew that wasn’t true. There had been families in the QZ, little kids born behind walls and not knowing any different, their laughter reminding you of when your sister was their age. You’d brought supplies for families struggling to get to the breadline, held the hands of scared women as their husbands were sent outside the walls on patrol. Had got a widow and her two kids smuggled out on a supply run, a ransom in ration cards to get them tucked safely in the back of a truck and carried over the threshold. You had always wanted to help people, and you’d done it, had been good at it. You considered the fact that all this time alone had made you drift further from your centre then you’d noticed at the time.

‘If it doesn’t work out,’ Tommy continued, ‘I heard of another place. Out in Wyoming. You could get there before winter.’

You gazed at him, your face aching from having talked so long to another person. You clicked your jaw.

‘Why you tellin’ me that?’ you asked. He leant over to his pack, pulling out a map and marking it with dirt under his nail.

‘You didn’t shoot me on sight,’ he said, and he grinned at you. ‘There’s still a bit of the South in me, darlin’, and where I come from, we don’t leave women alone in the night without a way home.’

You felt a little turn of something in your belly, a flickering. The way he spoke made you nostalgic for the old world, for the time when a sentence like that wasn’t either insane or suicidal. You waited for the other shoe to drop, for him to laugh at you, for him to lash out. You took the map in your hands, felt the quiver in them, realised with considerable surprise you were nervous. Something, some feeling, was returning back to your aching limb.

It wasn’t that you had been a particularly strong student, back when schools were a thing. It wasn’t even that you really liked teaching, it was just that you quite liked kids, and the teenagers almost as much, and you liked to read and could kind of remember some chemistry, and you weren’t all that good on a horse. Barely in Jackson a week and you found yourself at the front of the all-ages classroom, trying to figure out how to explain the before times, trying not to wonder whether there was any point.

You’d made it just as winter set in, not really believing this little ramshackle town would exist even as you stepped through the gate. You could see that it had been a gated community in the before times, that work was going on to sure it up, to expand it. The original gates were being replaced and patrolled, and you offered to keep watch, the setting familiar to your time in the QZ. Maria, the daughter of the founder and chair of the Town Council, politely and kindly explained they didn’t let newbies protect the perimeter until they were proven. You understood what she was telling you. Until they were sure you wouldn’t go postal and mow them down in their beds.

You shared your first house with two other women, each of you having your own room. Maria had apologised, as if she hadn’t gifted you a chance at another life, and you almost laughed in her face. In the QZ you had shared a two-bedroom apartment with four other soldiers. This was an insane amount of space, of safety, enough that you felt lost in it, swamped by it, sleeping out on the couch some nights just to be closer to your roommates’ doors.

Maria promised more buildings were coming, and you could hear the sound of construction, of manual labour, every hour there was light. When you started at the school, you’d only had six students, total, but within a year you had eight. You moved into your own house, took shifts on the perimeter on nights when you weren’t teaching in the morning. You stayed close to your roommates, even as they all moved out on their own, ate in the mess hall and sometimes had a nip in the Tipsy Bison before bed. You waited, all that time, for the other shoe to drop, for the town council to turn despotic, for the peace to crack.

You celebrated your 34th birthday with a cake baked by your students, carefully avoiding the lumps of sloppily mixed batter in the pan. You felt yourself grow a little soft around your middle, watched the lines carve into the skin around your eyes. You met and grew bored with a couple of men around the place. Watched your best friend grow round with her baby, read books to her bump as she gave you shit for trying to teach a foetus.

You vouched for Tommy when he arrived, scraggly and worn and far less idealistic, making up a lie that you had heard of him from your time in the QZ, of the infamous best-shot-in-Boston, of the man with the perfect aim. You weren’t sure what it was that made it possible for him to stay; your outlandish tales, Maria’s instant attraction, or just the fact that he used to be a contractor before he was in the army, two facts you’d wished you’d known before you’d launched into an implausible and highly emotive treatise for him to stay. You had convinced no one, but Tommy had admired your attempt, and you’d let him crash in your spare bedroom until he got his own place. You watched the way Maria’s eyes followed him when he walked through town. It just so happened that he got his place faster than any other arrival you’d seen.

You had a couple more birthdays, watched the town grow to total self-sufficiency, to house an entire community. You watched the seasons turn from atop Jackson’s walls, your eyes trained on the horizon, thinking of how you were going to try and teach the periodic table in the morning. Thought back to the long grass and the tall trees, of a time when you were alone and travelling without a destination, of a time when you wanted to fade into the air around you, release your atoms back to the universe that created them.

You turned your face to the stars, crisp and clear in the night sky over Jackson. Informed your family they’d need to keep waiting, just a little while. Taglist (let me know if you'd like me to add you) @harriedandharassed

#joel miller x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #joel miller x you #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller fanfic #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #tlou fanfiction #joel tlou

198 notes · View notes

hornedmonsters · 7 months ago

Text

GoT Drogon x Reader - Jaelous - light nsfw

Warnings: Jealousy, Possessive, Drogon is a shapeshifter, but only you know it. Mention of sex - English ist not my native language

Synopsis: Dany, Jon Snow and you wanted to go for a ride with the dragons, but one dragon didn't like the Stark bastard getting too close to you and he showed it clearly during the ride - as well as later in your chambers.

You put on a warm coat with fur today. It was freezing outside and you were sometimes a frostbite, which is why you welcomed any fabric on your body. But at the same time you liked the cool weather, it was nice compared to the hot summer days when you could hardly sleep because of the heat.

You were traveling in the north and Dany had the great idea to let Jon ride one of her dragons. Not Drogon, of course. He had been looking at Jon suspiciously the whole time and you could feel his amber eyes on your small form. You felt warm. As soon as Jon and you started talking, Drogon growled dangerously and mimicked running towards Jon. He immediately backed away, pure fear in his eyes. Understandably so. At his young age, Drogon was already an astonishing size and the earth shook as the dragon came to a halt.

Dany watched the scene in amazement, but somehow amused. She knew that her dragon also had a bond with you and she was fine with that. But she was also surprised because as far as she knew, you had no Targaryen blood in you. Drogon could kill you instantly with a small flame, but he did not.

He was skeptical of you, but he had apparently gained your trust after a short time, which was quite impressive. If only Dany knew that her dragon wasn't a normal dragon, but a shapeshifter. And if only she knew that a month after your first meeting, Drogon had rudely fucked you against the wall of your chamber to claim you as his. Before you could even raise an objection, but he didn't care. He had seen you as a potential partner and had to claim you. You had to admit to yourself that he was really gentle with you at first because he didn't want to hurt you, but once you were able to take his cock so well, he didn't hold back.

Drogon was dominant, ambitious and knew his worth. He knew who he was and what he was entitled to, whether in dragon form or as a human. If his brothers got too close, he growled. Viserion backed away immediately, but Rhaegal was less than impressed by his eldest brother. He just looked at him mockingly. Rhaegal would have been ready to take you on with Drogon, but since Drogon had already marked you as his, he let it go.

