#wishing you a lazy sunday morning with someone you love

[zepskies]

DEAN WINCHESTER: FLUFF LIST

All fluff all the time! Just light-hearted romance over here. For the smutty stuff, check out my Dean Winchester Smut List and Dean Winchester Series Masterlist (for longer stories containing smut).

Stories are Dean Winchester x Reader unless otherwise noted.

'Twas the Night... Dean listens, sometimes when you least expect it. This year, Christmas begins to become something new for both of you.

Touch Me - (Dean x Plus-size!Reader) Dean isn’t used to how “touchy” you can be, but he never said he didn’t like it.

As You Wish When Dean agreed to watch your favorite movie with you, you didn’t think it’d come with live subtitles.

Sharing Is Caring (II) Navigating a new relationship means learning how to share a bed with Dean.

✦ (3-part series with Sam, Dean, and Castiel.)

Patched Up (I) How Dean thanks you for treating his wounds.

✦ (3-part series with Sam, Dean, and Castiel.)

Get Stuffed Dean enjoys the way you cook Christmas dinner with a Latin flair, even if Sam likes to tease him about his insatiable appetite. You remind Sam about the true reason behind one of Dean’s biggest quirks.

✦ (Part of the Midnight Espresso-Verse)

Talk Bacon to Me A rare lazy morning where you feel like pestering Dean a little. He objects to being pestered, but ultimately, you both just want to spend some time together.

Easy Like Sunday Morning In which Sam is thoroughly done with motels, and you and Dean continue to make his life miserable.

Home Cooking Now that you and Dean have a daughter, living at the bunker with Sam means you get to be more domestic, to varying degrees of success. Dean learns to enjoy your attempts at cooking.

Texting Dean when he's on a hunt.📱 Sometimes he likes your teasing...other times he doesn't.

Say It Right 💜 You ask Dean for the truth: "Do you love me?"

Headcanon: Personality types Castiel, Sam, and Dean would be attracted to. ⭐

Vintage Collection** 📖 You and Dean discuss (argue about) his favorite magazine, Busty Asian Beauties.

Dean reads you wrong. 🤔 He likes you. The thing is, he thinks you might like Sam...

Headcanon: How Dean Winchester, Beau Arlen, and Soldier Boy (Ben) would react to you teasing him under the table. 😉

Headcanon: How Dean Winchester, Beau Arlen, and Soldier Boy (Ben) would react to you getting "morning" sickness during pregnancy. 🤢

Headcanon:** How Dean Winchester, Beau Arlen, and Soldier Boy (Ben) would react to you (getting caught) wearing his clothes. 👕

Headcanon: How Dean Winchester, Beau Arlen, and Soldier Boy (Ben) would act while you're in labor with his child. 🍼

Headcanon: How Dean Winchester, Beau Arlen, Soldier Boy (Ben), and Jason Teague would react to you sleepwalking. 😴

Headcanon: How Dean Winchester, Beau Arlen, Soldier Boy (Ben), and Russell Shaw would react to someone flirting with you. (And others flirting with them.) 😡💚

Headcanon: What Dean Winchester, Beau Arlen, Soldier Boy (Ben), and Russell Shaw would order at a coffee shop. ☕

Headcanon: When Dean Winchester, Beau Arlen, Soldier Boy (Ben), and Boaz Priestly get sick, how would they act when you (try to) take care of them? 🤧

✦ Want more Dean?

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[ala-baguette]

Sunlight Through the Curtains

She was well past ready to get up. She didn’t know how long she had been lying there awake, but it was long enough that the slant of bright sunlight slicing through the gap in the curtains had moved in an arc across the ceiling. From the angle of the light, she calculated it was likely at least half-past ten, but she couldn’t see the clock from here. Her bladder was fit to burst and there was a rumble in her stomach as she contemplated what to cook for breakfast and hell, but she could murder a cup of tea right now.  Still, she didn’t rise. Her head turned to look at the sleeping face on the pillow beside her. He’d fallen asleep with his hand on her breast. His breath moved in and out through his nose in long, soft snores. Harry always could sleep like the dead on a Sunday morning.  She looked back to the ceiling, feeling the weight of his hand holding her there as though, even in sleep, he feared losing her. It was sweet. But damn, she really had to pee. Slowly, so as to avoid waking him, she rolled to her side, intending to swing her feet over the edge of the bed. His hand slipped down to rest over her navel as she did. Reflexively, without waking, Harry let out a soft sigh, wrapped his arm around her waist and tugged her backwards against him. Her body moulded against his snuggly, arse pressed firmly against his pelvis. She could feel the rise and fall of his chest against her back, feel each exhale tickling the hair at her neck. Her eyes fluttered closed as she felt the resigned smile stretch across her lips. She groped blindly for her wand on her bedside table. When at last her fingers had managed to grasp it, she flicked it at the curtains. The gap snapped shut with a slight clatter of the rings, and the streak of sunshine flickered out.  Her bladder could wait a little longer.

(Also on AO3 here)

[gorgeys]

post-crash jackie taylor who's depressed and starving, but fights for her survival because her only thoughts are of seeing you, her girlfriend she left behind.

jackie who lays awake at night, shivering despite three layers of blankets, with her glossy eyes fixed to the ceiling.  memories of you play behind her eyes, specifically watching you sleep on a lazy sunday morning.

if she thinks really hard, she can see you in her bed, lying face-to-face with her.  she can see your peaceful features and the slow breaths leaving and entering you nose.  she can nearly feel you reach out in your sleep, your arm encircling her waist or your head burying itself in the crook of her neck.  her heart melts just thinking about it.

she didn't realize how well she slept beside you until her many sleepless nights after the crash.  she would give anything to hear you softly snoring beside her again.

jackie who collects little pieces of nature that remind her of you.  a perfectly shaped leaf floats down from a tree and lands on her head.  she finds an unusually smooth rock by the lake.  she smiles at whatever it is, a sign from nature that you're still out there waiting for her, and keeps it in her personal collection.

jackie who purposefully doesn't wear the shirt she stole from your closet the day before she left so that it still smells like you.  every night, without fail, she brings the shirt to her nose and inhales like her life depends on it.  when she notices the scent starting to fade, silent tears stream down her cheeks.  she's losing you.

jackie who does, however, wear your cheer bow in her ponytail.  you had given it to her for nationals as a good luck charm, and now she feels like she has a part of you with her wherever she goes.  when one of the girls teases her for wearing it, she shoots them a glare so deadly they instantly seal their lips.

jackie who speaks aloud to you when no one's around, looking up to the sky for you.

"god, i wish you could've seen the look on misty's face!  it was hilarious.  you would've laughed so hard, you probably would've peed a little," she laughs, sitting with her back against a tree trunk, her fingers twiddling with your bow.

"do you still think about me?" she pauses for your response.  "d-do you think i'm dead?" pause.  "well, i'm not.  at least i don't think so." longer pause. "are you...moving on?  you better not." pause.  "she better not be prettier than me."

"i miss you.  so much."

jackie who can't even talk to anyone about how she's feeling because your relationship was never public.  it was always sneaky glances from across the hall and shared moments behind closed doors.  now, thousands of miles away from you, she regrets not loving you like she should have.  she promises to love you harder than anyone ever has if when you're reunited.

jackie who could spend hours staring at the polaroid she took of you.  it's a random one of you doing homework on her bed, your brows knit in adorable concentration.  it's the only one she has with her.  she keeps it in the back pocket of her jeans wherever she goes.

one time she loses it and runs outside, frantically digging around in the dirt on hands and knees to find where she dropped it.  in reality, she misplaced it on the kitchen counter where shauna finds it and recognizes the polaroid as coming from jackie's camera.  she asks jackie about it, who's still knee-deep in dirt, and jackie suddenly bursts into tears, confessing everything like word vomit.

although she nearly went into shock from losing your picture, it does feel nice to share her feelings for you with someone.  she feels a little less alone.

jackie who loves sleep, although it seems to elude her many nights, because it means seeing your face in her dreams.  it doesn't matter if it's a good dream or a nightmare, as long as she can see you again.  when she wakes up she keeps her eyes glued shut, greedily hoping she can fall back asleep and see you once more.

she ends up being the last up and first to bed.  the other girls think she's not pulling her weight, but how could anyone blame little lovesick jackie taylor ☹️

jackie who hated some of your favorite songs back home, but now finds herself humming them while doing daily chores.  she smiles remembering lying on your bed, watching you dance and sing along to them around your room.  she always told you to "turn that shit off and play some real music," but now she loves those songs because they represent you.

jackie who realizes how utterly devoted to you she is.  it wasn't as clear back home with so many distractions, but now that she's alone with her thoughts almost all the time, the only thing she can think about is you.  nothing else really matters to her or motivates her besides you.  it only took a plane crash for her to realize that.

jackie who looks up to the sky and promises both you and herself that she won't die before she sees you again.

jackie who is rescued (because she doesn't die, idk what you guys are talking about) and keeps that promise.

jackie who can't believe her eyes when she sees you for the first time.  for a second, she thinks she's dreaming.  she's had a recurring dream of this exact moment after all.  but, when you start running toward her, she snaps back to reality and it hits her: it's really you.

she instantly bursts into tears as your arms wrap around her, the warmth of your embrace striking her like a train and grounding her at the same time.  she squeezes you so tight you might break a rib, her head burrowing into your shoulder.  she deeply inhales your scent and lets her tears trickle onto your skin.

jackie who doesn't let you pull away or say anything before she pulls you into a bruising kiss.  she doesn't care if the two of you are alone or in a crowded room, nothing matters to her except showing you just how much she missed you.

she pecks your lips repeatedly, whispering an "i love you" in between each kiss like it's her mantra.  it's heaven on earth.

jackie who sleeps beside you that night for the first time in nearly two years.  she holds you to her chest like a teddy bear as you whisper sweet nothings into each other's ears until you fall asleep.  it's the best sleep she's ever had.

she wakes up the next morning and the first thing she sees is your peaceful face.  she watches the slow breaths leave and enter you nose and finds silent tears slipping down her cheeks.

jackie who knows the sleepless nights, insatiable hunger, and depressive episodes were worth it just to come back to you.

i love you lovesick!jackie please come save meeeeeee also jackie x cheerleader!reader 🤭

[notapradagurl7]

Hi, boo! Can you write something along the lines of reader being a little insecure from gaining a little happy weight and Kelvin assures and shows her that he still loves her and very much still wants to fuck her through the mattress? 😩😭

More Than Words.

Black Fem! Reader x Kelvin Harrison Jr.

