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softspiderling · 4 months

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god, it's brutal out here | r.c.

summary:

“And yet you’re still thinking of your ex,” Barry finished the sentence, rubbing his chin. “Why don’t you get back together with her?”

“She doesn’t want me.”

“God, fucking Country Club,” Barry snickered. “You’re fucking dense.”

OR; 5 times your friends share their unsolicited opinions about your and Rafe’s break up.

pairing: rafe cameron x reader

warnings: mention of c*caine

word count: 5,4k

author’s note: the long awaited sequel of so obsessed with your ex! this can be read as a standalone fic, but there are little easter eggs hidden all over, which will be more fun if you read the first part! it's a little bit longer than I had planned, but there was no way around it. I hope you enjoy it so so much!!!!

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

I Wheezie

“Hey Wheeze.”

You had accepted the facetime without looking at your phone, keeping it rested on a shelf while you were halfway into your closet, trying to find a dress.

“Does Rafe have a new girlfriend??”

Pausing, you shut your eyes, letting out a silent exhale before you picked up the phone, giving Wheezie a wry smile through the camera.

“Nice to see you too.”

The girl only looked at you, unimpressed and her arms crossed. You sighed, running a hand through your hair, knowing you didn’t have a way out of this conversation. Grabbing your phone, you sat down on your bed.

“Yes, Rafe has a new girlfriend.”

“I knew it!” Wheezie shrieked, throwing her arms up, and you only shook your head in exasperation. The tendency for drama clearly was in the Cameron genes. Wheezie frowned, getting closer to your phone as she looked at you.

“Why am I more upset about this than you are?”

You bit back another sigh. “Because Rafe and I are broken up, Wheeze. He’s allowed to date other people, matter of fact, I’m really glad that he has moved on.”

“Bullshit!”

“Wheezie!”

Wheezie rolled her eyes, but she sat back down, crossing her arms over her chest again. “I don’t like her.”

“You don’t even know her,” you sighed, rubbing your temple, feeling a migraine coming on.

“This is crazy!” Wheezie exclaimed. “You and Rafe never should’ve broken up in the first place! Rafe is probably only dating her to make you jealous so you’ll take him back.”

You couldn’t help but snort at that, Wheezie clearly watched way too many rom-coms. She frowned at you.

“Why are you laughing? This isn’t funny, this is, like, super un-funny.”

“Because, Wheeze,” you started, plucking a feather out of your pillow. “This isn’t some 90’s rom-com where I see Rafe with Rebecca and suddenly a sad song is playing. This is real life. We are broken up.”

“I still don’t understand why.”

“Remember when we used to fight all the time? And I was just always sad?”

Wheezie was quiet, her lips still pursed. “Yeah. But that doesn’t mean anything. Couples fight all the time, doesn’t mean you just have to break up.”

“Yes, couples fight all the time and they don’t have to break up, but it was the right decision for me and Rafe,” you said, your tone final. Wheezie looked at you, her frown slowly smoothing down.

“If you say so,” she muttered, not quite convinced. She stared down at her chipped finger nails, before she looked up again. “Can we still talk?”

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Of course we can still talk, why wouldn’t we?”

“I don’t know… I mean, you’re gonna find a new boyfriend and maybe he has a younger sister as well and then I’ll just be your ex’s younger sister.”

“Wheeze,” you said, fondly, knowing where she was coming from. You had been in her life for most of her teenage years, it must be weird not having you around anymore. “We’ll still talk, no matter if I get a new boyfriend or not, even if he has a cool younger sister, or even three.”

Wheezie smiled, rolling her eyes at you. “You’re so dumb.”

“Yet you still want me around,” you teased. “How about you, Sar and I go get some ice cream and then to the movies this weekend?”

“Sounds good,” Wheezie replied with a big smile. She paused when someone called her name from somewhere in the house, before she turned back to her phone. “I gotta go, Rose needs me. I’ll text you later.”

“Alright, Wheeze. Talk to you later, be good.”

Wheezie waved into the camera, before the facetime ended. Your smile dropped and you tossed your phone on your bed with a sigh, letting yourself fall back on your bed. Even six months after the break up it was still hard to talk about Rafe, and now that he had a new girlfriend, you thought it’d be easier to get over him, but all it did was hurt more. It didn’t help that Rafe was still texting you every now and then. Nothing scandalous, just small texts, but you never replied. You both agreed on no contact after the break up, because you thought it’d give you a better opportunity to heal. You should’ve known he’d break it. Picking up your phone, you unlocked it, swiping to your messages.

Rafe [11/30/23: 1:43 am]: couldn’t sleep. remember when we took out the boat at two am bc we both drank a red bull at ten?

Rafe [11/30/23: 11:22 am]: sorry, i was drinking. didn’t mean to text you. hope you’re doing good

Rafe [12/25/23: 2:44 pm]: merry christmas. it’s weird without you.

Rafe [01/01/24: 01:02 am]: happy new year’s.

Rafe [01/05/24: 9:56 pm]: are you really not gonna text me back?

Rafe [01/27/24: 3:07 am]: i miss you

Rafe [02/12/24: 12:05 pm]: saw you at the party last night. you looked so fucking pretty. took everything in me not to talk to you.

Rafe [03/01/24: 7:12 pm]: idk if you care or not, but i still wanted to let you know. i’m seeing someone

You never replied to any of the texts, knowing it was for the better. You could block him, but you never brought it over your heart to do so, telling yourself you wanted him to reach you in case of emergency, but deep down, you didn’t want to block him.

Just incase.

II Barry

“Want some C?” Barry asked as greeting, presenting Rafe a small baggie with white powder in it as soon as he walked onto the lot.

“Nah,” Rafe declined, already feeling jittery enough without it, “Won’t say no to a beer though.”

Barry let out a grunt, tossing the baggie on the table, disappearing inside the trailer. Rafe took a seat in one of the chairs, running his hand over his buzzed head, bouncing his leg nervously. He had needed to get out of the house for a while. Ever since Rebecca pulled the picture out of the drawer, he couldn’t stop thinking about you. Again.

Which is fucked up, really. He thought he got over you, he didn’t want to be the guy who thought about his ex while having a whole ass girlfriend. The door to the trailer opened with a slam, Barry exiting with two beer cans, handing Rafe one of them. The can was ice cold in his hands, and the cold liquid helped with his racing heart. He let out a sigh, rubbing a thumb over his eye brow. Rafe took another gulp of the beer, almost drinking the entire can in one go, while Barry watched him, assessing.

“You good?”

Rafe nodded, setting the can on the table.

“Yeah, jus’ stressed.”

“Work, or…?”

Barry trailed off without finishing his sentence and Rafe didn’t answer, wiping a finger over his jaw, which was clenched to the max.

Barry eyed him skeptically, leaning back in his chair. “How’s Mrs. Country Club?”

Rafe let out a loud sigh, tipping his head back, like he always did when he was annoyed with Barry.

“Barry, I don’t know if all the drugs you’re taking are starting to get to your memory, but we broke up.”

“Don’t be fucking rude,” he said, kicking Rafe’s chair. Not hard enough for it to tip over, but hard enough for Rafe to grip onto the arm rests, glaring at his friend. “How’d you know I wasn’t talking ‘bout your new girl?”

“Because you always call her Becky,” Rafe pointed out, giving him a look.

Barry shrugged, taking a sip from his beer. “You still know who ‘m talking about, so what’s the problem?”

“Problem is, it’s disrespectful. You know that’s not her name.”