On rides, Dany usually let you ride Viserion. He was the gentlest of the brothers and took good care of you, but Drogon's eyes were on you at all times. He would act immediately if anything happened to you and it didn't suit him at all that that little bastard was getting so close to you. Jon Snow. A growl came out of his throat and when he saw how close he was getting to you, he had to scare him.

The Nordic man's terrified face made him grumble with pleasure. It satisfied his sadistic side and if this man wasn't so close to his foster mother, he would have burned him to the ground or torn his head off long ago.

“Hello Drogon,” you chuckled and placed your hands on his scaly cheek. Your eyes met and his pupil widened. He visibly relaxed and you could feel him lean against your tiny touch. Sometimes you wished he could talk in his dragon form, but Drogon was smart enough to give voice to his unspoken words.

With a warning look, Drogon looked to Jon, his pupils becoming slits and a deep growl escaping his throat. Jon held his hands up to show that he wasn't going to do anything. But Drogon's expression remained grim. You rolled your eyes.

“Someone really seems to have an eye on you,” Jon quipped, but his brows were still drawn together in fear. Dany's gaze slid to Drogon and she looked at him warningly. Drogon stood his ground and it turned into a short staring contest before he turned his head away with an annoyed snort and you ran to Viserion.

The golden-sand colored dragon cooed and you gently placed a hand on its nostrils, even though you knew you could never hurt it. These dragons were made of stone, pretty much nothing could just hurt them. There were bigger things for that.

The golden dragon held out its wing to you and let you sit on its back. It was an incredible feeling to sit on a dragon every time and you would probably never get used to it. Jon got to ride Rhaegal and Dany looked at you with pride in her chest. You knew it made her happy when her dragons acknowledged her favorite people and you smiled back at them.

You had ridden Viserion and Rhaegal many times before and you could clearly see a difference. Viserion looked out for you, flew not too fast, but fast enough, and stayed out of squabbles while flying, at least when you were on his back.

Rhaegal, on the other hand, was safer. He flew faster, which you didn't mind in itself, you really enjoyed it and he dared to fly loops, backwards. He rarely did it because he also knew that you were even less experienced. It had scared you briefly, as you almost slipped once and Drogon had lost his composure when he heard your cry for help. With his mouth agape, he snapped at the jade-green dragon and his growl brooked no argument. He'd had enough of these stupid games as long as you were on his back.

It was nerve-wracking for Drogon every time you flew together and he was grateful to his youngest brother Viserion for at least keeping an eye on you.

You were finally in the air and you really enjoyed the flight. The cold, northern wind blew in your face and you closed your eyes and stretched your arms as Viserion flew a little faster. A wide grin crept onto your lips and you felt as if you were free. Your worries were gone, every time you sat on the back of a dragon, all the heaviness in your heart was gone.

Or when you sat on your dragon's lap.

You saw Jon, he still looked a little nervous and you smiled up at him.

“How are you?” you asked against the wind and you could see him clutching the saddle.

“It's unfamiliar,” he replied and you just looked at him with amusement. But he became a little more confident with each passing minute and slowly he seemed to enjoy it too. Drogon looked at you both skeptically and that jealousy and apprehension bubbled up inside him again. He felt visibly unrelaxed and that angered him, but he tried to control his temper. He had promised you.

A low, long grumble came from his throat and your gaze immediately shot in his direction. Feeling your gaze on him made him come down. He wished you could ride him and not just in your bed. Ever since you had mated, his protective instinct was at one hundred and eighty and he couldn't fight the fact that everything in his head revolved around you.

But Dany would never let you on his back because she's afraid something will happen to you, but if only she knew. If only she knew how well he looked after you. He protected you, filled your pussy and took you in his protective arms every night. He didn't let you out of his sight until you fell asleep. He stroked the sweaty strands of hair from your face, even cleaned you after every mating and he would never hurt you. He would rather die than hurt you.

After two hours you had made it and with an aching butt you slid off Viserion's back, with the help of his claw of course. With a groan you arched your back and stretched, you were exhausted and you didn't know how Dany managed to stay on her dragon for so long. It was really physically demanding and without experience it was really a challenge. You needed a bath, badly.

Exhausted, you took off your clothes. The servants had already put hot water in the bath and you were really looking forward to it. Your bottom was still aching and you could feel the soreness spreading to your arms and armpits.

Suddenly the window was torn open and a dark mop of hair appeared. You turned around, startled, and let out a sigh when you saw the man you knew.

“You're going to kill me one day if you scare me like that,” you giggle and slide your hand into the hot water, wincing as you burn yourself slightly.

“Before that, I'm going to kill Snow and Rhaegal,” the big man growled, grabbing you by the hips. Skillfully, he spun you around and his amber eyes looked at you fiercely. Your cheeks began to burn as you stood naked before him. Even though he had seen you naked so many times before and from many angles. Yes, it was definitely never boring with Drogon, especially in bed. He had shown you positions you didn't know existed and he had shown you forbidden worlds that would have made your mother faint if she found out what her daughter was doing.

Claw-like hands brushed over your soft skin and tenderly Drogon squeezed your flesh, you placed your hands on his forearms and smiled at him.

“You're cute when you're jealous,” a giggle escaped your mouth and Drogon looked at you challengingly.

“And deadly. If that man ever lays a hand on your womb, I'll rip it off,” he growled, his grip tightening. You rolled your eyes and Drogon looked at you warningly. He didn't like it when you didn't take him seriously and you gently stroked his rough skin.

“Calm down. No one but you will ever touch me,” you whispered in an upbeat manner and it seemed to comfort the shapeshifter a little. But his eyes remained skeptical, but quickly softened when he saw your loving gaze and he pulled you into a tight hug. His clawed hands slid to your butt and squeezed it gently. You gasped and you could feel his scent misting you.

Your nipples hardened and Drogon's claw gently stroked them. You closed your eyes and enjoyed his touch. You felt the deep love you felt for this dragon and it made you tremble. What would you do without him? You were connected, you were one. Since the first day you secretly bonded with each other.

His claw now went further down and he carefully slid through your wet labia. Your breathing became more frantic. The bond with a dragon lasted a lifetime, until death and beyond. The souls were bound and no one could separate them.

A moan escaped your mouth as Drogon massaged your clitoris and wet your slick against his claws.

“May I bathe with you, woman,” he asked bittersweetly and you nodded eagerly.

“Always, my dragon.”

#drogon x reader #game of thrones #game of thrones x reader #x reader #monsterfucker #monsterlover

168 notes · View notes

mischelmayleys · 9 months ago

Text

Only this first one is going to be post here probably so for more go to my wattpad: football_woman_11

CHAPTER 1

Mapi and Ingrid were the perfect ending for each other. They knew it of course. But sometimes they felt like something was missing. Maybe someone. Some little legs running around their shared apartment in the catalonia town.