Summary: See Ask. You’ve been feeling insecure about gaining a little happy weight, you walk into the kitchen and your man Kelvin cooks breakfast and noticed your mood, he begins to assure you, show you that he loves you very much, probably more than you loved him, still wants to fuck you through the mattress.

A/N: Yes I can lovely anon! Here you hope you enjoy! ❤️ don't forget to leave comments, likes and reblogs are welcome to support, drop a request if you like, they're always open! Ask and you will receive 🫡

Warnings: dirty talk, praise, reader being insecure, nasty!Kelvin, words of affirmation, slight self-esteem issue, pet names, Kelvin literally fucking the reader through the mattress, cursing, filth, vivid imagery including words, unhinged Kelvin, nipple play, size kink, rough yet passionate sex, unprotected sex, kissing, Kelvin being so smitten for the reader, aftercare

Taglist: @megamindsecretlair @satoruya @planetblaque

@playgurlxoxo

@becauseimswagman1

@superheroprincess22 @pocketsizedpanther @beenathembo @brattyfics

@hxneyclouds @yassbishimvintage

@nahimjustfeelingit-writes @nayaesworld @ovohanna24

@novahreign @writingsbytee @avoidthings @kimuzostar @slippinninque @keyera-jackson @theblacklewinsky

@euphorichappiness10 @life-in-the-slut-house @miguelspvssy @liatreads @kaylaahisthebestest- @tforpresz @planetblaque @kenshisluvrgirl @jazziejax @urgirlygoddess @honeytoffee @onyxstones-world @browngirldominion @urfavblackbimbo @blackmissfrizzle @episodes-ff @earthchica @soft-persephone @soufcakmistress @sageispunk @saturnville @ruewritesoccasionally @nubiawrites @rawflwrs @luckydaye777 @siqueth @yourstruly444 @judymfmoody @lady-olive-oil

————

The warmth of the morning light kissed your dark brown skin while your deep brown eyes gazed at the full-length mirror where you stood in front of, it hung on the wall painted in a soothing leafy green hue, reminded you of quiet nature and the smell of breakfast food wafted through your nostrils. Your sanctuary became the bedroom for the past weeks, and your weight gain dawned on you recently.

It's been a lackluster loop of work and home, as you kept looking in the mirror before you left. The blankets became your safety from the world outside, and the reflection staring back at you was a stranger. Someone you didn't even recognize.

You tugged at your oversized shirt, wishing it could somehow hide the insecurities gnawing at you.

It was a beautiful yet lazy Sunday morning and you woke up early from another intrusive thought about your weight.

Your mind was both a pleasant and a troubling space; initially, it felt like a vibrant warm sunny day filled with red roses and the sound of chirping birds, but then it transformed into a dark rainstorm with a tornado swirling through your room.

But sometimes you forget that you were in control of what goes on in and goes out your mind, you were the empress of your own castle. What focused on, became a hot topic in your mind. You were still learning to not overthink, then it would be everything to you when it’s not.

A tumultuous grey thunderstorm was forming in the depths of your mind, with raindrops landing on your brain, each causing tears to spill from your eyes, flowing down your cheeks like salty cascades.

But all you could focus on was the way your curves had shifted, the way your body had changed. The slight curve of your hips, the fullness of your thighs softly jiggled with each step, and you inhaled sharply. Stench marks laced on your brown skin similar to tiger stripes, each one with a different pattern.

A part of you wished to retreat under the covers and escape from the world and its harsh criticisms of the unrealistic beauty ideals. You knew you were beautiful, but today, you didn't.

Escaping the confines of the room and distancing yourself from the mirror became increasingly necessary as your thoughts spiraled Into a messy whirlwind, It felt nearly unbearable, prompting you to leave swiftly with a determined resolve, giving you a sense of relief.

As you entered the kitchen, you found him standing at the stove, his back to you, wearing nothing but a pair of grey sweatpants that hung low on his hips. The muscles in his back flexed as he flipped the bacon, and your heart raced.

There was Kelvin, looking incredibly handsome as he prepared breakfast for both of you; even during your toughest times, he could lift your spirits and was a shining light in your darkest days.

Crispy bacon on the dishes, creamy scrambled eggs with a touch of cheese and pepper, accompanied by fluffy golden pancakes soaked in sugary syrup. Golden brown waffles on the side, as you favor them over pancakes, with orange and apple juices in transparent glass pitchers placed on a white polished porcelain counter.

Your stomach rumbled in anticipation, pouting your lip and you circled the counter. “Morning Kel,” you replied, your tone a bit sad and low.

“Good morning baby,” Kelvin’s voice broke through your thoughts, he grab a plate and set the breakfast food on it before passing it to you. Watching you walk over to the table and sit down, it was like a wave of emotion washed over the room. His eyes flickered back to you.

Kelvin hears the sadness in your voice and his face softened you in genuine concern, watching you eat your breakfast slowly.

You forced a smile, trying to shake off the cloud that hung over you. Kelvin turned, and his gaze met yours, those deep, soulful brown eyes sparkling with genuine affection. Watching you sit at the table alone, he walked over toward you and took a seat on the side.

He stepped a closer, washing his hands and wiping them on a towel before his eyes flickered back to you, “You okay? You seem a little off this morning.”

You pursed your lips a bit in sadness, trying not to let the clouds hang over your head. You knew he couldn't read your time, so you told him, “I’ve been insecure about gaining a little weight,”

“Y/N, you are absolutely gorgeous, I love you, adore every part of you. Those curves? They drive me wild, those stretch marks on your ass? I love those too,” He praised with assurance, kissing your forehead.

You felt the heat rush in your face from the words he spoke, sounding harmonic to your ears like music, deep down you knew he was right.

“You always know how to make me feel special hm?” You hummed softly, smiling while cupping his face.

“You’re everything I ever wanted, don't ever think that I will leave you. I’m still here and I’m not going anywhere, near you always,” Kelvin spoke up, his eyes reflecting his love for you.

“I love you, Y/N,”

“I love you too, Kelvin,”

With that, he swept you off your feet, his strength evident as he carried you back to the bedroom, your laughter mingling with his.

His booming footsteps onto the brown hardwood floors almost made you flinch as if it was a warning, slamming the door shut with the pad of his foot, his sinful grin plastered on his attractive face. Written of genuine adoration and smitten for you.

The mattress creaked faintly as he laid you down on your back, and you slipped off your shorts, and grey panties dropped on the soft deep green rug. Your tank top is taken off by Kelvin after that, your breasts drop out. Your brown areolas made him lick his plump, soft lips.

“May I touch you?”

“Yes, please, touch me, honey,” You breathed hitched, feeling his hands caress the softness of your stomach.

He easily slipped off his grey sweatpants and Calvin Kein boxers, while your pussy throbbed at the sight of his dark brown dick swaying against his thigh. His heavy ballsack dropped from the soft fabric.

“Come here,”

His hand cupped your breast and suckled on your nipple, your hands gripped the sheets tight and his fingers slid between your wet folds causing you to moan wildly, finger fucking you at a steady pace while his eyes flicked up at you. Watching your face contorted in pleasure.

“You have no idea how much I adore you, how every curve of your body pulls me in deeper, you’re so fucking, sexy,” He added, his mouth roughly sucking around your right nipple again, his tongue twirling around.

Taking your left nipple in his warm mouth, then letting it go. His face softened in pleasure, watching your titty bounce in his hand and groaning from it. He repeated the same way. his mouth sucking fervently, then letting your nipple go, bounced again. “Beautiful,” he moaned against your breast, his thumb flattened on your clit.

“Kelvin, you’re making me feel so good,” You gasped softly, your back arching for more. Hips rolling to his pace, becoming wetter as your essence splattered onto the sheets.

His hands cupped your breasts softly and pressed them together, you moaned again, Kelvin pulled back, his breath hot against your skin, a devilish smirk playing on his lips. "Good? Baby, I want you to feel amazing." His fingers danced lower, teasingly brushing against your inner thighs before diving back into your slick heat.

You could feel the tension building, a knot ready to untighten. His fingers pumping in and out of you, matching the rhythm of his mouth, your legs shaking. “Can I get a taste?”

“Yessss..” You moaned from his fingers curling up inside, his thumb circling your clit once he watched the wetness gathered around. Your body shaking with fervor, the thrones of pleasure flowed through you like a wave, washing over you. Kelvin gazed up at you with love in his eyes.

“You’re cumming already baby? That’s how you feel about me?” he teased with a grin, resuming to finger fuck you crazily.

He then dove his head between your legs, lifting your legs and holding them tightly under his arms, prying them wide open, his tongue gliding across your clit, and his finger kept moving. Your wetness spills onto his mouth, and screams leave you.

"Kelvin!" you cried out, the pressure overwhelming as you reached your peak.

"That’s it, baby, cum for me," he coaxed, his eyes locked onto yours as your body shook with pleasure. His voice deepened, making you wetter, and sending you over the edge. You were so close to getting there.

You felt the waves crash over you, your body arching off the mattress. Your essence spilled out immediately and he swallowed every drop, Breathless, you fell back against the sheets, panting, your heart racing.

He crawled back up your body, his lips brushing against yours. “I'm not done with your fine ass,” he replied with a grin.

You nodded weakly with a light chuckle, panting again. “I-i know that, Kel. I-i need to catch my breath.”

After a few more minutes, you said that you were ready to go before kissing him again.

“Bet, I’m about to fuck through this mattress, baby. Just relax and let me take care of you,” he grinned, leaning down to lick a path from your collarbone to the curves of your breasts, his mouth warm and possessive.

The veins in his dick protrude from your tongue gliding across your lips and a thick mushroom tip. Aching to be filled up and take every inch of him. Fuck, you needed him physically inside you. Thick beads of precum spilling out of his tip, he groaned with gruff, his voice a bit raspy, and beckoned for your call.

Kelvin pushed your legs back to the soft mattress of the king-sized bed, the white sheets freshly smelled of lemon and citrus, his eyes focused on your swollen wet pussy throbbing to be filled by his dick, itching to be one with your man who made you feel like an empress.

“Is there anything you want me to do gorgeous?” Kelvin asked with a grin, kissing your lips softly.

“Fuck me passionately yet roughly please,” You requested to him, stroking his dick in your hand.

He groaned from the touch of your thumb swirling onto his swollen tip, pushing every inch of him gradually to feel more of your walls clenched tightly, wetting his dick up. You moaned at the friction but you needed more, squelching sounds filling the room and echoing off the walls.

“That’s it, take every inch of what’s yours..damn..” Kelvin spoke up, biting his lips. Thrusting with relentless abandon, your wetness spilling down his abdomen, he wanted to dig out of it.

