#Francis just likes her smile i promise--

[sweetsndreams]

A young woman with glasses and pigtails greets the baker with a small smile "Evening, Charlotte. How's Business?" - 📘(Ava)

🍪: "Oh Ava! It's wonderful to see you again! Everything has been going swell on my side dear!"

- Charlotte gave a kind smile before turning to Ava and offering the tray of freshly made cookies

🍪: "Oh- before I forget; Would you like one? This batch of cookies are fresh out of the oven!"

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((Part 1))

((part 2))

[ansel-rae562]

The new Doorman

[Doppleganger!Milkman x Reader]

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{Author's note: So I accidentally made a promise to a bunch of people in tiktok so here I deliver you a smut, please note this is my first writing one since I'm more into Angst and I also made this gender neutral as I can so yeah.. Enjoy!}

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First day of Job being a doorman! finally you found a job, looking for one is a bit hard. And this is quite a high pay so why not but this one involves dealing with doppleganger's which is kinda dangerous but the D.D.D assured you that you'll be safe as long as you stay in your office.

After you watched the introductory film explaining about how the job works, you opened the metal window and saw the D.D.D personel

"Welcome and congratulations on your new Job! Remember you have to watch out carefully for the doppleganger's. There are times that the neighbors are not on the list, check their ID's closely and their appearance's as well, or else you and the others may end up dead.. That's all you may continue"

The personnel left and you decided to check the today's list

"Okayy.... So here will be the expected people..."

Izaack Gauss

Mia Stone

Albertsky Peachman

Elenois Sverchtz

Francis Mosses

Anastasia Mikaelys

"Wow... Uhuh that's quite alot....but nothing I can handle"

A few minutes later a person came "Good morning, I see you're a new doorman" The woman said as she handed in her ID "Good morning and Yes I am ma'am" You greeted then looked at her ID 'Gloria Schmicht'.... "Uh ma'am? May I ask why are you not in today's list?" You asked "Oh It's cause my mother had an emergency and I had to be there" After checking all the files and seeing almost no anomalies you called the apartment just in case and found out that the wife is actually home "Sorry nope, bye" you said immediately pressing the danger button and calling the D.D.D.

Hours passed by dealing with a few doppleganger's which some of them being visually creepy and threatening you till a man came, he was wearing a white button up shirt and a white hat that has 'Milkman' written on them. He looks tired, bags under his eyes showing then he spoke "Good afternoon, here's my ID and entry request" you stared momentarily before deciding to check all information, he also has an attractive voice which made you blush a little.

Learning that his name is Francis and he's the local milkman around town you couldn't help but have a little crush I mean he's attractive, his voice is also attractive, tired guys may or may not also be your type and he does have a pretty decent Job so he does perfectly fit your dream guy. Not long after it's finally night time and also the end of your shift, you packed your items that you brought with you then the one who'll exchange with you arrived "Hey..." She greeted "Hold on a sec, have to make sure you're the real one" you said checking all the workers files "Wow darling... Taking your job very seriously huh?.. impressive" she said with a subtle smile, she has green eyes and bags are shown under her eyes, she looks like she has been doing this for years.

"Well yeah... Don't want to lose a high paying job ya know" you replied and confirming that she's the real one "hmm, Understandable" you opened the metal door and she bid you goodbye "Careful darling, some doppleganger's are hostile and might attack you, here take this it's a 200v taser.... don't worry i have plenty" you thanked her and left to fo home. Walking home is kinda creepy especially at night, you wouldn't know when a creature of some sort is gonna pounce on you right now that's when you heard a rustle on a nearby bush then something jumped out.

It was cat... Quite a big one but it was injured on its side, you went closer and tried to reassure the cat "Hey... Hey there kitty, don't worry I'm a friend.." as you said those words the cat looked at you with a mix of hatred and confusion "I can help... I promise, I won't hurt you like whoever did that to you" The cat slightly calmed down and let you pick them up, you arrived home and put your bag down as well as settling the cat on your table and immediately finding the first aid.

You tended to the cat's wounds and surprisingly it just let you do your work, you winced to yourself finding that the wound is a bit deep "Gosh who would hurt a cat... They're sweet" finishing it up you wrapped the cat up with gauze "there you're all fixed up kitty... Hm.. i guess I could also feed you since you're at my house" you then went to your fridge to look for something to feed the cat and for yourself.

"You settling alright kitty?.." you asked, after feeding the cat you set up a box with a few soft rugs in them for the cat to sleep on and the cat looked at you with content eyes, chuckling lightly to yourself "you know it's amazing how your eyes can actually communicate, it's cute" you turned around to turn off the lights of you room "Night kitty..." You said finally falling asleep. The next morning you woke up and saw that the cat was nowhere to be seen and the window has few paw prints "Dang it I was planning on adopting him" you said sadly then started getting ready for the day.

Arriving at your workplace the girl from last night greeted you "Good morning darling!, did you have a good rest last night?" She asked "good morning, Yeah I did thanks for asking" you replied then she opened the metal door and went out "uh... You're not gonna check if I'm the real one?..." the girl turned around and said "Would you be asking that if you were a fake one?... And besides you're new it'll take a few days before they decide to copy you" she turned around again and left. Starting your shift like what you did Yesterday, letting a few people out giving them an entry request for when they come back, dealing with a few doppleganger's, letting people in once confirming that they're the real one till finally the guy from yesterday came; Francis "Hi mr. Milkman" you greeted, he looks a bit surprised when he saw you "Oh uh... Hello... " he said smiling slightly, you blushed then he handed you his ID only but you looked closely you saw he has a small mole on his left cheek which the real Francis didn't have. You kinda have memorized what he look and a few of his information from the files.... Kinda creepy of you but you couldn't help it, he was now your crush "Oh... I'm sorry, my good sir but I actually have this guy memorized and you're not him..." You said and before you could close the metal window you humped as he banged on the somehow sturdy window "What?!... How could!-... I see you like little mr. Milkman.. " the faker said his eyes were really angry and creepy "Yeah nope bye." you said then pressed the danger button and called for the D.D.D. Minutes later the metal window opened "There was no one in sight but I suppose the doppleganger already left before we arrive, you may now continue your work"

The day ended and you switched shifts with Loira, the name of the girl that you work with she bid you goodbye and you went home. Weeks later the things just go by on a repeat with some of them you going on a late night grocery, what's really interesting is that the doppleganger who always pretends to be Francis, he'd show up you find a small detail that the real Francis doesn't have, he'd get angry telling you things like "I'll get you next time" "I'll fool you one day" "Why are you so observative of the guy" then once you call for the D.D.D service he'd disappear before they could arrive like what's the deal with him?... Earlier he said something that actually sent shivers to your spine "Wait till I devour your fleshy body, Human" that was an actual pretty creepy threat, didn't realize that your already at your doorstep from a long day, you set down the groceries on the kitchen counter and went to take a quick shower and change.

After that you arranged all the groceries, it's pretty quiet around your house since you live alone, your parents on another country and your house is pretty far away from other residents so you'll be aable to hear anything out of the ordinary. Going up the stairs to sleep you decided to stretch around a little while you do so, you felt a weird sensation going up your leg, you looked down and a black substance of sorts but before you could scream another one covered your mouth as other one's quickly wrapped around your legs and arms separately, along your torso as well completely immobilizing you.

You looked around saw... Francis?... but his eyes are dark with white glowing dots on the middle "Hello... Doorman, I did say I will get you... Didn't I?" He spoke. You were confused, scared how did he know where you live? "Hey... Hey there... Little human, no need to get scared after all I'm a friend.... Aren't I?" That's when realization hit you. The cat that you helped was a doppleganger "you know human, you hurt me when you set your eyes on someone else... I thought you liked me?... Didn't you say so yourself?" He said which earned a muffled confused rambling from you "No... You must pay for making me believe you... " Before you could make another confused noise the tentacle like substance was removed around your mouth "What now-" you were cut off by something shoving into your mouth deeply making you gag, it was one of his tentacle.

[NSFW part]

He relentlessly attacked your mouth making you gag, you tried to squirm away but it was futile he has you wrapped around his other tentacle's. By then your eyes then started forming tears, you looked at the doppleganger of Francis which amused him "Look at you... Such an expression... I want more.. " he said. He set you down on your bed having your arms up above your head as he crawled between your legs "I did say I would devour your fleshy body... Don't worry it's not in a way I would eat you to the bone" he then slowly tore your garment earning a gaged up moan from you. He looked at you directly seeing that lewd expression from you also looking at him, he then slowly dipped his down between your legs which made you moan once again. You couldn't help but moan while he completely eats you out while also making you suck on one of his tentacle's, you were completely helpless making you take all of the pleasure like obedient slave.

That's when you felt something go in futher inside you, it felt like a very long tongue reaching up to the parts that you never could reach and hitting you perfectly on your spot making your body jolt and moan loudly than before "hmm?... is this your spot...?" He said while his tongue was still deep into you, he fastened up the pace than before almost a bit too fast than normal making your body more hotter and eager for a release. Not long after you came he adjusted himself, he humed in satisfaction "this will do..." He said then he removed the tentacle from your mouth as you looked at him with tired eyes "aww.... Already tired? Unlucky for you I'm not done yet" he adjusted his position, you didn't even notice that he entered you once again but this with his cock which made you yelp in surprise. He mercilessly pounded at a fast not giving you a preparation while his other tentacle's explore your exposed especially around your chest, waist and neck and his hands holding your thighs firmly to keep your shaking legs in place.

Release after release, you couldn't keep up anymore till you passed out from complete exhaustion and pleasure. He finally unsheathed his cock from you and loads mixed both of his and yours spilled out, staining the bed beneath the both of you. He then looked at your passed out form, your heaving chest, your belly slightly bulging and your beautiful sleeping face... "Such a perfect human.... I just wanna keep you" he fixed your sleeping form in a much comfortable position and pulled a blanket over before making his way to the telephone and dialed a number "Hello... Loira hey! I called a bit early so I could inform you that I'm sick..... Yeah please do.... Thank you I will bye!" He turned back to you and layed beside you "Rest now, my human...."

[ncroissant]

you can ignore this request but can I ask you to Make a story of Francis mosses and like a housewife reader who has an ignorant husband so when the milkman comes visit she "pays" him very nicely

switch! francis mosses x fem! reader

summary: paying your neighbourly milkman a hefty tip

wc: 2.2k

content warning: nsfw, cheating, double infidelity, masturbation, slight nipple play, soft dom francis energy, slightly subby francis, kind of unrealistic p in v (i was too lazy to write foreplay), creampie, very fluffy

author's note: hii anon, thanks sm for the ask :)) i love this sm and i hope ur okay with some sub married francis teehee >:) this was soooo self-indulgent :O hope u guys enjoy this one !! not proof read, minors please dni!!

your marriage was bland to say the least.

your husband was a busy man, working to provide for you to max out his credit card, but never giving a second of the day. he always blamed his lack of time at home on his job, never taking accountability.

you felt bored. he promised you a life of luxury with no work, but it was boring staying at home all day. weekly visits from cleaners to clean up the apartment gave you absolutely nothing to do at home.

but the longer your husband stayed away, the more time you spent listening in on your neighbors to past the time.

the milkman and his wife were a noisy couple.

you could hear the headboard thunking against the wall, his grunts and her awfully loud moans. he must be so good to her, you thought, feeling your fingers slip down your pj shorts.

you felt yourself passing the time, humping pillows, playing with toys and fucking yourself with your fingers. you could read every book in your apartment, watch tv for god knows how long and still be bored.

but one particular night, you heard a knock on your door.

you perked up, almost skipping to the door in excitement. you haven't had a visitor in ages and it was about time someone kept you some company in this little cage of yours.

"milk delivery." your eyes widened when you fully opened the door, realizing who was in front of you.

the buttons of his uniform were struggling to close, his hands veiny from his grip on the milk box he held in his arms against his stomach. seeing him this late at night was making you think of not so holy thoughts.

"what're you doing here so late? it's almost 9," you peered up at him, unaware of how your breasts nearly spilt out of your lingerie. you were wearing a skimpy little nightgown, forgetful of how you were married and half naked in front of another married man.

he smiled, placing the milk box beside your doorstep. "you're my last stop since we're neighbours. did i disturb you?" he crossed his arms, his biceps bulging.

you felt your heart beating out of your chest, you could feel your fingertips vibrating. "no, not at all..." you bit your lip, feeling your thighs clench tightly.

"i needed some milk for my tea. would you like some as well?" you worked up the courage to ask, looking at him with an expectant look in your eyes. "if you're not tired," you clarified, lifting your hands.

he didn't look like he took much time to think it over, nodding at your suggestion. you didn't wait for a verbal response, ushering him inside, locking the door.

now, here he was, sitting at your kitchen table while you made tea. if only you could see what he could see. the entirety of your back was exposed, a v-cut just above your ass to cover the rest of your lower half.

"chamomile or green tea?" you called out softly, snapping him out of his daze. you looked back at his lack of silence, looking at how flustered he looked for dozing off.

"green tea," he murmured, averting your gaze. he was so comically large, making your kitchen chair look small. his hands were gathered on his lap, his back straight against the backrest, waiting for you to finish making his tea.

you sauntered over to his, leaning your hip against the kitchen table. "n-nice place," he stuttered when he got a closer look of you, trying to break the silence.

you didn't expect him to come in, but now that he was here, you didn't want to waste this perfect opportunity. "mhm...i decorated it myself," you leaned closer, giving him an innocent smile.

"y...you're very good at decorating," he swallowed. his hands were sweating, he felt them grip at his slacks anxiously.

"isn't it so sad that my husband didn't help me decorate at all?" you pouted, puffing out your lower lip. his eyes switched back and forth from your eyes to your lips.

francis mirrored your nod, gulping when he realized how close you were. you placed a hand on his cheek, caressing it with your thumb. "you're very cute, francis," you chuckled as you pulled away.

you scurried away to turn off the stove, watching the water spill out of the kettle. when you reached your hand to grab the kettle, you felt a hand reach over yours to pull you back.

"careful, it's hot." he was pressed up against you, his painfully obvious bulge pressed against your ass. maybe it was because the only thing that was preventing your bare skin from touching his was his shirt, or how small you were compared to him, but he was literally shaking.

you spun around, hands now holding onto his sleeves. "help me onto the counter?" you looked up at him, slowly tugging him towards you.

francis was a loyal man. he was dedicated to his wife, to his work and to everything else. but however wrong he wanted to feel about lifting you onto the counter and smashing his lips onto yours, he just couldn't.

"so pretty," he mumbled against your lips, while your hands found themselves tangled in his brunette locks. "you're so pretty," he was almost whining, brows knit from the intensity of the kiss.

your other free hand cupped his cheek, dragging his even closer to deepen the kiss. his kisses felt even better than imagined. lips soft, tongue warm, sloppy.

you were scared that he would hear the way your heart thumping out of your chest. "f-francis," you'd pant, but he'd be too lost in the way your lips felt against yours to focus on anything else.

he'd pull away to just soak in the sight of you, admire the lips of the woman he just ruined. he'd look at you like you were the most precious thing in the world, watching the way you'd nuzzle against his hand when he wiped away his spit off your lip.

"are we stopping here?" you frowned with a huff, tugging on the loop of his belt. "or can i tip you, hm? for the delivery?" you pleaded, tilting you head to look cuter.

he fell for it, having no intentions of stopping. "yeah, yeah. tip me or whatever, just don't stopping kissing me," he pressed kisses up your neck trailing up to your cheek.

you wanted to chuckle at his neediness, but you were feeling the same. your arms wrapped around his neck, allowing him to effortlessly lift you into his arms.

while you two made out, he carried you to you and your husband's shared bedroom, laying you down. he toppled over you, knee nestled between your thighs and arms caging you in his hold.

"i wish you could see yourself right now," he pulled away, his hand trailing up to your chest. your nipples were poking through the thin fabric of your night gown, his fingers toying with the neglected nub.

you jolted, biting your lip to hide an embarrassing moan. "d-do i really look that pretty?" you hide a moan with a laugh, throwing your head to the side when he pinched your nipple lightly.

"you're gorgeous," he sighed, rolling his fingers under your gown to lift it off your body. you were more beautiful than he had even imagined, waiting so patiently for him to do something.

before he leaned down to kiss you again, you tugged at his shirt. "take this off? 's embarrassing being the only one naked," you blushed, his eyes widening.

for a married woman, you were surprisingly inexperienced. francis never heard you getting railed by your husband. he could only hear your pretty whimpers when you pleasured yourself with toys, but never finishing.

he could only chuckle, reminiscing your frustrated sighs when you couldn't get yourself to finish. he smirked knowing now he could take matters into his own hands.

"whatever you want, sweetheart," he effortlessly tugged at his bowtie, unbuttoning his shirt. he was so handsome. lean, but not entirely skinny. bulky, but not too much. he was perfect.

you wrapped your arms around his neck to press your lips against his. "you're so handsome, francis," you cooed. he felt his ears flush from your compliment, his knee riding higher up your thigh.

you moaned when you felt it reach your core, feeling yourself grind on it for more friction. "make me feel good, hm?" you flicked his loose hairs out of his face, making him bite his lip.

"want it inside, francie," your fingers trailed down to your pelvis, slightly opening your folds. his felt his dick throb, his eyes unmoving from your cunt.

almost immediately, he felt his dick throbbing against his suddenly too tight slacks. he grunted as he finally unzipped to let his cock free, his dick slapping against your tummy.

you gulped at the size, looking up at him in awe. "j-just the tip," he whined, his cock sliding against your stomach. a part of him still wanted to be somewhat loyal, but you so badly wanted him in you, your fingers wrapping around the head.

"you're so big," you gasped, your eyes were still widened. he could only rub himself against your fingertips, whimpering at the friction. "just the tip, hm?" you grabbed the head, dragging it down to your entrance.

when francis felt the warmth of your cunt against his cock, he was almost 100% sure his loyalty would be thrown out the window. "j-just the, hngh..."

he felt himself thrust into your wet, soppy cunt almost too quickly, completely devoid of reason. he was nestled so deeply into your core, allowing you to adjust to his massive length.

"i-i'm suhh...sorry, i said just the tip, but i...mnghh..." he could barely get a word out, too lost in the feeling of your tight cunt sucking his cock in. "y-you feel so, so good. it's so good, so..."

he was chanting it like a prayer, babbling whatever came to find. "francis, can you move?" you bluntly asked, guiding his hands to your waist.

almost like a switch, he thrusted into you wildly. his cock was reaching parts that you weren't even sure were possible to reach, especially with your husband's tiny, flimsy cock.

"am i making you f-feel good?" he asked, his lips just barely ghosting over yours. you felt his breath brushing against your face, the neediness evident on his face.

you nod, pressing a kiss on his lips. you moaned against his lips, feeling so full of him. "p-please say it. please say i'm making you feel good, ngh," he pleaded, pressing kisses against your neck.

your eyes were nearly rolling back, the entire galaxy filling your line of sight. "you make me feel so good, francis," you squealed when he hit a specific spot in you.

satisfied with your answer, his pace sped up. he was entirely bottomed out in your cunt, his pelvis pressing against yours.

you felt yourself getting close when his thumb trailed down to your pelvis to roll it against your weeping clit.

the squelches from him fucking you were so vulgar, it made you remember the sounds you heard when he fucked his wife. and finally you were living in the dream you so desperately wanted to come true.