It started as a thought from their conversation one simple evening that turned them into a fostering process. They were told they are too busy and always traveling for the games as all the workers have said. It wasn't an environment for a little kid that probably came out of something tragic to find itself in a foster system.

They still tried. They still asked if there was someone they could foster and later adopt. But the simple "No" set their hopes to minimum, until one day.

„Are you totally insane Eliza!" My social worker yelled at me as soon as she found me in a police station sitting in the 24 hour jail. I looked down at my bleeding knuckles and pursed my lips to stop the pounding pain in them.

I shrugged my shoulders and let myself sink further into the uncomfortable wooden chair.

„Do you have any idea how this will look on your record. Running from yet another of your homes is one thing there but fights. And don't let me start at your school records." She was looking at me through the bars of the cell.

„They weren't my home." I said looking up at her.

She sighs: „Eliza I know you don't like them, but you need to at least try. There aren't many families that want a 16 year old, yet trouble maker. You know how hard it was for me to find you Mr and Mrs Freemans?" She let the question sink. She didn't expect me to answer her, yet she stayed quiet.

„I was protecting myself in the fight AND running away was a way better option than staying." I argued back at her. She doesn't know how it is in the foster system. For her every family is good, but it's never the case.

I was in five families so far. Neither of them were okay.

In the first one the father abused me mentally the second one physically, but no one ever believed me.

Who would believe a 16year old girl over people who put everything together once they're investigating? No one...

I didn't eat normal food for a long time, of course I always ended up getting some bread or cold food, but my body was missing some hot and fresh food.

„Eliza we talked about this. A roof over your head is home.“ Again I stayed quiet and just stared at my now numb hands. She wasn’t right. Home is when you are somewhere you are loved and treated right.

My social worker continued to look at me for a few more minutes until she signaled for the cop to release me: „You are sleeping in my office tonight. The family dropped your things into my car. Come on.“ She grabbed me by my arm and dragged me into her car.

„You bailed me out?“ I asked as she started the engine.

„Yes.“ It was a simple answer but it made me smile a little. At least someone cared.

The next day my social worker forced me into my classes and said after school to go immediately to her office, saying she found a family for me to stay over there for a couple of days. I didn’t bother to go, instead I went to a small football field where I sneaked and borrowed one ball which was always lying around somewhere on the pitch.

I threw my backpack onto the field which didn’t include any of my school stuff. Instead of books it was filled with my football shoes and a half of my skateboard. The other half was showing from the back pack as it of course didn’t fit into him.

I quickly changed my shoes and began to do some tricks with the ball that I learned online. They were simple but at least I didn't suck at it like I did with school.

It wasn't like I was stupid or something, I just didn't care. Foster kids don't normally get picked out to the school football team or to anything really. You don't have many friends because you are always moving around and no one likes new kids anyway.

After some time my phone blew up with messages and missed calls from my social worker asking where the FUCK I was. I just rolled my eyes and said I'll be there in a few minutes. It was better to come late, at least they won't pick me if they see that I'm not bothered.

I would lie if I didn't say I was scared to go into the office door. It would mean meeting the people who I would live with. They never were nice people fostering me.

They seemed okay but most of them turned out into drug junkies, alcoholics or abusers. Sometimes all at once. I am kind of used to it now. I mastered a skill in running away and quickly scanning the areas I was in to see a potential way out.

I took a deep breath and with a bored expression knocked on the door and opened them immediately after.

I was met with my social worker and two women talking.

„Eliza, come here. Sit.” My social worker said, making me sigh and sit into the chair next to her facing the two women.

„This is Maria and Ingrid and they will take you in, until I find someone to adopt you.” my social worker was saying but all I was focusing on were the two women in front of me.

One of them had tattoos all over her arms and one on her neck. I focused on that one more:

Looks can be deceiving

Hmm interesting. People with tattoos tend to look aggressive and most of the time they are. One of the last foster homes I was in, the man had many tattoos…I used to look at them when he beat me up. How his muscles flexed and the tattoos moved on his arms.

„Eliza!” I was torn from my thoughts because my social worker called my name.

„Yeah, sure whatever.” I mumbled annoyed and stood up.

„Be nice and please stay out of trouble.” She said as I followed Ingrid and Maria out of the door.

I took a deep breath: „No.” And with that I closed the door and turned around to find them staring at me.

„What?” I asked.

Ingrid smiles at me: „We are waiting for you.” she stuck out her hand and I just looked at it and walked past them.

„Or not.” I heard Maria mumble as they followed me closely.

Due to me not knowing where to go I stopped and looked back at the two women.

„It’s that black Cupra.” Ingrid pointed out a black car sitting at the back of the parking lot.

I nodded and walked to the car feeling them right behind me.

I quickly slipped into the back seat and sat down with my backpack next to all of my bags which I don't know how they got there. Probably my social worker.

I pulled my board between my legs so I don't make the interior of the car dirty. It was so clean.

„So, are you hungry? Or did you eat in school?” Maria turned from the front seat facing me.

I shook my head quickly: „I am not hungry.” I learned that by now, when someone asks me if I'm hungry the answer always has to be no. I once said yes and I hadn't eaten anything for three days due to me being ungrateful.

They both shared a concerned look which I didn't see because I was already looking out of the window.

When Ingrid stopped the car I realized that we were in front of McDonald's. I frowned, why are we here if I said I'm not hungry?

„I know you said you aren't hungry but I think some fries aren't that big of a deal, what do you say?” Ingrid turned my way smiling. Why the fuck is she smiling at me?

„I guess…” I mumbled in case this was some kind of a trap. Ingrid and Maria looks nice…nicer that the other people, but I am done trusting the system putting me somewhere nice.

They both went outside of the car as I stayed in.

„Well you are coming too let's go.” Maria said as she opened the door on my side. Fuck! I mumbled under my breath and got out of the car carefully placing my board into the space between the seats.

They were asking too many questions. If I really want just fries? If I want a burger as well? Or what I want to drink. I tried to reply short and no to most of the questions, but in the end I ended up with The nuggets, fries and coke zero in the back placed safely in my lap as we sat in the car to their house.

I still don’t know what to think about them. They are smiling at me, buying me food and making sure I have everything and it has only been two hours since they first met me. There must be something wrong with them…

Ingrid parked the car in front of a flat building in the center of Barcelona. It looked expensive here…or at least better than the streets where my usual foster parents lived. Maria took all of my bags even though I said I could carry them on my own, but she dismissed me by saying: “Why would you do that?”

I didn’t fight her back on it, not because I didn’t want to, but it was Ingrid who literally guided me out of Marias way.

“Come on let Maria be, I am going to show you your room.” Ingrid said and with her hand on my back she led me into the elevator. I had the Mcdonald's back in one hand and my board in the other one. I get my own room?