“Lay down on your back,” he said, his voice raised an octave, tone smooth like honey, rich and inviting.

You whimpered from the commanding tone, you rested back against the soft mattress, feeling the cool fabric on your heated skin. Kelvin hovered over you, positioning himself between your legs, his hands gripping your thighs tightly. “Kel…please…”

The heat flowed through you making you shake. You ached for him, he began rubbing his swollen tip against your wet slit just to tease you. That smirk of his return, “Please what? You gotta talk to me Y/N,”

“I need your dick, give it to me,”

With that, Kelvin slammed his dick into you as if he was wielding a weapon, the wet slapping noises filling the room of him diving into your deepest of creamy oceans, “Don't you see what you do to me?” he teased again, his head thrown back.

Your back arched instinctively, welcoming him deeper as he filled you up completely, his back muscles flexed once he drilled into you causing your hands to ball up in the sheets, with every thrust he fucked you deeper. “There’s right, wet this dick up, make a mess,” he encouraged, while you lost your mind. Your tears burned through your eyes, all you could was take every inch and scream in pleasure.

“Kelvin! Fuck! More!” you cried out, your nails scratch deep into his back causing the man to groan and hiss, you pushed your hips deeper, wanting more. The way he was fucking you, so roughly yet filled with undeniable tenderness, made you feel everything all at once.

“You’re so perfect, so sexy, so beautiful, everything about is perfect baby girl,” he whispered with a low groan. His eyes locked onto yours as he thrusts harder, the head of his dick brushing against your G-spot.

Your body shook underneath, your legs curling up near his waist, the pressure reached its peak, and you could see the colors of the room blurring from your tears. Ready to spill over and over again.

“Cum on this dick, I know you can do it, you got this baby,” Kelvin praisedz

After that, you feel that familiar knot tightened in your stomach, you felt your walls clenching around his dick, your essence gushed all over him completely. A wave of happiness washed over you, “Cum inside me,” you said weakly.

His own release following closely behind as he spilled his thick jets of warm cum inside you, you screamed loudly and felt everything. Now that was amazing, but thank goodness you were on birth control.

You both collapsed onto the mattress, breaths mingling in the bedroom. Kelvin rolled onto his side, propping himself up on one elbow as he traced your features with his fingers, “You good baby?” he asked in concern.

“Y-yeah, I am, thank you Kelvin,” you said to him, smiling like a kid in a candy store.

“Good, let’s go take a bath, yeah?” he hummed to you, kissing your forehead once more.

The man picks you up effortlessly and kisses your lips twice sweetly, giving you the love you know that you deserve. He carried you into the bathroom, running both of you a hot bath as he washed you clean and massaged your feet like the empress you are.

————

[oaksgrove]

Lazy Sunday Mornings.

pairing:  Retired!John Price x Reader

synopsis: Lazy mornings with John Price are slow, warm, and filled with quiet intimacy. Between shared cups of coffee, whispered conversations, and the weight of unspoken dreams, you realize that life with him—whether it’s tangled in blankets or imagining a future together—is exactly where you want to be.

warnings: Soft domestic fluff, suggestive themes, lots of tenderness, discussions of family and future plans.

word count: 1159

The morning crept in gently, sunlight spilling in warm golden streaks through the thin curtains across the room. Outside, the world stirred—birds chirping, a distant hum of a lawnmower from a few houses down—but inside, wrapped in the quiet cocoon of your shared bed, time felt like it had stopped.

John was a solid warmth at your back, his arms wrapped around you, one hand splayed over your stomach. His breaths came slow and steady, ruffling the strands of hair near your temple. You’d woken a few minutes ago but stayed still, savoring the weight of him, the way he fit around you like he belonged there.

A low murmur rumbled in your ear, gravelly with sleep.

“Good morning, love.”

His voice sent a pleasant shiver down your spine, but you only hummed in response, snuggling further into his embrace.

John chuckled, the vibration sinking into your skin. He shifted, pressing a slow, lazy kiss to your shoulder.

“Not awake yet?” he teased, his lips brushing along your skin.

You smiled, turning just enough to catch a glimpse of him—tousled hair, hooded blue eyes, the softened edges of his face from sleep. He looked so at ease, a side of him only you got to see.

“Morning,” you murmured, reaching up to brush your fingers against his jaw, feeling the roughness of his morning stubble.

John’s lips brushed the curve of your shoulder, his beard tickling your skin. “What time is it?”

“Does it matter?” you teased, tilting your head back to look at him fully.

His lips curved into a lazy smirk. “Not one bit.”

He exhaled softly, leaning into your touch. “You look too comfortable to move,” he noted, shifting just enough to tighten his hold. “Guess we’re stuck here.”

You laughed, the sound muffled against his chest. “I’m not complaining.”

John had already prepared for your reluctance to leave the bed.

A steaming mug of coffee waited on the nightstand, close enough that you could reach for it without leaving the warmth of the blankets. He’d gotten up at some point—without waking you—to make it, and the thought made your heart squeeze.

“You got up and came back without waking me?” you mused, taking a slow sip, savoring the heat.

John smirked, reaching for his own mug. “Didn’t want to ruin your beauty sleep. Besides, I didn’t go far.”

You arched an eyebrow. “And yet, you’re the one who looks like he hasn’t slept in weeks.”

His low chuckle was filled with amusement. “And whose fault is that?”

The smugness in his tone made your cheeks warm. You elbowed him playfully, and he caught your wrist with ease, pulling you flush against his chest.

“No plan for today?” you asked, though you already knew the answer.

John hummed, setting his mug back down before trailing his fingers lazily up and down your arm. “No plan. Just this.”

The hours passed in slow, hazy moments, the kind of morning where nothing needed to be done, and there was nowhere to be but here.

You were tangled together beneath the duvet, legs intertwined, sharing soft laughter between murmured conversation. His hands were idle but tender, brushing through your hair, tracing absent patterns along your skin.

“What do you think we’d be doing now if I were still in the service?” John mused, his voice contemplative.

“Not this,” you said with a laugh, nudging his leg with your foot. “You’d probably be halfway around the world, yelling orders at someone.”

His chuckle rumbled low in his chest. “And wishing I were here instead.”

You raised an eyebrow, playful. “Oh? You’d miss this?”

John set his mug down, leaning closer. “I’d miss you,” he said, his voice dropping an octave. His hand found your hip beneath the blanket, his thumb brushing a lazy pattern over your skin.

The simple touch sent a warmth curling through you, and you couldn’t help but smile. “You’ve gotten soft, Captain.”

“Retired Captain,” he corrected, leaning in until his forehead rested against yours. His eyes held yours, steady and unflinching. “And soft? Hardly. I’m just a man who knows what he wants now.”

The weight of his words hung in the air, and you felt your breath hitch. John’s gaze flicked over your face, as if memorizing every detail.

And then, between sips of coffee and lazy kisses pressed to your temple, John shifted—his hand resting on your hip, thumb rubbing slow circles.

You smiled, letting the peacefulness settle over you. “Think we could do this forever?”

John’s hand stilled, and he tilted his head to look at you. “What do you mean?”

“This,” you said, gesturing around the room. “Quiet mornings, no alarms, no chaos. Just us.”

His expression softened, and he set his mug down on the nightstand before leaning closer. “I wouldn’t mind that,” he admitted. “Though I can’t promise quietness forever.”

You raised an eyebrow, curious. “Oh? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You ever thought about it?” he asked suddenly.

“Think about what?”

John hesitated, his fingers stilling. His voice, when he spoke, was quieter than before.

“A family.”

You froze, heart stuttering. “You mean... with me?”

His grip on you tightened slightly, just enough for you to feel the warmth behind it. “Course with you. Who else could put up with me?”

You let out a breathless laugh, but your heart ached in the best way.

John wasn’t the type to say things lightly. If he was bringing it up now, it meant he’d been thinking about it for a long time.

You let your fingers slide up his chest, resting over his heart. “What would it look like?”

He exhaled, a small, lopsided smile curling at his lips. “Messy. Loud. A house full of love and a backyard full of trouble.” His voice turned softer, more certain. “You’d be an incredible mum, you know.”

You swallowed past the warmth in your throat, turning so you could face him fully. His eyes—so full of something deep and unshaken—held yours.

“And you’d be a good dad,” you whispered, brushing your knuckles along his jaw. “The kind that sticks around. The kind that’s there for every bedtime story and scraped knee.”

His expression softened even more, something unspoken passing between you.

John tilted his head forward, his nose brushing yours before he kissed you—slow and lingering, filled with a quiet promise.

“We’ve got time,” he murmured when he pulled back, his forehead resting against yours. “But I wouldn’t mind starting today.”

The rest of the day passed in a haze of warmth.

You didn’t leave the bed until well past noon, and even then, only to migrate to the couch. John wrapped you up in his arms, lazily tracing patterns along your skin as the two of you exchanged slow, lingering kisses between your second round of coffee.

There was no urgency, no rush—just him, just you.

It was simple, quiet, and perfect.

And maybe, just maybe, the start of something bigger.

taglist: @honestlymassivetrash

[sgt-morgan]

I Just Wanna Dance

A/N: I’m back with a sad one. It’s a big ole spoiler alert too, so read with caution. She ain’t a long one but she’s something.

Warning: cannon typical violence, blood, feels, and country music.

Pedro Masterlist 🎯

Mornings in the Miller household were usually rowdy. There was always someone late for something, always someone missing something, and always someone grumbling about what a stressful day they were going to have.

Then there was Sunday morning. At 15 and 17, neither you nor Joel expected either of the girls to be rolling out of bed bright and early at 8 a.m. like when they were little. So, Sunday mornings got to be a slow affair, one filled with frying bacon, bubbling coffee pots, and the slow sway of your hips to the music playing quietly from your phone.

Now if your years in retail had given you anything, it’s a healthy appreciation for the weekend being free and clear, and in this season in your life you were glad Sundays were lazy days. This sleepy morning, at least until the kids got up, your music of choice was George Strait.

Joel admired the sway of your hips, the soft hum of your voice over the lyrics he knew by heart, and he grinned as if he had just won the lottery, and to him, he had.

“I wanna dance with you

twirl you all around the floor

that’s what they invented dancing for

I just wanna dance with you!” You sang under your breath, and Joel joined in.

“Your wish is my command, Mrs. Miller.” He deftly swung you into his arms and you smiled wide, spatula raised until you rested your arms around his neck.