“You’re still hung up on your ex while dating Becky, so who’s really disrespecting her?”

Rafe’s head shot up and the glare he sent Barry was deadly.

“Fuck this shit, and fuck you,” he snapped, pushing himself up from the chair, but Barry grabbed his wrist, stopping him.

“Boy, sit down.”

Rafe scowled at him, before sitting back down, crossing his arms over his chest like a petulant child. He did not come all the way out to the cut to get called out like this.

“If you came here to be coddled, you went to the wrong person.”

“I don’t need to be coddled,” Rafe muttered with an eyeroll. “Just wanted to let off some steam.”

“So?” Barry snorted, waving his hands around. “Steam away.”

Rafe scoffed, scooting down in his chair, shaking his head. “Do you think I want to think of her? I fucking hate feeling like this. Bex is nice, and she’s hot. And yet-”

“And yet you’re still thinking of your ex,” Barry finished the sentence, rubbing his chin. “Why don’t you get back together with her?”

“She doesn’t want me.”

“God, fucking Country Club,” Barry snickered. “You’re fucking dense.”

“Nah, you don’t fucking get it, “ Rafe sneered, leaning his head in his hands. And he didn’t, not really. Which really wasn’t his fault. Rafe just didn’t want to talk about the break up with his friends. Physically couldn’t. Now that he thought about it, he hadn’t told anyone why you broke up. Just made it feel all to real, he guessed.

“Nah, you’re right, I don’t,” Barry said, shaking his head. “All I know is, one day you’re all fucking sunshine and the next you’re more emo than that Friday girl.”

“What?” Rafe asked, lifting his head to stare at Barry in confusion.

Barry waved him off. “You know, that freaky girl from Netflix with the black lipstick.”

“Do you mean Wednesday?”

“Yeah, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, all the same to me,” Barry huffed. “Point is, life’s too fucking short to do things that don’t make you happy.”

“Bex makes me happy.”

Barry gave him a long, hard look, squinting his eyes at him. “Yeah, right. Whatever makes you sleep at night.”

Rafe stared back at him before shaking his head, finishing the last of his beer before crushing the empty can in his hand, declining to answer, because he knew he couldn’t convince Barry.

He wasn’t even convinced himself.

III Topper

top [05/03/24: 4:06 pm]: gonna be at alex’s later tonight with rafe and rebecca just fyi if you wanted to come

mrs. rafe [05/03/24: 4:57 pm]: k, thanks for letting me know

—— NEW MESSAGE ——

top [05/04/24: 1:37 am]: can you pick me up?

It was Saturday night, a little past your bedtime for a night in. You were getting ready for bed, exiting the bathroom when your phone buzzed in your hand. Lifting it, you read the new text, not quite believing he’d make you do this. What the fuck was he thinking asking you to pick him up? Shaking your head in disbelief, you typed out an answer.

mrs. rafe [05/04/24: 1:41 am]: topper no

Before you could put the phone away, your phone already buzzed with an answer, and you nearly didn’t want to read whatever lame ass excuse he came up with, your hand stilling when your eyes flit over his text.

top [05/04/24: 1:41 am]: please, i don’t want to get a ride with rafe and rebecca

top [05/04/24: 1:41 am]: she asked me so many questions about you and i can’t be around rafe rn or i’ll tell him

mrs. rafe [05/04/24: 1:45 am]: … fine

mrs. rafe [05/04/24: 1:47 am]: you’re so annoying

Cursing Topper and yourself for not going to bed sooner, you put on a sweatshirt and grabbed your keys and purse, typing out another text before you headed out of the house, getting into your car.

mrs. rafe [05/04/24: 1:49 am]: be there in ten

top [05/04/24: 1:50 am]: omg i owe you <3

Barely ten minutes later, you pulled up in front of Alex’ house, looking out for Topper, before you spotted him underneath a tree. You rolled to a stop next to him, giving him the most unimpressed look.

“You’re a lifesaver,” Topper groaned, getting into the car, shutting the door behind him.

You rolled your eyes, pulling off the curb without another word, driving towards Topper’s house.

“I’m really sorry for asking you to come get me, but Rafe was looking for me and I had too much to drink already to lie in his face,” Topper said, leaning his back against the headrest, shutting his eyes.

You desperately wanted to know what Rebecca had asked but you didn’t want to come off as the nosy ex, even if this was Topper. So as nonchalantly as you could, you asked: “What did you talk about?”

“Jesus,” Topper said, running a hand through his hair. “She asked me how you guys broke up and wanted details, too. Was super insistent, I was kinda scared actually.”

Okay, so just normal sussing out the ex, you could deal with that.

“What did you say?”

“That it was a mutual break up and I didn’t know why you broke up, just that you suddenly disappeared from each other’s lives.”

You sighed. That was the vaguest answer you’d ever heard.

“Why didn’t you just tell her why we broke up?”

Topper glanced at you, his brows knitted together.

“How can I tell her something I don’t know?”

“What?”

You slammed on the breaks, nearly sending Topper flying through the windshield because the idiot hadn’t buckled up, while you stared at him.

“What do you mean you don’t know why we broke up?”

“I don’t!” Topper exclaimed. “Rafe refuses to talk about it and you never told me either.”

“Because I assumed Rafe has told you! It’s been like six months!”

Blinking at Topper, it took you a few seconds to process, jumping when someone honked their horn at you, when you remembered you had stopped in the middle of the street.

“Shit,” you muttered, shifting gears to keep on driving, eyes flitting to Topper repeatedly.

“So…” he started. “Why did you guys break up?”

You gripped the steering wheel so tightly your knuckles turned white, letting out a deep breath. When you had left to come pick Topper up, you hadn’t expected having to tell him why you and his best friend had broken up.

“I was getting so worried about him. He was so stressed about the company every day, took home so much work and Ward was breathing down his neck to keep the numbers up. I told him that I thought he should take a step back, maybe take a break or something, tried to convince him of going on a trip or something, but the more I said, the more he seemed to be pushing himself into work. It got so bad that we were fighting basically every day, and it just wasn’t working anymore. It felt like we were going in circles.”

You cleared your throat when you felt yourself getting choked up, vision turning a little blurry from the tears in your eyes.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Topper exclaimed, patting himself down, looking for some tissues.

“Don’t worry about it,” you snorted, wiping your tears away with the sleeves of your sweatshirt. You were so wrapped up in trying to retell the break up, you hadn’t even noticed that you already reached Topper’s house. “I shouldn’t even still be getting so worked up over this after all this time,” you sniffed, turning your car off.

Topper looked at you, with that typical look on his face and you rolled your eyes.

“Don’t look at me like that. I can’t believe Rafe hasn’t told you.”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Honestly? I think he might be in denial about it.”

You scoffed at him, shaking your head. Why was everyone so hung up over your break up?

“It’s been six months.”

Topper didn’t reply, his hand on the car door and you expected him to bid you good bye, but that was too easy.

“… Do you think you guys will get back together?”

“He has a girlfriend, Top.”

“Still. I don’t think that Rafe and Rebecca are gonna last very long.” Topper looked at you, pressing his lips together, before shaking his head. “Sorry. Thanks for coming and for getting me home. Text me if you need anything, okay?”

You nodded, giving him a small wave, and waited until he got out of the car, shutting the door behind him, before you turned your car on, pulling off.

“What the fuck,” you muttered to yourself, wiping the rest of the tears off as you drove home.

IV Kelce

“Kelce!”