#woso #women's football #fc barcelona #espwnt #woso community #mapi leon #ingrid engen #ingrid engen x reader #mapi leon x reader #foster care

197 notes · View notes

thejujvtsupost · 1 year ago

Note

Hello, I am a first timer here. I would like to humbly request something. Can I please request for a Platonic Nanami and adopted daughter reader. The reader is not used to a normal environment and they are used to fighting and surviving

Girl Dad Transformation

I’ve been stewing over this so hard bc it’s been giving me the cutest ideas!!!! And ofc Yuuji is so big brother coded here.

Notes: F!reader, brotherly!Yuuji, Nanami and his adopted daughter 🥺. That’s it.

Nanami didn’t think about the long term impact of adopting the orphaned sorcerer. Surely he wouldn’t change that much…

All he knew was there was a 5 year old girl clutching her only toy- a stuffed bear, who could see ‘scary monsters’ and no longer had any family, thanks to the curse that was tormenting humans for fun; he was just a little too late.

The poor thing was terrified. In the blink of an eye his hand was seized by a freezing, much smaller one with a death grip.

Nanami got you looked at by Shoko and you refused to let go of him the entire time. By the looks of it, you were malnourished and you frequently got injured from curses. Your home life was fairly unstable too, financial issues and absent-detached parents. Shoko got a lot more information from you than he ever expected, piecing together some of your history from your seemingly unrelated answers, as children do.

“She’s going to have to stay for observation, probably several weeks until we can get her healthy enough. She’s going to need a special diet too, I haven’t seen a case this bad in a long time and she’s too young for cursed energy.”

His heart was crushed for you, when was the last time you had somewhere stable? “Why are you telling me?”

“You found her, she’s clearly attached to you and you know you can’t turn away now. You look at her like she’s Itadori. It’s just until I can find a place for her at a home or foster.” Shoko never fails with her dead pan demeanor and sass.

She was also right.

He looked back at you, you were passed out in your hospital bed covered by several blankets and hugging your bear. Finally, you were warming up. Finding you a home could take months if you went to a foster or orphanage… “Don’t bother,” he swallowed thickly, “I will adopt her.”

Shoko’s face softened further, “You can’t go back on it, you already earned her trust. If you’re really sure then I think this will be good for both of you.”

He did his best to be at your bedside when he could, and you were quiet but clearly in need of comfort. Your favorite thing to do was have him read to you with cartoons on a low volume in the background. “Nami, book?” Nanami picked up a book off the stack Shoko brought and started reading. No complaints, and after the first few days he didn’t bother hiding his smile anymore.

He spent a fortune on converting his spare bedroom into yours. He didn’t even know what 5 year olds liked, but according to the first years and Shoko, he needed to make sure you had various toys (he bought everything Yuuji pointed out to him- Yuuji definitely went overboard but Nanami didn’t stop him), clothes and of course you’d need signed up for school.

When the adoption was final and he brought you home for the first time, he was thoroughly instructed how to parent by then, he was ready.

You… weren’t. Not yet. You didn’t know that your room was yours. All the toys and clothes, everything was yours. ‘Nami’ kept the ‘scary monsters’ away too…

“Hey it’s okay honey, I know it’s a big change.” He wiped the tears from your chubby cheeks and smiled softly. “You belong here, you’re safe now.”

A grown up was taking care of you, for good this time.

It was a journey every day but worth it as you came out of your shell, and he encouraged you with a gentle hand. Of course there were setbacks too. He wasn’t perfect, he definitely wasn’t good at laundry at first.

He was new to parenting and it was exhaustingly difficult to navigate yet he was completely whipped for you, never turning down a tea party or invitation to watch cartoons together. He became a complete girl dad overnight.

All it took was, “Nami! Play!” And he’d be on the floor in the living room playing with the doll you handed him.

You started eating more, even requesting different meals when he asked what you were in the mood to eat. “Nami, can we have soba?”

Nanami couldn’t say no to you. “Soba sounds great.” He’d have the softest smile on his face too.

You played more often, and eventually made friends! Yuuji claimed the title as your first friend but you were encouraged to make more- he helped you practice asking your classmates about themselves and how to invite them to play with you.

And Nanami… he never forced you to call him dad. He loved you more than he ever thought possible. He was always proud to call you his daughter, bragging about your excellent kindergarten grades and your recent achievement of becoming the line leader at school for the week.

But the first time you did happened a month in, while doing your bedtime routine and picking out a night night story. Instead of ‘Nami’ he was gifted: “Daddy, can you read the star book?” He let out a tear and hugged you tight.

Nanami tucked you in, kissed your forehead and sat on the edge of your bed, “Yeah honey, I’ll read you the star book.”

Thinking about making a request? Check my bio to see if they’re open and stay tuned <3

606 notes · View notes

idk6123 · 8 months ago

Text

Boring Foster Home, Interesting Roommate (Lip Gallagher X Male Reader)

Getting back to foster care it’s always temporary. One way or another, the Gallaghers always stay together, for the better or worse. Still, foster care is a bitch, and somehow the group always end up with the worst kind of foster parents. Lip wasn’t surprised at all to learn his foster parents are devout Jehovah witnesses.

“We hold a daily bible study at 4PM. We expect you to dress modestly all the time. You need to ask permission to use the phone, and no cellphones allowed. We don’t allow any kind of media that defies our beliefs. Alcohol and drugs aren’t allowed. Any breaking of these rules will be swiftly punished.”

To be honest, Lip doesn’t listen at all as he follows his foster father. He’s smart enough to know what being a Jehovah Witness is about, and he can summarize it in one sentence: no fun at all cost. They get to the upper floor, as they get pass multiple bedrooms, where he sees other children. There are around 12, as he counts. Most of them years younger than him. Luckily, he manages to get roomed up with someone around his own age.

“You will be sharing your room with Y/N. He helps you settle in. You two go door to door tomorrow, so no fighting.” The middle aged man disappears.

Lip walks in, with Y/N looking pass his bible, which he holds. “I love when people look dead inside the first time they get in here.”

“Not the only time I do.” Lip merely replies. He curiously looks at the bible, but Y/N reveals what he’s actually reading.

“Porn. Gotta be creative around these people.” From between the pages, Lip sees a magazine with many ripped and shirtless men.

Lip then put his bag on the other bed. When he first got here, his new foster parents searched through it and confiscating everything that isn’t allowed to be here, which is about everything.

“Want some help?”

“Not really. They already took 99% of what I brought.”

Still, Y/N closes the bible and stands up to help Lip, mainly with his clothes by putting them in the closet. “Dead parents?”

“Only dead beats. You?”

“Just dead. Since I was 2.” Y/N says as both guys unpack. “Funnily enough, this is better than the previous foster parents.”

“Wouldn’t surprise me.”

The next day, the family got out in the neighborhood and split up to spread the special message. This is the only time they’re allowed to walk freely. That being said, they can’t go anywhere. They only get 4 hours, where they need to be checked up every hour. During the checkups, they get frisked if they get anything bad on them, such as cigarettes. However, that won’t stop the duo.