Joel believed this is one of those moments. You know, the ones where you couldn’t imagine a better place in the world than the one you’re in. He couldn’t fathom being happier than in this moment. He is happy, truly happy. The weight of you in his arms, the smell of a breakfast lovingly prepared, the knowledge that his girls are here, safe, and happy in their beds. Life couldn’t be more perfect. The dancing around the room was just the cherry on top.

Joel loves the smell of you when you are just waking up. You smell like sleep, and warmth, and him. That coupled with the warm syrup and sizzling bacon is Nirvana. This is his glimpse of Heaven on earth. He’s sure that somewhere in the vast reaches of time and space, there is a version of him paying for his sins, but he’s not that Joel. This Joel is happy. This Joel is at peace.

The Joel from his nightmares was cruel, unkind, alone. He was sure that that Nightmare was as close to a belief in something bigger as he could get. He felt a hole in his heart, as if everything he loved about this life was… gone. He dreamed of lying dead, with a dented in skull, your tears and screams of mourning, Ellie’s tears, Sarah was gone. That reality wasn’t this one though, even though he glimpsed that one every time he blinked. Saw an older version of you, covered in grime and blood, screaming for him, saw the life leave Ellie’s eyes as she settles in with her new grief mission, revenge. It was like this reality and that reality danced on a knife’s edge, as he danced to this song with you. He felt himself dance along with death as he was here right now, with everything he had ever wanted. His family completed. But then he also felt as if he’d just woke up, from a terrible dream.

So in this moment he chooses to dream.

“It’s alright Joel, it’s ok, you can rest now.” When he looked up he was dancing with the older and sadder you, but she had that smile too, that just for him, Sunday morning smile. “Be at peace.” When he blinked again, she was gone, and he knew it was all just a crazy nightmare.

“Good morning baby.” Joel whispered and tucked a hair behind your ear.

“Goodnight Joel.” You sobbed, kneeling in a pool of blood, wondering what you would do without dancing.

[blissfulip]

—Legion

On AO3

 

Priest!Viktor x F!demon!reader

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Priest Kink, Blasphemy, Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Self-Flagellation, Demon Sex, Demon Summoning, Demon/Human Relationships, demon reader, AU - Canon Divergence, Post medieval era, Dubious Science, Church Sex, Roman Catholicism, Catholic Guilt, Improper Use of Catholic Rituals, Shameless Smut, Masturbation, No use of Y/N, third person.

Cw: mentions of child abuse, masturbation. (separately, not related to one another)

Words: 2.4k

[A/N: we are so back yall, i think... (let me know if you want to be tagged or removed in future fic updates!)]

Tags: @ihopeinevergetsoberr @chemical-killjoy @jinxed-jk @bobobomao @queen-of-elves @thedustybunny @syren201 @thayfass @thehistoriangirl @hypocritic-trash-baby @zaunitearchives

Previous Next

V. (NSFW)

Preach, pray, consume, forgive, kneel, repent, repeat.

Viktor’s  worn fingers traced the grooves of the heavy missal as the morning light filtered through stained glass, casting lazy hues upon the cold stone floor. The scent of incense, mingling with the earthy aroma of old wood and dust, rose in spirals as thoughts meandered like the smoke. He recited every prayer, absent from the materiality needed but without a misstep. Not a single one of the faithful that had congregated on that Sunday morning noticed something was amiss, which in retrospect made it seem like he had been doing this for a while, unbeknownst to him.

Their eyes, some pious, others wearied by life's burdens, stared back in expectation, and in their collective gaze, he intoned the familiar prayers, his voice a low murmur resonating through the vaulted space. No part of his body registered the passage of time; only the ashen-colored light that now bathed the right-most side of the altar accused the hours he had lost to the liturgy. A soft voice calling out to him gently nudged him out of his stupor. 

“Father” The altar boy whispered with an outstretched hand that held the washed communion plates. 

“Thank you, Tobias.” Viktor said as he reached out to grab the plates, “I’m sorry, I’ve been a bit distracted as of late.” 

The boy nodded animatedly and skipped his way down to the altar again. Tobias was a lad of scarcely ten summers. Like many others—including Viktor himself—he had been ‘donated’ to the church. To everyone else, this was seen as a foolproof way to skip purgatory, a show of mercy from his parents that proved their love for him and their devotion to god. To Viktor—who was there on the day he arrived and was charged with paying his parents an appropriate amount for him—it was a desperate plea to guarantee his five other siblings did not starve to death.

Viktor looked down again, and the boy was still walking around, clad in a robe slightly too large for him, its hem brushing the floor. His small hands worked with care, putting out the candles with a long, brass taper. Viktor watched as the boy handled the sacred objects with a reverence that belied his tender age, so full of potential and untainted by cynicism. When he was done with his duties, he walked back over to where Viktor sat and stood there in silence, waiting for more orders. 

“What do you wish to be when you grow up?” Viktor asked casually.

He spoke quickly, like he had rehearsed it. “A priest, like you.”

Viktor let out a small, good-humored chuckle in response and raised an incredulous eyebrow. Tobias looked on both sides like he was afraid someone would be there to hear him before speaking again. 

“A stonemason, like my father.”

“Do you miss him?”

His glossy eyes didn’t escape Viktor’s, but he didn’t wish to pry for answers any further, afraid the boy’s feelings would end up triggering memories of his own. And even though Tobias quickly left after Viktor nodded in understanding, the memories he was trying to repress came flooding down. 

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

The day his parents took him away was etched in Viktor’s memory with painful vagueness. Cold hands pried him from his mother’s skirt, her eyes wet and empty, filled with a sorrow too deep for words. He barely remembered her face, and now and then, when he tried to latch onto her ghost, she escaped him like smoke. His father’s voice, gruff and resigned as he muttered it was ‘for the best’, was the only thing he managed to recall clearly. He was never able to tell if he felt sad; although his tone seemed tired, it always had, this time seeming nothing more than a feeble attempt at justification. 

The heavy monastery door closed behind him with a finality that echoed through his young heart, and despite the fact that they lived nearby, he never saw them again. Stone walls towered over him, pressing in, their cold embrace devoid of the warmth and comfort he had known. Father Isidore's face, nothing more than a priest back then, loomed hard and unyielding, offering no solace.

Lonely nights were spent in a narrow cot. This was, for all intents and purposes, a better sleeping arrangement than what he previously had, but he longed for home, for the familiar sounds of his mother’s cooking and his father’s laughter as he woke up before sunrise, which had been replaced by an oppressive silence and whispered prayers. Days blurred into weeks, and the unfamiliar routine and stern discipline pressed down on his spirit as curiosity, once a joyful pursuit, became a dangerous trait to have.

He remembered the sting of Father Isidore’s cane against his skin, the punishment for asking questions deemed too freethinking. The pain on his back that burned with each strike, shame and pain mingling as his stern gaze bore into him, and the sickly feeling in his stomach when he smiled at him with the slimy insincerity of someone who believes he’s doing you a favor.

Back then, he bit his lip to stifle his cries, the taste of blood trickling down his throat that for so long he associated with fear, and now it had mutated into a morbid parade of all the wrong sentiments: pleasure, anger, and defiance. If only little Viktor the altar boy knew that the joy of discovery that was crushed under the weight of dogma and the vibrant world of his imagination that was stifled by the constant threat of retribution were once again enkindled, and by the spine-chilling yet exciting presence of a demonic creature nonetheless, he would not believe it. 

The university days provided a brief respite from the oppressive confines of the monastery. The city, alive with possibilities, offered a tantalizing glimpse of freedom. The rush of independence was exhilarating, a stark contrast to the rigid discipline he had known. Yet, even as the world beyond the monastery beckoned, he found himself bound by an inexplicable sense of duty. The decision to return was made—a choice that haunted him. The familiar chains of the clergy tightened around him, the opportunity for escape slipping away.

And although each passing year brought a deeper sense of regret and the burden of faith grew heavier, the ache of what could have been was, at this very moment, no longer a constant. His path led him to where he stood now, an experience so formidably unique that it felt tailor-made for him. Did he deserve such a test from god? It depended on how you saw it. If this was a punishment, then it was fit for all the sin that blackened his soul, and he would endure it in silent penitence. But if this was a reward for being a pious servant and having endured the temptation of unbridled knowledge before, a bigger and more difficult challenge for Viktor to prove his worth, then he did not feel deserving of it. 

Either way, no matter how he sliced it, he was failing. Whether this test had been put before him to teach him restraint or not, it was doing quite the opposite. She had given him a new set of eyes, and now he found a fresh and bitter perspective for every aspect of his practice that he had accepted and embraced before.

Confession was no longer a way for him to provide the people in his community with relief and forgiveness; it was a dirty show of egos for people who are disgustingly contaminated by greed and gluttony to flaunt their superiority in the eyes of a corrupt institution. Their opulent vestments were nothing more than a vainglorious boast of wealth, unfit for a group of men who made a vow of poverty to mirror the temperance of their god. The altar boys were only an unfortunate bunch of children stripped of their choices due to their inescapable place in society, a society where the poor, the vulnerable, and the young were exploited with the promise of salvation if they paid tithe and served their godly emissaries. 

And then there was the liturgy. Granted, he was never too entranced by any of the rites he had to perform; they had always felt like a distant repetition of nonsensical words that he felt no real connection to, as he always felt closer to god in silent and private prayer, but now, with his unintentional new perspective, it was the aspect that felt the most different to him. 

For decades, he had been taught to be passive, to repress, and to contain. To escape anything that was even remotely tempting and to be satisfied and held in contempt by the only nude body he’d ever be allowed to see, the one nailed to a cross. Why is it then that the art scattered around the church puts such an intent focus on the immaculate figures of naked men? Why is it that he is thought to rub, to whisper, and to consume in that context but is forced to repress such acts once he steps down the altar?

Viktor took a deep breath. His long fingers twirled the beads of his rosary absentmindedly as he pondered, and before realizing what he was doing, he brought it up to his nose, taking in the faint smell of roses that still lingered from when it was made. While he did that, images ran through his mind—of himself kissing the crucifix during Holy Week, the defined torsos carefully painted in the sacred images of saints, the almost ecstatic feeling brought by communion. Flashes that appeared in quick succession fused with the intense pleasure of flagellation and the still vibrant recollection of what She had made him feel. 

___________________________________________________________________

He knew those thoughts would lead to these, and not only did he purposefully not repress them, but he was hoping as much. There was that distinct tension, that heightened awareness of his body, that sense of electricity that seemed to hum just beneath his skin. Something that was no longer new to him and also no longer unwelcome. 