Kelce looked up from the pool table, a smile growing on his face when he saw Rafe come down the basement, his friend wrapping an arm around him for a brief hug.

“Happy birthday, man,” Rafe said, handing Kelce a bottle of the expensive whiskey he always drank when he was at Rafe’s but too stingy to buy it for himself.

“Ah shit, you didn’t have to,” Kelce uttered, though his eyes were sparkling as he looked at the bottle in his hands. He handed the pool stick to one of the guys next to him, leading Rafe to the bar. He grabbed two glasses from the shelves, pouring Rafe and himself a good amount, offering one of the glasses to him.

“Cheers to you.”

The two clinked their glasses, before sipping on the whiskey. Kelce really enjoyed it, too, with the way he closed his eyes, and Rafe only snorted in his glass. Kelce peaked his eye open, shoving his friend fondly with a grin.

“Rebecca here?”

“Yeah, upstairs.”

Kelce hummed in thoughts, nodding absentmindedly. He stared into his glass, swishing the amber liquid around before he spoke up again.

“You know she’s here, too, right?”

Rafe tensed, knowing exactly that Kelce was talking about you, but he had expected it. Firstly, because you and Kelce had always been friends, and secondly because he had heard Sarah making plans with you to go together. Didn’t mean this felt any less of a punch to the gut. He really hoped he wouldn’t run into you, because he wasn’t quite sure what he’d do; all he knew was, that Bex wasn’t gonna like it. Rafe cleared his throat, forcing himself to sound nonchalant.

“I figured, yeah.”

“That okay?” Kelce asked, and Rafe was starting to get annoyed, rolling his eyes. Why was Kelce questioning him about you on his damn birthday? He tried to dampen his anger though, not wanting to ruin the night.

“Yes. It’s your birthday, man.”

As soon as those words left his mouth, Rafe knew he did a shit job of hiding his emotions, and Kelce eyed him suspiciously.

“I don’t get you guys,” he sighed, crossing his arms over his chest. “You got a new girl, but you still haven’t gotten over your ex, clearly, but every time I mention her, you act like it’s the worst thing in the world, but neither of you have said a bad word about the other.

Rafe scoffed, though his heart started to race at the thought of you talking about him. He wondered what you had said, if you cared enough to ask about him, or if you had long moved on.

“Are you ever gonna tell me why you guys broke up?”

“Maybe next time.”

Kelce gave him a wry smile, knowing this was Rafe avoiding the topic again. He lifted his head when more people starting coming down the basement, curling his hand around Rafe’s shoulder to give him a squeeze.

“I really hope you figure it out bro, because this right now is not it.”

He then excused himself to welcome the new arrivals and Rafe gripped his glass, before downing it in one go.

“Alright, who wants to get destroyed in a round of pool?” he asked, clapping his hands together as he approached the pool table. Anything to stop himself from going upstairs to look for you.

V Sarah

“Oh my god, I thought you were gonna keep talking to her forever!”

You gave Sarah a look. She hadn’t even waited a minute after you left Rebecca on the couch before she started talking about her.

“I don’t have a problem with her.”

Sarah groaned, linking her arm with yours as to not lose you in the crowd that has formed in Kelce’s house. You were glancing around, hyper aware that you could run into Rafe any second, but you didn’t want Sarah to notice.

“I don’t understand how you can be so chill. Did you not see the picture she had in her purse?”

You sighed, brushing your hair back over your shoulder. Was this ever going to stop? “Sar, please.”

“Hello?? That was super freaky.”

“Maybe she was just cleaning up and wanted to throw it in the trash and forgot it in her purse.”

Sarah laughed dryly, shaking her head. “Bullshit! Admit that you find it weird.”

“Okay, maybe it is a little weird,” you admitted. “But don’t you do things that are a little weird sometimes? Maybe she’s just a little insecure. Which I wouldn’t blame her for, you’re so mean. Shouldn’t you try and be her friend or something?”

“Why? She’s not gonna be around much longer anyways, and I already have a friend.”

You rolled your eyes, fishing your keys out of your purse to unlock your car. Again with the sentiment that Rafe and Rebecca weren’t gonna last much longer. You decided against deeming that statement with an answer and got into your car, with Sarah getting into the passenger seat.

“Do you want to grab some burgers?” She asked, buckling up, like you hadn’t just told you that your ex and his new girlfriend weren’t gonna last.

You gave her a look as you tossed your purse to the back.

“What do you mean do I want to grab burgers? I thought you wanted to leave because you’re meeting John B early in the morning.”

Sarah blinked at you, before she reached out to give you a shove on the forehead. “I was lying so we could get away, stupid.”

“Oh my god,” you groaned, starting your car as Sarah protested.

“What? I was getting weirded out by you being all besties with Rafe’s new girlfriend. I don’t even understand how you can be so nice to her knowing she’s all up on your man.”

“Pray tell, who’s my man again?”

“Don’t even,” Sarah huffed. “You guys dated forever, I know you still love each other. And let me tell you one thing,” she said, raising her eyebrows at you. “If you got a new boyfriend? Rafe would not be this nice to him like you were to Rebecca.” With that, Sarah crossed her arms over her chest, settling back against her seat.

You only sighed, starting your car in silence.

“Do you want to get burgers now or not?” you asked, extending a peace offer while looking over at Sarah. She glowered at you, before nodding with an eyeroll.

“Yes.”

BONUS + I Rafe

“I did, at the party last night… She said she’s happy that you have me, that she was worried about how you work too much.”

Rafe pushed the pasta on his plate around with his fork, too engrossed in his thoughts to even think about eating. He didn’t even notice how Dennis had stopped talking. Rafe looked up from his plate, only to see Dennis look at him intently, an amused grin on his face.

“Sorry, were you saying something?”

“I was saying a lot, but you seemed like you were on a completely different planet,” Dennis noted, wiping his mouth with a napkin. Rafe winced, putting his fork down.

“Sorry, I have a lot on my mind.”

“I can tell,” Dennis mused. “Trouble in paradise?”

“Something like that.”

Rafe sighed, leaning back in his chair. Ever since you broke up, Rafe has been assuming that you didn’t care about him anymore, that you had long moved on from him and your relationship. He thought that you resented him, blamed him for the break up, which was honestly the main reason why he went back to the dating scene so quickly; to get over you. But hearing that you still cared about him? Enough to be nice to his new girlfriend and even ask about him? He wondered if there was still a chance for him and you to be together again.

If it weren’t for the fact that he already had a girlfriend.

“Can I give you some unsolicited advice, son?”

“Do I have a choice?” Rafe asked with a wry grin and Dennis only let out a belly laugh, shaking his head.

“Rafe, most relationships these days end because of your own ego, from both parties. No matter how big the fight or problem seems, will it really be that important in hindsight?” Dennis asked him. “How long have you an your girl been together? Almost 5 years, no?”

Rafe nodded, not daring to correct Dennis. He had never outright told him that you had broken up in the first place.

“See, that’s half a decade. I can assure you, in another half, you’re not even gonna remember this fight.”

Yeah, I don’t know about that, Rafe thought.

“Do you love her?”

Turning his ring on his finger, Rafe let out a soft exhale, before nodding. “Yeah, I do.”

“See. Problem solved.”

Rafe lifted his head to grin at Dennis.

“Thanks. Is it okay if we cut today short?”

“Sure,” Dennis said, waving Rafe off when he reached for his wallet. “Lunch is on me. Go get your girl.”

“I will,” Rafe promised, pushing his chair back to stand up. “I just gotta take care of something else first.”