"'m so, so close. m-might cum," you groaned, throwing your head back against the mattress.

he shook his head, feeling his hips stutter. "no, no. wait for me please. wanna cum together, hm?" he panted, mouth filled with saliva. he had grabbed your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours, squeezing your hand tightly.

you could feel the coolness of his wedding ring against your fingers, making yourself get closer. you, a married woman, were fucking married man. the dirtiness of it all excited you so much.

here he was, the man you've been masturbating to for weeks, begging you to cum at the same time. "t-together, right?" he begged, his high coming so, so soon.

his thrusts were getting sloppy and your cunt was getting tighter. you nodded, his lips crashing onto yours, kissing you until you came together.

his cum spilled so deeply into your cunt, filling you generously. "you're so beautiful," he sighed, wiping the sweat soaked strands of hair off your forehead.

he just stayed inside of you for a few minutes, admiring you.

he'd tend to you right after. taking a bath with you, drying your hair for you, cooking you a meal. he did all the things you wished your husband would do for you.

and when it was finally time for him to leave, you'd be in bed sleepily, arms wrapped around his torso, head leaned against his chest. "don't leave," you whined.

he didn't want his wife to question why he came home so late, so staying the night was out of the question. "i'll be back again, okay?" he smoothed out your hair, patting your head.

"i'll be back here tomorrow same time with another delivery, hm?" he smiled, hugging you tightly. you were so cute when you were clingy and nearly asleep.

"i'll tip you again," you yawned, feeling your eyelids get heavier with every blink.

he placed you onto the bed, tucking you in well. he looked at you once more, brushing your hair out of your face. "sweet dreams," he whispered, pressing a kiss against your forehead.

you smiled as you drifted off to sleep, knowing he'd be there same time again tomorrow.

[dreamerschroniclesofstories]

Hiii love 🩷

Could you please make a reader X Tommy, where you take care of Charlie and he slowly falls in love with the reader. At first he denies it but after sometime he can’t take it anymore !! Fluff and happy ending please

Love your writing by the way ⭐️🩷

Hey Lovelie! Thank you so much for this request and the lovely comment , I’d gladly do this for you!

Italics: flashback.

I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION TO REPOST THIS ANYWAY ELSE OR TRANSLATION OF THIS FIC.

Summery: request above

[Y/N]: Your name

[L/N]: Last name.

Word count: 2,516

Thomas Shelby. The name of the man that you have loved for the past two years. The man you knew would change your life the moment you set foot into his office for an interview to be a live in maid for his young son, charlie.

The blood pumped through your veins, making your head feel like it would burst at any point. You sent an application to Thomas Shelby secretary for the job but you did not expect to get an answer. So when you got a reply asking for an interview less then three days later, the shock that you were in was explainable.

You knock on the door, waiting to hear the voice of the man you were secretly afraid of.

“ come in” the voice vibrates through the atmosphere

You turn the old doorknob then push the door open, gliding your body through the door. The sound of the door creaking made Tommy lift his head up from his paperwork.

The feeling of your world stops as you make eye contact for the first time with the man with the eyes that could kill.

One month into the job

Thomas smiles slightly and takes off his jacket just as Francis rushes over to him.

“Good evening mr Shelby, dinner should be served soon” the middle aged woman explained, taking Thomas jacket gently.

Thomas doesn’t say a word, taking a cigarette out of his pouch from his trouser pocket. He looks towards Francis, lighting the cigarette.

“Where’s my son?” He questioned curiously.

Before tommys maid could respond, Charlie rushes around the corner from the main room “ daddy” he squeals, running towards Tommy.

Thomas kneels down “ Charlie, my boy” he catches Charlie as he jumps into his arms, Thomas stands up with Charlie in his arms.

Soon after, [Y/N] rushes around the corner with a face that can only be described as anxious. Her face was shiny most likely from running after the young boy.

“I am so sorry mr Shelby, i tried to stop him. I know you don’t like to be disrupted after work. I promise, I’ll make sure it won’t happen tomorrow” she rambles, clearly nervous that Thomas would be mad.

“No need to apologise, make sure that he is calm before he goes to bed, don’t want him to be cranky tomorrow” Thomas smirks slightly and gives Charlie over to [Y/N].

She nodded and quickly walks away, Charlie on his hip. Unknowingly, to [Y/N] mr Shelby was watching her with curiosity plaguing his mind.

Three months into the job.

Charlie had gone missing. Someone had taken him when Tommy was distracted with the guests, during a work event, he hadn’t noticed his young son being carried out through the door by a woman that passed as a maid.

Three hours had passed since [Y/N] had seen the young boy, she was nervously pacing the house, biting her already broken and fragile nails. An anxious trait she’s had since she was a young girl.

The sound of the front door rattling invaded the already chaotic atmosphere of the manor. The banging of doors signalled that Tommy was in his “beast mode”. This is when Tommy is on a mission and if you get in his way, you’ll most likely land with a bullet between your eyes. However, that hadn’t stopped The young maid. [Y/N] opened the door of Charlie’s room and begins to rush her sore feet towards the grand stairs.

“ mr Shelby” she calls out “ oh mr Shelby, is young Charlie been found” she asks, her voice full of worry.

[Y/N] stops her running when she sees the distressed young boy in his father’s arms, nearly making herself fall from the suddenness of the movement.

“ Francis take Charles” Thomas orders sternly, passing him over to his only trusted maid from that moment on.

The older maid nods and takes Charlie, taking the toddler upstairs. The air is so brittle, from the tension, it could snap. If it doesn’t, [Y/N] might. No one speaks, what is there to say?. [Y/N] could feel the fear in her chest waiting to take over her. Perhaps it was only there to protect her but there really isn’t any danger to be protected from. It sits there like an angry ball, propelling [Y/N] towards an anxiety she doesn’t need.

“ where were you miss [L/N]” Tommy questions, accusation filling his voice. His eyes could kill anyone. Those eyes are ocean-strong, swimming with warm sun-lit currents.

[Y/N] gulps, her throat feeling as if it was closing in on it self. Her mouth parts slightly but no words come out. Eventually, words were able to escape.

“ I’m so sorry mr Shelby, I looked away from him for one second, he wanted me to get his toy horse that he dropped, I gave him to another woman, she was dressed in a maids uniform” she explains, her eyes filling with unreleased tears.

Tommy sighs, watching as the young maid clearly showing signs of distress.

“ go back to work” the older man states, passing Charlie back over to [Y/N].

The young maid immediately takes Charlie into her arms, using one of her hands to wipe under her eyes “ of course mr Shelby” she nods.

As [Y/N] walks away, Tommy speaks up again “ have you had dinner miss [L/N]”.

“ no I have not mr.Shelby” [Y/N] replies, turning back around by the stairs, Charlie playing with her short hair.

Tommy nods “ after you put Charlie to bed, come to the kitchen, there will be food there for you” the older man announces, walking down the corridor towards the door leading to the kitchen.

As the months pass, Tommy and [Y/N] work relationship shifted, everybody can see it has except for the pair in question.

However, Tommy wouldn’t admit it. He still feels like he is in love with his deceased wife grace, he can’t get himself to move on. On the other hand, [Y/N] knew of her feelings towards her boss, who wouldn’t? Especially when you boss looks like Thomas fucking Shelby.

Present day

Over the past years that [Y/N] has worked for Tommy, she had gotten close to the women of the Shelby family, mainly polly. When [Y/N] wasn’t working, she was with polly.

Today was one of those days. Today, [Y/N] was helping polly with the books at the Shelby company betting shop. Tommy had given her the next few days off since she had worked for two weeks straight since Charlie was poorly with a fever.

“ fucking men” Polly grumbles, slamming down the book full of incorrect numbers and calculations.

[Y/N] chuckles from across the room as she corrects Arthur’s calculations “ men never cease to amaze you, do they pol?” She raises an eyebrow.

Polly lights her cigarette, taking a long inhale of the hazardous smoke “we are working our asses off whilst the men sit on theirs at the pub, getting god knows how drunk” the middled aged women rants, pointing to the door.

Polly smirks as she stands up “ come on, let’s go” Polly encourages, grabbing her purse.

[Y/N] frowns, dropping her pencil “ where are you going lol?” She asks confused but her eyes full of wonder at what Polly was planning.

“ I know a woman who knows a woman, she told me that the ladies of small heath are going out on strike, by the factories” Polly places her deep red hat on her curly brown hair as she raises an eyebrow at [Y/N].

The younger woman laughs “ you can’t be serious pol, Tommy would have your head” she warns.

“ not if he won’t find me” Polly puts her coat on.

[Y/N] bites her lip, she was conflicted. Her brain turns and twists as she argues with herself internally but eventually, only one side of her could win.

[Y/N] nods “ fuck em” she stands up “ I worked two weeks with his sick child and nothing but a thanks and a few days off work” [Y/N] rants, grabbing her coat.

Polly watches “ that’s my girl”.

Once the two woman get their stuff together, they walk out of the betting shop, Polly placing her sunglasses on her face, the women ignoring the men outside of the betting shop.

[Y/N] chuckles as she links her arm with pollys as they walk together towards the factories to join the woman of small heath.

The garrison pub

The Shelby men sat inside of their private corner room, celebrating Arthur’s recent news of Linda’s pregnancy. What they didn’t expect was another member of the blinders to come in and announce the women’s strike.

Tommy was about to make a speech when the door opens. A young man taking off his cap quickly catches his breath.

“ I’m sorry to disturb you mr Shelby, but I’ve just got word that mrs gray and miss [L/N} have walked out of the shop, claiming that they are striking for women’s rights in the work place” he explains.

Tommy raises an eyebrow, Arthur immediately standing up “ they what?” His drunken voice ripples through the small private room and into the main area of the pub.

Tommy holds his hand out to his brother “ now brother, this will be sorted” he stands up and grabs his cap, immediately following the younger member out of the pub, and towards where his aunt and his maid were currently causing chaos.

The Factories

The sound of the women cheering and chanting blocked the ability for [Y/N] ears to identity the sound of Tommy’s feet but as soon as his hand wrapped its self around her arm, she knew who it was and she knew she was in deep trouble.

Tommy’s breath sends goosebumps down her back as he leans down to speak into her ear “ come with me. Now” his voice quiet but clearly filled with demand.

[Y/N] didn’t say anything, her feet moving themselves in the direction that Tommy was guiding her. As they get further and further away from the other women, the noise of the chaos was slowly fading out.

“ Tommy, tommy please listen” [Y/N] began to protest but Tommy quickly cuts in.

“ what were you thinking [Y/N]. Do you know what this can do to the company” he states, letting go of her arm.

“ it’s not that serious tommy, me and pol weren’t protesting we were just watching” [Y/N] defends herself.

Tommy was about to respond when the sound of the police invading the strike, and women screaming as they get arrested. [Y/N] gasps as she gets shoved onto the floor, the wet gravel of small heaths pavements make contact with her hands. Small but painful cuts develop on her palms.

“ watch it” tommy yells at the woman that shoved [Y/N], clearly trying to run from the police.

“ I’m okay” [Y/N] reassures Tommy as she gently grabs his hand and stands up, Tommy patting down her dress since it had got mudded by the mud puddle on the path.

“ let’s go” Tommy grabs her hand and begins to pace to the garrison, away from the chaos. [Y/N]’s cheeks rise in temperature when she realises that tommys warm hand had engulfed her own. This is the kind of blushing that shows her soul, a compliment to the eyes and having a delicate sweetness within. It shows a connection, it shows that the smile and shyness comes from deep emotions. Her blush is beautiful and something real.

The garrison pub.

The pub was quiet, the occasionally laugh or the occasional cough fills the deadly silence since the moment Tommy stormed out of the pub to find [Y/N].

Tommy guides [Y/N] towards the small corner room, his hand hovering on the small of her back, however the heat still penetrates through her dress and onto her skin.

[Y/N] smiles as she walks into the room, taking her coat off slowly “ thank you Tommy” she graciously sits on one of the seats, placing her purse onto the table.

Tommy watches her as he sits at his usual seat, once again taking a cigarette from his metal holder “ would you like a drink?” He asks gruffly.

“ no thank you, I don’t drink” [Y/N] admits.

Thomas raises an eyebrow “ don’t drink ey, what maid of mine doesn’t drink” he teases.

“ the maid that looks after your infant son” she jokes back.

Thomas lights the cigarette “ my son likes you miss [L/N]” he admits, raising an eyebrow.

[Y/N] smiles, looking down at her dress skirt for a few seconds before looking up towards Tommy. She had the kind of eyes that reach out to Tommy, much like a baby reaching out with open arms, clearly signaling what she wants.

“ do you have a husband miss [L/N]” Tommy takes a long inhale of the hazardous smoke for what seems like the hundredth time that day.

“ please, call me [Y/N], and no I don’t have a husband nor a partner” she admits, her bottom lip sucking in between her teeth every so slowly. Tommy immediately looking down at the movement. Her lips were as good as her eyes in painting a picture of her emotion.

“ come here” Tommy whispers, placing the cigarette into the ash tray, just in time for [ Y/N] to arrive infront of Tommy.

The older man, places his hands onto her hips gently,his thumbs rubbing her in a rhythm, the smoke from the cigarette slowly evaporating between the two.

[Y/N] places her hands onto tommys shoulders “ this is inappropriate Tommy” she whispers, her voice as delicate as silk.

“ everything in my life is inappropriate” tommy points out, gently pulling [Y/N} into his lap, their eyes making close contact for the first time.

They both saw fire within each others eyes, she moved so close Tommy could feel her lips gliding over his own “ one time” she whispers “ one time is alright” she tries to reassure herself.

As soon as those four words left her mouth, Tommy connects their lips, in this kiss there was a sweetness of passion, a million loving thoughts condensed into a moment. [Y/N]’s heart skips a beat, as their lips glide together, making their own secret music. This kiss dissolves and releases any doubt within [Y/N]’s mind.

Tommys mouth parts ever so slightly, his tongue teasing then parting her own lips, wanting to savour her sweetness. A soft moan escapes her as she tastes Tommy in return.

Feeling as though she was burning in overwhelming passion, [Y/N] ripped her mouth away. Both gasping for air. Tommy presses his forehead against hers as [Y/N] runs her fingers through the hair at the back of his neck.

After a few minutes, Tommy lifts his head, placing his hand on her cheek. A slient communication passes through them. They both knew love was their sun, night and day.

They knew they were each others saviours.

A/N: hey again!

So sorry this took so long, my life has been extremely hectic but I’ve finished it and I hope you like it.

Please leave, a like, comment, reblog. All is appreciated so much! ❤️



[notmyneighbor]

a new neighbor | francis mosses x female reader

chapter 4

words | 3.8k

cw | cheating, explicit sexual content

ao3 link

taglist | @kaislashes @unicorngirly1 @charli33-b33 @natiii727227 @the-lazyyy-artist @teeesthings

Francis Mosses stares at you seated across from him and he wants.

Frustratingly close and yet still so far out of his reach. He forces himself to make small talk, to consume the meal that’s been placed before him. The voices become garbled and his responses evolve into noncommittal murmurs. The food tastes like ash. Nothing will satisfy him because it’s not you.

He knows he’s being obvious and yet he cannot stop. He is in far too deep, far too quickly.

“I’ll meet you outside your door in an hour,” he manages to hiss against your ear as he helps you with the dishes once the meal finally draws to a close. He cannot resist dragging his fingers across the tiny buttons at the rear of your dress, where they secure the fabric between your shoulders. Beneath the cloud of soapy water, he can safely touch your hands, even when your father brings another forgotten utensil that needs washing. The milkman offers a friendly smile to the college professor while his hidden fingers caress yours, twining them with his. His breath presses hotly to your temple as soon as the other man departs. “Touch me. Any part of me, I don’t care what.” You look frightened, and aroused, all at once. Startled by his words, by the lack of self control you both exhibit. Your citrus scented fingers stroke across the crooked bridge of his nose, the divot above his top lip, then linger against the center of the bottom one. His eyes flutter closed and you say his name and then you move apart because the other option, to be closer, is impossible right now.

His gaze is hungry as you part ways at the door, the promise of later now tantalizingly close at hand. He returns to the apartment one floor above with Nacha and Anastacha and waits for the allotted time.

***

“I’m going to get some fresh air.”

Nacha looks up from the shirt she’s mending for Ana. Their daughter is already tucked into bed. “You’re going outside now? At this hour? What about…”

She means the doppels, of course, and he’s taken this into consideration as well. “I’ll go up to the roof. I just need…” He doesn’t finish the sentence. He can’t admit the truth.

He grabs the throw draped over the couch. “I’ll be back soon. Don’t worry about waiting up. I know you’ve got work tomorrow.”

“So do you.” She bends her head and severs the tail of the thread with her teeth, surveying her handiwork.

The milkman shrugs. “I barely sleep anyway.” He starts towards the door, halted by his girlfriend’s voice.

“Be careful, Francis.”

“I’ll be fine,” he says.

***

You’re not outside your apartment door yet, but Francis isn’t overly concerned.

It’s more difficult for you to sneak away, he knows. Waiting for your father to fall asleep, pretending to be doing the same. The door eventually creaks open while the older man waits, blanket thrown over one arm, rocking on his heels, hoping no one else emerges to find the two of you together. They don’t. You shut the door carefully behind you and it’s all Francis can do not to grab you, to drag you against him. He clutches one of your hands and guides you to the stairs.

“Francis, where are we going? I don’t have my papers with me.”

“We’re not going downstairs. We’re going up to the roof.”

You allow yourself to be led up the last flight in the stairwell, the heavy steel door parting to reveal a mostly flat expanse beneath a field of stars. It’s a beautiful evening, mild and pleasant. The incessant rain has mercifully stopped.

“The guys come up here to have a beer in the summer, sometimes,” he explains, nudging at one of the brown glass bottles left there from the previous year. He’d been invited to those gatherings but preferred coming here alone. Or at least, he had. Before you had come into his life.

He spreads the blanket out so you have someplace to sit. There’s a bit of an overhang from the roof of the stairwell exit that shields the top of the building, offering a dry patch to settle down on.

“I can’t stay long,” you caution, joining him on the slightly padded surface, tucking the hem of your dress beneath you.

“I know.” He tips his head back, letting it rest against the brick and mortar. “Next weekend I’m going to take you out on a proper date. We’ll go to the drive in. I’ll say I’m out at the bowling alley. You can think of an excuse to be away for a few hours?”

“A study group, maybe. I never socialize. Dad’ll know something’s up if I say I’m out with friends. I don’t really have any.”

“You have me.” Francis reaches for your face, tucking his fingers beneath your chin. He’s forcing himself not to rush this stolen moment, savoring you for a little longer. He knows once he starts kissing you, it will be a struggle to stop.