“They usually feel pity for me and give me there junk. Pretty sure they got something for you too.” Y/N says as he and Lip walk over to a house to knock on the door. After some seconds, the door opens, showing an old grandma. “Hello, Mrs. Partridge.”

“Oh dear god, you’re back.” The old lady then looks at Lip with a sympathetic face. “I see they dragged another unfortunate soul.”

“And I won’t be the last.” Lip semi jokes.

The grandma sighs in disappointed. “Let me get something for you.” She turns around and walks away.

“Lovely lady.” Lip comments.

“Not really. She just really hates Jehovah Witnesses. She’s catholic, you see.”

“Natural enemies.”

The granny walks back, holding a bag of stuff, which she hands over to Y/N. “Make sure to not belief in their lies, young man.” She says motherly to Lip.

Lip put his hand on his chest as he takes an oath. “I won’t.”

“Good boy. Have a sweet day.”

Y/N and Lip turns around, with the one holding the bag checking it out. “Oh, she’s generous today…”

On a bench in the park, Lip is smoking happily, while Y/N is drinking the beer they got. Both of them intend to call it a day and not knock on the door.

“This is some good stuff.”

“Yeah, she usually gives them to me after her husband got long cancer.” Y/N explains. “Not really one of the cigs.”

“More for me.” Lip then gestures Y/N to give him the beer bottle, which he passes on. After a sip, he gives it back. The blonde then looks at the bag of loot. “I’m going to get cancer too if I take all of that.”

Y/N looks back at the bag, seeing the stacks of cigarettes. “I sell what I have over. Speaking of which.” He looks back at Lip. “They take our money when they find out, so we need to hide it.”

“In our assholes?” Lip looks amused.

“No. They can’t check them out, since we’re foster kids.” Y/N says, knowing if they aren’t, they would. “Just put them in your undies and your fine.”

“Cool. 50/50 split?”

“Sure.” With that, they give each other a box as they continue their vices.

Later that day, and it’s time to read the bible, the only book they’re allowed to read. They ate their dinner, and now they just have to wait to sleep. During this time, Lip feels like it takes forever until something interesting happens. It’s too early to sleep, and yet sleeping sound more fun than reading.

Both teens are lying on their bed as they read, but Lip knows what Y/N really is reading.

“Looking at porn?”

“Yep. You might as well call this the Bible.” Without looking away, Y/N talks. “Want some too?”

“Are they all gay?”

“Yeah.”

Lip sighs. On one hand, he isn’t going to enjoy it. On the other hand, he takes everything over reading this. “Whatever. Give it to me.”

Y/N closes his book and get off his bed to lift up his mattress. “What do you feel? Doctor’s appointment? Teacher romance? Military training?”

“Military training.”

Y/N grabs it and throws it towards Lip, who catches it. He put it between the pages of the bible. As Lip begins to check it out, Y/N gets back. In front of him, the genius sees a muscular men wearing military outfits while showing their sixpacks as they touch each other. As Lip opens it, he notices something.

“There is an entire story.”

“Yeah, I��m one for buildup. Think it’s more fun.”

Lip hums. Thus, he begins reading it. He isn’t sure he actually likes it, or he’s that bored he takes gay porn. Still, he likes it. To his surprise, he likes it too much. As the time passes, Y/N sometimes takes glances on Lip, to notices him way too invested. He merely let him be. It takes some time before Lip closes the book.

“Got another one?”

“Did you had fun?”

“Playing with dirt is fun when you live here.” Lip says with a smirk.

Y/N hums. “You know? There are other things we can do then reading porn.”

With a mischievous smirk, he looks at the curious teen, who couldn’t help but look at him. With swiftness, the blonde stands up, jump on Y/N and they begin making out with each other as they begin unclothing themselves and each other.

“And?”

“Pretty good.”

Underneath the sheets of Y/N’s bed, both teens lie next to each other as they recover after their good time.

“And here I thought you were straight.”

“Glad you proved me wrong.” Lip smirks. “I can see why Ian likes it so much.”

“Who’s Ian?”

“My brother.”

“Your brother sounds like a wise guy.”

“No, he’s a moron.” Y/N laughs, as does Lip. As they do, seconds pass and they become quieter.

“I wish we could’ve met under different circumstances.” Y/N speaks up. “Not in some dumb foster home where I can’t even kiss a guy.”

That’s when Lip thought of an idea. “We can make it so foster care take us back.”

Y/N is surprised to hear that. “We can?”

It takes around 2 days for Lip‘s plan to be executed. During which, they set up camera’s in the bathroom, specifically the shower. They planted booze and drinks around the house, hidden, but easy to find for the cops. After gathering their footage, they did what they did and now they can follow up through it.

They make sure their foster father is in the kitchen, while both of them are standing at the living room. With it being an open floor plan, they can be heard easily, without talking to their foster father directly.

“Dude, did you heard?”

“About Mrs. Cunningham?” Y/N replies. Now, their foster father is curious what they’re talking about his wife. “The entire school is talking about it.”

“I still find it ridiculous. Just thought of it.” Lip makes sure to choose his words wisely. Enough for Mr. Cunningham to be curious, without asking them directly. “I checked it out, and they’re right. She’s on MilfsSeeker.”

“And to think she’s so devout… Real shame.”

Both teens hold their smirks as they hear Mr. Cunningham grabbing his laptop and begin typing. It takes a couple of minutes to hear something.

“By the mother of-!? Wanda!”

Both teens can’t help but snicker a bit as they hear the man stomping on the stairs. It doesn’t take long as they begin screaming to each other, with both teens looking up to hear it.

“Are we going to call them now?” Y/N asks.

“Yep.”

And so, they’re back at Foster care without a home, where they’re being asked about their former home situation. The younger ones were asked separately, while Lip and Y/N both got questioned together. Both of them are sitting at an office, talking to a lady.

“I sometime see her smoking on the porch. Looks like she did it on the regular.”

“Me too. Mrs. Partridge warned me about them. And turns out, she’s right.”

“We make sure something like this ever happens again.” The woman says. “We want to sincerely apologize for putting you in such a dangerous situation. Especially after Mr. Cunningham became physical.” The woman then looks at Lip. “I got good news for you. Everything has been taken care of back at your family, and you’re allowed to go back.”

“Finally.” Lip mutters tiredly.

Y/N smiles. “Congrats.”

“Thanks.” Lip says with a smile as he looks at him, only to see Y/N’s hollow eyes. Even if he left this bad foster home, it’s unknown what crazy other foster home he goes to. Thus, he looks back at the foster home lady. “Is there any chance Y/N can go with me?”

“Lip?” Y/N looks surprised he would do something like this for him.

“I’m sorry, but you need to have permission to take care of a foster child, even if they’re 17 old.”

Although Y/N looks disappointed, Lip got a better idea. “I know who’s allow to.”

“Welcome to your new home, buddy!” Y/N is extremely startled as Kevin warmly greets him. In the sunset, he sees his new house. He would describe it has a ghetto, but Kevin and Veronica look like good people, so he sticks around for now. “You’re going to love it here.”