BONUS + II You

You were staring at your phone, text thread with Rafe open. It was Saturday night; you and Sarah had went out to a small beach party. Sarah had gone to fill her drink back up and you had used that time of solace to overthink. About Rafe.

For the past few week, you couldn’t stop thinking about him. And you blamed your friends for it, really. First Wheezie, then Topper and then Sarah? Somehow all of them said that the break up was the worst idea, and even though you had always second guessed the choice to break up, this was the first time you actually actively regretted it.

The way Sarah seemed so sure that Rafe and Rebecca weren’t going to last long. Maybe you were wrong and they weren’t as happy as you thought. But then again, it wasn’t any of your business, was it? Who were you to put your nose into their relationship?

God, you shouldn’t be doing this.

“How long does Sarah need to fill her drink back up?” You muttered to yourself, finishing your vodka soda and burying the cup in the sand next to you, when you heard foot steps approaching.

“Finally! I was about to send a search group out for you!” you exclaimed, standing up and dusting the sand off your lap. “Seriously, how long does it take for-”

You froze when you turned around just to see Rafe standing in front of you, instead of Sarah. Swallowing thickly, you blinked at him, caught off guard.

“Rafe, hey,” you said, opting for casual. “Sorry. I thought you were Sarah.”

The corners of Rafe’s mouth twitched. “Yeah, I could tell.”

You looked at him, sighing a bit wistfully (mostly) internally, before you shifted on your feet nervously. “It was nice to see you,” you said, and it was true. “But um… I think I’ll go look for Sarah.” You gave him a small smile, before walking towards, and then past him.

“You’re still worried about me.”

You let out a startled laugh, pausing mid-step to turn back to him. “What?”

“You told Rebecca that you were glad that I had her and that you worried I work too much.”

“Of course I’m still worried about you,” you huffed, brushing your hair back. “You can’t be surprised about that.”

Rafe looked at you, and you could tell that this was news to him.

“Rafe.”

Rafe let out a sigh, rubbing his forehead. “You didn’t reply to any of my texts. I thought you were mad at me or somethin’.”

“I didn’t reply to any of your texts because we said we’d do no contact for a while.

“Still,” Rafe muttered, kicking a rock. “I didn’t think it would be so easy for you-”

“And because you were happy with Rebecca, do you think it’s easy for me to see you with someone else?”

“I broke up with Rebecca last week.”

“What?!”

Mouth agape, you stared at him and Rafe only rubbed the back of his neck. “She… Wasn’t what I wanted.”

“Oh,” you only said, letting out a soft exhale. “I’m sorry about that.”

Rafe sighed, stuffing his hands into his pockets. His gaze was trained on the floor for a bit, before he lifted his head to look at you.

“I want to try again… I want us to try again.”

“Rafe…”

You swallowed thickly, your eyes wide and you didn’t move as Rafe took a step towards you, reaching for your hand. Your fingers were cold in his but they quickly warmed to his touch, and the way he laced his fingers with yours, felt all to familiar.

“I love you. I never should have agreed to breaking up. It was arguably the second stupidest thing I’ve ever done.”

“And what’s the stupidest?” you asked, corners of your mouth lifting.

“Not listening to you when you were just trying to help,” he answered, looking down at you, so vulnerable like you hadn’t seen him in a long time. “I rearranged my schedule at the company so I could take on less work, take more time off and relax. Take the time to get us to where we were before it all went shitty.”

Your heart was in your throat as you listened to him talk, unsure what to say.

“Rafe, I don’t know… “

“Baby, please,” he begged, squeezing your hand. “Do you love me, still?”

You scoffed. “That’s not fair.”

“Why? Because you do?”

“Of course I still love you,” you mumbled, looking up at him through your lashes. “Do you know how hard it was for me to ignore your texts? To see you with another girl, so happy?”

Rafe shook his head, lifting his hand to tuck your hair behind your ear. “I wasn’t. Not really.”

You let out another sigh, looking at the way your hands were intertwined, how your heart had stopped racing, before you nodded, looking up at him. “Okay. Let’s do it.”

A smile spread across Rafe’s face, so big it was so uncharacteristic for him.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

It was like that word switched a flip inside of him, as he grabbed you by your nape gently, to kiss you, slotting his lips against your, and as your lips touched, it felt like you were finally home again. You only pulled away to breathe, both of you staring at each other like you couldn’t quite realize this was happening.

Sarah [05/11/2024: 10:45 pm]: (sent to 4 contacts) [picture attached: blurry photograph of you and Rafe kissing at the beach]

Topper [05/11/2024: 10:46 pm]: thank god.

Kelce [05/11/2024: 10:51 pm]: FINALLY!

Wheezie [05/11/2024: 10:59 pm]: !!!!!!

Barry [05/11/2024: 11:02 pm]: read at 11:02 pm

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

author's note: sooo.... what are we thinking?

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron #rafe x reader #rafe x you #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron smut #drew starkey #outer banks #obx #outer banks fanfiction

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sailortongue · 8 months

Text

Special Delivery

pairing: gojo satoru x reader

summary: your husband forgot his lunch at home so who better to bring it to him than his lovely wife and son

an: is it Jujutsu High or Jujutsu Tech?? i've seen it both ways

-------

Your husband was an idiot. A handsome and talented idiot, but an idiot nonetheless. You had reminded him countless times that his lunch was on the kitchen counter. Even put a sticky note on the door so he’d see it before he left. And yet there it was, still sitting right where you’d placed it for him. You sighed in exasperation, resigning yourself to the fact that you’d have to bring it up to the school. Of course, Satoru was more than capable of procuring his own meal. There was no shortage of good restaurants in Tokyo, but you could practically already hear him whining over the phone that nothing would compare to your homemade cooking.

You looked over at your son, Hitoshi, who was staring back at you from his high chair. You still couldn’t believe you had housed him for nine months in your own body just for him to disrespect you by looking like a carbon copy of his father, the same charming combination of snowy hair and vibrant blue eyes lingering in your vision. Your genes didn't even put up a fight.

Satoru had joked that, if he didn’t know any better, he’d say he made the baby all by himself. But even though he got the satisfaction of genetic superiority, you still got the bragging rights for your son’s first word being “mama.”

You smiled at the sweet memory and briefly wondered if you should call Satoru first or let your visit be a surprise. The more you thought about it, the more you wanted to surprise him. So, shortly before his lunch hour, you packed another two lunches for yourself and your son and set out for Jujutsu Tech.

-❀-

As you approached the classroom, you could hear the rowdiness through the door. It was amazing how loud Yuji and Nobara could be together (you were quite certain Megumi’s quiet demeanor wasn’t to blame for the noise). You gently released Hitoshi’s hand and handed him Satoru’s bento. “Do you want to bring Daddy’s lunch to him?” you asked him gently, the pitch of your voice slightly raised as it naturally tends to be when talking to your mini Satoru.

“Yes!” he responded eagerly, taking the carefully-packaged lunch in his small hands. You pointed him to the door and watched as the adorable two-year-old knocked on the door of his father’s classroom. It was Yuji who opened the door, a broad smile quick to spread across his face as he looked down at a mini version of his teacher. “Gojo-sensei,” he called over his shoulder. “Special delivery for you.”

Yuji stepped aside from the doorway to allow the toddler inside, who immediately and unceremoniously dropped the bento on the ground upon spotting Megumi. “Gumi!” he exclaimed, running as fast as his little legs would allow straight into the arms of the dark haired student.