When he finally surrenders to that desire, he finds you taste like peppermint toothpaste. His hands wander over your body, sliding over breasts and hips and beneath your dress. He presses you down beneath him on the blanket. So little time. Your legs part and he grinds against you, rutting, wishing there were not the layers of clothing shielding your bodies. “I’m so crazy about you already.” He whispers this secret against your throat. “It almost scares me how much.”

“You’re trembling.” Your fingers sift through his hair, your knees hugging his ribs.

He huffs a short laugh. “I told you. Scared.”

“Of getting caught.”

“A little of that. But that’s small in comparison to the other. This feeling.”

You lift your head and capture his lips. “I feel like every time with you is new. Taking me apart, making me into something else.”

Francis draws back to look into your eyes. “I want to do that. Take you apart. I want to be inside of you,” he growls against your ear, his face dropping, tongue darting out to taste the sensitive patch of skin just behind the lobe and you hiss in response, your breath harshly expelled. “Move on your side. I want to try something.”

You frown but cooperate, waiting for him to move before you lie on your side, your dress a rumpled mess around your uncovered thighs. The older man lies down beside you, his body spooned against yours. “Keep your legs tight together.”

The milkman thrusts into the close tuck of your thighs, sawing between them from behind you, rubbing his now freed erection against your bare pussy after he’s hastily shoved your panties down. One hand digs into your hip, then reaches for your clit, kneading it, his mouth wet against your neck. “Want to feel you from the inside, baby girl. Someday soon. Take my time. Open you up for me. Fill you. You feel so good. So hot and wet against my cock.” The finger circling your bundle moves faster, pressing more firmly against the swelling flesh, the sex organ violating your thighs increasing its pace. He moans your name and you shudder to completion and his turgid member pulses, coating your legs with his seed.

Francis uses the blanket to wipe you both off. He’ll be leaving that up here to deal with some other time. Sensing your eyes on him, he looks up midway through zipping his fly. “What is it?”

“I don’t want to get pregnant.”

“Of course not. You’re too young for that. And I certainly don’t want to make that mistake again.” He pauses, shaking his head. “That came out poorly. I’m not saying being intimate with you would be a mistake. I do want it. Badly. I’ll use protection.”

You nod, smoothing down your dress and patting your hair.

“When you’re ready. I’m not going to force you. I’m not forcing you with any of this, am I?”

“No, Francis.”

“I’m trying to do right by everyone here. In spite of how it might seem. I don’t know. Maybe I am just being selfish now.” He touches your cheek. “I wish we had more time. There’s never enough.”

You’re escorted back downstairs. Francis peeks out into the hallway and then nods for you to follow. He steals another hurried kiss in front of your apartment door and whispers about seeing you tomorrow. He touches your hair and inhales your scent and then he returns to his apartment, finding it quiet and dark. He lays on the couch and he stares into the void above until sleep brings him a temporary respite from the never ending huger for you.

***

In the park the following afternoon, Francis watches you and Ana trying to outdo each other on the swing set.

You’ve changed out of your school uniform, wearing jeans now, your hair pinned up but already falling loose from activity. You’ve chased Ana around since your arrival, playing tag and helping her with the challenges of the jungle gym and running until the roundabout had gained enough momentum, sending the pair of you spinning around and around, his daughter tipping her head back and giggling, saying she was getting dizzy.

The next time Ana insists her father and her sitter ride together. He’s able to generate greater speed, his shoes digging into the grooved earth that’s been trod upon by many previous participants, making it impossible for the grass to ever have a chance at reclamation. Your grip is white knuckled on the bars and you squeal in alarm as you lose your balance, colliding into the solid barrier of the milkman’s chest. He wraps one arm tightly around you, clutching the railing until at last the merry go round grinds to a squeaky halt. “You’re beautiful,” he whispers in your ear before you’re tugged away, led forward by the elementary schoolgirl’s urging.

He takes turns pushing both of you on the swings, his hands forever lingering on yours wrapped around the lengths of chains. Ana complains that her father is giving you an unfair advantage, spending more time aiding you. He protests and laughs and his fingers drag against your spine before he returns to his daughter.

At the picnic area Ana busies herself with crackers and juice and Francis rests his hand on the bench. You’re sitting beside him and your fingers nudge his.

“Your little girl is beautiful!” An elderly woman croons nearby, her own pair of grandchildren and a small rat terrier in tow.

She means you and the milkman. As if you are a couple. Francis worries a splinter on the surface of the table.

“Daddy, can I go pet the doggie?”

“If she says it’s alright. Remember what I showed you. Hand flat out. Let it sniff you first. And don’t go too far.”

“I know,” she huffs, unaware of how much she sounds like her father in that moment. She slides off the bench and cautiously approaches the animal who takes to her immediately, nosing her hand and then jumping up to lick her cheek.

“She’s been asking for a pet for ages. I don’t know. It just seems like a lot of responsibility. It would be us getting the pet, not her. I don’t think an apartment is a good home for a dog anyway. They need a yard. Ana should have a yard…” His voice trails off and he looks at you. “She thought she was ours,” he nods towards the elderly woman.

“She’s old. She can’t see well,” you laugh good naturedly. “I’m not offended.”

“I wish she was right,” he whispers.

The smile slides from your features. “Francis…”

“Do you ever think about it? If I was free. If there were other options.”

You shake your head. “I’m still in high school.”

“Not for much longer.”

“I’m still not sure about college. A career.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry.” He abandons the sliver of wood and begins working on one of the peeling strips of evergreen paint instead. “Sometimes I get carried away.” Ana has started to head back, the dog now occupied with chasing a frisbee. “I would be proud to say she was ours. That you were mine. Does it ever hurt here, when you’re lying in bed at night, one floor below…” The fist he rests against his chest drops and he plasters on a smile for the youth with an identical set of tired looking eyes. “Go pick one more ride to go on and then we’ll head home, okay?”

The young girl scowls but nods, heading back towards the swings.

“You never hear about the doppels taking children, thank God,” he murmurs, watching Ana settle into one of the scooped swings once again.

“Why do you think that is?”

He shrugs. “Maybe they think it’s pointless. They won’t get access to anything they really want or need if they pose as a child. Who knows?”

“I do,” you say, and his gaze shifts from his daughter to you. “I do feel it.”

Francis doesn’t respond.

There’s nothing left for him to say.

***

Francis is seated on the living room couch later that evening.

He’d put Ana to bed early. She’d been tired from her busy afternoon at the park. He was worn out, too. Not just from the added activity after working a shift. There’s a kind of inner weariness, gnawing away at him. That initial effervescent feeling he’d gotten from being with you is evolving. It’s something weightier now, more solemn. He doesn’t even hear his girlfriend say his name when she enters the apartment, drumming the secret code on the door frame to alert him that she’s not a doppelganger.

“Hmmm? Oh, hi. Sorry, long day.”

“Did you take Ana to the park?”

“Yes. She had a great time. So great, in fact, that she wore herself out. She’s in bed already.”

His pretend fiancée nods, sitting down beside him. “Found this in the back of my car.”

Your piano book is dropped onto his lap. He stares at it and his stomach lurches. He’d completely forgotten about it, when you’d been in the back seat with him. Shoving it to the floor before you’d…

“Is that the sitter’s?”

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, I gave her a ride home the other day. When I went out to pick up groceries, remember?” He hopes his words sound convincingly innocent.

“Right. Didn’t you go bowling that night too? No wonder you look even more exhausted than usual.”

“I guess I have been doing a lot.”

“Well, that was kind of you, in any case. Don’t forget to return it. I’m going to head to bed. Unless you want to? It’s your turn, actually.”

“No, go ahead. I’ll stay here.”

Nacha nods, rising to her feet. She’s halfway out of the living room before she pauses, turning back to face her partner. “It’s good that you’re getting out more. Maybe you’ll meet your special someone, hmm?” She smiles and he nods and then she disappears through the hallway.

He stares at the cover of the book in his lap for several moments, finally lifting the cover. Your name is written in neat cursive inside. He flips through the sheet music. He can’t read a single note, but he bets you’ve got most of them memorized. He lets the cover drop back down and sighs. It was time to get ready for bed. Quick brush of teeth and glass of water and undress until there is only a layer of undershirt and briefs clothing him. He tosses and turns and ends up on his stomach, his arm hanging off the couch, his fingers on the cover of your music book. He thinks about being with you at the park, pressed into his arms by centrifugal force, brushing hands on chains, nudging fingers on the bench seat. Too much, too fast, and going further still.

***

It rains the night Francis plans to take you to the drive in theater, but he’s not too upset by it. If anything, it just greater heightens your privacy together.

He’s pleased to see you’ve dressed appropriately—skirts were so much easier to deal with than pants—and relieved to not actually be where he’d claimed he was going to. He’ll have to go out with the guys from the apartment building again soon, but for now, it’s just a convenient excuse to be out of the house.

The milkman stretches an arm out across the seats and lets it curl around your shoulders. The film is some science fiction fantasy about invaders from another planet, a tale that hits a little too close to home nowadays. The actors are much too old to be playing teenagers, but that was the way Hollywood worked.

Still, it’s not a bad movie, and under different circumstances he might have devoted his full attention to it. But he’s got you tucked against him now, and that’s too much temptation to resist. The windshield wipers squeak agains the glass as his mouth finds yours. You’ve got some kind of cherry lip gloss on that he laps clear little by little. His hand moves beneath the hem of your skirt, then your panties, and you shift, spreading your legs a little further apart.

“I want to try something, baby girl. It’s going to hurt, but after…oh after, I promise, it’ll be so, so good.” His middle finger rests at your entrance. “Do you want me to attempt it?”

He can feel the uncertainty wafting from you. Anticipation, too. Radiating heat. You nod and he sighs and he presses slightly. You wince instantly and he freezes. Only to the first joint and you’re snug, resisting the intrusion.

“Okay, honey. Relax. Let’s try something else for awhile.” He distracts you with kisses, with his fingers teasing your bud. When he feels you becoming slicker and more relaxed he tries again, this time shoving a bit further in. His mouth muffles your moan of pain when he reaches inside of you to his knuckle. The score of the film rises to a crescendo perfectly in time with his digit invading deeper. You’re squeezing him mercilessly and it’s impossible not to think of how his cock is going to feel being surrounded by all that muscle, milked until bursting through that narrow channel.

“Francis.” You spit his name through gritted teeth, struggling to endure that violation of your virginity. He does not dawdle, finishing the penetration and then withdrawing, wishing you were wetter, recognizing the sticky hot feel of blood now staining him. He thinks you must hate it right now, that awful burn and stretch, so he lavishes you with kisses and praise and tries to be gentler now, not pressing in quite as far, trying out a more shallow drag, making sure to stimulate your clit. He’s completely lost track of the plot of the film at this point. Had the Earthlings triumphed? Surely they had. Most movies had happy endings. No one wanted to see a villain emerge as the victor.

Am I the villain? Deflowering this young woman. Stealing a moment she can never have back again. Wrapping her up in lies to shield others from the truth. Her secret, older lover.

The windows are becoming clouded. The closing credits are rolling. There is always a brief intermission between films. He knows he can’t keep you through the second one. It will be too long an absence to explain to your father.

Still he makes no move to start the car and you do not mention it. He’s stopped fingering you for now. He thinks it’s enough for one night, even though he wishes he could make you enjoy the experience more. His cock gives a dissatisfied lurch that he ignores.

You, however, do not. Your hands are there and he hums a weak protest, saying you don’t have to. You say you want to and he can’t deny you. Your soft fingers stroke his prick and he tucks his face into your neck.

“Are you sorry? I shouldn’t have…maybe this wasn’t the best place…”

“No, I’m not sorry.” You smear precum over the head and massage the frenulum and he sucks in a deep breath. You’re too good at this. You know his body so well already.

“I want it to be good for you. I want you to be happy. Happy that you’re with me.” He huffs the last couple of words out as the pleasure of your touch overwhelms him. His climax is fast approaching.

Francis’ head lifts and he looks into your eyes. “I couldn’t live without you now. I don’t know how I ever did it before. You don’t know what you mean to me, sweet girl, my girl…” A broken sound almost like a sob and then he pulses against your stroking fingers, spewing out streams of release. His face is hidden in the space between your neck and shoulder again, his breath coming in soft pants.

“Francis. Francis, I have to go home now,” you murmur.

“I know.” He reluctantly straightens, staring at the screen for a few moments. The second film has advanced well past the opening credits and a musical number. This one looks like another alleged teenage driven tale about a young woman’s sister being framed for murder.

He hates this feeling he has, this sudden resentfullness, this sullen attitude that lingers after you’ve both fixed clothing and cleaned as best you could. He can see there is still blood tucked around the cuticle and surrounding the nail bed of his middle finger. He swallows thickly and starts the engine. The vehicle exits the theater, the car jostled a few times by pot holes in the long dirt driveway that leads to the site. He bitterly remembers how he’d cautioned you about how this affair would only get more difficult as time wore on, and he absolutely despises how right he’d been.

The milkman stops before reaching the apartment building, pulling over and killing the engine. You look over at him for an explanation.

“I don’t want you to think I’m upset with you.”

“I know you’re not.”

“It’s the situation.”

“Yes.”

“Do you still feel like you’re sharing me?”

“A little. But I’ve seen how you are together firsthand. I know it’s not the same as it is with us.”

He runs a finger over the steering wheel. “Are you sore?”

“Yes.”

He likes your bluntness, even if he’s sorry for your answer. “I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“I know.”

“I know you have to go home. I’m taking you right now. I just wanted you to know…”

“I know,” you say, taking the older man’s face between your hands and kissing him. “I know, Francis.”

He turns the key in the ignition.

[floridaboiler]

"Calvin? Calvin, sweetheart?"

In the darkness Calvin heard the sound of Susie, his wife of fifty-three years. Calvin struggled to open his eyes. God, he was so tired and it took so much strength. Slowly, light replaced the darkness, and soon vision followed. At the foot of his bed stood his wife. Calvin wet his dry lips and spoke hoarsely, "Did... did you.... find him?"

"Yes dear," Susie said smiling sadly, "He was in the attic.

"Susie reached into her big purse and brought out a soft, old, orange tiger doll. Calvin could not help but laugh. It had been so long. Too long.

"I washed him for you," Susie said, her voice cracking a little as she laid the stuffed tiger next to her husband.

"Thank you, Susie." Calvin said. A few moments passed as Calvin just laid on his hospital bed, his head turned to the side, staring at the old toy with nostalgia.

"Dear," Calvin said finally. "Would you mind leaving me alone with Hobbes for a while? I would like to catch up with him."

"All right," Susie said. "I'll get something to eat in the cafeteria. I'll be back soon."

Susie kissed her husband on the forehead and turned to leave. With sudden but gentle strength Calvin stopped her. Lovingly he pulled his wife in and gave her a passionate kiss on the lips. "I love you," he said.

"And I love you," said Susie.

Susie turned and left. Calvin saw tears streaming from her face as she went out the door.Calvin then turned to face his oldest and dearest friend. "Hello Hobbes. It's been a long time hasn't it old pal?"

Hobbes was no longer a stuffed doll but the big furry old tiger Calvin had always remembered. "It sure has, Calvin." said Hobbes.

"You... haven't changed a bit." Calvin smiled.

"You've changed a lot." Hobbes said sadly.

Calvin laughed, "Really? I haven't noticed at all.

"There was a long pause. The sound of a clock ticking away the seconds rang throughout the sterile hospital room.

"So... you married Susie Derkins." Hobbes said, finally smiling. "I knew you always like her."

"Shut up!" Calvin said, his smile bigger than ever.

"Tell me everything I missed. I'd love to hear what you've been up to!" Hobbes said, excited.

And so Calvin told him everything. He told him about how he and Susie fell in love in high school and had married after graduating from college, about his three kids and four grandkids, how he turned Spaceman Spiff into one of the most popular sci-fi novels of the decade, and so on. After he told Hobbes all this there was another pregnant pause.

"You know... I visited you in the attic a bunch of times." Calvin said."I know."

"But I couldn't see you. All I saw was a stuffed animal." Calvin voice was breaking and tears of regret started welling up in his eyes."You grew up old buddy." said Hobbes.

Calvin broke down and sobbed, hugging his best friend. "I'm so sorry! I'm so sorry I broke my promise! I promised I wouldn't grow up and that we'd be together forever!!"Hobbes stroke the Calvin's hair, or what little was left of it. "But you didn't."

"What do you mean?"

"We were always together... in our dreams."

"We were?"

"We were."

"Hobbes?"

"Yeah, old buddy?"

"I'm so glad I got to see you like this... one last time..."

"Me too, Calvin. Me too."

"Sweetheart?" Susie voice came from outside the door.

"Yes dear?" Calvin replied.

"Can I come in?" Susie asked.

"Just a minute.

"Calvin turned to face Hobbes one last time. "Goodbye Hobbes. Thanks... for everything...""No, thank you Calvin." Hobbes said.

Calvin turned back to the door and said, "You can come in now.

"Susie came in and said, "Look who's come to visit you.

"Calvin's children and grandchildren followed Susie into Calvin's room. The youngest grandchild ran past the rest of them and hugged Calvin in a hard, excited hug. "Grandpa!!" screamed the child in delight.

"Francis!" cried Calvin's daughter, "Be gentle with your grandfather.

"Calvin's daughter turned to her dad. "I'm sorry, Daddy. Francis never seems to behave these days. He just runs around making a mess and coming up with strange stories.

"Calvin laughed and said, "Well now! That sound just like me when I was his age.

"Calvin and his family chatted some more until a nurse said, "Sorry, but visiting hours are almost up.

"Calvin's beloved family said good bye and promised to visit tomorrow. As they turned to leave Calvin said, "Francis. Come here for a second.

"Francis came over to his grandfather's side, "What is it Gramps?"

Calvin reached over to the stuffed tiger on his bedside and and held him out shakily to his grandson, who looked exactly as he did so many years ago. "This is Hobbes. He was my best friend when I was your age. I want you to have him.""

He's just a stuffed tiger." Francis said, eyebrows raised.

Calvin laughed, "Well, let me tell you a secret.

"Francis leaned closer to Calvin. Calvin whispered, "If you catch him in a tiger trap using a tuna sandwich as bait he will turn into a real tiger."

Francis gasped in delighted awe. Calvin continued, "Not only that he will be your best friend forever."

"Wow! Thanks grandpa!" Francis said, hugging his grandpa tightly again.

"Francis! We need to go now!" Calvin's daughter called.

"Okay!" Francis shouted back

."Take good care of him." Calvin said.

"I will." Francis said before running off after the rest of the family.

Calvin laid on his back and stared at the ceiling. The time to go was close. He could feel it in his soul. Calvin tried to remember a quote he read in a book once. It said something about death being the next great adventure or something like that. He eyelids grew heavy and his breathing slowed. As he went deeper into his final sleep he heard Hobbes, as if he was right next to him at his bedside. "I'll take care of him, Calvin..."Calvin took his first step toward one more adventure and breathed his last with a grin on his face.