“Don’t act so exciting. You’re scaring him.” Veronica scolds him.

“It’s alright. It’s way better than… all the other foster homes I was in.”

“That’s because we’re the best!” Kevin proudly smiles. “Let us show you to your room and help you unpack.”

Inside of his new room, Y/N is unpacking all his bags. It isn’t much, because he wasn’t allowed much. It’s mostly clothes. He was quite insisted he can do it on his own, which Kev and V both respected and they get downstairs to prepare for dinner. As Y/N unpacks, he hears a tick from the window. He didn’t thought much about it, until he hears it again. Thus, he walks over it and look out, to see Lip outside, who was throwing small stones. With a smile, Y/N opens the window.

“Hey, I heard a cute guy moved in and I thought I should say hi.”

Y/N chuckles. “Hey. You really did me a favor.”

“Oh no, it’s not a favor. It’s a deal.” Lip explains. “You see, I got you a better home, and in return, I expect a date.”

“Like you didn’t get that either way. You should’ve demanded for more.”

Lip hums amused. “I could always ask for sex.”

“I can repeat my previous statement, but sure.” Y/N smiles. He looks back at his room, before looking back at the guy he likes. “I have to pass for today though. Dinner is almost ready and want to sleep normally.”

“Sure thing. Buuut… I still feel like spending time together. Any chance Kev and V can add another plate?”

As both teens smile, Y/N can easily reply with one simple answer. “Sure.”

#shameless #lip gallagher #lip gallagher x male reader #shameless x male reader #shameless x reader #lip gallagher x reader

305 notes · View notes

painted-flag · 22 days ago

Text

TENDER, part 1/3 - Marcus Acacius

₊˚⊹♡ your father leaves on a campaign to germania, entrusting you under the care of his good friend marcus acacius. ₊˚⊹ marcus acacius x fem!reader ₊˚⊹ warnings: age gap and future descriptions of smut. ₊˚⊹ part one | part two | part three | ₊˚⊹ masterlist.

The cool night breeze brushed over your exposed skin as you stood leaning against the stone railing of a balcony in your estate. Though the night was peaceful, the insistent chatter of courtesans, senators, and high-ranking military officials underscored by the musical ensemble performing cut clean through the balcony doors.

This was supposed to be your moment of respite, but even being outside could not free you from the stifling conditions inside. This was your home, yet you felt a stranger in it. Your father had hosted this celebration in dedication to his upcoming campaign in Germania. It was not unusual for him to go out and fight in some distant land, but it was the first time he was leaving after your mother’s death for a significant period. Weeks you could cope with, but months?

This time was the last moment your father would have in the capital for the better part of a year. Because of that, he had spent the majority of the night carting you around the party to eligible men in an effort to find you a husband before he left. It was not meant to be purposefully pressuring and you knew that, he only wanted what he believed was best for you.

You did not wish to marry any of them. They were not in your taste, but your father did not see that.

As you gazed wistfully into the night, the balcony door opened and the noises from inside got louder before it closed.

A soft voice edged with a deep timbre shook your bones. “Forgive me, my lady. I did not know this place was occupied.”

You turned around to see a man standing behind you. For a moment, you were stunned. He was older, though your father still beat him by a few years. His skin was tanned and his stature was strong. There was a leanness to his muscle that was not as ostentatious as many of the men in Rome tended to be. Despite that, you could tell by the way he carried himself that he was deadly if need be. You grew up around soldiers, you could recognize one when you saw them; they often never left the battlefield but continued to foster it in their minds.

His hair was dark like the bark on dark oak trees, yet strong in colour. Though there were yet to be any silver strands in the thick volume of his hair, she could tell by the aged lines on his face that they were only a few years away from growing out. It sent a stirring in her stomach to imagine the silver patches in his hair and beard. Looking at his jawline, it seemed to be even more defined by the hair there. He was dressed in fine clothes like all the other attendants, but there was something about his form that screamed to a more humble nature.

What startled you the most were the browns of his eyes that looked like bark on the trees in summer – dark but covered in a golden light that exuded nothing but warmth. They were captivating, he was captivating.

“You are not disturbing me. Please, stay if you wish.” You spoke. There was a part of you that wished he would stay so you could talk to him for a moment.

He paused for a moment and looked back at the balcony doors. With his head turned you could survey more of him and notice the hidden strength in his arms while you marvelled at the veins under his skin. When he turned back to you, your head came up as if you were not staring. If he noticed, he made no mention of it.

“I could stay for a while,” The man moved to stand beside you and looked out at the darkening grounds below. “Forgive me if this is forward, but you do not seem to be enjoying yourself.” You could easily tell he was good at reading people, though you still had yet to receive his name.

“You are sound in your observation. If I have to dance with one more eligible man in that room I should fling myself off of this balcony.” You said. He laughed at your words, catching on to the slight lilt in your teasing tone.

“Surely, a beautiful lady such as yourself would be drinking in the attention?” He asked. You tried to pretend his words did not affect you as much as they did.

It was your turn to laugh and you turned to lean on your side against the stone railing and face him. He was already facing you with those piercing summer eyes.

“Not from boys like that.” You answered.

His eyebrow quirked up, “Boys?”

“They are not as… mature as I like.” If it were not for the poor lighting, you could have sworn you saw the ball on his throat move as he gulped. The insinuation in your words was not lost on him.

Handsome and smart. A good combination.

It seemed as though your words caught him off guard, so you spoke more, “Surely, in the beauty of such a celebration, a handsome man such as yourself should be with his wife?” You wanted him to deny the assumption. However, you were not stupid. A man who looked like him was not one to stay solitary – women would have flocked to him in both his youth and older age.

Though, to your great relief, his words comforted you.

“No, my lady, I am not married.” You rejoiced on the inside but continued to act calm. Immediately after though, you felt stupid. He was beyond your years, beyond your experience. Why would he care for a young woman such as you, only in their twenties?

The growing tension between the two of you was almost tangible. His appearance was entirely too alluring for you. The energy he gave off was both dominant and reserved, making you want to sink under his protection.

Before anything else could be said, the balcony doors opened. Your father walked out, seemingly oblivious to the heat between you two.

“Ah, Marcus! I was wondering when I would see you tonight. How are you doing, my good friend?” Your father’s hands clasped his shoulder in a friendly manner, face smiling and tinged red due to the wine affecting his system.

“I am well. This celebration is rather grand. You have outdone yourself this time.” There was an underlying tension in his voice that went unnoticed by your father, but you caught it. Was it frustration? Why would he be frustrated in this moment?

However, the name Marcus struck a chord of familiarity. You glanced at him again and took in his clothes and stature. While your initial observation about him being a soldier had been correct, it was only then that you realized it was slightly off. He was a general. General Marcus floated around your mind until it landed on something surprising.

General Marcus Acacius.

The most accomplished Roman general and a name your father had mentioned many times throughout the years.