You heard your husband’s dramatic gasp of indignation at the sight, thoroughly offended that his own son was clearly more excited to see one of his students than him. With a laugh at Satoru’s typical antics, you finally entered the classroom yourself, accepting the bento that Yuji had kindly picked up off the floor. You thanked him and walked over to Satoru, handing him his lunch as you kissed him on the cheek. “Forgot your lunch. Again.”

He smiled sheepishly before eyeing the bag in your hand. “Gonna stay and eat with me?”

You nodded in confirmation, and he pulled you into a bone-crushing hug. “Can’t believe I have such a perfect wife,” he said sappily.

“Yeah, neither can we,” chimed Nobara.

Satoru glared at her, but it didn’t last long as Hitoshi had hopped off of “Gumi’s” lap and was happily running to his father. Satoru separated from you and caught his son in his arms, using the momentum to gently toss him in the air before catching him and securing his little frame against his chest. Your son’s giggles permeated the classroom, and it seemed to have a contagious effect, the students’ laughter joining in as they watched their teacher entertain Hitoshi, who cried “Again, Again!”

Once the excitement had died down and your son was being held comfortably in your husband’s arms, Satoru glanced at the clock and deemed it close enough to lunch to dismiss class. It wasn’t like anything else was going to get done anyway, especially since all of Satoru’s attention was focused on the two most important people in his life.

The three students filed out of the classroom, all of them waving goodbye back to Hitoshi as they discussed where to go for lunch.

Once the door was firmly shut behind Nobara, Satoru turned to you, his pupils practically resembling hearts. “I meant what I said. I have the most perfect wife any man could ask for.”

You rose to your tiptoes and pressed a chaste kiss to lips. “And I have the most perfect—and most forgetful—husband.” He rolled his eyes at you playfully before placing Hitoshi back down and grabbing the lunches.

“C’mon, we can eat in the staff break room.”

You held out your hand for Hitoshi to hold, and you walked alongside your husband, intently listening to him recount the day’s antics of his students, namely Norbara and Yuji.

The three of you spent lunch seated at the round table in the break room, simply enjoying the company of your little family. Before you knew it, his lunch hour was over, and he unfortunately had to return to class. In typical Satoru fashion, he cranked the dramatics up to the max, instantly pulling you and Hitoshi close as soon as you expressed the slightest intent to leave, refusing to let the two of you go. Each time you tried to pull away, he whined and held fast. “You’re squishing Hitoshi,” you said in an attempt to get him to release his grip, but to no avail.

“Toru,” you giggled, a small smile playing on your lips.

He groaned and hugged you both tighter to his chest. He seemed deep in thought and said, “Y’know, I bet they wouldn’t mind.”

You questioned what he’d meant by that, but, instead of answering, he plopped Hitoshi back on his feet and dashed out of the room, telling you to wait there and that he’d be back in a sec.

When he walked back in a few minutes later, he bent down to Hitoshi’s eye level and asked with a knowing grin, “Wanna go get some ice cream?”

Hitoshi’s eyes sparkled as he gasped, and both you and Satoru melted at the look of joy on your son’s face. He had definitely inherited his father’s sweet tooth in addition to his features.

You gave Satoru a questioning look. “What about your class?”

He shrugged. “I canceled it. They’ve been working really hard, so I think they’ve earned a break. So,” he changed the subject, “what flavor sounds good to you right now? Because personally cookies and cream is calling my name.”

#gojo x reader #gojo x y/n #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #gojo fanfic #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x you #gojo x female reader

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pucksandpower · 1 year

Note

I have an idea for the Grid Kiiiiiids. They all try to start teaching their sister to drive a kart 🥹 up to you how old she is when they start lol but you know Max and Charles especially want that girl in a kart ASAP

Grid Kids: Little Racer

Sebastian Vettel x wife!Reader x platonic!drivers

Summary: the grid kids can’t wait to take their sister karting

Series Masterlist

Lando looks particularly proud as he rubs his hands together. “Alright, we got the best present for her. Trust us, she’s going to love it!”

George nods enthusiastically, “It’s honestly the best thing ever. A bit of an investment for her future, you know?”

Max, trying to hide a grin, chips in, “And it’ll give her a head start in racing.”

You raise an eyebrow suspiciously, “What did you boys do?”

Charles can barely contain his excitement. “Just open the garage and see!”

You slowly make your way to the garage with growing trepidation, the grid kids practically bouncing on their feet behind you. When you open the door, there, in all its glory, sits a shiny new kart, complete with racing stripes and a custom-made helmet with your daughter’s initials.

Your jaw drops. “She’s one! She can barely even walk! What is she going to do with a kart?”

Lance, looking a little defensive, offers up ideas, “Well, she can ... sit in it? Look cute? Take photos for Instagram?”

George chimes in, “It’s never too early to get them started, right? I mean, she’s got the genes for it.”

“Think of it as a ... decorative statement piece for now? Then, in a few years, she can actually use it,” Mick suggests.

You can’t help but chuckle at their over-the-top enthusiasm. “You guys ... she’ll probably be more interested in the cardboard box it came in than the actual kart itself right now.”

Lando pouts, “Well, when you put it like that ...”

You laugh, “Thank you. It’s a very thoughtful gift. But we’re going to have to save it for when she’s a bit older.”

Max smirks, “By a bit older, you mean like five, right?”

You shake your head, exasperated by your impressively stubborn sons but always grateful for how much they love their sister. “We’ll see.”

***

Four years later, the sound of shattering glass pierces the quiet night. In an instant, you’re on your feet, grabbing a baseball bat from the corner of your room. Sebastian, equally alarmed, snatches up a table lamp from his nightstand, wielding it like some sort of medieval weapon.

As you both stealthily approach the main room, you hear muffled whispers.

“Why did you have to step on the vase, Max!” George hisses.

“It was dark! And Lando pushed me,” Max retorts defensively.

Lando protests, “Did not!”

You round the corner, brandishing your bat and glaring at the intruders. “What are you doing in here?”

The grid kids freeze like deer caught in headlights, Lando holding a giant Happy 5th Birthday balloon, Charles cradling a shiny new helmet, and Mick holding a small cake with five candles.

Max tries to salvage the situation with a sheepish grin, “Well, you did say she could start karting when she turned five. We just wanted to be the first to take her.”

Lance points to the clock on the wall that now reads 12:03 AM, “Technically, she’s five now.”

You sigh, lowering your bat, a smile slowly forming. “You guys are ridiculous.”

Sebastian chuckles as he puts the lamp down, “At least wait till morning. And next time, maybe use the door? You all have keys for a reason.”

Charles grins brightly, “Where’s the fun in that?”

Lando glances at the broken vase and nudges a shard of ceramic with his toe. “Sorry about that. We’ll get you a new one.”

You shake your head with a laugh. “Just ... go home. We’ll see you at a more reasonable hour.”

Mick winks with a cheeky smile, “How about 7 AM? Sounds reasonable to me.”

You groan, ushering them out. “Go, before I change my mind about the karting!”

As the door closes behind them, you and Sebastian share a laugh. The grid kids never fail to bring some chaos into your lives.

***

The morning sun is just starting to peek through the curtains when you hear the soft hum of engines outside your window. Rubbing your eyes, you sit up and glance at the clock. 6:57 AM. “Seriously?” You mutter under your breath.

The doorbell rings and the soft hum now sounds suspiciously like the familiar excited murmurs of multiple voices.