Credits: samuraitiger19 - from redditNote from the author - on reddit: "Wow... just wow... I am speechless here guys. I did not expect such a reaction to my story or prompt. I am not worthy of your praise or your gold. I am truly humbled. Thanks so much! I'm truly glad so my story touched so many people".

https://www.facebook.com/groups/315603703347018

[myahs-delulu-palace]

Human or Doppel…?| That’s not my Neighbor| Francis Mosses x F! Reader OneShot

———————————————————————

After another stressful day of work as a doorman, [Name] reaches her apartment and go inside, she finds Francis sitting on the sofa reading a book. [Name] remembers buzzing him in earlier but can’t help but get a little paranoid now…what if he was being a really perfect doppelganger? Just waiting to strike…she starts to tense up a bit at the thought.

Francis takes his eyes off his book once he realizes [Name] came home, but he could tell something was off already.

"Mmmm Darling? Is something wrong?" he asked when he saw her staring at him.

[Name] snaps out of her trance. "Oh uhm…nothings wrong, just tired from work today…those doppelgangers are a lot of work…" [Name] didn’t want him to know what she was actually thinking…if she did, and if he was actually a doppelganger…she’s be fucked even more early…

Francis sets his book aside and gets up. He slowly walks towards her. She can smell a milky smell from him. He wraps his arms around her waist. "Mmmm…Are you sure everything is alright? You have a serious look on your face."

[Name] forces a smile as she looked at her husband’s tired eyes.

"I’m sure, I’m fine honey…" she was obviously lying, a whole ass fetus could tell she was lying…[Name] was a really bad liar when she’s nervous.

Francis could see through your forced smile. He was starting to worry. "Mmmmm…You don’t look fine darling. Are you sure nothing is wrong? I’m getting that feeling that you have been having doubts about me being a Doppelganger..."

[Name] froze…'fucking hell…how did he figure it out so quick!?' she thought to herself. "What…? What uhm…what makes you think that…?" She was still tryna lie even though she was caught so easily.

Francis noticed her sudden change in behavior. This confirmed his suspicions. His expression softened as he tightened his arms around her. "Darling....the past few days...I could see it in your eyes. I could see that you have been having doubts about me. Am I wrong? Please don't tell me.....you think I'm a Doppelganger..."

[Name] looks at him for a bit deciding whether or not to tell him the truth…Francis sensed her hesitation and gently lifts her chin up. He gently looks into your eyes and softly says.

"Darling, please.....don't be afraid to tell me the truth. I can tell you have doubts about me. I know that there are many Doppelgangers out there and you have encountered them at work. Darling...please tell me the truth. Is that...it? Do you think I'm a Doppelganger?"

[Name] sighs and nods her head finally admitting it. "I’m sorry Francis…it’s just…this job and these doppelgangers…they’re getting to my head…these doppels are getting smarter and smarter and it’s making me paranoid…"

Francis sighs as he gently rubs her back. He kisses your forehead and holds you tightly. He whispers into your ear. "I understand Darling. I understand your fears about the Doppels. But I promise you one thing. I swear to you, that I'm not a Doppelganger. I'm real. I'm not a fake. I'm a real man who loves you. I'm your husband..."

[Name] sighs as she lays her head on his chest for comfort, she was glad her paranoia was wrong…she really needed to relax right now after this stress…

Francis can tell that she was overwhelmed with everything. He rubs his fingers through your hair gently and speaks in a soothing voice. "Why don't you forget about your work for the time being and just relax. I'll make you hot cocoa with chocolate milk just the way you like it, sound good?"

[Name] lifts her head up to look at Francis in his eyes again. "Yes, thank you Francis…I’m lucky to have you…" Francis softens with a smile as he continues to stroke her hair. He leans in and gently kisses [Name]’s forehead. He breaks away with a soft chuckle.

"Mmmm....I'm lucky to have you too Darling. I'll be right back with the cocoa okay?" [Name] nods as Francis let her go, she walked to the living room and sat on the couch waiting for her dear husband to come back.

In the kitchen, Francis mixed the hot cocoa. As he mixes the cocoa on the stove, he hums a tune to himself.

Five minutes later, Francis brings the mug of cocoa to the living room. He walks over to the sofa where [Name] is sitting. He sits next to her and gives her the mug. "Here you go Darling. Fresh hot cocoa for you with extra chocolate milk. Just the way you like it.

[Name] takes the hot cocoa carefully and blows on it a bit before drinking it, it tasted sooo good! Francis made the best hot cocoa. “This is making me feel better already, I love you Francis…thank you again for comforting me…”

Francis smiles softly as he watches her drink the hot cocoa. He wraps his arm around her waist and brings her close to his chest. "Mmmm...I'm so glad. Glad that I could reassure you. I'll always be here for you whenever you are feeling nervous. I love you so much Darling...I really don't know what I would do without you in my life...You're everything to me."

Francis' words made [Name] blush as she cuddled next to him on the couch and continued to drink her hot cocoa, they remained next to each other the rest of the night…

———————————————————————

I just thought, “this will make a great fanfic! :p” and now here I am on the toilet writing this out. Hope you enjoyed reading! I’ve been dying to make a “That’s not my neighbor” story and I finally made one! I would’ve made a twist ending but decided to just go wholesome if that’s alright. Maybe I’ll make an alternate ending…

[syntheticavenger]

On My Mama - Three

A special thank you to @mrsmischief209 @flordeamatista @negronispagliato for helping with language translation and @cocobutterqwueen for cheering me on with the plot!

Santiago 'Pope' Garcia x Female Reader

Tyler Rake x Female Reader

Andy Barber x Female Reader

Jax Teller x Female Reader

Word Count: 4.2K

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, language, breeding kink (brief), jealousy, angst, mentions of divorce, co-parenting.

Summary | Being a single mom with a complicated relationship with your ex-husband makes for an interesting summer after a school event and an unexpected errand puts you front and center with some eligible contenders for your attention.

“Mommy, look! They have horsies!” Mia squeaks, pointing as Santiago holds her close so that she doesn’t tip over, mesmerized as a horse gallops by the big window. “Daddy, do you see the horsies?!”

“I do see them,” Santiago agrees, kissing the crown of her head affectionately. “We have to finish the tour, mini.”

Sister Catherine Francis stands next to you, the school administrator smiling at the sweet moment between father and daughter. Admittedly, the tour has been impressive. Beside the stables, there is an auditorium, a gym, a play area much larger than the one in her current school and the student to teacher ratio is much smaller than you thought.

“Mrs. Garcia, I know you have some reservations about our school as Mr. Garcia told us,” Sister Catherine begins, her Irish accent strong. “I assure you, Mia will have the very best of care here at St. Mary’s. The curriculum here is outstanding and our students go on to Ivy League universities and abroad.”

“Curriculum,” you repeat, seeing her nod, anticipating your response with a tight-lipped smile. You’ve been peppering her with questions the entire tour, ever since she had mentioned she was pleased that Santiago had reached out weeks prior, calling you by your former last name, ignoring that you had mentioned that you were divorced.

Your cell phone vibrates in your purse, mumbling an excuse to step away for a moment as Sister Catherine approaches Santiago and Mia to discuss the details of the stables, asking Mia if she would like to know the names of all the horses.

“Hello?”

“Hey, sorry if I caught you at a bad time,” Tyler apologizes, your mood improving at the sound of his voice.

You’re grateful for the reprieve, even more so that he’s called you directly.

Santiago looks over his shoulder as you turn around, your back to him. He’s far away enough that you hope he can’t hear you.

“No, it’s fine, I’m just out with Mia,” you answer. “How are you?”

“I’m good. How are you?”

“I’m good.”

After a pause, Tyler laughs, the sound making you smile.

“Listen, I’m being a total idiot about this and I’m sorry. How would you feel if I picked the place to go to dinner? I promise you’ll have a good time.”

“I think that would be fine. Should I be worried?” you ask.

“No? I mean, I hope not. How does Saturday sound? Seven?”

“Seven works,” you agree, taking two steps away from Sister Catherine. “Enough time to find a sitter.”

“Seven it is. We can meet there if that works?”

“Sure. I’ll see you at seven.”

“Perfect. It’s a date. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Bye.”

When you hang up, you notice that Santiago is closer now, Mia still in his arms as he looks through his phone for a moment. Sister Catherine clears her throat at the interruption, making you look up from your phone.

“Did you have questions regarding any of our curricula?”

You hope that doesn’t mean to be pushy, but it sounds that way, the nun clasping her hands in front of her, waiting for your answer.

 “Mia is five. She’s in kindergarten and doing well,” you counter, trying to keep the irritation out of your voice. “College is a few years away.”

“She’s a very intelligent young lady. We would nurture her intuitive nature, develop her into a strong young woman who would be readily accepted at any university of her choosing. You must start now, in her formidable years, to make sure she is strong.”

“She’s already strong.”

Mia runs over to you when her father puts her down, clinging to your legs as she bends her head back, looking into your eyes.

“I like it, Mommy!” Mia announces.

“You like what, sweetheart?” you ask carefully, Mia raising up her arms for you to pick her up.

She settles into your arms, leaning over to whisper in your ear.

“I like the horsies.”

“They’re nice, aren’t they?” you ask, her head bumping against your cheek as she nods quickly.

“I want one, Mommy. Can I have one?”

“Horses are expensive, baby,” you tell her gently, Santiago standing close by to smooth down her hair.

“We can talk about it over lunch, hmm? How does that sound?” he asks, giving you a cool smile before he turns to the nun. “Sister Catherine, I cannot tell you how much we appreciate the hospitality and the graciousness you’ve shown me and my family.”

“It is my pleasure, Mr. Garcia.”

“We haven’t made a decision,” Santiago says carefully, looking in your direction as you hold Mia close. “But I’m sure either way, we’ll be in touch.”

“Of course. It was nice meeting you, Mia,” Sister Catherine says, Mia leaning over you to shake her hand.

“Bye!” Mia chirps as you force a smile, knowing that this isn’t the right time to say any of the thoughts that have filled your head.

“Thank you,” you reply to her, the nun nodding with a gracious expression.

“Of course, Mrs. Garcia.”

🌙

Mia chews on a piece of chicken, cut up expertly by her father as she colors on the paper placemat. 

Santiago leans back in his chair, sipping his glass of wine, silent as he glances from his daughter to you. As much as your irritation has grown, you know better than to argue in front of Mia. You’re also aware of the stare that he’s giving you, like he has more to say than he is letting on.

“I’m sorry for the surprise,” Santiago murmurs, placing his glass back down on the table. “I should have told you.”

“Yes, you should have,” you answer back quietly, Mia still coloring, playing you no mind. “I know you want what is best for our daughter, but I wish you would understand that this would be a big change for her.”

“Of course it would. No more cafeteria food, no overcrowded classrooms, more attention on our precious daughter. I fail to see the flaws in St. Mary’s.”

“She knows no one there. She’s made friends, she has her own little social calendar now. She’s happy.”

“I’m happy,” Mia recites with a giggle, drawing a squiggly line in purple crayon.

“She’s five,” Santiago recites back to you. “Young enough to make new friends, build new relationships and settle into a new school.”

The server interrupts with the next course, lingering a little longer to ask Santiago if he would like something else, her arm draped over the chair. You pay her no mind, knowing that he won’t let this particular subject go, no matter what distraction there may be in his way.

“I think we’re fine for now, thank you,” he declares with an air of annoyance through a tight flash of teeth.

“I’ll be nearby if you need anything,” she says, moving away from him.

Still within earshot, Santiago’s eyes level with yours, looking down at his plate and then to Mia, who has switched to a green crayon, drawing what looks like two boxes on top of each other.

“A frog,” Mia announces to her parents, coloring diligently.

Before you have a chance to argue, his gaze settles on the server who is still close by, turning back to you with a disapproving stare before he finally speaks.

“Mira a Mia, nos tiene a nosotros igual con el mundo a su alcance.”

He raises an eyebrow after, his words settling as you frown, Mia’s head snapping up at attention.

“¿Que... mundo?” she asks her father, looking at him suspiciously, your eyes rolling as Santiago smirks, lifting her out of her chair and onto his lap.

“I forgot how smart you are, mini,” Santiago murmurs against her, moving his wine glass away from her as she reaches for it. “That’s not juice. Let’s get you your own drink.”

The nickname isn’t lost on you, Mia leaning against her father, rubbing her eyes. Mini, meaning a mini version of you, something he’s called her since before she could talk.

When the server finally moves away, Mia slips off of her father’s lap, running to you as she moves from side to side.

“I gotta potty,” she announces loudly, your finger going to your lips to remind her to lower her voice as she takes off running.

Independent as you know her to be, you also know she’s fast, following behind her. You know she has no idea where she’s going, mumbling out an apology to the tables that she passes, narrowly missing a server with a tray over their head.

She stops in her tracks, pointing as you reach her, following her direction.

“It’s Abel!”

True to her word, Abel is sitting across a table in a booth with a well-dressed woman, who you assume is Abel’s mother. She doesn’t fit the description of Abel’s mother, someone whose name Melanie has dragged through the proverbial mud. This woman, in her black pantsuit and perfectly coiffed hair doesn’t look like she would be an absent mother, especially the way she talks to him.

It is Melanie after all, you think, herding Mia toward the restroom. She’s not exactly known for liking many people, let alone someone who is that close to Jax.

“I wanna say hi,” Mia protests, looking over her shoulder before the door closes. “Mommy, let’s say hi to Abel.”

“After you go to the restroom, I promise we will go say hello to Abel and after you wash your hands.”

“And we sing the ABCs!” Mia reminds you, running into a stall and locking it.

It feels silly to think about Jax, especially with how the day has played out. Santiago’s surprise tour to St. Mary’s and your upcoming date with Tyler. Your plate is full and you haven’t even told Santiago about your date.

If you even want to. You don’t even want to know how many dates he’s been on. Not that he’ll ever tell you and you’ve never been bold enough to ask. A flicker of irritation moves through you when you remember Abel’s sweet little face, dejected after being dropped off without a gift. You know that it didn’t matter that he didn’t have a gift but children mimic their parents and their societal standards.

“I’m done!” Mia says, after stopping the multiple flushes once you remind her to not play in the bathroom. 

Dutifully she recites her alphabet when she washes her hands, the suds flying around the sink while you prepare the paper towels for her to dry her hands like a servant.

“Can we say hi now?”

“Yes,” you agree, Mia bolting out the door.

You stop in your tracks when Mia greets Jax loudly, seeing him sit across from the well-dressed woman. He’s traded his well-worn kutte for a button down shirt and black slacks, his hair slicked back, unaware that you’re close by when he scans the restaurant for any sign of you.

“Mommy!” Mia says, waving to you. “She’s right there.”

You tug your dress down when you walk toward them, Abel giving you a shy smile, Jax giving you a slow smile.

“Didn’t expect to see you here,” Jax says with a smile. “Mother daughter lunch date?”

“You could say that,” you respond, Mia eyeing the paper placemat that Abel is working on.

“You have to color the boxes,” Mia orders, your arm going around her to remind her of her manners gently.

“Abel can color them later,” you tell her softly, Mia shrugging as Abel starts to color in the boxes.

The woman smiles and you feel a sense of intruding on their time, quickly giving them a nod before slowly turning Mia back toward the direction of where you are sitting.

It’s family time, you predict, Jax giving you a curious look as you make a move to give them some space.

“Leaving so soon?”

“I wouldn’t want to impede on your family time,” you tell him. “Good to see you and Abel and nice to meet you…”

“Nice to meet you too,” the woman says with a grin, Jax raising an eyebrow before you march Mia back to the table.

🌙

“Busy schedule?” Santiago asks, seeing you fire off a text to one of the moms in the group text over a snack rotation schedule mix up. The drive back as been quiet thus far, ever since you’d gone back to the table and he had already paid, holding Mia’s tiny purse that she had insisted on taking everywhere.

“Just ironing out some details.”

Mia is fast asleep in the backseat, Santiago licking his lower lip in thought.

“If you need a sitter on Saturday, I’m sure I can have my mother watch Mia.”

“Are my conversations not private anymore?” you question, seeing a smirk play at his mouth.

“Big hallway,” he responds. “Your voice carries. And you didn’t answer my question. Do you want my mother to watch Mia?”

“I’d prefer to think about my options and for you to not eavesdrop on my conversations.”

“I told you. Your voice carries.”

You shift in your seat. It’s uncomfortable to know that he heard what you were saying, even more unnerving is that you feel guilty.

“Or you were listening. I don’t ask you about your personal life.”

“No,” he agrees with a shake of his head. “I’d answer anything you’d want to know. You know that.”

You sit in silence for a moment, your street coming into view.

“You want to date, I say go for it,” Santiago continues. “Would it make me a little jealous to know you’re scouting out potential men to find a partner? I’m human, aren’t I? I’d be lying if I told you I don’t think about how I should have put another baby in you. Those sounds you make for me, conejita… I crave them and no one can ever recreate it, nor have they come close.”

You try to move when he places his hand on your bare thigh, his hand warm as he slides it up toward your dress.

“So you’ve tried,” you shoot back, hating that you can already feel yourself reacting to him.

“Does it matter?”

“When you’re trying to surprise me with a quick decision on a private school that I was not given a chance to even think about? No,” you answer, placing your hand on his. “I’m still upset with you.”

“I didn’t say she had to go. It needs to be a decision from the both of us. I’m asking you to keep an open mind.”

“I will once I can keep a clear mind.”

Santiago smiles, a text popping up on his screen. Another woman, your eyes looking at the notification.

“Guess your calendar is packed too,” you shoot back, getting out of the car when he parks. “Not making a decision on the school yet. But we aren’t sleeping together.”

Santiago laughs, shaking his head in disbelief when he gets out the car to take Mia out of her seat.

“My flight leaves in two hours so I’ll put her to bed and you can take your time with your decision,” he informs you.

🌙

Settling Mia into her bed, he heads downstairs, finding no sign of you. Your phone is on the counter, a notification popping up as he hovers over it.

It’s a single name, one that he raises an eyebrow at.

Jax.

Even more curious is what he reads as he hears you come back down the stairs.

Not my wife. She’s my lawyer. 

🌙

It’s daunting, fingers wrapped around the wood, breathing harder than you ever thought. You’re aware that your last movement was less than graceful, afraid to step over the line, your hips moving to try to get into the right position.

“Do you want some help?” Tyler asks, the burr of his voice sending a tingle down your spine.

“Yes, please,” you answer, his warm fingers on your elbow, flexing your arm back and forth slowly. 

The sweet smell of sawdust gives you the urge to sneeze, the loud clink of beer glasses when someone hits a target and the raucous roar when someone doesn’t hit their mark gives you a sense of ease. There’s no need for perfection or expertise.

He’d met you at the door, your shyness on display when he held the door open for you. It wasn’t your first choice for a date, but your only comparison was the upscale restaurants that Santiago would take you to. Either way, you’re excited to try something new, the ax hard to throw but the adrenaline rush when you throw it is entertaining.