He stood from the chair he had spent the afternoon rotting away in deep thought on and lethargically walked back to his quarters. Once there and with the door tightly shut behind him, he fell on his back against the stubborn mattress, not waiting even a moment before pulling up the fabric of his cassock to reveal the tight clasp of his trousers. 

His fingers trembled as they moved to untie the sash with deliberate slowness, the anticipation heightening his senses. He hesitated for a moment, as if seeking some final absolution, before he grasped his swelling desire. An almost cynical laugh escaped his lips as he began to stroke himself, the motion tentative at first, then more assured as he slowly understood the intensity of his own touch. The sensation was electric, his body responding with a fervor that he had only experienced deep in prayer. 

His free hand, with his rosary entangled between his fingers, gripped the edge of the cot, knuckles white with tension as the wooden frame creaked under the strain and the beads etched small marks into his skin. As the feeling of that distracted him from the pressing heat gathering with each pump, another unusual feeling took him out of the moment. 

The same bone-chilling breeze he had felt for the past few days, every time she came around. There was no fear inside of him this time and no guilt either, so when her figure became clear and visible, he didn’t flinch, freeze, or even stop what he was doing. A silent acknowledgement was given in the form of a lingering look, before the pleasure building to an almost unbearable intensity urged him to start moving his hand once again. 

She looked at him with pleased eyes, contemptuous but not gloating. She recognized that her role had been simply one of a catalyst for something that had been inside of Viktor all along. Did she want to participate? Of course, but there would be a time for that; this was his victory to enjoy. 

He continued stroking with a rhythm characteristic of someone who was slowly trying to connect with his own body, not rushed by guilt or fear. In the midst of one of the pauses he took to prevent himself from coming to his release too early, he took notice of her again, still standing opposite him near the door. 

“Will you be in hell to welcome me when I die?”

“Hell is now, this, and here.”

“So there is no realm of eternal punishment?” Viktor chuckled bitterly. 

“If there was, it wouldn’t be for people like you.” 

“Eh, I don’t believe that.”

“Can you confidently say...” She started as she walked over and kneeled near the edge of the bed where Viktor sat, gently placing one of her cold hands over the one that gripped his cock. “...that something that feels like this is undoubtedly immoral?”

She slowly guided him up and down once again, increasing the pressure of his grip with her own as Viktor looked into her obscured eyes, mouth agape. 

“Perhaps, though I’m prepared to pay the price.” He said, almost in a whisper. 

They both continued moving, aided by her firm touch over his hand, and the pressure building became almost unbearable. In those final moments, his thoughts became a blur, a cacophony of want, desire, and need, with part of him wanting to touch her and another part wanting to completely lean back and let her finish him off. Instead, his body tensed right where he was, every muscle tightening as he reached his climax with a shuddering release that left him gasping for breath.

The crucifix dangled on his neck as he started to lean over. 

[scribble-dribble-writes]

Plastic Hearts - (15)

<<<Prev Next>>>

---

Lazy Sunday morning

---

You were a go getter, a team player, one who knows what to do next all the time that you wished someone would just hold you down, to tell you to breathe. You jumped head first into the next big thing because that was how you survived in this hospitality business. That was how you survived in life in general. So the word lazy never existed in your world. You couldn’t understand the appeal.

Until today.

As you stretched under the covers watching sunlight filter through the blinds. Sunday morning gently coming alive and for the first time you were still in bed. Your usual routine was to head to the markets at five in the morning, to stock up the restaurant with fresh local produce. But instead, when you turned, you caught sight of him still asleep.

The details on his face were remarkable, that often times you only focus on his eyes when he was looking at you. He had that skill, to make you feel like the only girl to exist when his gaze was on you. But now, you caught the way his thick eyelashes curved up effortlessly. The subtle cupid’s bow and the scattered dark spots. The soft rhythm in which his chest rose and fell, his arm slung over you as his fingers twitched. He was dreaming, and just when you were going to question the subject of his dreams, he pulled you closer.

So it turns out, that even someone like you could do lazy mornings. You wrapped your arm around his torso and moved deeper into his hold. No one could take this away. This was all yours to enjoy.

He stirred next to you as he mumbled good morning, his voice husky and coarse. He placed his chin on the top of your head as he put his leg over yours, you couldn’t help but sigh with content.

“We have a lot of work to do today.”, you murmured into the skin of his chest with your eyes closed.

“What help do you need?”, he asked groggily.

“We have all these boxes to sort.”, you peeled away from where you had tucked your face into his neck.

“I haven’t been able to do it for awhile.”, you caught his eyes, contemplating if it was appropriate to tell him the reason behind it.

“Since Melissa’s passing?”, he asked gently, his hand rubbing your back as though he knew you needed comfort.

But all you could do was tilt your head to the side, bewildered how he knew about something you had never shared.

“I overhead bits and pieces about your story at school during lunch time. Teachers love to gossip.”, he gave you a lopsided grin.

“Ken Carson, you trust the rumor mill?”, you narrowed you eyes at him playfully.

“No but to be fair you were ignoring me then.”, he pouted and you couldn’t help but smile. You tucked your head under his chin and he very happily welcomed you into his embrace again.

“I know it’s been a while and I should have gotten over it. But I don’t know, she made me feel loved. Like I was a part of a family for a while.”, you said quietly. These secrets were never shared but confiding in him made the burden feel lighter.

“Grief takes time to heal.”, he said softly as he drew circles on your waist.

“When did you get this philosophical?”, you chuckled and he joined you but he sobered as though there was more to it.

“I knew this kid for a year. He was brilliant and kind but then stopped coming to school. When I found out he was getting treated for cancer, I didn’t know what it was. But I saw him, battle it out and lose against it. I didn’t cry then cause all these concepts that reality was bound by I had never experienced before. But one night as I sat to watch a show, I began to cry and continued to well into the night.”, he shared as he sighed.

“The toughest bit is when it catches you in the middle of a class or you see another kid play football that in turn makes you angry in how any of this is fair but that’s the stake of being here. It’s about every second and what you choose to do with it.”, he concluded to then softly place a kiss on your forehead.

“So if it catches you when we’re sorting the boxes, I’ll be there to hold you up.”, he said it with a confidence that it caused you to tear up.

“Thank you.”, you whispered as you held onto him.

“Now get up, lazy bones, I’ll make us a fresh batch of tea.”, he patted your back as you groaned when he began to slip away from you.

His skin a delight to look at in the morning light as he put on a Tshirt, his puffy sleep ridden eyes made him look all the more dreamier. You pushed away the blanket with a deep breath, the smell of fresh linen and fabric conditioner giving you the boost to get a move on. You had the world to save.

*

You walked into your place and knew the first thing you had to do. Walking up to the cookie jar, you popped open the lid and fetched one for him and yourself. His eyes lit up the moment he recognized it,

“I was supposed to give them to you yesterday but they were too hot to pack.”, you said as he took one from you.

He bit into it and you watched as his shoulder relaxed, his eyes closed and he groaned out of satisfaction.

“Brie, I had missed these.”, he mumbled with his mouth full as you lead him to the storage room, which had been Melissa’s room before.

Your hand hovered over the door knob and when you took a minute, his hand rested on your shoulder, to remind you that he was by your side. Taking a deep breath, you let your palm hold the cold metal and twist it.

The old residual smell of her perfume wafted over you and it brought back all the memories. You sitting by the vanity set as she gave you her antique jewelry set for the restaurant’s anniversary dinner. The side table that still held a half embroidered handkerchief. Pictures of you on one side of the wall, you grew nauseous. She had loved you like a mother even though you were no one’s daughter.

But Ken placed his palm on the small of your back, his lips touching the edge of your ear as he said, “You’re stronger than the past, Brie.”

It got you to stand still, to regain yourself. Because you were. You were stronger than all that had happened. So you turned to kiss his cheek as new found strength filled your system.

“Ok", you said as you inhaled deeply.

"Let’s start with this box here.”, you dusted your hands and got to work.

---

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[parisdimi]

i hope that i learn to love someone more than i love you.

when wedding bells chime and wisteria flowers bloom, beneath a warm sky painted with strokes of vibrant cerulean blue, i pray that i don’t miss you.

it’s a silent wish, one whispered into the void, borne from the depths of my soul and whispered into the emptiest of nights.

i pray that when the day arrives, when i stand at the threshold of matrimony, i will not be haunted by the ghost of what once was.

not once will i think of you—i will not miss the intricacies of your being, nor will they slip through the cracks of my memory. i will not think of the way your eyes crinkle at the corners when you smile, the way your pearly whites show with each one. not the way your hands feel beneath my own, the skin raised slightly around the tattoo on your ring finger.

i was meant to cover it with a band of my own.

not once will i wonder what our cabinets would look like, the shelves lined with carefully constructed containers—ones you were always so meticulous about. perhaps nestled among them would be a box of matcha tea, your favorite, waiting to be brewed into steaming cups of comfort on lazy sunday mornings. we’d have them with hotteok, the sweet pancakes you promised you’d make for me.

i hope that these feelings wash away with the waters of time. when the day comes where i can look at another without searching for your gaze in the depths of theirs,

i pray that i never once look back ; — yshro.

[bratshaws]

through the hourglass.311 brb x oc

a/n: OH BOY, stuff will be answered in the coming chapters (comments and reblogs are super welcome and encouraged!)

pairing: plus size!oc x rooster

warnings: none uwu

goodness gracious (pls read this one to know more what this fic is about!!)

chapter

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-

The soft glow of morning sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting a warm embrace over the room. Beatrice relished these moments of quiet solitude before the demands of the day unfolded. She sat up in bed, the oversized shirt enveloping her like a comforting cocoon,a cocoon that smelled like Rooster.

 A faint smile played on her lips as she surveyed the room, the remnants of Rooster's presence embedded in every corner: a framed photo captured a candid moment of them laughing on a lazy Sunday afternoon, one of the first pictures they took together after getting married.

A half-empty bottle of cologne stood proudly on top of the bathroom sink, its scent lingering in the air like a trace of his essence. Next to it was a small shaving cream and razor, she always made sure to check if it was standing still on the little stand.

Beatrice swung her legs off the bed, the cool floor meeting the warmth of her bare feet. She padded over to the bathroom, the door creaking softly as she pushed it open. The sight of Rooster's toothbrush next to hers brought a soft smile to her face. She reached for her toothpaste,  and looked back at the shower stall.

The shower curtain hung loosely, the scent of his preferred body wash lingering in the air even with him being gone for almost a month now. A single towel on the hook, his favorite, was there, clean, of course because…he could come back earlier. She spits the toothpaste off and rubs her eyes before going back to the bedroom.