You throw on a robe and head downstairs, opening the door to find the grid kids, all in their race suits, clustered on your front porch. Behind them, a trailer holds the tiny kart, polished to a shine and adorned with a large bow.

Max declares, “Told you we’d be back!”

Charles holds out a tray of coffee, “We brought reinforcements.”

George steps forward, a picnic basket in hand. “And breakfast! We figured that after all the excitement, you might be hungry.”

Lando bounces like a hyperactive puppy. “So, is she ready? We’ve got the whole day planned out!”

Sebastian, now also at the door in his pajamas, chuckles, “Let the poor girl wake up first.”

Mick is holding a small helmet and gloves. “We’ve got everything she needs.”

“We even have a little race suit for her.” Lance shows off the preschooler-sized suit, complete with the German flag and her name. “We got it customized and everything!”

You can’t help but join in on their enthusiasm. “Alright, alright. Just give us a minute to get her up and ready.”

The grid kids cheer, high-fiving each other.

As you head back inside, Sebastian wraps an arm around your shoulders. “You know, for a group of the most elite drivers in the world, they sure get excited about kiddie karting.”

You smile back, “That’s what makes it all the more special.”

***

You tiptoe into your daughter’s room, finding her sprawled out on the bed among a sea of stuffed animals. Sebastian follows closely behind, his excitement barely contained.

“You do the honors,” you whisper, motioning to the tiny alarm clock on her nightstand.

Sebastian nudges the clock and it lets out a soft rendition of a race car engine revving. Your daughter stirs, her little eyes slowly blinking open.

“Vroom vroom,” she murmurs drowsily, pushing herself up with a yawn.

“Morning, sunshine,” you greet, brushing a stray hair from her face. “Ready for your big day?”

She beams, “Karting day?”

Sebastian chuckles, “That’s right! And you’ve got a whole pit crew waiting for you downstairs.”

Her eyes widen in excitement, “Brothers are here?”

You nod, “Bright and early. They couldn’t wait.”

She practically jumps out of bed, “Let’s go! Let’s go! Let’s go!”

Downstairs, the grid kids are in a frenzy of activity, making last-minute checks on the kart, packing snacks, and discussing strategies.

“You sure she doesn’t need a quick racing line tutorial?” Lando asks, pointing at some scribbles on a whiteboard.

Max rolls his eyes, “She’s five, mate.”

“Exactly. The perfect age to start,” Lando retorts.

Your daughter giggles as Charles lifts her onto his shoulders, “Look at you, future world champ!”

George hands her a small helmet, “Safety first!”

She tries it on and it slips down half of her head.

“Maybe we’ll adjust that,” Mick chuckles, helping to resize the straps.

Once everything is packed and ready, the convoy sets off for the track. Your daughter, sandwiched between Lando and George, is treated to a hilariously exaggerated commentary of their drive.

“Watch that apex! Oh no, a dramatic overtake by that ... minivan?” Lando narrates, making your daughter giggle uncontrollably.

At the track, the grid kids swarm around, setting up the kart, unloading equipment, and securing the area.

Lance kneels in front of your daughter. “Now, remember, it’s all about having fun, okay? But also ... don’t crash.”

She giggles, “Okay, Lancey.”

Charles takes her hand, leading her to the kart. “Ready to hop in?”

She nods eagerly, and with a little help, she’s seated and ready.

With the helmet securely in place and the engine purring softly, she looks up at you and Sebastian with big, excited eyes.

“Remember, slow and steady,” you call out, giving her a thumbs-up.

She revs the engine, and under the watchful eyes of her brothers, begins to kart for the first time.

As she makes her way around the track, the grid kids cheer raucously and even get a bit teary-eyed. The sight of the little kart zooming around, driven by your fearless daughter, is a memory none of you will forget.

When she finally finishes her laps and the engine dies down, the grid kids rush over, lifting her into the air in celebration.

Lando, panting from excitement as if he were the one driving, declares, “Best. Day. Ever!”

Your daughter is grinning from ear to ear. “Can we do it again tomorrow?”

Sebastian pulls you close as you watch your children make plans to kart together soon. “Looks like we’ve got another racer in the family.”

Your heart melts when you see the look of pure joy on your daughter’s face as she’s surrounded by her brothers. “Formula 1 better watch out.”

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loveinhawkins · 1 year

Text

Sprawled across Steve’s couch, apropos of nothing, Robin says, “They’d be good Halloween costumes. Like, there’s three of us.”

Eddie blinks at her.

Robin blinks back, as if she’s being perfectly reasonable, as if she’s just continuing an ongoing conversation—when in reality, she’s been silently staring into space for the past minute.

“Buckley. Y’know I can’t actually read your mind, right?”

“Uh, no excuse,” Robin says disapprovingly. “Steve can do it just fine.”

“That’s a completely different—you do see how that’s—”

“It’s ‘cause Molly Pritchard,” Steve begins, in his honestly, catch up, Munson tone, “kept annoying the shit out of Robin—”

“Excuse me, that’s a blatant mischaracterisation and you know—”

“Annoying the shit out of you,” Steve repeats, undeterred.

Robin scoffs. “She kept going on, like, okay, we get it, you saw a Broadway show, whoop-de-doo—”

“Do I detect a note of jealousy, Buckley?” Eddie says, and hurriedly avoids Robin kicking him in the shin.

“No, she’s just completely detached from real life! Like, yeah, I’m sure Singin’ in the Rain was just wonderful, and oh, at the Gershwin, you say? Lucky you. Not all of us were having a positively darling Spring Break in New York, some of us were—” Robin breaks off, gesturing uncertainly before settling on, “Busy.”

“That’s one word for it,” Eddie says.

“Anyway, that wasn’t the—Molly Pritchard rambling on was just the, like, catalyst for—she wasn’t the point. The point is—” Robin stops again, flounders, then whacks Steve on the shoulder. “Steve, I had a point, where is it?”

“Halloween costumes,” Steve says patiently.

“Right! She reminded me, there’s, like, three leads right there. Sort of. We should do it, I’ve never really done group costumes before—”

“For the hypothetical Halloween party we haven’t been invited to,” Eddie points out.

“Shh, details. And they’re not, like, ridiculously complicated—Steve, you’ve definitely got a couple suits just lying around—”

“Why does that feel like an insult?” Steve asks the ceiling.

“But uh, Robin,” Eddie says, “I thought you hated wearing heels?”

A deafening silence.

“Well,” Robin replies eventually. “I don’t know what bright idea you’ve got going on in your head, Eddie Munson, but I’m gonna be Gene Kelly.”

Steve chuckles. “Attagirl,” he says, raising his drink in approval.

He’s drinking coke out of a wine glass—according to Steve, it suits him. Eddie half-hates the fact that he’s right.

“And then the only thing we’d have to really look out for would be tap shoes, and we could—”

“Woah, hold your horses,” Steve says. “We’re definitely getting kicked outta the hypothetical party.”

“Why?” Eddie says. “Does Hawkins hate musicals now, too?”

“Tap shoes,” Steve says, as if Eddie’s being particularly dense. “Dude, we’re gonna, like, immediately scratch up the floor. We could only walk on carpet, and then what’s the point of wearing tap shoes in the first—”

“That’s… a very specific problem,” Eddie says.

“Yeah,” Robin says with narrowed eyes. “Very specific.”

Steve shifts in his seat. “No, it’s not. I just—I just know things, sometimes. Sue me.”