“It’s a flick of the wrist,” he instructs, standing behind you, his body a solid wall of muscle when you take a step back accidentally, trying to make sure you don’t disqualify yourself.

“It’s a quick throw but you’ve got to move with purpose, focus on where you want it to go. Ready?”

When you throw it, the ax sails through the air, hitting the top of the target. Not that it matters, you finally got it to stick, celebrating that you were able to hit something, rather than have it bounce off the wall.

As a first date, you’re still glancing at your phone as Laurie sends you pictures of Mia, feeling guilty for all of five seconds when you realize that he’s probably done the same. You feel oddly comfortable in a flannel shirt and jeans and a pair of sneakers for a first date. You’d gone through your closet while Laurie had come over to watch Mia, with it being Andy’s week with Jacob and she was more than happy to watch her as Santiago’s mother had last minute plans.

As a rule, you don’t engage with any questions she has, especially since she’s always hinted that you had made a mistake with your decision to separate and then divorce.

It was a good thing they were your decisions.

Your decision now is to try to not focus on how handsome Tyler looks when he focuses on the target, hitting the target each time. You’re aware of his politeness, the way he doesn’t get into the personal side of your history with your ex, keeping it light with Mia and Hunter and to your interests.

For the first time in a long time, you talk about yourself and your hopes and dreams.

And Tyler listens.

You don’t want to compare, nor do you want to put either of them on a pedestal but there’s something about the way he lets what you say sink in, nodding slowly and taking the social cue of when he can share his own thoughts and ideas. There is no fighting for dominance in a conversation, something that you aren’t used to.

“What?” he asks you after taking a sip of his beer.

“Nothing,” you answer quickly, realizing that you’ve been staring at his tattooed arms and how he smiles.

It isn’t the time to admit that you’ve been appreciating his physical form as well as feeling seen and heard.

“Ax throwing is harder than I thought,” you admit, stretching out your fingers.

“Does it hurt?” Tyler asks, reaching out his hand to you, placing your hand in his. “Sometimes you can get a splinter.”

He examines your hand, his fingers running along your fingers and palm, closing your hand into a fist and then unraveling it to hook your fingers over his, his lips brushing against your knuckles. At the contact, your face heats up at how gentle he is with you.

“Not a scratch or splinter from what I can see,” he says with a nod, looking into your eyes. “I’d say that’s a win.”

-

“I thought about leaving. Taking Hunter with me, moving to a new city and just starting over,” Tyler tells you while you walk along the pier. “It made sense to me, you know? Clean slate, we didn’t have to look back. Then he entered kindergarten and I watched him come out of his shell that I thought he would never break out of and I knew that I couldn’t do that to him.”

“What about private school?” you ask, seeing him shrug off his jacket as he slows his steps, placing it over your shoulders. You’re instantly warm, smelling the faint cologne left on his jacket. “Thank you.”

“I thought about it,” he replies, continuing to walk beside you. “I moved a lot as a kid, went to few private schools here and there but I never like I fit in. Didn’t think Hunter would either. Why do you ask?”

“I thought about St. Mary’s but…” you trail off, focusing on the waves that crash against the shore in the moonlight. “I think she’d miss her friends.”

“They’d miss her.”

“I don’t know,” you sigh. “I want to make sure she’s well adjusted. I want to make sure that she’s happy and healthy. She’s made so many friends and I hope that I make the right decision for her.”

“Have you ever felt like you haven’t?”

Shaking your head, he nods in agreement.

“Then you’re making the right decision.”

“I feel like I could be better.”

“Oh?” he questions. “How so?”

“There’s always room for improvement.”

“Even now?”

His curious expression makes you stop, looking into his blue eyes for a moment. There’s a vulnerability there, a softness that sends a slight flutter to your stomach.

“No,” you answer. “I can’t think of any improvements on tonight.”

“I disagree,” Tyler responds, pulling his jacket that is around your shoulders closer to keep you warm, pulling you toward him slowly. “I can think of something.”

He lowers his head to kiss you and you meet him halfway, his lips on yours, soft and warm. You don’t want it to end, even if you know at any time you’ll both pull away. 

His cell phone vibrates loudly in the pocket, your soft groan barely audible when you break the kiss.

“Did you want to get that?” you whisper, Tyler kissing you again before you can ask him again.

“It’s the sitter. I think I owe her some overtime.”

“Oh, God, I’m sorry,” you apologize, Tyler holding you close by holding onto his jacket.

“Worth it.”

🌙

“You kissed him?” Laurie whispers, eyes wide as she perches on the couch. “Shut up, you did not.”

“I did,” you confess, covering your face. “On the first date? Is that even allowed?”

“Of course it is! I fucked my first college boyfriend on the first date. This is tame. Tongue or no tongue.”

“Laurie!” you hiss, breaking out into a fit of laughter. “This is absurd. I can’t believe I’m talking about this. It was one date.”

“One date where you went ax throwing with a giant. Not just any giant, by the way. Tyler Rake. The man is an enigma. I can’t tell if he hates the PTA or genuinely enjoys it.”

“I didn’t ask,” you say dryly, Laurie finishing the last of her wine. Your phone vibrates next to you, a message popping up that you check quickly before she notices.

Happy you made it home safe. Thank you for a great night.

“So… was he a good kisser?” Laurie questions.

“Do you ask this of everyone?”

“No,” Laurie replies honestly. “I’m asking because you’re my friend and I don’t have many of those because most people annoy me. You went on a date. That’s a start. How do you feel?”

“Weird.”

You don’t know how to explain it. It feels like you’re keeping a secret, even if it isn’t one. You’re a single woman, even if you don’t feel like it sometimes. Santiago is gone, jetted off to Spain for a trip. Probably with one of his companions, something you won’t ever ask about, even if he says he’s an open book.

It’s complicated in a way that it doesn’t need to be and you know it.

Laurie is right. This is a start of something. Maybe not anything that you know but enough to make you begin thinking that you deserve to be selfish for a moment, to think about what you want.

Whatever that may be.

“It’s okay to play the field you know,” Laurie says, getting up from her seat, picking up her wine glass to take to the sink. “It’s not a bad thing to make sure your bases are loaded.”

-

When you check on Mia, she’s fast asleep, buried under the covers with her favorite teddy bear at her side. Next week will be Santiago’s week and the pangs of longing already begin, even though she’s right next to you when you sit carefully on her bed.

Two more weeks of school and then she’s done for the summer, your baby girl going full speed ahead into the first grade once the summer is over, something you aren’t ready to comprehend, let alone even want to think about.

“I’m proud of you,” you whisper, smoothing back her hair as she snuggles against her pillow. “I love you.”

Getting up to leave her room, you scroll through your missed messages, noticing one from an unknown number.

BBQ next Saturday. Adults only – Alcohol is provided. See you there?

You’ve seen the number before, scrolling through your phone to find a message where the number pops up again from a message confirming attendance at a school function.

Andy Barber.

[c0smopolitan]

Always forever

A/n: Small blurb with Regulus but I’m going to try and make more Regulus stuff in the future. If you don’t like the kids names feel free to make up your own. You’re living the muggle life with him at the moment. Thanks!

Summary: Your life with Regulus after Hogwarts.

Warnings: none just pure fluff. Regulus Black x f!reader post!hogwarts.

Always forever was your motto.

“Always.” You whispered. He turned around to face you. “Forever.” He whispered. Your first promise third year.

You and Regulus kept this promise years after you both graduated from Hogwarts.

You woke up with the sun in your eyes. You turn around to get away from the sun but come face to face with his sleeping figure. You smile softly giving him a peck on his lips.

He hums happily in his sleep as you brush away the curls on his face. The sun making face glow, his hair looks golden in this light and you swear you felt yourself fall in love with him all over again.

You hear small footsteps coming up to your bed and then slightly heavier footsteps behind them. You smile and turn around eliciting a groan from Regulus who was hugging you previously.

“Mommy.” Fae squeaked out holding her lion plushie in one arm and the tv remote in the other.

Francis came behind her and put his hand on her shoulder. “I tried to get her to go back to sleep but she wants to watch tv.”

You get out of bed and pick Fae up before walking to the living room, Francis trailing behind you. You turn on the tv and put Winnie the Pooh on for her. She lays down watching intently.

Francis sits on the couch with her and you give them both a kiss on the head before heading back to your shared bedroom.

You walk in to see Regulus already awake and staring at the ceiling.

“Something interesting up there?” You walk over to the bed and lay down next to him. He looks over at you and shakes his head. He wraps his arm around you and places his head in the crook of your neck. “Just thinkin s’all.” He mumbles.

“What about?” You mutter, raking your hands through his hair. He sighs contently and gives you kisses along the column of your neck. “About how lucky I am to be with you,” he looks up at you. “About our kids have your amazing looks and my awesome hair.”

You let out a laugh and he takes that time to admire your features. “I love you Y/n.” You lean down and give him a peck his lips. “I love you too Reggie.”

He puts his pinky up. “Always.” He whispers. You wrap your pinky around his. “Forever.”

[kifflepiffles]

Milk, Flour, and Sugar.

(Pssst, @albaricomics Thank you for giving me motivation, I really enjoyed writing this <3 )

Our goobers deserve a break

Francis Mosses x Nacha Mikaelys

Content warning; Suggestive themes towards the end, but nothing actually happens

Word count; 1.9k

Edit: I forgot my tumblr posts tend to get traction ^^; this takes place in a universe that assumes a headcanon for Francis, Nacha, and Ana that I wrote in great detail. It's in my top posts, but it's a but wordy, so TL;DR for context:

- Francis and Nacha are highschool sweethearts who were kicked out of their homes once the pregnancy was discovered.

- They dropped out of school and started working. They moved into the apartments where the game takes place

- They are 17 and 18 when this fic takes place.

- Nacha has a part time job as a store clerk while taking culinary classes.

- this takes place before Francis took his milkman job. Currently, Francis works night shift at a steel factory, both because night shift pays extra so he can support himself and help Nacha, and because the alternating schedule makes it easier to have someone constantly caring for Anastacia while she's an infant

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

A soft breeze had flowed through the open kitchen window. Leaning back against the counter, Francis held this daughter in his arms, sitting her up against his shoulder and holding a glass bottle to the infant’s mouth. She had turned 7 months old about a week ago. Yet her parents still couldn’t get enough of her. The young man’s head tilted back, gazing at the ceiling he had freshly painted a white coat over so he could get a discount on rent. For the first time all day, A gentle smile cracked his stoic face,

“Fill my heart with song,” He hummed to his daughter, letting his heavy eyes softly close “And let me sing forever more,” His body gently swayed to the rhythm he set, rocking Anastacha as she drank, 

“You are all I long for … All I worship and…” Francis’s head tilted back down as his eyes fluttered open. Ana had pushed his hand away. Noticing the bottle still had some formula left, he directed it back towards her mouth. She had pushed him away again, this time with an angry yell, causing him to jump a bit. Not even a year old, and yet she was growing remnants of her independence. The young father chuckled, 

“Alright, you insist,” He hummed as he placed the bottle on the counter behind him and took his daughter into both hands. He raised her above his head, admiring his little creation. 

“You’re going to be a fiery one, Mm?  I can already feel it,” He cooed dreamily, watching his little girl babble and look around the kitchen. Though his trance had been interrupted by knocking on the door.

Francis looked in the direction of the knocking as he lowered Ana back into his arms, “Looks like Mommy’s back,” He narrated to her mindlessly as he walked over to the front door and glanced through the peephole to ensure it was her. 

The energy had shifted once Francis opened the door for his ex, stepping aside to let her in,

“Hey,” He greeted dryly, clearing his throat and fixing his posture,

“Hi,” Nacha greeted back as she stepped in. Ana leaned forward, reaching out for her mother with an exclamation, making her smile. “Hi, my baby,” she hummed. Francis leaned over to allow Nacha to take their daughter from him. “How was she today?”

“Good, we slept for about two hours, and I just fed her. She’s getting sassy,” He reported, making Nacha giggle,

 “Is she?” She asked turning to their baby, “Are you getting sassy Ana? Is Ana being sassy?” She cooed, tickling her and blowing a raspberry into her cheek, making the infant squeal with excitement and both parents laugh. A glimpse of the joyous family life they have both been promised all their young lives. But it soon faded, and it was silent once again. 

The two stood across from each other, their heads tilted down to avoid eye contact. Anxious, awkward.

“Well…” Nacha began, turning a bit to excuse herself. Another evening of potential had failed. But instead, Francis cleared his throat again and shut the door.

“Mm, How was work? …Class? Work and Class? … Uh, Could… may I  get you anything to drink?” He stuttered out. Nacha lifted her head and softly smiled, A bittersweet sting flooding her chest. 

`”It was alright, some water would be lovely,” She answered. Taking it as an invitation to stay, she timidly sat on the couch, gently bouncing Anastacha in her arm while Francis sauntered to the next room over. A sigh left Nacha’s lips before she gently set her baby down on the floor. The living room was cluttered with stuffed animals and teething toys. Their situation was unfortunate, but seeing her ex take such diligent care of their daughter sparked something back to life within her. For the first time since they were in school, her heart was fluttering. He made her feel excited and full of life. 

It was a matter of seconds for Francis to come back with a full glass for Nacha, and a mug of coffee for himself. He stopped right outside the narrow kitchen archway, allowing the infant to slowly and unsteadily crawl past him. She was still getting used to being mobile. 

“Mm, The traffic, they really should put a stop sign here,” He quipped as he set their drinks down on the coffee table, hoping he could make Nacha laugh.  He had gotten what he hoped for, the young lady began giggling, and a small flash of satisfaction illuminated the dullness within him for a moment while he sat down beside her. 

Silence, again. It was a common occurrence for the both of them. At first, it was to keep the peace. Now, it was because both of them had racing thoughts, they were on the same page but didn’t know it yet. Taking a sip from her water, Nacha cleared her throat and took a gentle breath

:”So… How’s the factory treating you? I imagine the night shift must be rough,” She asked. Francis shrugged and took a sip of his coffee,

“It’s alright,” He started, groaning as reached his arms up to stretch his shoulders, “Mmm, Tiring. but we get a good amount of downtime. Not like anyone’s up to watch us,” He concluded before leaning back and grabbing his mug from off the table. Nacha looked down at the floor and let a coy smile crack her expression,

“I suppose that’s nice,” She hummed, glancing back at him, “Are you free this weekend? I was thinking we could maybe go out somewhere,” She suggested, receiving a double take and a raised brow from Francis,

“Really?” He asked, sounding genuinely surprised before Nacha reached a hand out with wide eyes, her head shaking with embarrassment, “Uh-! For Ana, maybe we could head out to the park or something with her,” She added, making Franicis lean back and hum. She could’ve sworn she saw a hint of a gloom scowl on his face. She shook the thought and shifted in discomfort. It’s done, She thought, It’s been. We weren’t meant to be. That’s okay, She attempted to console to herself, biting back burning tears in her cheeks, threatening to make the evening even more uncomfortable than it already was

“I mean, mm, I wouldn’t… really mind spending some time with you. Especially with Anastacha. I say we do it. We can do it on Saturday maybe,” He suggested. Nacha looked back at him with a beaming smile.

“Oh, really? That’s great honey,” She gleamed. Francis glanced away with a scoff and rubbed the back of his neck. It was a slip up, he knew it was. But he couldn’t help but take it to heart.

“Uh, heh, yeah,” He started, his voice cracking with an anxious blush forming on his face, “I’m sure it will be. It’s a plan,”

feeling the discomfort radiate off of Francis made Nacha dizzy with embarrassment. This is my sign to leave. You got what you wanted, anyway. She thought, rubbing her own shoulder and clearing her throat.

“Well, I should get going,” She stated as she stood up, straightening out her skirt, “You have work soon. And… you need your sleep,” She was in a bit of a hurry to leave as she walked towards Ana, “Come here baby,” She whispered as she lifted her daughter into her arms. Francis stood up as well, nodding 

“Alright,” He stated rather flatly. Part of him didn’t want her to leave. The other part begged her to. He walked over to the door, waiting for her to follow and opening it for her as she approached. 

“... Bye Francis,” Nacha greeted hesitantly. But before she could walk out the door, Francis’s hand was on her cheek. And before she could think about it, His lips gently landed on hers. Just for a moment, just to say goodbye, it couldn't hurt. He pulled back after a moment and gazed at his ex, who’s eyes seemed to be glistening with tears.

“Oh,, Francis…” Nacha whispered. She gently placed Ana back down on the floor, letting her crawl back to her toys, and carefully pushed the door closed again. She put her hands on his shoulders and leaned back in, kissing him again. He let it happen for a few moments. Truly, he had missed her. Her skin, her smell, her passion. Everything that tempted him and got them into this mess in the first place. But he still restrained himself. He couldn’t ruin this again. Now it was more than just him and his lover. If he fucked up again, he would be screwing things up for his baby girl, too. 

“Mm,, Nacha,” He tried to interrupt. Nacha sensually sighed into his mouth. She had been starved of him, craving for months. She couldn’t handle just a taste, she needed to take a bite. “Francis…” She moaned into his mouth, letting her hand tangle into the hair that laid on his neck. He grabbed her shoulders, and pushed her back.

“Nacha!” He barked,, making his lover flinch and his baby look up. He lowered his head, already feeling remorse for snapping. 

Silence. Again, the apartment was filled with silence. Agonizing, writhing silence. 

“Nacha,” He said in a more gentle tone, his guilt lingering behind his words, “The baby, sweetpea. The baby,” Tears welled in Nacha’s eyes

“I’ll… I’ll put her in the playpen. We can go into your room instead,” She scrambled to fix, but he shook his head,

“No, honey. No. You… You should go home,” He suggested as he turned away, not wanting to see Nacha begin sniffling. A pit formed in her chest as the rejection began sinking in,

“But…” She started, but a shivering weep cut her off, “Please, Please Francis. I miss you so much, honey,” She sobbed, placing her hand on his shoulder and making him tense. His throat began to grow sore, threatening to make him join her wallowing. He shook his head again,

“I miss you too, Nacha, I do. But… I- I just can’t. I can’t do this. Not today, not now,” He tried to explain. He turned back to her, letting his hand rest on her face again. His voice was gentle, as if to console her, yet firm, as if to remind himself of what he was putting at risk.  “Another time, honey. I promise. Another time.” 

“Why… Why not?” Nacha whimpered. Francis hung his head down, “I…” He sighed, using his free hand to wipe his eyes, “I just can’t do it, okay? Please, go home, honey. Bring Ana home, and take care of yourself. Please,” 

“Okay,” Nacha whispered. She sniffled and wiped her eyes with her forearms, then nodded, “:Alright,” She said a bit louder this time, as if to assure it to herself. She gathered her baby into her arms, and returned yet again to the door. 

“Have a good day at work,” She wished, her tone flat and lifeless. Francis silently nodded, “I’ll see you later.”