A gentle breeze rustled the leaves of the nearby trees as she opened the curtains, the sky was that shade of pastel pink and baby lilac she adored so much.

As she stood by the window, a soft ping echoed through the room. Beatrice turned to see her phone lighting up with a message.  She knew it was a text from Rooster, a simple "Good morning, love" accompanied by a heart emoji was seen when she picked it up. She couldn't help but smile, typing back a response, “Good night to you,handsome.”

Roos (06:01)

Wish me luck? We’ll leave in a few hours to do the mission.

Beatrice's fingers danced over the phone's screen as she crafted her response.

Bea (06:03)

Luck is on your side, always, Roos. Come back to me safely.

She hit send, her eyes lingering on the screen as if the words could magically reach him faster. The anticipation of each mission never lessened, and the distance between them during these times seemed to stretch indefinitely. She took a deep breath, reminding herself of the routine she'd cultivated to manage the ache of his absence.

With a glance at the clock, she realized she had a few hours before her own mission started. Soon the kids would wake up and she’d have t– there was someone downstairs. She pauses, going immediately still as she hears something falling on the ground. Beatrice headed downstairs, with Jolene right behind her, why wasn’t Eleanor barking if there was an intruder???

Oh my god.

What if they hurt Eleanor??

She grabs an umbrella on the way down, the sudden ‘i must protect my cubs’ feeling came strong and Beatrice chewed on her lower lip. Beatrice felt a knot forming in her stomach. The soft padding of her footsteps on the hardwood floor seemed to echo in the otherwise silent house. As she reached the bottom of the staircase, she hesitated for a moment, listening intently.

Another sound, a muffled clatter, reached her ears, and her instincts kicked in. She moved quietly, taking measured steps towards the kitchen. The familiar scent of coffee lingered in the air, but it was accompanied by an unfamiliar presence. Beatrice's mind raced through the possibilities, each one more unsettling than the last.

She hated being anxious.

Beatrice tightened her grip on the umbrella, her pulse quickening with each step. As she entered the kitchen, her eyes widened at the sight before her. Shells stood there, a sheepish grin on her face, holding a bag of spilled groceries.

"Shells! What the hell are you doing here?" Beatrice exclaimed, a mix of relief and irritation flooding her.

Shells looked up, eyes widening at the sight of Beatrice wielding an umbrella like a weapon. "Whoa, Bea, it's just me! Easy with the umbrella!"

Beatrice blinked, realizing the absurdity of her defensive stance. She lowered the umbrella,furrowing her brows  "Shells, you scared the life out of me! Why didn't you just ring the doorbell?"

Shells chuckled nervously, scratching the back of her head. "Uh, I didn't want to wake the kids. You know how they nap."

“Yeah! Because it's six in the morning Shells!”

Shells flashed an apologetic smile. "Sorry, Bea. I didn't think you'd go all ninja warrior on me. I was just trying to surprise you."

Beatrice took a deep breath, the adrenaline slowly subsiding. "Surprise me? At six in the morning with an uninvited entrance? What happened to 'hey, I'm coming over'?"

Shells shrugged, still grinning. "I thought it'd be more fun this way. Besides, I brought breakfast."

Beatrice looked at the spilled groceries and sighed. "Breakfast is on the floor, Shells."

"Yeah, about that..." Shells crouched down to collect the fallen items, her sheepish expression turning into a grin again. "I may have tripped on your welcome mat. It's more of a trip hazard than I thought."

Beatrice rolled her eyes, her initial fear giving way to annoyance. "Breakfast is not supposed to be a surprise attack, Shells. And since when do you bring groceries?"

Shells straightened up, holding the bag triumphantly. "Since today! I figured I'd treat you to a surprise breakfast. You know, to lighten the mood with Rooster away on a mission."

Beatrice sighed, her irritation softening into a smile. Shells, despite her unconventional entrance, meant well. "Well, thanks for the thought, but I hope you brought more than what's on the floor."

Shells grinned, pointing at the bag. "Fear not, babes. I've got eggs, bacon, and all the essentials for a breakfast feast. I'll even clean up the mess. Consider it an apology for the unintentional scare."

Beatrice couldn't help but laugh at Shells' antics. "You're lucky I didn't hit you with the umbrella.” she says, nodding at the closed accessory, “Also,since when do you cook?"

Shells feigned offense, placing a hand over her heart. "Bea, I'm wounded! I'll have you know that I've been watching cooking shows lately. I'm practically a culinary genius now."

"Cooking shows make you a genius? Well, if you say so. Just don't burn down my kitchen."

Shells mock saluted. "No promises, but I'll do my best, Captain."

As they set about salvaging the groceries and preparing breakfast, the tension that had gripped Beatrice began to ease. The early morning scare morphed into a lighthearted exchange, and Shells' infectious energy had a way of melting away anxieties.

"So, spill it, Shells. What's the real reason for this surprise breakfast?" Beatrice asked, sitting on her chair with her eyes noticing Eleanor chewing on a nice treat outside, “Also,did you give Eleanor a treat so she didn’t bark?”

“Yep."

Beatrice raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on her lips. "Well, that’s fine–”

Shells nodded, her expression turning serious. "I also lost sleep and couldn’t really call aunt Penny so.”

“Oh."

“Yeah…”

“...You..never complained about nightmares.”

Shells sighed, her gaze dropping to the pan as she cooked. "It's just... I had a rough night. Couldn't shake them off, you know?"

“Care to share, or is it classified information?"

Shells chuckled, but it held a touch of vulnerability. "Maybe a bit classified, but you know how it is. The usual stuff."

Beatrice nodded, sympathy etched across her features. "Yeah, I get it. Is it…does it have to do with your m-."

“Nah I never dream about her.”Shells glanced up,lips pursed “She’s dead so, what do I care? No this one was…I guess it’s the overall stress, you know? With the bar and all.”

"I'm sorry you had a rough night. Stress does crazy things to our minds, especially when you're dealing with a lot."

"Yeah," Shells replied, the sizzle of bacon filling the air as she focused on the cooking. "I just needed a change of scenery, you know? And what better way to change things up than surprising you with breakfast?"

Beatrice smiled, appreciating Shells' attempt to lighten the mood. "Well, I appreciate the effort. And for the record, you're not allowed to lose sleep over nightmares without telling me. We're in this together, remember?"

Shells grinned, flipping the bacon with practiced ease. "Got it, babes. No more solo missions into the realm of bad dreams. I'll inform you in advance next time."

As the aroma of breakfast filled the kitchen, Shells set the table with a mismatched collection of plates and utensils. Beatrice couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude for her friend's spontaneous gesture. In the midst of the chaos surrounding Rooster's mission and the uncertainties with Mark and Miranda, Shells' presence brought a much-needed moment of peace.

They sat down to eat, the bacon crispy, the eggs perfectly scrambled, and the toast buttered to perfection. Shells raised her fork in a mock salute. "To surprise breakfasts and conquering the nightmares."

Beatrice clinked her fork against Shells', a smile playing on her lips. "To unexpected rescues and facing the unknown together."

-

Was he surprised the mission was a success?

No.

Was he surprised that Mark was acting weird?

Also no.

The adrenaline that had fueled their dogfight began to ebb away, leaving them with the tangible weight of fatigue. Rooster, standing by his jet, surveyed the tarmac as ground crews worked efficiently to refuel and inspect the fighter planes.

Mark lingered nearby, his posture tense and shoulders squared. Rooster observed him discreetly, noting the way other pilots seemed to avoid direct interaction with him. It was as if an invisible barrier surrounded Mark, isolating him from the everyone else.

Rooster decided to approach, his steps deliberate and his expression neutral. As he neared, Mark glanced up, meeting Rooster's gaze with a guarded look.

"Good work out there, Mark," Rooster acknowledged, his tone even. "The mission was a success."

Mark's response was a curt nod, his eyes flitting away. "Just doing my part."

Rooster furrowed his brow.  "Is there something on your mind, Mark?"

Mark hesitated, his jaw tight. "Nothing, sir. Just focused on the mission, that's all."

Rooster regarded him for a moment, weighing the words. "Mark, we're a team. If there's anything you need to talk about—"

"I appreciate the sentiment, Rooster, but I've got it under control," Mark interjected, his tone firm. "No need to worry."

Rooster's gaze lingered, a sense of unease settling in. He decided to press further, despite Mark's resistance. "I've noticed some tension among the recruits. Is everything okay on your end?" 

Mark's eyes narrowed, a flicker of defensiveness crossing his face. "Recruits come and go. It's the nature of the job."

Oh.

Rooster’s eyes darkened immediately.

“...How so,Mark?”

Mark's jaw tightened, and a hint of frustration flashed in his eyes. "They're inexperienced. They slow us down. We have to pick up the slack, cover for their mistakes. It's like babysitting sometimes."

Rooster's expression remained steady, though the tension in the air thickened. "Well Mark, they're part of the squadron. We work as a team, and that means supporting each other, especially when someone is still learning the ropes."

Mark scoffed, a bitter edge to his voice. "Supporting them doesn't mean coddling them, Rooster. We have a standard to uphold, and if they can't meet it, they shouldn't be here."

"Training and mentoring are part of leadership, Mark. It's not about lowering standards but helping others rise to meet them. That's how we become a stronger, more cohesive unit."

Mark's gaze hardened, the resentment beneath the surface becoming more apparent. "Maybe some of us don't have the luxury of time for mentorship, Rooster. Maybe some of us have more pressing matters to attend to."

Rooster's eyes narrowed slightly. "What are you getting at, Mark?"

Mark hesitated, as if contemplating whether to reveal more. “I-I…”  Roosted flicked his eyebrow and the other pilot gulped, all the bravado disappearing, “Just…the breach and all,we are all…o-on edge.”

Rooster regarded Mark with a scrutinizing gaze. The mention of the breach seemed to hang heavily between them, an unspoken understanding that there might be more beneath the surface. 

Rooster decided to tread carefully, not wanting to escalate the tension further.

"The breach has everyone on edge, Mark. I get that," Rooster replied, his voice measured. "But we don’t go letting your anger out on the recruits." he knew it wasn’t that, he knew what McAllister told him was true.

Mark's shoulders tensed, and for a moment, it seemed like he might say something more. However, he bit back the words, his expression hardening once again. "Okay,uh, thank you, Rooster."

“Mhm.”

“A-Are you going to talk to Vice-Admiral Simpson?”

“I might.” Rooster whispered, “He has to know about the mission,right?”

Mark shifted uncomfortably, a glimmer of uncertainty in his eyes. "I suppose. But I'm sure he's already aware of everything. We did accomplish the mission, after all."