“Yeah, you do,” Robin says. Her eyes are still narrowed. “You know many things, Steve. But why do you know this particular—”

“I just do! There’s no—”

“I think,” Robin declares, “we should all put on our deerstalkers—”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Jesus Christ, I regret ever introducing you to Dustin.”

“—to figure out exactly why you know that.”

Robin looks at Eddie pointedly.

Eddie assesses Steve, then shrugs. “Uh, he’s really protective over floorboards?”

Steve’s veneer of exasperation completely melts away; he snorts, and Eddie pretends he doesn’t feel the achievement flutter in his chest.

“Hopeless,” Robin says, stretching out languidly. “Completely and utterly—”

She sprints out of the room.

“Wha—Robin,” Steve says indignantly, but he’s laughing, jumps up from the couch and grins at Eddie as if to say come on, then. “Get back here!”

Eddie laughs too, following Steve up the stairs, into his bedroom, where Robin’s pulling things out of the closet with gleeful abandon.

“if my theory is correct…” she says, head barely visible.

“You really have been spending too much time with Dustin,” Steve mutters.

“Aha!”

And Robin emerges with a shoebox in her hands, and she’s opening it up, tossing out tissue paper, and then—

Steve groans.

Eddie’s lips twitch. “Oh.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Steve says entirely without heat.

“I was right,” Robin crows. She holds the little pair of tap shoes as if they’re made of glass. “Steve. Steve.”

“Oh, you can shut up, too.”

“They’re precious.”

“No, they’re not—”

“Eddie’ll back me up, won’t you, Eddie?” Robin says sweetly.

Steve gives him a faux warning look. “Don’t encourage her, man.”

And Eddie has a joke right on the tip of his tongue, he swears he does, but his eyes are fixed on the goddamn shoes, and he can’t stop his fond smile from showing; his heart does a weird but not unpleasant skip in his chest, and what comes out is—

“You were tiny.”

Steve flushes. “What, did you think I just popped into existence at school?”

“Sometimes,” Eddie says, tongue-in-cheek.

Steve chuckles, face still red; Eddie’s heart sings.

Robin’s placing the tap shoes back into their box, oh so carefully. “Steve, please tell me there’re photos of—oh, there are,” she says triumphantly, as Steve groans again. “You gonna show us? Please?” “Uh, no,” Steve says firmly—and oh, Eddie thinks, that absolutely means he’s gonna cave by the time dawn peeks through the curtains and show them a whole damn album.

Robin seems to know this too, because she beams before setting off again, this time beckoning them, “Come on, come on! We can practice in our socks so we won’t scratch the precious floor, Steve.”

“Uh, practice?” Eddie asks.

“The choreography, duh.”

“Wait,” Steve says, “how do you even remember the—”

“The Hawk showed it once. They did a whole classic movies theme sometimes.”

Eddie vaguely remembers that: the theme ended with a showing of It’s A Wonderful Life on Christmas Eve.

And they give a hilariously bad attempt at the choreography, laughing at their socks muffling the sound of their heavy footsteps.

They wobble precariously on the top of the couch, spill coke all down the back of it. Every so often, Eddie notices that Steve’s hand is holding onto his shoulder for balance, for a little longer than is strictly necessary.

And he feels…

Light. Giddy.

God, it’s the most fun he’s had in years.

#i just think they should get to be so silly #steve and robin and eddie fic #eddie and robin #steve and robin #steve and robin and eddie ficlet #pre steddie #steddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #robin buckley #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie

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jobean12-blog · 2 years

Text

Have A Little Pun

Pairing: Joel Miller x reader

Word Count: 1,007

Summary: Joel has more than one reason to smile now.

Author’s Note: Well, we all know I love a good pun and any time I throw them in a fic well, that’s just the most fun. Also, The Last of Us is slowly burying me under emotional damage and I need to think about things like this-the show is amazing and I love it so-but these moments are everything to help me get through haha! Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you sweets! 🥰

Warnings: Soft fluffs and even some smiles

*There are some small spoilers from Episode 4 and 6 here, nothing plot wise really but some dialogue stuff- you have been warned 🥰*

GIF NOT MINE: Credit goes to @joelmjller thank you lovely 🥰

Joel Miller Masterlist

“You know I can hear you two,” Joel drawls from his spot by the window.

You and Ellie exchange wide eyed glances before erupting into hushed giggles.

“We’re just trying to have a few laughs,” you counter, raising an expectant brow.

Joel levels you with a look that says he’s not amused.

“Come on, one of these has to make that fucker laugh,” Ellie whispers as she turns the page of the book.

She points to a pun and covers her mouth.

“Hey Joel. I’ve got one for you,” Ellie starts. “Doesn’t matter how much you push the envelope…it’ll still be stationary.”

She lifts her eyes from the book and smiles at Joel. He narrows his eyes and purses his lips.

“Shit,” Ellie groans, but despite Joel’s grumpiness she still laughs.

“I’ve seen him smile before,” you tell Ellie. “We can get him to crack.”

She holds your gaze and her eyes soften. “He definitely smiles more since you’re around.”

You give her shoulder a soft bump and whisper a quiet “thanks.”

“Oh! What about this one,” she says excitedly.

“Hey Joel,” Ellie says, grabbing his attention again. “Why did the scarecrow get an award?”

Joel pushes off the wall with a grunt and slings the rifle over his back as he moves past you and Ellie and says, without looking back, “because he was outstanding in his field.”

“You dick. You read this didn’t you!” Ellie exclaims with a laugh.

You try to cover your snort but when Joel turns around with his deadpan expression it only makes you laugh harder.

“Gimme that,” you tell Ellie, reaching for the book. “I’m gonna find a really good one that has to make him laugh.”

After an hour of thumbing through it, your finger running over page after page, you finally find one that you don’t think he can resist. With a pep in your step you trot over to Joel, who is now sitting on the edge of an overturned cabinet, his arms crossed over his chest and an extra grumpy look on his face.

You slip in front of him and rest your hands on his thighs, eyeing Ellie over his shoulder with an assured look.

He remains still, his expression neutral as he holds your stare expectantly.

“Did you know diarrhea is hereditary?”

You ask the question with such sincerity that you see his resolve waiver, his features relaxing just for a moment.

Even so he doesn’t smile.

“What?” he replies.

“It runs in your genes.”

You crack a smile and can’t stop the laughter that escapes as you wait for his reaction.

“Jesus,” he mumbles as he drops his head with an exasperated shake.

Despite his grumbling his shoulders start to jump and it makes you laugh harder.

“That is so god damn stupid,” he says, keeping his face hidden.

“YOU LAUGHED YOU ASSHOLE!” you shout as you dance in front of him.

When he lifts his head you see his slight smirk just before he chuckles again, pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers.

“HE’S LAUGHING!” you say again, catching Ellie’s eye.

She’s smiles widely before she exclaims, “gotcha fucker.”

He straightens up and puts his hands on his hips, ready to give both you and Ellie a snarky retort but you start to laugh harder, which causes him to do the same.

Without thinking you launch yourself at him and throw your arms around his neck.

With a light ‘oof’ he catches you and at first seems surprised, his body slightly tense, but when you don’t let go he tentatively closes his arms around your waist.

You squeeze him harder and he lowers his head to your neck, your name leaving his lips on a soft inhale.

When you finally pull away it’s only enough to slide down his body and look him in the eyes.

He’s lips are still turned up into a smirk.

“I like this look on you. Not that I mind the grumpiness…considering it’s almost all the time.”

His lips twitch and you can tell he’s fighting a bigger grin.