The door shut behind her. And the silence was back. A heavy sigh left the young man’s chest as he plopped down on his couch. He put his hands over his eyes with a groan

“Mmm… Oh my god,” He groaned before taking a deep breath, trying to rub the stress out of his face. He laid back, letting his arms cross over his chest. He was too worked up to sleep now. He was nervous, excited, feeling sick to his stomach as he processed what went on between them. 

At least he had a day out with them planned. 

[latristereina]

“Her mouth was sweet and he gently pulled her down on the bed. She closed her eyes, waiting for him to make love to her and Michael felt an enormous happiness. He had spent the war years fighting in the Pacific, and on those bloody islands he had dreamed of a girl like Kay Adams. Of a beauty like hers. A fair and fragile body, milky-skinned and electrified by passion.”

“He was surprised to find himself so secretive with Kay. He loved her, he trusted her, but he would never tell her anything about his father or the Family. She was an outsider.”

“Michael often thought of Kay, of her smile, her body, and always felt a twinge of conscience at leaving her so brutally without a word of farewell.”

“…it was nothing like the love he’d had for Kay, a love based as much on her sweetness, her intelligence and the polarity of the fair and dark.”

“Kay was silent for a long time. ‘Why do you want me to marry you after never calling me all these months? Am I so good in bed?’ Michael nodded gravely. ‘Sure,’ he said. ‘But I’m getting it for nothing so why should I marry you for that?’”

‘You are the only person I felt any affection for, that I care about.’

“But Kay was grateful. She knew that Michael had done it against all his own inclinations. Had done it because she had asked him to, and that she was the only person in the world who could make him act against his own nature.”

“Kay put her hand on Hagen’s arm. ‘He didn’t order you to tell me all the other things?’ Hagen hesitated a moment as if debating whether to tell her a final truth. ‘You still don’t understand,’ he said. ‘If you told Michael what I’ve told you today, I’m a dead man.’ He paused again. ‘You and the children are the only people on this earth he couldn’t harm.’”

- Mario Puzo, “The Godfather”

“Michael loved her when he met her and he loved her throughout his life and he loves her to this day, even though their relationship was surrounded by a lie. He not only loves her, he admires her.”

- Al Pacino, (x)

“And consequently, as we see him even in his commendatory finery receiving the highest award the Vatican can bestow he…his face is a mirror of his soul that’s ravaged and sickly and very very heartbroken because what he values the most is the thing that he has lost… but he has his children, and his children at this point, I would think to Michael mean everything, his daughter and his son.”

“Although to me, what is about to happen here is the beginning of rebuilding of what really means most to him…I have no doubt that Michael despite the limitations of his Sicilian-American upbringing and how men were supposed to be, how women were supposed to be and wives were supposed to be, he really loved Kay, much as Diane and Al really love each other or loved each other or probably will always love each other… I felt we were dealing with real things in the context of this romantic novel.”

- Francis Ford Coppola’s DVD commentary, (x)

“He would do it for his children, this boy and this girl that was all he had left of his marriage with Kay, which obviously meant a lot to him but which she basically pulled the plug on. She was not going to be married to a man who murdered people and stuff.”

“I saw what Michael had, and thereby understood what he had lost. He loved Kay, you know. Kay represented to him this dream that one day he would be out of it. He would have achieved the goal, which was to one day be totally legitimate. He had promised her that he would do that and somehow he was not quite able to just pull it off.”

- Francis Ford Coppola, (x)

@godfat-her

[lana-llama-in-pajamas]

Thick as blood sweet as milk

Chapter 5

The younger one tries to grab you via the paper hole. You jumped back almost ripping over your chair, the cat hissing and scratching at the arm the tar like blood leaking over the desk. The smell was fucking rancid so you held your breath and slammed the panic button before calling “Rex” you said almost vomiting from the shutter being able to cut off the arm rolling until being stopped by the radio.You grabbed your cat walking out of the office into the hallway to wait for the DDD. As usual they showed up exterminated and checked with you “my cat scratched at one of the arms, the severed arm is in the office” you pet her cleaning her paw with tissues “on it” a hazmat walked in to see it “their so aggressive right now” he commented placing it into a garbage can that could be locked then cleaning with an unknown chemical that cut through the blood like nothing, your old uniform from the past attack had to be thrown away, the black tar staining the fabrics. “You’re telling me” you sighed walking back in and waving to the others as they left. Soon the twins and the pilots came together and yes they were all them, you asked how it was and the girls giggled talking a little gossip and passed her a telegram “there’s a magazine party coming up you should come” Sel jumped up and down her heels clacking “calm down, but yeah you should totally go, you don’t have party dresses so we should go shopping” El smiled walking with her sister into the hall “oh and you can’t say no or we’ll drag you!” Sel yelled behind her faking an evil laugh making her sister cackle. You shook your head turning to the pilots, Steven held up his drunken father mumbling “I promise you it’s him, I don’t think dopples can get drunk and stupid enough to lose his hat in the wind” Steven passed both their papers gently fixing his grip on his dad “wow I have never been that drunk before” you laughed checking everything “yeah well, I don’t think girls can even drink that much. Smaller organs right?” He said, you nodded (ah, 1950s understanding of anatomy) “all seems ok, sleep well” you passed everything back to him “thank you miss, and we hope you sleep soon can’t have you getting ill on us” he winked walking off pulling his father with him.

The last resident was gauss. He was a reporter so you didn’t have much hope of him coming anytime soon, you decide to turn the radio to a music station singing along to the late night tunes.

Almost an hour of playing with the cat and singing and dancing you got caught off guard as you vibed singing 🎵 “you had plenty of it 19…22 and I had so much to give to youuu~ why don’t you do right like other men do~” 🎵 you spinned holding the now empty coffee “boo.” You jumped eyes almost popping out to see gauss. Soaking wet and pissed “oh! So sorry” you placed the cup down and grabbed his papers “don’t apologize, I like watching you dance and sing, you do it well doll” he said slicking back his wet hair, his shirt stuck to his skin showing no under shirt. You stared a little, why did a reporter have to be buff like that? He flexed a peck making you mentally die “don’t stare too long, the milkman might get jealous” he spoke lowly as if Francis was in the hall “how did you?” You asked not even bothering to finish “I see the way he looks at you at times” he chuckled “but no worries doll I got nothing for you I just like knowing the story” he flicked his press pass as you slid everything back “speaking of stories, why didn’t you get me anything when everyone else did?” You asked not wanting to sound greedy “what? I did I passed onto the milkman himself to give it to you, flowers and a hat”you were stunned. A gasp. Dumbfounded. You laughed a little realizing what happened that day. Francis was jealous of Gauss‘s gift because he was so caught off guard by everyone else . He threw it away. Then he flirts with you to feel and know he’s the one your into. “What a teenager!” You said randomly getting up and laughing more. Gauss was lost and a little upset “you didn’t receive it?” He said “no! Mosses threw it away!” You laughed holding yourself “he threw it away because he was jealous he was the only one without a gift!” Gauss couldn’t even believe Francis could blink let alone get jealous but he too started laughing “oh dear, I know i’m a little harsh around the edges. I have went to my own mama to help get you the gift.” He explained “well atleast you know I tried, it wasn’t an expensive hat anyways” he waved it off “what a ride tonight, one minute I’m interviewing a bunch of triple D officials the next I learned my emotionless robot neighbor gets jealous!” He laughed walking into the hall “goodnight doll, and tell ya boyfriend he owes me $10 for the gift he was soooo jealous of” he winked to you before disappearing.

You were still so distraught to even think the Francis that way, you can hear the pitter powder from the outside as you walked up the stairs finally ready to get to bed, but one did not leave your mind Francis did look at natcha with sad eyes so why was he getting jealous over you? You passed his door hearing music from it so you decided to knock the door. It just simply opened walking through without making noise, but you didn’t know why your were being quiet. An armchair and a couch and a lamp light. in living room all over a Persian rug was the scene in front of you. on the armchair was Francis. his house coat undone, showing his wife beater. His breathing was slow as he held a lit cigar in his hand, his record player playing the song that you couldn’t understand. 

He hummed along with his eyes closed, you sat on the couch listening to him…it was calming

The song repeated as he opened his eyes a little spooked to see you, he looked at his door which was wide open closing it and locking. He looked out the window, the rain starting to relax as he could see stars “y/n~” he hummed “y/n” “y/n” he sang squeezing your arm gently, you grunted eyes still closed, the cat popped up from behind the coach purring like crazy as he pet her “your such a loving thing” he cooed finally making you wake up, he smiled down at you having to kneel to meet your gaze on the couch. You looked up him lovingly in a hazy dream state holding your hands up for a hug, he happily holds you putting his forehead to yours “y/n this isn’t a dream” he whispered, his heart beating quickly as you hugged him closer “good morning” you whispered kissing him slowly, he froze but couldn’t help kissing back breathing in your scent. Finally let go pushing you back “please tell me your aware your actually kissing me” your eyes widened hearing him, your heart jumping “uh um well…..why’d you stop?” You were surprised you even said it but god now that you were fully awake you wanted it more “…I…” he was red looking down embarrassed, your position was a sight indeed. Your legs at either side of him, he was kneeling before you his arms wrapped around you, breathing in you pulled his face up kissing it lightly in sections make him breath a little harder “you smell so good, and your so soft…oh how I wished to hold you like this times over” he said almost reciting it like a poem, you blushed your head feeling like it moved on its own to kiss him deeper even holding his head in place, he tasted like whiskey and tobacco and you coffee. It felt like you kissed for hours but it was barely a few minutes, you separated looking away from other “this isn’t right” you got up walking to the window opening it to get some fresh air the rain droplets falling onto your hands “I’m sorry Francis it’s just.. I keep thinking this crazy theory” you put your face in your hands wanting to disappear from the situation “y/n, what’s going on?” He put his hand in your shoulders to face him “I don’t understand” you felt so bad. If you were wrong? Would he hate you? And if you were right you would feel like a harlot for preying on him. You looked away up at the stares preparing for either outcome “is Natasha yours?” You whispered the last part feeling him stiffen up. “….come sit.” He lead you to the couch again sitting in his armchair “…yes. Natasha is my daughter” there it was. Your heart sank and your hands grew cold “but. Natcha and me are on the terms that Natasha doesn’t need to know for now. And that natcha wishes to parent her alone.” He clarified holding your hand “you are not a home wrecker of any sort” he assured you “but how. How did it happen?” You asked thinking they were married or school sweethearts or anything “that’s a….sad story, but I will tell you” he poured you a shot and sat back changing the record to play a different song

“You see, those funny inappropriate jokes about milk men are a little bit more true than you think” he grew uncomfortable and ashamed “I was 22…natcha was 30…she was married I was not.”he continued “ I just started the job and her house was on my route, we took to liking to each other…it was nice. Her husband was a banker and from what I remember he was swell, a nice older man never yelled or hurt her. The one thing he couldn’t give Natcha was children…so she started to flirt and I like the dumb horny kid I was I went along. She wasn’t looking for a way out y/n she just wanted a child, after a year she was pregnant and didn’t even tell me until her 3rd trimester! She even showed me the divorce papers! I thought I was becoming a father, figures out I was just a means to an end….her husband did infact try and kill me too but thankfully I was stronger and faster. And she disappeared…I didn’t even know what my child was….i learned only 3 years ago her name was Natasha.” Francis held his temple holding back his tears composing himself. You weren’t even able to react processing all the information, atleast you had an answer. Yes. Natasha was Francis’s child and he was an absent father, but not by choice at face value “ when I moved into this apartment, I didn’t even know she was here. It was like they wanted me to see my child.” Francis finally let a tear roll “I thank god anytime Natasha chooses to talk to me, but I do feel sour towards Natcha to this day” he sighed “ i’m sorry for what she did to you. If she did ask you to be the father would you have married her?”

There was a pause.

“Now? No. Back then….maybe. You have to understand she’s the type of person where she will get what she wants and that is it. I don’t see her as evil, but I do see it as callous.” He explained sipping his drink “but know I have fallen in love with you in a way I haven’t felt in a long time y/n. I feel like a little boy again leaving wild flowers on a desk” he was very poetic when he spoke long enough and you could now fully understand why natcha would want him if not only for child bearing “you are?” You gulped “yes.” He kneeled before you again waiting on you to accept his touch, you pulled his hands towards you “I’m in love with you too I believe” you looked down “but your so elusive” he smiled holding your chin up “I’m a book, simply open and read” you let out a simple smile “where are you from?” “Russia” “born?” “No, but my parents were, the red scare is understandable if not slightly hurtful” he explained “I can speak it too” “how old are you?” “33” “favorite color?” “Red, ironically” “can I sleep here tonight?” He smiled at that question kissing you quick “of course my love”

Here you were (fucking finally) showered and in a big shirt cuddling against Francis, him kissing you gently randomly making you gleam. He held you so close it felt like he wanted to become one physically, you kissed back both of you acting like puppy’s in love.

You slept peacefully that night

By the wayyy send suggestions for the cat’s name and breed! I’ll do a poll before the next chapter

[cirilla-fiona-riannon]

Birthday Event: Francis Drake

Translations may not always capture the exact nuances or tone of the original text. Expect grammatical errors and inaccuracies.

Not proofread. Rush translation.

(Drake's POV)

I took Mitsuki's hand and stepped onto the dance floor.

The band began to play the next song, and we moved to the rhythm.

(Is my little fawn distracted?)

Is she concerned about Napoleon and Comte's conversation?

Mitsuki: "Hey, Drake. About what you wanted for your birthday..."

Mitsuki: "Is it me, all dressed up nicely like this?"

(She figured it out that far, huh?)

Drake: "Hmm, you're kind of right."

Mitsuki: "Kind of? What do you—whoa!"

I lifted her delicate body and twirled her around.

Drake: "The answer will have to wait. For now, how about we enjoy this dance, little fawn?"

I was keeping the secret, but I wanted her to get lost in this moment.

(And smile for me.)

Mitsuki: "Yeah, you're right. Let's enjoy it to the fullest!"

She regained her composure and looked at me with sparkling eyes.

As I found myself drawn into those beautiful eyes—

Mitsuki: "Hehe. I'm so happy."

Drake: "----!"

(Mitsuki has smiled so many times today, but...)

Drake: "That smile right now is perfect!"

Her carefree, natural smile made me laugh from the bottom of my heart.

After finishing our dance, we returned to Napoleon and Comte.

Mitsuki: "Wait, Drake! I still haven't given you your birthday present!"

Drake: "I already got it while we were dancing."

Mitsuki: "What?!"

(That confused look on her face is so cute.)

Feeling satisfied, I decided to reveal everything.

Drake: "What I wanted was something only you could give me. And it’s something I wanted to earn for myself."

Mitsuki: "What is it?"

Drake: "Your brightest, most beautiful smile."

Drake: "I purposely kept it a secret and asked you to spend the whole day with me because I wanted no one else but me to make you happy and bring out your best smile."

Drake: "Well, the pudding was a bit of a flop, and you just seemed surprised by the dress."

I'm not used to making sweets, and parties aren't really my thing, but...

(If it meant Mitsuki would be even a little happy, I didn't care about being out of character.)

(If I were being honest, I'd prefer to just whisk her away.)

Mitsuki: "Honestly, it feels like you're always spoiling me."

Mitsuki: "But how did Napoleon and Comte know about this?"

Drake: "Oh, that's because..."

------------Flashback-----------

Drake: "So, that's how it went. I'll be taking care of Mitsuki."

After promising Mitsuki that we'd spend my birthday together, I went to inform the head of the mansion.

I found Comte leisurely reading a book in the garden.

Comte: "Yeah, Mitsuki mentioned it to me as well."

Comte: "But you've become quite the polite pirate, coming all the way here just to ask for permission."

Drake: "I'm just showing my respect, that's all."

Napoleon: "Not a bad mindset, don't you think?"

Napoleon joined in on the conversation.

Napoleon: "You've hurt Mitsuki in the past, so it's good you're being careful."

Drake: "Yeah, yeah, I haven't forgotten about it."

After hitting me where it hurts, Napoleon changed the topic.

Napoleon: "Speaking of Mitsuki, she was all fired up about finding out what you wanted for your birthday."

Drake: "Yeah, I kept it a secret and told her to try guessing."

Napoleon: "A secret, huh?"

Napoleon: "But isn't there really only one thing you want?"

Comte: "Your lover, right?"

Maybe it's because we're all men, but they easily saw right through my secret.

Drake: "Spot on. But that's not all."

Drake: "What I really want is Mitsuki's happiest smile."

Drake: "That's why, for my birthday, I'm going to spend the whole day making her as happy as possible."

(Like taking her out for good food or showing her beautiful scenery. I bet Mitsuki would love that.)

Just imagining it filled me with excitement, making me smile.

But Napoleon and Comte exchanged glances and grins mischievously.

Comte: "Do you think it will go that smoothly?"

Drake: "Huh?"

Comte: "Making a woman genuinely happy isn't exactly easy."

Comte: "Although we've seen her smile ourselves."

Napoleon: "We've shared many experiences with her since living together."

Comte: "Not long ago, she smiled when I gave her a dress."

Drake: "Wait, a dress?"

Napoleon: "It'll be interesting to see if you can surpass the smiles she's shown us."

(I can tell they're enjoying this.)

Their tone was clearly teasing, but beneath their sharp gazes

(There's a hint of seriousness there.)

Drake: "Are you provoking me because I stole your princess?"

Comte: "It’s only natural to assess the worth of the man who has taken someone we care about."

Comte: "As Napoleon mentioned, you've made mistakes before."

(Worth, huh?)

I'm not one to get overly defensive, but having them hold some kind of upper hand over me when it comes to Mitsuki doesn't sit well.

So...

(Fine, I'll take you up on that challenge.)

Drake: "I declare it now. I'll be the one to bring out Mitsuki's brightest smile."

Drake: "And as for that favorite dress of hers, I'll outshine it myself."

Napoleon: "Heh, this just got interesting."

Comte: "There's a social party coming up on September 7."

Comte: "I'll arrange the invitations, so you should attend with her. Let's see how you will do."

Drake: "Thanks. You can count on it."

Comte: "I'm looking forward to seeing Mitsuki's best smile."

After that, I tried making pudding and secretly took her measurements to order a custom dress.

I did unusual things for her, all for the sake of making her happy.

(I feel like I'm being played, but I can't back down when it comes to the woman I love.)

---------Flashback Ends--------

Drake: "It wouldn't make sense if you found out. Sorry for keeping it all secret."

Mitsuki: "No, it's fine because..."

Drake: "Fawn?"

Mitsuki: "Pffft, ahaha!"

She burst into laughter, clearly amused by something.

Mitsuki: "Sorry, I think you just replaced the best smile I've ever had."

Mitsuki: "I mean you really competed with everyone in the mansion?"

Well, to be honest, I was jealous.

Drake: "Yeah, I guess so. Kinda lame, huh?"

Mitsuki: "Not at all."

Mitsuki: "It just made me realize how much you care about me. That's why I'm incredibly happy right now!"

Drake: "----!"

The smile Mitsuki showed during the dance was the best I'd ever seen.