"Accomplishing the mission is part of the job, Mark. But I'm also concerned about the internal dynamics within the squadron. We need trust and cohesion to operate effectively."

Mark's jaw clenched, the frustration evident. "I'm doing my job, Rooster. Don't question my dedication."

"I'm not questioning your dedication, Mark. I'm questioning your approach. We need unity, especially now with the breach. If there's something you're not telling me, I need to know."

Mark's eyes flashed with a mix of anger and reluctance. "I told you, Rooster. I've got it under control."

Rooster's expression remained steadfast. "I'll take that as a temporary answer. But if whatever you're dealing with starts affecting the squadron, it becomes my concern."

With that, Rooster turned away, leaving Mark standing with a storm of emotions brewing within him.

He had to figure this shit out.

Now.

[cryptidsurveys]

Sunday, March 26th, 2025.

First thing you touched this morning? Most likely my phone in order to see what time it was.

Last thing you yelled at? It wasn't an angry yell, but "hello" to my dad when he arrived home from the gym.

Is your car a piece of crap? Not at all. It's around 17 years old, but it still works wonderfully.

What’s something you’re looking forward to in the next 7 days? There's a mandatory meeting at the shelter next Friday, which sounds incredibly boring, I know; but for some reason I find them enjoyable...

What’s annoying you right now? This on / off headache I've had for the past two and a half days. Not a migraine. More like pressure in the middle of my forehead plus tired and aching eyes. General exhaustion.

When is the last time you looked in the mirror? About 30-45 minutes ago.

Would you have a long distance relationship with the person you are with now? I'm not in a relationship. Not interested in long distance, but if I really cared about someone and we were serious about each other, then who knows.

Who was the last person to make you really mad? Lol, probably Alex or Diane, last September.

Do you enjoy watching porn? No.

What’s your favorite drinking game? Never played a drinking game before.

Do you cry often? It kind of depends on what's going on in my life. Annd therapy is likely to get me if life doesn't. :')

Do you think someone is thinking of you right now? It's definitely possible.

Choose one to have (beer, cigs, or weed)? Cigarettes. I haven't smoked weed for a few years now and I rarely ever drink.

Do you wish on stars? Ehh.

Are you a big flirt? No.

What is the most disgusting prank you’ve ever done? I've never pulled a disgusting prank.

What would you do if you became pregnant? I don't knooow. So much would depend on the circumstances.

When did you last make out with someone? Was it good? Years ago. And yeah, I'm sure I enjoyed it.

Do you like your body? Having a body is so frustrating!!

Are you a likeable person? Yeah.

Who did you dream of last night? Mostly frickin' ALEX. She came back to visit or whatever, but she was actually being relatively nice and tolerable. Also, Liv and a volunteer who was at the shelter yesterday.

Whose body do you wish you had? I don't want a specific person's body.

What is the first thing you are going to do when you get home? I am at home, but the first thing I'll do when I get home from the shelter tomorrow is take a shower.

When is the last time you saw your mom? March 13th. We went out for lunch, stopped by her house and met her roommate and some of their animals, then went to get my hair cut.

Have you ever been so in love, you wanted to get married? Yeah.

Is there a song that makes you cry? There aren't any songs that are guaranteed to make me cry, but there are definitely songs with that potential.

Are you normally a horny person? No.

Where is your self-esteem from 1 (low) to 10 (high)? Ehh, maybe like a four.

What color are your eyes? Hazel.

Plans for tonight? Nothing.

Plans for the weekend? I was at the animal shelter yesterday and I've been a lazy bed bug today. I did manage to vacuum my bedroom earlier, though.

[sloanerisette]

You Need A Promotion, I Want A Shake Up, So Let's Get Married! Chapter 2

Hey everyone! We are BACK with chapter 2! This chapter was already done by the time I posted the first chapter but to be honest I wanted to beef it up a bit so I took a while editing it, especially after dealing with some real life stuff, but it is finally here!

Chapter Summary: It's Mimi's big thirtieth birthday celebration, and she can't WAIT to spend it with her favorite people!

Jou has to go to his big work fundraiser tonight, and even the thought of it has him wishing he could be at a hectic birthday party with people he doesn't know.

It's a big night for both, but will it be a good one?

Big thanks as always to camp digimonth and everyone there for all the support and excitement, it means a lot to me! There will be a short blurb under the read more, but if you want to check the chapter out, you can do so at AO3, HERE!

Thirty, flirty, and thriving.

That’s what Miyako said to Mimi that morning when she called to wish her a happy birthday.

Thirty, yes.

Thriving, definitely.

Flirty? Not if Yukimura-san had anything to say about that.

The thought lingered on her mind as she sat out on her balcony, watching the bay as she sipped her tea. She knew her manager was looking out for her, but she was thirty! She should have been able to have a relationship if she wanted, or at least some light, fun flirting with someone!

Mimi didn’t exactly want a relationship at the moment, but she at least wanted an opportunity to have a relationship. She was thirty! She wanted to get married and start a family someday! She wanted to do all that and still maintain her career, too!

A long, low sigh fled her lips. She took another long sip of tea after.

At least her birthday party was tonight, and there was nothing that could ruin that. A fancy hotel, dinner at the fantastic Italian restaurant there with an open bar for them all to partake in. Her old friends would be there, as well as so many model friends she made over the past almost 15 years. It was going to be incredible.

She had no shoots today, no appearances or interviews, nothing. Just her and a few hours of some much needed relaxation before the day kicked into gear. Nothing could be better.

She checked her phone again and looked through all the RSVPs. Everyone would be able to make it, though there was still a question mark by Jou’s name. He said he’d probably make it, but given how busy he was— he was a doctor, after all— he would probably be late.

As long as he showed up, though!

It was her birthday and she wanted to see all the people that mattered to her. Even if she hadn’t seen some of her friends in years, they still meant the world to her— they always would.

She’d have a video call with her parents in a few hours before they’d call it a night on their side of the globe, and then she’d have to get ready to head to the hotel and make sure everything was set up just right.

“Mmm…” she hummed quietly, holding up her mug in a toast, “Happy birthday, Mimi-chan.”

She looked over at the empty chair next to her. It was easier to just get a little balcony set with two chairs, though it did leave her wondering who she would share this with one day. Who would be sitting there with her on lazy Sunday mornings, sipping tea, talking about anything that crossed their minds, and sharing life and love together?

She sat there for another few minutes to finish her tea, then stood up, stretched her arms over her head, leaned to one side, and then the other. Once she was done, she picked up her mug and headed back inside.

She looked at her clock, glad to see she still had some time to lounge around before needing to get ready.

Soon enough she’d be running around, so for another hour or so she just wanted to lay on her couch and not have a care in the world.

[docxholiday2024]

To that special woman somewhere out there .

TO THAT SPECIAL WOMAN OUT THERE SOMEWHERE, You deserve someone who wants to give you a text back, y’know? Someone who wants you, only you, and makes you feel wanted. Someone who can’t help but message you first thing in the morning when the sun light is slow-dancing through the curtain, and they’re barely waking. Someone who wants to spend their margarita Friday nights with you, but also their lazy lemonade Sundays. Someone who holds their one-person umbrella right above you when it’s bucketing down, so that you’re sheltered, even if it means they get soaked through. You deserve someone who thinks of you, often. Someone who calls you on the phone at the end of a long day, because they want to hear the sound of your voice before they drift off into slumber. Someone who makes plans with you on a Tuesday evening, because the weekend is just too far away, and who cares if we have to go to work the next day. Someone who is proud to walk with you hand in hand, not in front of you nor behind you, but with you side by side. Someone who says definitely, not maybe, and follows through. You deserve to hear a song on the radio that makes you melt on the inside at the mere thought of this someone. Someone who could watch you sleeping for hours at a time, and be perfectly content in the grace and stillness of that moment. Someone who steals a cheeky kiss when you’re mid-sentence and least expecting to find their lips. Someone who will happily pig out on pizza with you in bed, and not judge the sweatpants & top knot look you’re sporting. Someone who is just that into you. You deserve someone who challenges the both of you constantly; someone who makes you strive to be better each day, because they’re trying to be better too. Someone you can count on to stick around when the crap hits the fan, which it will. Someone who chooses to lift you up, always. You deserve magic, and fireworks, and confetti canons exploding in your clear blue skies. You deserve someone who will always be careful with your heart, because they know just how fragile it already was before they held it. Someone who’s heart aches whenever yours does. Someone who wakes up next to you each day feeling like they’ve hit the jackpot, over and over again, and thinking what on earth did they do in their past life to be so darn lucky. You deserve someone’s complete attention. Someone who looks at you, and I mean really sees you, and all of the beauty you hold. You deserve to be someone’s first choice. Someone’s best friend. Someone’s partner in crime. Someone’s everything. You deserve to be loved; and loved extraordinarily well. And to be told that you are loved, every single day, it will take the time to sit down and pray with you and be thankful that God has blessed the both of us .✝️🌹

Wishing you a wonderful and Blessed Day 🌹❣️

[attapullman]

robert "bob" floyd | top gun: maverick

NEIGHBOR!BOB

STATS!BOB

BUNGALOW!BOB

HOLLYWOOD!BOB

SERIES

whodunit? / 80’s Bob & Fanboy hometown sleuths one night only / A commitmentphobe and serial dater meet in a bar...

ONESHOTS

someone will hear / When everyone else retires to bed after Friendsgiving, Bob has other plans for you. [smut 18+ only] domesticated / On a lazy Sunday morning with Robert Floyd and your twin girls, you’re reminded exactly how well he takes care of your family. And you. [smut 18+ only] step into christmas / It’s the first Christmas with your husband Bob in your new (to you) home. He pulls out all the stops to make it special. handsome cowboy / An innocent trip for bread turns into meeting your boyfriend’s doppelganger you can’t get over. [mini fic] that’s mine / Bob likes Rooster. He does. So why does he suddenly hate him when his childhood best friend agrees to go on a date with the pilot? [smut 18+ only] the perfect pink / While bartending for Rolling Acres Retirement’s Valentine’s Party, you encounter a pink-cheeked man and his cherry-loving cousins. pretend / You aren't sure what's worse: having to share a bed with the boy who was your first boyfriend who you haven't seen in years, or having to pretend he's your boyfriend when you wish he actually was. [smut 18+ only]

DRABBLES/THOTS/ETC. [* indicates 18+]

caught kissing

saw this and thought of you

you have an admirer

working from home

i love you*

sex shop*

sour, imperfect

[belladonna-wright]

A Sentimental Mood

As Time Goes By - Chapter 14

London, May 1935.