And you had just flirted with him.

“It seems you have met my daughter.” Your father moved to stand beside you.

You watched as Marcus’ face dropped, “Your daughter?” His eyes moved to you for a brief moment before returning to your father.

“Yes,” Your father wrapped his arm over your shoulder and squeezed you to his side, “I do not believe I ever introduced you two. My wife tended to keep her away from the prying eyes of the public,” At the mention of your deceased mother, you cringed slightly. It was still a sensitive topic for you. It was also the truth; your mother often kept you away from events in the hopes that Rome would not corrupt you.

“She is a lovely woman. Raised well.” Marcus responded though he kept his eyes on your father. It was obvious that he was avoiding looking at you and you almost yearned for the returning warmth of his eyes.

“I hope you have gotten to know one another a little bit before I leave her to your charge.” Your father spoke.

His words had you furrowing your eyebrows, “What?” Your father turned to you with an incredulous look, as if the answer was obvious.

“I told you I would be leaving you in the care of a good friend while I am gone,” He responded.

You remembered it. You also remembered thinking it would be another one of his very old friends who had since retired and lived a quiet life. Never once did you think you would be handed over to the care of the most accomplished general in Rome who also happened to be a man you could not help but be very attracted to.

Before you could respond, your father perked up as he looked inside through the open balcony doors, “There he is! Forgive me, Marcus, but I have been wishing to introduce someone to my daughter. I hope to speak to you later.”

Your father tugged on your arm and dragged you back into the estate. For a moment, your gaze flickered behind to spot Marcus already staring at you. When he was caught looking, he turned back around to look out at the night sky.

Now that you were back in the throes of people mingling with the sound of the band in the background, you could feel yourself beginning to itch. It was a feeling you would get under your skin with the looks of the other members of the aristocracy. They were suffocating. However, you played the game of a general's daughter and continued with a smile on your face.

Your father stopped in front of a man, “Lucan, I was telling you about my daughter.” The man appeared only a few years older than you. His formal attire spoke military, low ranking, but enough to warrant some level of respect. Lucan was not bad-looking, rather pleasing actually. Youthful with an air of ruggedness in his short blond beard. His eyes were blue like the sky during the day, yet they did not feel as bright as the golden light in the dark browns of Marcus’ eyes. You bit your lip to stop yourself from thinking of a man you had only just met.

“You are as beautiful as others have described, my lady.” Lucan grabbed your hand and placed a kiss on your knuckles. While the compliment was nice, it did not feel as good as Marcus’ voice calling you beautiful; there was something in his voice then that sounded more genuine.

“Lucan Luctuca, I’d like you to formally meet my daughter. Perhaps a dance would be nice?” Your father's eagerness was not lost on you. It was obvious that he had been, in recent years, more desperate to find you a suitable husband. He could not take care of you forever and your presence in his house felt odd. The longer you remained unwed, the more members of the court believed you to be defective or undesirable.

Lucan seemed to take your father's words seriously and took your arm from him to lead you to where many people were dancing. The two of you began as a new song started to play.

“I apologize if my compliment sounded disingenuous. I was lying about your beauty,” Lucan began and you had half a mind to punch him because of his words, “If I am honest, beautiful is not good enough to describe you, my lady. However, I felt it would be untoward to say such a thing in front of your father.”

“Thank you,” Your skin turned slightly red at his compliment and you could feel your face warm up slightly, “How is it that you know my father?”

“He trained with my father when they were starting their service. I have grown up outside of Rome and have only just come here. It seems your father is intent on us getting to know one another.” Lucan spun you around.

“My father is insistent on finding me a husband,” You responded. Over Lucan’s shoulder, you could see that Marcus had come back inside and was talking to a group of men. Yet, his gaze was locked on you as you danced with Lucan. He was clutching a goblet in his hands. If it were not made of metal, surely his grip would have broken it.

“Then I hope I am a sufficient contender,” The musicians transitioned to another song, but you stayed dancing with him.

“Well, I’ll have to get to know you better,” While flirting was fun, it felt odd to do it with Lucan. He was nice, from what you could tell. Level-headed and respectful to boot. None of it entirely mattered when Marcus’ gaze had yet to leave you.

“Sounds wonderful,” Lucan said.

The rest of the time that the two of you danced, you only slightly paid attention to what he was saying. The rest of the dance was spent trying to cool yourself down each time you glanced at Marcus and found that he was still looking at you. The men around him had gradually left until it was just him standing on the outskirts of the mingling groups and leaning up against a pillar.

It was hard to pay attention to Lucan’s words when your whole body felt on fire. By the time the two of you separated, it was already terribly late and you were tired. You looked around for your father as you wished to bid him goodnight before retiring to your room.

When you finally spotted him, he was standing with Marcus and talking merrily. You sucked in a breath and realized you would have to be near Marcus again. You wondered if the Gods were pulling a terrible joke on you. He was a man beyond your reach, yet your body felt such a connection to him despite only meeting a few hours prior.

It was ridiculous. The two of you had what could barely be construed as a conversation and already your brain was picturing yourself with him.

You approached both of the men, “Father, it is late and I wish to retire.”

“Ah, well I hope you rest well,” Your father sipped from his goblet, “What did you think of Lucan?” At the mention of Lucan’s name, you could see Marcus turn to face you. His gaze was piercing the side of your head.

“He was nice. Pleasant to talk to.” You responded.

“Mature?” Marcus asked. While seemingly innocent to others, but a little odd, the words stuck a chord in you. He was bringing up your previous comment about the men attempting to court you not being as mature for your taste. You could not tell if it was a subtle jab at you, or perhaps an attempt to undermine Lucan and bolster himself.

Like the daughter of a military man, you too knew methods of war.

“He was, General.” You stared him in the eyes while speaking and enjoyed the vein in his temple flex. He hummed at your response, a noise deep in timbre that sent a wave of warmth all over your body.

“Well,” Your father was oblivious to the tension between you two, “Good night, darling.” He gave you a quick hug and you smiled. You nodded to Marcus to be respectful and began walking towards the door to exit the large hall. You were glad that this celebration was in your home, as you would not have to walk far to reach your room. The only downside was the nagging feeling in your head to go back out and spend the rest of the night with Marcus.

It would be wrong.

You knew it would be wrong.

Marcus was older than you and he was your father's friend.

The air in your room suddenly felt hot and you scrambled to undress from the clothing you wore. It was quiet save for the distant sound of the party still going on, though gradually decreasing in numbers.

You plopped down on your bed and let out a loud huff. Still, even in the privacy of your room, you could feel the searing heat of Marcus’ gaze. What disturbed you the most about it was that you liked the attention from him. You liked the thought of him undermining Lucan to bolster himself in your favour. That competitiveness and confidence lit a fire in your heart.

You thought of tomorrow when your father left for his campaign. For months, you will be living at Marcus’ estate, under his guidance and protection. A part of you, the one loyal to your father, was dreading this. You did not want to do anything untoward that would disrespect both him and Marcus.