But just moments ago, and even now, it keeps getting even better.

(It's nice to do something that makes her happy, but I never thought it was this simple.)

The source of her smile was my feelings for her.

Drake: "Geez, you really have the best smile."

Drake: "If even my less-than-cool moments make you happy, I'm totally fine with it."

(I'm kinda embarrassed by how childish and immature I get because of love.)

(Feeling this way and making her happy is the best thing ever.)

Mitsuki: "I think I'll be able to keep making the best smiles thanks to you, Drake."

Mitsuki: "I'll be happy if my smile makes you happy too."

Mitsuki: "Will you accept my birthday present?"

She smiled as if offering her whole heart.

I gently took her delicate hand.

Drake: "Yes, Your Majesty. My happiness is with you."

I'm sure right now, my smile is the best it can be.

After that, the clock hands passed midnight.

Drake: "Mitsuki."

I brought Mitsuki back to the mansion, but it seems there's no one else around tonight.

Unable to ignore her inviting gaze, I led her into my old room.

Mitsuki: "Mnn... Ah... Francis..."

As I sat her on my lap on the bed and kissed her, her sweet, expectant moans escaped between our entwined tongues, gradually eroding my self-control.

Drake: "Even though I had plenty of you yesterday, I still want you."

Mitsuki: "I feel the same."

(She's making that kind of face.)

She blushed and looked away, probably aware she was being bold right now.

I looked up at her as I slid the dress off her shoulders and placed my chin on her breasts, pushed up by the corset.

Drake: "I love your smile, but I also love the embarrassed look you make when we're doing things like this."

Mitsuki: "….…"

As our gazes locked, Mitsuki took a sharp breath.

(Tonight, I'll pleasure you in my own way.)

Part 1 ╎ Part 2 ╎ Premium ╎ Epilogue

[ya-what--ya-erster]

Goodbye Don't Last Forever

Javey. Kind of funny ngl. Enjoy.

David Jacobs was eighteen and newly graduated when his girlfriend, Francis Sullivan, left for Santa Fe, leaving no goodbye and no way to contact her.

David went crazy when she left. He loved her and she left without a word to him. He made some stupid (but not too regrettable) decisions in the time after. Dyed his dirty blonde hair a dark shade of brown. Started wearing his glasses again. Went outside only when required (as in almost never). Stopped talking to many of his friends.

Only two of the habits died, and fortunately it was those last two. He found himself to be pretty fine within a few months of her being gone.

Six years later, David Jacobs was 24 years old and getting a new roommate.

"Hi, are you David?" A confident voice came from behind him.

He turned to face- woah he's hot- the person asking the question.

"Yeah, yes, that's me. David Jacobs. Hi."

The man smiled and held out a hand to shake.

"Jack Kelly."

Those eyes... that handshake. So familiar. But the familiarity was out of reach in David's mind.

So he stood up a little straighter, smiled back, and said, "Nice to meet you in person finally. I mean I trusted Albert enough to not find me a serial killer roommate but... I feel very assured now, haha..."

"I won't kill ya, Davey."

Davey...

"Good to know. Same here. Do you need help taking anything up?"

Jack shook his head. "All I's got is this." He nodded to a moderately sized suitcase that he was gripping.

"Oh. Sorry, I didn't-"

"It's nothing, Dave. I just had to leave kinda quickly and didn't have much anyways."

"Well, uh. Let me uh... I guess, follow me?"

...

David was down bad for his roommate. And, down bad as in like, Taylor Swift "if I can't have him/I might just die it would make no difference."

Something about him, Jack, felt so familiar in all the most wonderful ways. His smile was a smile David felt like he had seen dozens of times.

David wanted to know why. He wanted to know why this boy felt so natural in the environment. Why he seemed to be the missing piece in David's life.

He was going to find out.

Not today though, he decided, when Jack entered the apartment looking like he was about to burst into tears.

"Hey, are you okay?" David asked slowly.

Jack nodded stiffly, putting his head down and throwing his bag and coat to the floor.

"Jack, you look sad."

"I'm fine."

"Jack."

"I ain't- you don't gotta be all in my business." Jack was heading to his tiny bedroom, so David grabbed his arm to stop him.

"You can tell me, you know?"

Jack leaned forward, hugging David, beginning to cry.

"Woah, hey. Hey, it's alright, let it out..." David wished Jack would hug him more often, and not while crying.

Jack continued to cry for maybe three minutes, David didn't know exactly. What David did know is that when Jack made eye contact with him, he looked like he had done something horrible.

"I ain't a real boy, Dave."

David's heart could have shattered just then, hearing Jack sound so broken.

"What do you mean, you aren't a real boy?"

"I wasn't- I'm not- I am a boy. I know and promise that I am but I just- wasn't born that way and I feel like a fraud and I get sad sometimes."

"That's okay to be sad, Jack. But you're a boy, I know you are. If you say you're a boy, you're a boy. No, how old are you?"

"Twenty-four."

"Okay, Jack Kelly, you are no boy, you're a freakin' man."

Jack smiled a little, wiping his eyes dry.

"Thank ya, Davey."

...

David was having none of this "stay up until 3 AM painting" bullshit.

"Jack Kelly, you will start going to bed at a decent time or so help me-"

"I'm fine, Dave!" Jack defended himself.

"You drank four coffees today and three energy drinks. I don't even know how you're still alive!"

"Fine, fine. I will be in bed no later than midnight."

"Is that the best I'm gonna get?"

"Yup."

David sighed, deciding to give in.

"At least show me what you've been working on into the ungodly hours of the night?"

"Maybe someday." Jack smiled mysteriously and disappeared once again into his room.

David was not staring at his fine ass as he retreated. He wasn't.

...

"Davey, do you got any food?"

David was regretting getting a roommate but also enjoyed having someone around. He didn't appreciate having to buy random shit every other week because Jack had a craving and pretty much no money. (He spent his money on rent and art supplies, which David didn't mind because his apartment was cheaper and Jack's art was amazing.)

"We have fruit snacks and spaghetti-o's if that qualifies as food. We might also have a banana."

Jack strolled into the kitchen area after David's previous statement and pulled out a packet of fruit snacks, a can of spaghetti-o's, and the blender.

"What the fuck are you doing?" David asked, shocked and amused all at once.

"I'm making me some dinner, you want some?"

"Jack, there is no way in Hell you are going to eat- drink spaghetti-o's and fruit snacks put through the blender. It's gonna be terrible."

"Actually, no it isn't. My old friend dared me to do it and it actually tastes good."

David had a brief memory flash through his mind.

"Francis! I dare you to put the two most different things you can think of in the blender and then drink it." Race shouted.

"Okay, I'll do it." Francis smiled that daredevil smile of hers and got started. Spaghetti-o's and fruit snacks.

When it was complete, Francis took a long drink.

"Wow. That's actually not terrible."

"Davey, you good?"

David nodded. "Sorry, just. You just reminded me of something."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. Ex-girlfriend."

"Thought you said you're gay?"

"She kind of helped me out on discovering that."

"Well. That's nice of her. How so?"

"Uh. It's a long story."

"I bet I can handle it. Besides, I have an abomination to drink. I'll listen."

"Oh. Okay. Well. Basically, she decided she was going to Santa Fe and wasn't going to, you know, say goodbye to me or anyone. And I spent a long time angry and then realized I didn't really miss her romantically at all and just was pissed, and then me and my friend Albert accidentally fucked when we were drunk and I was like 'wow that's allowed?' and anyways uh Al and I aren't and weren't interested in each other at all, we were just drunk like I said, but then it all made sense why I wasn't like, sad over the 'love of my life' leaving because it was just a high school girlfriend and I'm not even into girls. So I'm not even mad at her anymore really I'm just gay and confused and I've talked a lot now sorry."

David looked up at Jack for a reaction. He was wearing this face... David could not name the emotion.

"What was her name?"

Huh. Weird question.

"Why?"

"Well, I was just wonderin' if maybe I met her, since I's come here from Santa Fe and all."

"Oh. Yeah, uh. Her name's Francis Sullivan."

"Have a picture?"

"Yeah, one sec." David scrolled through his phone's camera roll until he found her. "Here."

The picture made Jack frown, and David kind of would have done anything to make him smile again.

"You know her?" David asked.

"Yeah, uh. I knew her."

David's heart sped up.

"Really? Is she doing okay? Is she alright? Do you know where she lives, cause I might need to go-"

"Davey. Stop."

"What?"

"You can't exactly go visit her."

"Why not?"

Jack seemed to be looking inside himself instead of at David when he spoke.

"She was... the real depressed type, Dave. Always sad. She never smiled, I don't think. She was in a real bad state of mind."

"What're you-"

"She ain't alive no more."

Everything stopped in David's head.

"What?"

"I'm real sorry, Dave. She just ain't... But I'm here."

"What's that supposed to mean? 'You're here?'"

Jack hesitated before opening his mouth. "She didn't exactly... die the way you're thinking. She, uh. She just... more... changed? She ain't Francis anymore. She cut her hair and went on T and got top surgery and goes by a boy's name now, and he/him. So, uh, tellin' ya she died was probably not the brightest idea but that was an in-the-moment decision."

"Good for him. What does that have to do with you being here?"

Jack made absolute eye contact with David, wondering how he could be so fucking stupid, and held it. Held it as he crossed the room and held it up until the moment he pulled David into a hug.

"I'm sorry for leavin' you. I just had ta get away."

David jerked away from Jack in a quick movement.

"You? You're... You- I can't-" David's brain was moving too quickly and all he could think to do was punch Jack in the face as hard as humanly possible.

Which he did.

"Son of a bitch- Dave! I only told ya cause I thought you said ya weren't mad anymore!"

"Yeah, well. Now I am, asshole. You... You deep friend burnt-ass dino nugget dickhead. You absolute.... I can't even. How dare you? I fucking loved you, yes even if I'm gay now, and you, you just ran the fuck off and never bothered contacting me for six years. I would have understood if you needed to leave, needed to leave me, needed... whatever. I would have given you your space. I hate you."

Jack looked hurt. It made David feel good. All that pain he went through and it was being passed on.

"Davey-"

"David."

"Right, sorry. David. I'm really sorry. I don't- I never meant ta hurt you. To be honest, I thought you'd be glad if I left and never came back."

David felt less good.

"I just- I wanted to feel like I could be free. It didn't really... go as planned. Because I just realized I wanted to come back. Mostly for you."

David didn't stop to think. David just kissed Jack like he was hungry for it.

"I fucking hate you." He said, pulling away.

"No you don't."

"Don't test your luck."

A small moment of touching silence passed.

"So..." Jack started. "You slept with Al?"

"Now I actually do hate you. Get out, I'm calling him. Maybe he'll be nice to me."

"Davey... I love you. I always did."

"I'm... good to know. I can't- I'm still mad, bitch."

Jack just laughed, and he knew right then that it would all be fine.

A/N: hope y'all liked it :) It'll be on ao3 asap

[cillianmesoftlyyy]

In Love, in War Pt. 4 | Thomas Shelby x Reader

Summary | Thomas Shelby is heading back to his unit at the front with one more wound to soothe. They hated each other and then they loved each other but its understandable that things can change rapidly under such disastrous conditions. What can their love withstand?

Warnings | Death, Gore, Blood, and severe injuries.

Come Tomorrow- Peter Bradley Adams 🎵

Bullet With Butterfly Wings- The Smashing Pumpkins 🎶

Word count: 1713k

Not proof read- my b, folks!

“Wake up, nurse.” She heard him whisper against her ear. She stretched and breathed in Thomas’ dark, heavy scent. When she opened her eyes, the tent was full of light, breaking in through the slits in the canvas. He was dressed and had her clothes in his hands. 

“Are we leaving now?” She asked sleepily and he nodded. 

“I have to get back to the infirmary before they mark me down as a deserter.” 

She sat up and let him button her blouse and fix her black stockings before he pulled on her skirt. He buckled her shoes while she combed her fingers through her hair and tied the warm shawl around her head. Thomas pulled a curl out from under the shawl and kissed her softly. 

“Let’s go.” He pulled her to her feet and they left the tent, hand in hand, hurrying back to the infirmary before the shifts switched. The nurse in the infirmary had fallen asleep and didn’t notice when Thomas snuck back in, sticky with sweat from the night before. 

“I leave at 2 o’clock. Will I see you?” He asked quickly from his bed. 

“I’ll come to say goodbye, I promise.” She smiled and kissed him again. Pulling away from him, she left the tent and went back into her’s, careful to not wake any of her roommates. She washed her face and returned her cap to her head and her apron around her uniform. In the mirror she saw a happy woman, a woman in-love. She blushed at her own reflection and left once again to prepare for her shift in the hospital tent.

The morning was wet and arid, pushing and pulling clouds of fog along the campsite. She washed her hands, scrubbing soap beneath her fingernails and along the curvature of her wrist bone. She followed one of the doctors like his shadow and helped as he removed a dented bronze bullet from a patient's thigh. A second nurse held a cloth doused with chloroform briefly under the soldier’s nose and he fell immediately into unconsciousness. She watched the clock with anxiety, despising it for running so fast and sending Thomas back to the hell he’d just escaped from. Another round of screaming entered the tent and a nurse tugged on her apron. 

“We need one more set of hands on this one.” She pulled her away and led her to one of the operation tables. The man was covered in blood, so rich and dark that she couldn’t make out the man beneath it. 

“Oh, God.” She whispered beneath her breath. 

“Don’t just stand there, girl! We need chloroform and gauze now!” The doctor yelled and she brought over the chloroform to put the patient to sleep. As she rounded the table’s edge, she was able to just make out the bright blue eyes, wide in terror and pain, staring straight at her like the bull’s eye of a target. 

“Francis?” She whispered, completely removed from the scene around her. The man stared back and thrashed about, but his eyes stayed on her’s. He screamed and grabbed his stomach that was bleeding heavily over the side of the table, onto the ground. She gasped and stumbled into a nurse. 

“Get a hold of her!” The doctor yelled over the patient, his hands matted with Francis’ blood.

“I think she knows him, sir.” The nurse behind her yelled back over the noise, clutching beneath her arm and holding her above the ground. 

“Then get her out of here if she isn’t going to help!” He returned to the table and she watched in horror as he shoved her fiance’s internal organs back into the pouch of his stomach.  

“Francis!” She screamed with a blood-curdling cry before she fainted, her world growing black and still like a winter night. 

The nurse left her on the ground and hurried to the table to assist the doctor as he restored the man’s organs into his abdomen. A second nurse covered his nose with chloroform and he slipped painfully into sleep. They cleaned the gaping wound and stitched him up with their slippery hands. Someone came running with blood bags and connected Francis to a tube. He was deathly pale and so was she. They laid together in mutual unconsciousness as the war of medicine was waged around them. After they had wiped the blood from Francis’ body, they moved her too, lying her out on the cot in her tent. One of her roommates held a bottle of whisky beneath her nose until she awoke with a snap. 

“Where am I?” She panicked, twisting around to orient herself. 

“You’re in our tent. You fainted…” One of her friends, Brooklyn, explained gently. 

“I fainted?” She shook her head, rubbing her eyes with her dirty hands. She tried to sit up but Avonlee coaxed her back down. 

“Don’t get up yet, you’ve had quite a fright and you need to rest.” Brooklyn held her hand and gave it a squeeze. 

She stared up at them for a while, trying to remember what had preceded her faint. She thought through the bad dreams she’d just had and in a horrible second, she realized it hadn’t been a nightmare. She gasped and tugged at Brooklyn’s uniform. 

“Oh my God! Oh my God! Where’s Francis? Is he alive? Was it actually him? I thought he was dead! It couldn’t be him!” She sobbed into her friend’s chest. 

“He didn’t have his dog tags so we don’t know exactly who he is. All we know is that you called him Francis before you fainted.”

“And is he alright?” She urged, crying helplessly and overwhelmed. 

“They stopped the bleeding but the doctor isn’t sure if he’ll live through the night.” Avonlee frowned. “I’m so sorry.” 

“I need to see him. Please help me see him!” She cried and her friends nodded. 

“Of course but you shouldn’t be walking yet. You were out for almost two hours.” Brooklyn pleaded with her but it was no use. 

“No, I need to see him. I need to see Franics, please!” She sobbed angrily into the cot until Avonlee pulled her up. The two girls carried her, her arms strung over their shoulders. She could walk but her strength was limited. She stumbled across the camp to the infirmary tent where the nurse on duty directed them to a bed behind a sliding screen. 

“His injuries were so bad, we thought it best to keep it away from the other men.” The nurse said awkwardly to Avonlee. 

She pushed aside the curtain and paused at the doorway, frozen in her place as she looked down on the man who was supposed to be dead. He was tucked tightly into the cot, his hands wrapped in mittens to keep him from clawing at the stitches. He looked deathly pale and, quite honestly, dead. She released a shaky breath and went to his side, collapsing in the chair by his head. He still had a youthful charm to his face, though wrinkled from war. He wasn’t as she remembered him and it made her desperately sad. She pushed a lock of blood-dyed hair from his face, needing to confirm that he was real, that his body was truly there. 

“He was supposed to be dead.” She heard herself say again. 

“So it's Francis then?” Brooklyn asked quietly. 

“Yes… Francis Gild Jr. from Birmingham, England,” she said slowly. “I have to write to his father.” She looked down at his stomach, wrapped in layers of stiff gauze. 

“I can do it if that’s easier.” Avonlee offered and she nodded distractedly. 

“Yes, you’ll have to explain to him… Francis is alive.” She shook her head and crumbled into tears, they fell onto her skirt like droplets of warm summer rain. “Oh God, he’s alive. This whole time, he’s been alive. Poor Francis!” She wailed quietly to herself, almost incoherent. 

“We’ll leave you.” Brooklyn announced and hurried the other nurses away and pulled the curtain closed. 

She laid her hand palm down on his chest, feeling his heartbeat and dissolving into tears again. 

“Damn you, Francis,” she whispered. “I grieved you. I was your widow. I-I oh God!” She gasped, remembering Thomas and her promise to say goodbye. She jumped up and rushed through the curtain, grabbing a hold of the nurse on duty. 

“Has the transport back left yet? What time is it?” She panted, tears staining her cheeks. 

“It’s 2:15. They’re leaving now. You could still catch them if you tried but I really don’t think you’re in a condition to run.” The nurse tried to reason with her but she shook her head. 

“No, no- I need to go. I’ll be back. Please watch Francis for me.” She called over her shoulder and ran joltingly across the camp. The trucks taking men back were at the security checkpoint and she ran as quickly as she could across the drying mud to the spot. Mud flew up in dry clunks, hurting her eyes and making more tears swell in between her eyelashes. She could see the small gate and security post as she weaved between the tents. As she stumbled upon the gate, she saw the open-back trucks pull away. 

“Thomas!” She screamed against the wind. “Thomas Shelby!” She screamed again. The men in the trucks leaned over in their rows to look out. She tried to get through the gate but an armed soldier held her back and she was too weak to resist. 