Warnings: Discussions of religion and sexuality

Dust danced in the ray of pale golden light which fell between the curtains. Jessie watched as it swirled, in lazy spirals round and round despite the stillness of the room. Her fingers rested on the corners of her book, as she rested against the headboard, but the words were all but forgotten. 

Crisp white sheets tangled around her legs, and she pushed an errant strand of hair back out of her face. 

Warmth seeped gently from the other side of the bed where, tangled in the covers, lay the sleeping form. Dark hair pooled on the pillow, and Ellen’s sleeping back rose and fell as she buried her face against the fabric. Jessie’s eyes drifted to her, as they were wont to do. These moments felt precious, stolen, in the grey half-light where all the world was still except for the steady sound of Ellen’s breathing. 

She had grown used to these moments, over the months. Something as precious and rare as all the jewels in the world. She was tempted to reach out, to gently brush a finger across her shoulders, but resisted. 

The moments never lasted, of course. The rest of the world was still out there, and would come and stake its claim on them soon. Then Ellen would have to rush off, hurried and apologetic because she had places to be, and could not linger here. It always felt like there were so many things ready to pull them apart, work and otherwise. Jessie was selfish, she wished she could keep Ellen near at all times and not have to surrender her to the rest of the world. 

There were times when she questioned it; how had she come to be here? To stay, rather than fleeing to safety somewhere else. It would be kinder, perhaps, to leave and to let Ellen have her life. She could find someone better, who was kinder and more gentle, someone who would grow old with her and who would be able to stay. Jessie could not stay. Not really. There was always going to come a day when she could not stay.

In the distance, Jessie heard a church bell ringing. She counted down the moments until -

There it came, the cruel reality of it all which came crashing into the peace and quiet of the blissful morning. The alarm clock rang out cold and harsh. She hated that stupid thing. 

Ellen groaned and switched it off, her head lifting from the pillow. 

“Good morning,” Jessie smiled, pretending to turn her attention towards Ellen, as if she had actually been reading her book. 

There was something that resembled a greeting in response. 

As Jessie predicted, soon the whole room was alive with a whirlwind of motion as Ellen began to get herself out of bed and to find her clothes and wash before she could get dressed. Jessie listened to the sound of water running, and set the book aside. She might return to it when the sun was properly risen and she had little else to do. What was there for a vampire to do on a Sunday morning when all the rest of the world was busy? 

After a few minutes, Ellen returned, her face flushed from the cold water. She reached above her neck as she fastened the clasp of her cross. Jessie watched it. 

Ellen followed her gaze, looking down to her chest and then back up. Her gaze softened. 

“What is it, my love?” 

Jessie tilted her head slightly. She had thought of the question before, many times, but never wanted to ask it. Why cause yourself trouble, after all? But somehow here in the quiet of a Sunday morning she felt she had to speak. 

“How can you do it?” Ellen looked at her blankly. 

“How can you lie here, with me, and then get up and go to Church as if nothing was wrong?”

In the faith Jessie had known there had been no room for forgiveness, even the smallest of sins was enough to see a person shunned from society and cast out (at least until someone gave them something new to gossip about). How could Ellen, earnestly, spend her stolen nights with a vampire, a woman, and then go to worship her god as a good member of the flock? Wasn’t she supposed to despise Jessie’s very being? To be disgusted by her existence and run in horror?

Ellen pulled her blouse on in silence, buttoning it while it lay heavily in the air between them. 

“Do you think something’s wrong?” 

The reply was a challenge. An open question to try to pry open that door that Jessie so usually kept closed. The response was an exasperated look. 

“Jessie,” Ellen breathed out between her nose, searching for words. “I truly do not…” She paused. Jessie felt as if she were holding her breath in the pause. 

“My God, is a God who believes that love is a beautiful thing. And that everyone deserves it.”

“Everyone,” she repeated softly, as she sat on the edge of the bed, and reached for Jessie’s hands. 

“Everyone?” Jessie shot back at her. There was no version she could believe in, in which she could be forgiven. She was an abomination, in seemingly every respect. A crime against nature. No amount of preaching forgiveness and tolerance had ever been intended to be extended to the likes of her. 

“I look at you and I don’t see a monster,” Ellen promised her. 

“You should-” Jessie tried to argue. It was the truth, after all, wasn’t it? She was so many things… a killer, a criminal, an outlaw, a thief, a liar … her very existence was supposed to be an insult to God to some people. The fact that she could be sitting here and pretending otherwise felt like a lie. 

“Well, I don’t,” Ellen cut her off. 

“I see you. Jessie. Who is kind, and trying her best. That’s the woman I see.”

Jessie closed her eyes. It felt so cruel, to let Ellen believe that Jessie could be that person. Ellen had only ever seen her at her weakest moments, reaching out for something to hold and battling with grief… or trying to impress her to feel that slight lift in her heart that had for so long remained frozen. 

“Ellen, you’re a nurse. I’m a killer.”

“You are trying.” Ellen reminded her. 

It had been a long time since she had killed. She had become careful, in her old age. But Jessie felt equally guilty. How much of that was really because she could not bring herself to kill, or because she treasured the life of the anonymous strangers she might feed from? It was pure selfishness, the desire to not bring trouble down upon her head if someone noticed that a vampire was feeding in the area and began to look for one… It did not assuage her guilt. 

“This is what I am, Ellen. It’s what I always will be.”

Ellen turned away, and continued getting dressed. It wasn’t fair, perhaps, but she would have to be sure she made it back to the nurses home. She had to pretend she was returning from a night shift, get ready for church, and try to find room for her breakfast. Because she was not so naive as to not know what the rest of the world would think. How else could she understand Jessie’s fear? 

“And I am telling you, Jessica Wright, that I know.” Ellen began trying to tame her hair. She gave up, and crossed back to the bed. Warm hands cupped Jessie’s face, and tilted it to look at her. 

Jessie searched her face, and brown eyes met blue-grey. 

“I know,” Ellen repeated. “But I trust you. And I trust that you are trying to be better than whatever you once were. Whatever it is that you don’t think you can tell me? I don’t need to know it. I love the woman you are.”

Jessie could almost pretend she felt the heart ticking in her chest, the way it seemed to stop and then swell. 

Ellen leant down to capture her lips in a soft kiss. 

“There is room in my heart for you, and for my God.” Ellen promised her, close enough to her face that Jessie could feel the warmth of her breath. 

Perhaps if she was a better person, Jessie would tell her that it was unwise; that Ellen would only find herself being hurt that way, and that she was sure to disappoint her in the end. But she was not. She was selfish and greedy, and could pretend that she really believed for a moment. 

“I have to go,” Ellen rested her forehead against Jessie’s. “We’ll talk more about it soon. I promise,” she murmured. 

Jessie closed her eyes and cursed her greedy heart. She squeezed Ellen’s hand, before she let go. 

She picked up her book, as the other woman busied herself in making sure she was ready and had everything, in making sure her hair was neat but slightly frazzled, as if she had been at work through the night. It was a carefully choreographed routine, their whole existence together, but that was how it had to be. 

Jessie pretended to read the same sentence twenty times, but her eyes flickered towards Ellen time and time again. Somewhere deep in her heart, she struggled to believe it; that she could ever truly and deeply forgive Jessie for all that she was. She was too good. Jessie would know that, had it engraved into her heart. In many ways, the sooner that Ellen realised that, the better it would be for both of them.

[yelenaslyubov]

a/n: haha… hey everyone. so it’s been a minute and i apologize. i’ve had a horrible writers block for the past few months and i still kinda do but i’m also trying to work through it. so i bring you a small blurb from my follower celebration. i figured it was fitting since the anniversary of black widow was a few days ago. i hope you enjoy and i will try my best to have more writing out soon. i’m hoping i can have a piece out about a certain character i haven’t written before from the most recent mcu film👀👀👀i love and miss you all and i hope you enjoy🫶

requested by @yelenabelovasbxtch

pairing: yelena belova x female reader

prompt #33: “make me”

warnings: implied smut, language, fluff

description: you and yelena spent a lazy sunday together before things get heated and someone interrupts your fun

translations: detka- baby

word count: 469

main masterlist || yelena belova || requests

Lazy Sunday

⋆┈┈｡ﾟ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ❁ུ۪ ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ﾟ｡┈┈⋆

Every Sunday morning rolled around the same as the last. You and Yelena shared lazy snuggles until one of the two of you dragged the other out of bed.

This particular morning, you sensed a cold bed beside you. When you raised your arm to wrap it around your lover, just as you suspected, she was nowhere to be found.

Once you woke up a bit and could process your surroundings, you could hear the shower echoing from the bathroom. Luckily the door was wide open where you could see just enough to satisfy you. You didn’t know how long Yelena had been in there so you figured you would rest until she came back to you.

As it appeared, you must’ve fallen back to sleep because you awoke as Yelena slipped back in bed freshly showered and as toned as ever. Her comforting grasp never failed to make you feel at home.

“I didn’t mean to wake you, my love.” The rasp in her morning voice was like rich honey and warmness in your soul.

“It’s okay. I haven’t been asleep for long,” you responded. “Why are you up early and getting ready?”

Yelena groaned and sat up in bed. “You forgot again didn’t you?” You laid there with a puzzled expression. “Natasha? Coming over this morning?”

“Shit, I forgot.”

“Ahhh really?” Yelena faked her surprise. “So that means you need to get up, sleepy head.”

“Nooo,” you whined.

“Yesss. You need to get dressed.”

“No.”

“No?”

“That’s what I said, no.”

“Get up.”

“Make me.”

Yelena raised her eyebrow and smirked. All in a quick motion she hovered over you with your arms pinned down to the bed right above your head. She pressed her thigh firmly between your legs, making you whimper from the pressure.

“I can make you do a lot of things, detka. Maybe you’d like to see just how good you can be for me.”

You looked into her eyes and saw nothing but dominant pure lust. She leaned in for a kiss slowly but stopped right before she met your lips.

“Yelena!” You both heard Nat yell through the apartment.

Yelena hastily climbed off you and off the bed while you were left unfulfilled. She turned around before exiting your room and looked you up and down.

“Why so upset?” she asked with a smug look. “Maybe next time you won’t have such an attitude and you’ll get what you want. For now, put some clothes on and meet us out here in five. I love you, byeee.” She said the last part as she opened and closed the door to leave you alone in the bedroom.

You threw your head back and groaned before getting up and doing as she wished, throwing some clothes on and greeting Nat with open arms.

//

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