However, the other part of you was thrilled to be in close proximity with Marcus. The dreamy side of your mind was hoping, maybe, that he could look at you the same way you looked at him. But that would be a betrayal to your father.

You wondered how you would survive in the coming months.

This was edited while I was doing the 12-3-30 challenge on the treadmill so I apologize for any errors -- I was sweaty and delirious.

#marcus acacius #x reader #marcus acacius x reader #marcus acacius x you #marcus acacius fic #marcus acacius fanfic #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #gladiator 2 #gladiator ii #marcus acacius imagine

77 notes · View notes

slasherx · 9 months ago

Note

Gurl you write so fast like a Machine 😂, I wish I could write like that, and also good luck with your finals!

Can I do a request for A Micheal Myers with a childhood crush (female) like as a kid Michael had a crush on the reader but like after he killed they were separated for years but them micheal broke out and came across the reader all grown up if you can!

Also can you do Rz Michael, he's my favorite

Lol thats cause I have the motivation to write about slashers rn. And thank you! I got a 94% on one of them, but I won't get my final grade on the other one for a bit. I hope I pass.

Content: Michael Myers x fem!Reader

Warnings: Canon-typical violence, obsessive love

Notes: Even though the gif is peepaw Myers, this takes place in the RZ universe

• ───────────────── •

Michael was put away in the asylum when he was ten. Before he made a vow to never speak again, he kept asking his mother and Dr. Loomis where you were, and if you could come visit him. His mother promised to talk to your parents about it, but that she couldn't guarantee you could come see him.

And so she did. She tried talking to your parents, but your parents wanted you nowhere near that monster of a child. They outright refused her on numerous occasions, even when Michael's mother pleaded with them on her knees at their front door.

When she broke the news to Michael that you wouldn't be seeing him, Michael lost it. He could feel something in his head snap, the same way it snapped when bullies would hurt you or him. Or the same way he felt himself snap that Halloween night.

He managed to keep it cool until Dr. Loomis and his mother left, but when they sent in that nurse to watch him until they could escort him to his room, he couldn't hold it in any longer. He took his plastic fork and jammed it into her throat, cutting her scream short. He was angry. Why wouldn't you come see him? Why? Why, why, why? He didn't understand...he thought you were best friends.

• ───────────────── •

Eight years after that day, he had a visitor that wasn't Dr. Loomis. He had known his mother killed herself, his sister was dead, and Boo was probably far away in the foster care system, so he had hoped it was you.

When they sat him in the room, he had felt anxious for the first time in years. Had you changed like he had? Did you grow out your hair like him? Grown taller like him? He kept a mask on, one he made in rememberance of you. It was just your favorite color all over it.

Finally, you walked in and sat down across from Michael. A couple guards stood at the door, in case Michael tried to leap at you regardless of his cuffs chaining him to the table. He was breathing heavily - you had changed.

You had grown taller, but you remained shorter than him. Now at eighteen, you seemed very mature for your age, and Michael wanted to leap across the table at you, but not to kill you.

"Hi Michael. My parents don't know I'm here. I just...came to provide an explanation, since I feel you deserve one." You spoke, hands in your lap. "Your mother begged my parents to let me see you on many occasions, and each time they told her no. I remember one time she cried and got on her knees to beg my mother, but she just shut the door in her face."

Michael listened, quiet as ever. He was just happy to see you in front of him again. He was also surprised that Dr. Loomis wasn't here to supervise this meeting.

"And I want you to know that Dr. Loomis has contacted me since I turned eighteen, and we've spoken about you a couple of times. He told me you don't speak anymore, and that you killed a nurse while being in here." You decided it was now or never to try and break his vow of silence. "Is...is that true, Michael?"

Michael wanted to break his silence, but he knew Loomis would be on his ass if he did. So all he did was nod his head yes.

You seemed to shift uncomfortably. Your breathing increased, and he could tell you were scared. This saddened him - he didn't want you to be scared of him, he wanted you to love him. You two were attached to each other as children, why would a few murders make this any different?

"I...think I better go before my parents realize I'm not at my friends house." You started to get up, when Michael launched at you and grabbed your wrist, straining the cuffs on him.

He held you hard, and you could see the desperation in his eyes. He was all alone here. But he still killed those people, and if you weren't careful, you'd be next. The guards moved forward and forced Michael back, and a few more people rushed into the room. One rushed to you and put his hands on your shoulders.

"Ma'am, ma'am, are you alright?" The man asked.

You nodded. "Yeah, thank you." It was too fast for you to process it, but Michael was staring at you. "Please, take me out of here."

• ───────────────── •

Now outside, you saw Dr. Loomis by your car. He was pacing, clearly nervous about your meeting with Michael. Then when he saw you approach, he waved to you.

"How did it go?"

"Please don't talk to me. I shouldn't have come here." You responded shakily.

"What happened in there? Did he break his silence?"

"No, but he fucking grabbed me! Who knows what else he would have done if the guards hadn't been there?! I was crazy to even come here." You opened your car door and got inside.

"Please, wait, (Y/n). You don't know how much you mean to Michael, I-"

"Save it, Dr. Loomis. I'm going home. Stop calling me." You started up your car and peeled out of the parking lot. Memories of you and Michael as kids began to race through your head and you began to cry. How did it come to this...?

• ───────────────── •

Seven more years went by. Seven more years where Michael didn't see you. Seven more angry years. But now, it was different. Michael was standing in front of your house.

He was different now. He was more built, even taller, and his hair was even longer. You used to comment on his long hair as a kid, it was one of the reasons he kept it so long in the first place.

He could see you through the window. You lived alone now, just down the street from your childhood home. He was content watching you through the window. You were preparing dinner, when you suddenly got a call. He decided now was the time to enter your home.

Moving around to the back door, he began to pick the lock.

"Hello?" You picked up your phone.

With a click, he was in.

"(Y/n)! You need to listen to me-" Dr. Loomis practically shouted on the other line.

Michael slowly opened the door.

"Save it, Dr. Loomis. I told you to stop calling me." You were about to hang up.

Michael made his way to your living room, right next to your kitchen.

"He's escaped! Michael has escaped!"

"What?" You spoke, shock and fear tearing through your system. You put a hand over your mouth, and looked up through your window, but you saw a figure behind you.

"You're not safe! Flee Haddonfield!" Dr. Loomis begged.

You spun around to see a large man with a knife glistening in his hand. He had a white mask on, blonde hair poking out underneath it. You didn't need him to take off the mask to see who it was. Your fear skyrocketed as you thought he was going to kill you.

"Michael...?" You spoke, slowly lowering the phone and ignoring Dr. Loomis' pleas.

Michael moved towards you. He finally had you now, and he would never let you go again. He was yours, and you will be his.

• ───────────────── •

Here's my masterlist, in case you like what you see and want to request more!

#michael myers x reader #rob zombie halloween #michael myers #slashers x reader #slashers

303 notes · View notes