“Shelby!” She screamed against her sobs. 

“They’re gone, nurse.” The soldier tried to calm her. 

“No! He must know that I came to say goodbye! I promised!” She pulled on his jacket’s lapels. “He’ll never forgive me…” 

In the far distance, a man with black hair stood in the truck, a stolen cigarette between his pink lips burned. He watched the scene at the gate with narrowed eyes, anger and disappointment burning inside him. She looked like a nun, her habit dancing widely in the wind, but the large red cross on her chest gave her away. Another man pulled him down and he crashed into the seat with an echoing thud. 

“Who was that?” One man asked him and Thomas sniffed. 

“I don’t know.”

.....................

End of pt. 4 :)

[wexhappyxfew]

folklore or whatnot

(a/n): for a month or two now, i've had three to four pages where i have blurb ideas just sitting in my drafts with no home or no direction, so now i've decided to utilize those pieces and do a little something with them for the silver bullets girls! AND! can happily say this snippet that i started with gets to see the light of day! early annie x brady mentions for anyone interested (i know we have the annie x brady girlies out there hehe), along with more of co-pilot francis montez (whom i wanted to do more writing for!), so please enjoy!! <3 note: LOTS more info regarding cpt birdie faulkner!! woo!

It had actually been Francis Montez that convinced her that she deserved to head out to the local pub that a good portion of the men from the 100th went on nights where they didn't have to stay on base.

Annie had considered the fact that Francis was actually coming around in more ways than one; after Annie's first successful mission aboard Silver Bullets, commanding their crew, from take-off, dropping the bombs and landing, Francis had turned to her in the cockpit and given her a firm look, with a smile itching at the corner of her lips. And ever since, Francis seemed to be making a more conscious effort to be around Annie. Whether it was because Francis was missing Captain Faulkner or was recognizing Annie's capabilities to command a flying fort, Annie appreciated it in more ways than one.

So, when Francis had come up to her mid-afternoon, as they were all stood around after a practice run, she had off-handedly mentioned the pub, and offered Annie to come along with them, "You don't realize how much you need something like that until you're there." Francis had promised. A majority of the girls were dispersed throughout the pub for the most part, huddled around tables with other men from the 100th or at dart boards, or taking a smoke break outside. It seemed everyone had their spots and positions and it was only Annie who felt out of place.

A replacement command pilot was enough of a set of shoes to fill, not even to mention what the reciprocation would ultimately be like.

"You want a beer?" Francis asked her as they stood side by side in the entrance. Annie felt a bit bad - Francis was clearly comfortable and used to this environment and Annie was holding her back a bit. Annie looked up at her co-pilot and nodded firmly, hiding the bit of hesitancy that was for sure living in her eyes.

"Sure." Francis nodded her head towards the bar.

"They're usually warm so…" Francis started, glancing her way with a small smile, "don't feel bad if it tastes a little funky." Annie watched as Francis got two beers and then pushed the warm mug into her grasp.

The thing was, it wasn't the warm beer or the atmosphere or even the people - it was the thought of alcohol in her system. She never had really had a problem until she had joined up and wondered if she'd become like her mother. Drunk as a skunk on any chance she had, downing beer and cheap liquor while her 15-year-old daughter ran the house. Annie swallowed nervously looking at the beer and glanced back up at Francis, who was staring at her confusedly (and with good reason).

"You good, Bradshaw?"

"Fine." Annie answered quickly, pulling the mug up to take a small sip, which did taste a little funky, "Where do you usually sit?" Francis quirked out a smile and nodded over to a table where she could see enough names to know it was certainly an officer-heavy section.

"Birdie and I….." Francis started, the 'I' getting caught in her throat a bit, "we always sat with them. As officers, ya know? Buck always saved us seats." Annie watched her quietly.

"Past few times though…."

"Yeah." Annie offered, noticing the sudden emotion warping Francis' eyes, "Let's go, let's have a sit." Francis nodded to her slowly, before turning and leading the way.

Annie watched the back of Francis' head, her dark hair down and curled, as she expertly navigated the tables and people in the crowd all around. It was very natural for her all of this - while Annie felt more stiff-backed than she ever had. She was trying to get better with that.

But, ever since maintaining the control of Command Pilot, everything she did felt monumental as in, if she fucked up, it would reflect on her crew. If she said something on the wrong end of a note, it'd fall back on, you guessed it, her crew. Her girls. And she didn't want others thinking of Silver Bullets badly, nor the possible swirling idea that Lieutenant Bradshaw couldn't lead like Captain Faulkner could - that losing Captain Faulkner was the worst thing to happen, but clearly obtaining Lieutenant Bradshaw had been worse. No. Annie was determined to make her impressions and personally, she wanted to make them worthwhile.

She was command pilot for Silver Bullets for a reason.

Clearly someone trusted her.

"Boys." Francis said as she approached, rounding on the group, as Annie's eyes quickly darted about the table, picking up the likes of Majors like Cleven and Egan, along with navigators Crosby and Payne (he went by Bubbles though, she was sure Bessie had mentioned that). Kidd was also there, with Brady and DeMarco and a few others where her mind was going blank. A few British pilots sat opposite, evidently quite, almost brooding. Annie looked to Francis again, watching as a few of the men called out to her, before looking to Annie who was still stood, frozen, with a mug of warm beer in her grasp.

"Francis Montez, you actually made it out, huh!" one of the Lieutenants called from beside Cleven - the name was gone from her mind as she watched him clap Cleven on the back before standing and reaching out a hand, to shake Francis' before the two turned and he was bounding towards Annie.

"Hey, Lieutenant, uh…."

"Bradshaw." Annie said quickly, keeping her eyes on the man watching as he smiled at her, eyes lingering from the British, to the man to her, coming around the table and wrapping an arm around her shoulder.

"Bradshaw, I don't think we've met, Curt Biddick, it's a pleasure to see you here tonight, 'specially mingling with a few guys like us, huh?" Annie saw Brady roll his eyes, as Biddick let out a chuckle, "I'm just joking with youse, I swear. Look, I'll buy you a drink-"

"Curt, do you really gotta do shit like that?" Francis said, pulling him from beside her, and bumping his shoulder, "Instead of a drink, how 'bout you offer her a seat, huh?"

"I think that's a great idea," Major Cleven offered as he stood from his, nodding to his spot between where Biddick had been and Major Egan who looked up at her with a wide grin, "Have a seat, Bradshaw." Annie looked to Major Cleven and nodded slowly to him.

"Thank you, sir." she said, stepping forward and settling herself into the seat, Cleven turning and grabbing another chair to pull up on her other side as DeMarco pulled in a chair for Francis and she settled between him and Major Egan. With almost the comfort of the men of the 100th around her, looking forward and seeing the British still watching her, quiet and contemplating, she felt slightly out of place under their stares. But, she was here for a reason, among ranking officers in the American Air Force.

"So," one of the British pilots - RAF possibly, RAF definitely - said leaning forward, care to introduce us to your new friend." The group sort of went…quiet if that was the word for it, "What happened to the other one? Too much to handle? Flying in broad daylight, huh?" Annie noticed Major Egan leaning back in his chair, looking ready to pounce himself across the table, and took it as her opportunity to intervene before someone said something they'd regret.

"1st Lieutenant Annie Bradshaw of the 100th. I'm Command Pilot for Silver Bullets, B-17. 418th." Annie said with a nod, "Captain Faulkner died on impact on a mission a month ago. I got the call and was beyond honored to fill those shoes." Looking at the British as she finished speaking, she reveled in the silence and sipped at her beer and then placed it back down on the damp wood of the table.

"So, no, not at all too much to handle," Annie said, tapping her fingers on the glass and offering a smile, "I just have the intention to do what I can for the bombing crew now and show I deserve to be here. Just like the rest of us. With a greater focus on the cause; winning the war."

"We all have our call to arms that we're answering to," Francis offered in, leaning forward against the table, "and people die every, damn, day, so I would offer you to reconsider any other thoughts towards Lieutenant Bradshaw while you sit here, okay?" The group fell into silence for a moment, as Annie looked to Francis who offered her a smirk and a wink.

Leave it to the co-pilot to have the command pilot's back; Annie made a mental note in her brain for that one.

"She's one of the best. Seen her fly myself." Brady supplied in the silence that had festered, and the whole table, Annie included looked towards him and he sent his eyes flickering around and offered her a nod. People started looking away and at each other, but she held Brady's gaze and offered a small smile in his direction. He didn't look away.

Brady's gaze was intense to say the least, but there was something in her to where she couldn't look away - offering up his own compliments in her own favor because the British had a bone to pick? She could feel the tops of her cheeks turning crimson and focused back on the beer in her grasp, attempting to forget about Brady's gaze that was evidently still on her.

"Silver Bullets, what a charming name," one of the British on the left said, "and that means….?"

"A single, tactile thing that can essentially be a game-changer, changes tides, send waves," Annie supplied quickly, looking up from her beer in record time, " I never got to meet Captain Faulkner but Lieutenant Carlisle told me that Faulkner named the fort herself. Folklore or whatnot."

"Basically means that the more you stop asking stupid questions, the more you won't have to dig yourself into a deeper hole, 'lright?" Major Egan said leaning forward, "Now, how about you all and your British manners give some respect to the lady, okay?"

"Bucky-" DeMarco started, but Major Egan held up a hand.

"Nah, nah, nah, I'm not done yet," Major Egan said and pointed a finger at her, "Lieutenant Bradshaw stood up to the challenge and took it like taking a bull by the horns, what the hell is your prob-"

"Gentlemen," Crosby said intervening, turning to the British pilots, "it's a pleasure really, but Lieutenant Bradshaw has fortified herself as an incredibly pivotal command pilot in the 100th. I mean, if you really need a visual for…such poor eyesight…feel free to come to Thorpe Abbotts any day of the week and she could probably rattle off a tour of Silver Bullets herself and fly you to France and back without breaking a sweat."

"Yeah, yeah, Crosby, thank you, yeah," Bucky said, leaning forward, "if you really thinking taking a few jabs at one of our command pilots I think-"

"I've never seen someone fly with such cool, calm, collected confidence that I have to practically reach over and make sure she's alive," Francis interjected, casting a glance at Annie, her gaze firm, as she looked back to the British, "anyone could die any given time or day. And Captain Faulkner happened to be in the crossfire. But Lieutenant Bradshaw has stepped up to the plate-"

"And hit a fucking grand slam-"

"Sir," Francis said glancing at Major Egan who held up his hands in mock protest, "if you have sort of questioning about Lieutenant Bradshaw and her confidentiality in a B-17, you can happily talk to me day or night - preferably night, but I know you do your runs then. Damn shame." The British sat in stunned silence. "So, please, feel free, but I assure you that Lieutenant Bradshaw is doing what she must and Captain Faulkner is rolling over in her grave knowing you're talking to her like this." More stunned silence. Biddick let out a low whistle as Major Egan leaned back and wrapped his arms around the backs of both her and Francis' chairs.

"Well, gentlemen, you just got bested by one of the best damn co-pilots in all the 100th," Major Egan said with a dry chuckle afterwards, "c'mon, what do you gotta say for yourselves, huh?" The British pilots continued to sit in an uneasy silence.

"Right." Major Cleven said, butting in quietly, as he laced his fingers together and nodded to the group, "Thanks for the drinks tonight, gentlemen." Major Cleven nodded to the RAF pilots, who began to protest as the group started to stand, Major Egan urging Annie to stand to her feet with her beer as she glanced back at the RAF pilots - stunned into silence and the sudden realization of having to pay for 6 to 7 drinks at their disposal.

Annie blindly followed behind Major Egan's bobbing head until the group had started to settle at a new table, away from that of the RAF pilots, whom Annie had taken a glance back to and who were slowly standing, adjusting themselves and muttering amongst one another.

"Last time I hear about their shit with Silver Bullets," Major Egan said from beside her as she settled into the open chair beside him, glancing up at the table and eyeing Francis, who was a few chairs down and nodding to her (which brought Annie a greater comfort than she could imagine), "Birdie used to sock 'em in the mouth with what she'd tell 'em. You could do that, but you're fucking eloquent with it, Bradshaw, so, they might've lost it if we kept at it." Annie glanced up at Major Egan as his sipped his beer again.

"They always got a comment," DeMarco muttered from across the table as he pulled his cigarette off his lip and glanced at Annie, "you get used to it, but it don't mean that it doesn't annoy the shit outta the rest of us. They went after Silver Bullets all the time. And they damn-well knew what it meant to."

"Birdie just never actually told them what it meant, ya know," Biddick offered with a grin and a nod, "she liked to mess with 'em all the time. Get in their heads, shit like that. She got 'em good. But, hey, you did much of the same so cheers to you, Bradshaw." Annie let out a small laugh and scratched behind her head.

"I'll be honest, I've been through enough higher order bullshit in my time and just didn't want to have to hear any sorta sob story from their mouths," Annie admitted honestly, earning a few chuckles from the table, "you get enough of that from back home. Didn't need it here to." A uniformed grouping of nods and agreements and 'Amen to that' echoed about, with people clinking glasses and smiling at her - and for a moment, she felt she won a bit of something deep in her being, for even just a statement like that.

Annie slowly glanced to her left and found Brady there - their few conversations hadn't been anything stellar, but he'd been nothing but kind to her after their first unexpected meeting together on the tarmac. She smiled at him, when she caught him watching her and she watched as his gaze subtly softened and he leaned toward her a bit as she opened her mouth to speak.

"Thanks for saying that. Back there." Annie said with a nod, as he grip on her beer became tighter, "You didn't have to, but I appreciated it." Brady watched her with a grin on his lips and nodded as he leaned towards her ear over the loudness of the group.

"You're a good pilot, Bradshaw," he said quietly and with a genuineness in his voice that it made her heart resound to even the mere compliment that anyone could give anytime of the week, "and you get sick of hearing their comments on what a whole other crew is doing with their flying and all. You handled them well, in my opinion." He leaned back from her and nodded to her with a small smile, his eyes glowing. She watched him and then found her smile again and smiled back.

"Thanks." she said with a nod, and he grinned wider at her, "If you don't mind my asking, they said…much of the same to Birdie?" Brady nodded quickly, sipping his beer again before looking at her (in that damn good looking uniform of his that would make a rock look stellar she thought), and turning his body towards her in the chair.

"All the time." Brady said, "'Course she had us, we didn't let the Brits get all their jeering out that they wanted, but Birdie held her own, and she usually would get them pretty good. Had them practically squirming in their seats. It's a bit of a treat sometimes, ya know?" Annie smiled at the thought and sent a glance to Francis, who was engaged in a serious looking conversation with Biddick and Kidd.

"And Francis?" Brady smiled at her.

"Francis always gets her digs in, they must be learning to suspect it at this point, but they should've played better when you were sitting there. They know how we all are at this point and you're no different. New ranking officer or not, we don't let shit like that slide." Brady affirmed to her and Annie smiled at him, with a look of thanks in her eyes. Brady watched her quietly for a moment as she seemed to soak in his words, before clearing his throat.

"What's this about some folklore, huh?" Brady asked her, almost innocently and sweetly enough that she looked up at him with a surprised chuckle.

"What?" Brady grinned as he leaned forward.

"Silver Bullets. Back there, you said it meant something…folklore or whatnot. What's that about?" Brady asked her, sipping his beer, "The most Birdie let on for us what that it was enough to kill us all or something like that." Annie watched him and broke into a rather loud chuckle and shook her head at him, before leaning against the table and sighing.

"Supposedly it killed werewolves, I don't know." Annie said, looking to his eyes, "You'd have better luck talking to Margie about all that though, she's into all that ghost sorta stuff." Brady let out a laugh at her words and nodded to her.

"I'll have to keep that in mind." Annie grinned.

Something about Lieutenant John Brady made her want to keep talking to him - his quiet confidence and inviting nature made her insides feel warm and almost curious to know more about himself, his story, him. She didn't have a lot of people like that back home - being young and taking care of an army of siblings who had practically been ready to call her 'Mom' instead of 'Sister' was traumatizing enough, not to even mention her lack of schooling or social outing.

Annie slowly sipped her beer again, cringing a bit at the liquid and its warmth and glanced over at Brady again, who was back to sipping his own beer and listening in on a conversation with Major Cleven, Major Egan, Crosby and Bubbles. A small smile hit her cheeks as she watched him laugh, something about him magnetic and touching all at once.

"Hey. Bradshaw." Annie looked over at Major Egan and watched as he leaned beside her, wrapping an arm around her chair and pointing to the beer, "Just. Let me know if you don't end up finishing that up. I could take it off your hands, easy." Annie watched him for a moment.

"Are you really that much of a fan of warm beer, sir?" Egan let out a dry chuckle and shrugged.

"You gotta go where the getting is good, I guess. And what else is around here except empty fucking fields and trees every square mile. A warm beer at this point is a good beer." Annie let out a laugh and slid it towards him.

"All yours." she said, "I don't drink much anyway."

"Ahhh, hey Buck, you got a fellow Saint here," Egan said, leaning over to Major Cleven and wrapping an arm around his shoulders, "she don't do much drinking either. Maybe you two can both go taking shots of water together." Major Cleven let out a chuckle as Annie rolled her eyes the slightest bit and caught Brady's slightly cold stare at Egan - but Annie didn't really care.

From the interactions she'd had with Egan, it was all in good fun - he was all in good fun. He was always looking for fun, a distraction from war. She didn't mind.

She liked the two Majors - Buck and Bucky - they'd been sweet as anything, with a bit more jeering from Egan if she was telling the truth. But they seemed to understand what it meant to have an all-female crew in the group and she appreciated that. It meant that when Birdie had been here, they had looked out for her, too, and with her, they were making sure of it.

"Hey, Bradshaw, you want a Coca-Cola?" Annie looked over at Brady leaning towards her, with a thumb jabbed over his shoulder to the bar, "Since someone took your beer-"

"Sure." Annie said, looking at him, while waving off Egan who was looking ready to start singing a musical nearly, "It's all good….I'm not a fan of beer much anyway. Here and there." Brady smiled at her, the corner of his lip curling upwards into a near-wider grin.

"Warm beer just doesn't do the trick, like beer back home, huh?"

"You got that right." Brady chuckled.

"I'll be back-"

"I can get it." Annie said, her hand jutting out to stop him by the arm, but he turned to her and offered her up a wink before heading off.

Annie watched him go before turning slowly back to the table and finding Francis watching her from across the table. She raised a brow. Annie couldn't contain the smirk and shook her head. Francis chuckled. By this point in time, she'd never felt more comfortable in a group of people and in a bomber group.

Maybe flying B-17s had always been her ultimate goal, despite everything in her life up to this point in time. Maybe all her reckless youth and sped-up childhood was for this. To come into this moment in time as a Lieutenant in the Army Air Force, with the title of command pilot for an all-female group. Maybe that's what all along, everything was coming to a head as. Maybe for once in her life, she was earning something instead of giving. Maybe she was doing it all at once.

Maybe.

Life seemed to be full of maybes at this point - and maybe, she was okay with that for now.