“You’re allowed to smile you know,” you tease.

“And you’re definitely allowed to kiss her,” Ellie chimes, suddenly standing beside you.

Joel’s eyes go wide and you can feel his fingers dig into your skin.

“Ellie,” you chide, but it comes out soft as you turn to give her a ‘what the fuck’ look.

“What? I’m not blind,” she says, her tone full of sass. “I see the way he looks at you when he doesn’t think you’re paying attention.”

You drag your eyes away from Ellie and find Joel staring at you.

“Ellie,” he says gruffly, his eyes still on you. “Why don’t you go take a quick look around.”

Ellie nods with a sly smile and grabs her gun.

“Don’t forget to…” Joel starts as he turns Ellie’s way but his mouth shuts quickly when she interrupts him.

“I’ll be quiet and check my six, find the high ground and look for tracks,” she says knowingly. “Don’t worry.”

She winks at Joel before smiling your way and turns on her heel, skipping out the door, clearly following Joel’s instructions.

Joel watches her for a moment before he slowly brings his eyes back to you.

“I really have to teach her to keep her mouth shut,” he murmurs.

“Don’t think that’s possible,” you answer, “and besides, I think she’s just what you need.”

He hums low in acknowledgement as he pulls you closer. “Might need a lil’ more than that darlin’.”

“And what might that be?” you ask him.

His eyes drop to your lips as he smooths one hand up your back. His free hand lifts to your face and he presses his fingers under your chin to tilt your head back.

He lets out an exhale, your name a whisper on his lips as he dips his head. He pauses for a moment, his mouth hovering just above yours and he smiles, and you smile back, before he leans in to kiss you.

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller imagine #joel miller the last of us #joel and ellie #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #the last of us

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notjustjavierpena · 6 months

Note

How did reader reveal that she was pregnant with Lucas?

Bun (Drabble)

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: This might be heavily influenced by a TikTok that I watched months ago. I hope you like it. It seemed to fit a first-time-pregnant couple.

Summary: You do a pregnancy reveal for Javier!

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader (no y/n)

Tags: Domestic fluff, pregnancy reveal, hugs and kisses, Javi is a himbo, reader is a MILF

Word count: 700

Bun

“How bad is it? Is it very bad?” You ask, peeking over Javier’s shoulder and into the oven. It’s a miracle that the smoke detector has not gone off because a tiny cloud has just emerged from your oven.

“Honey,” Javier sighs dramatically. He has oven mittens on, pulling out a rack from the oven whilst you are giggling, “I love you so much but why would you make a single roll? How did you even measure the ingredients?”

He places the rack on top of the stove. On the baking sheet lies a single bun, black from charcoal as you have accidentally forgotten about it in your excitement to tell your secret. You roll your eyes but cannot stop smiling. You know something he does not, “It’s not a roll, it’s a bun.”

Javier pulls off the oven mitts and hangs them in their usual spot on a hook on the wall, furrowing his brow, “Okay?”

“What did you just pull out of the oven?” You say. You really thought that he was going to get there sooner.

“A burnt roll,” he replies with slight exasperation.

“Noooo,” you laugh at his obliviousness, “It’s still not a roll. It’s a bun.”

“Fine,” he shakes his head, “A burnt bun then.”

“It’s a bun,” you try to spell it out for him, “… In the oven.”

“Uh-huh? Yeah?” He narrows his eyes in confusion.

“We have a bun in the oven,” you smirk.

“I just pulled it out,” he argues.

You run a hand over your face, and then you start laughing loudly but it only seems to annoy your husband. If he only knew that you want to make a joke about pulling out being too little too late.

“What? Why are you laughing?” He is starting to lose patience with you.

“Javi,” you say his name sweetly when you finally start to calm down, “We’re having a baby.”

The sentence’s meaning takes a moment for him to process but suddenly, his eyebrows rise up into his hair. He looks much younger now, mouth falling open in amazement and awe, “Wait, what? Are you serious?”

“I took a pregnancy test while you were at work,” you giggle as he practically launches himself in your direction. He picks you up from the floor when he hugs you, causing a squeak to leave you, “And then I took two more. They’re all positive.”

“You are joking!” He gapes at you when he places you back down on the floor, mood changing incredibly quickly between surprised, happy, and suspicious. You nod and he runs both hands through his hair, “Are you sure?”

“I’m not joking, and actually I’m positive,” your cheeks are starting to hurt from beaming due to happiness and Javier laughs genuinely at your silly joke. You know it’s only been eight weeks but this just feels so right, and you will confirm it at the doctor’s next week.

“Oh, mi amor. ¡Qué fantástico! (Oh, my love. How fantastic)!” His kiss takes you by surprise but you hold onto his wrists as he cups your face and melt against him, “I love you. I love you. I love you.”

“I love you too,” you bask in your happiness and love when you pull away, bump your noses together, “Now we’ll just have to hope they take after me. Otherwise, we’re in for some serious trouble.”

“Ay,” he tuts as he kisses you a few times more. You pull his hands from your face and wrap his arms around your waist. He hugs you close to his chest, “These strong genes are sure to give you a Peña clone.”

“Alright, Peña,” you giggle into his shoulder, “We get it.”

“It’s really ‘we’ now, huh?” He talks into your ear.

“It was always we. As in I can’t believe we’re going to have a baby,” you say dreamily, “I’ll be a mom.”

“You’ll be a MILF,” he snickers when you pull back to glare at him. You slap his chest.

“Not in front of the b-a-b-y,” you say with fake outrage.

“A M-I-L-F then,” he jokes back.

“You’re incorrigible,” you lean back into his embrace.

He puts his arms around you even tighter, talking against your cheek, “I never know how to behave accordingly around you, Momma.”

If you would like to follow my writing then go follow @notjustjavierpena-fics and turn on notifications 💖❤️

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artydonsgf · 5 months

Note

Okay so hear me out. The daughter of a famous tennis player, she doesn’t play tennis (maybe she’a like into something completely different like painting lol), but falls in-love with Patrick. Just an idea lol. I guess it could work as headcanons but also like a proper Drabble or something. I think it would be an interesting dynamic.

anon you are a GENIUS. this is non tennis player reader x patrick!!

The ball soars in the air. Your eyes are steadily trained on the bright green ball heading toward you. Slowly, you bring your racquet level until you’re in position to smack the ball. You swing, fully expecting to hear the satisfying sound of connection. Instead, the racquet smacks open air and the ball hits the fence behind you. On the other side stands your mom, racquet in hand and exasperation etched on her face.

“Sweetheart! For the last time, fix your stance!” She cups her hands to yell. You flail your arms in response.

“Mom, maybe I’m not meant to be a tennis player,” you yell back, hands cupped. “You’ve been trying for five years and I still can’t hit the ball properly.” You drop your racquet, smiling when it hits the floor with a dull clang. Serves the cursed thing right. You plop down, closing your eyes to let the sun hit your face. Turning away from the sun, you let your eyes scan the empty seats surrounding the court, trying to imagine what it’s like playing in front of so many people. Mom described it as exhilarating but it only seemed scary to you. Your mom starts to yell something back but you tune her out, guilt free. Contrary to whatever the tabloids say about you, you weren’t sad about being a disaster on the court. Your mom was a tennis legend and everyone seemed to believe that not being able to carry on her legacy was a fate worse than death. To you, it was freedom to do whatever you wanted. The sound of loud whispers caught your ear. When you turned in the direction of the noise, you were met with the panicked look of two teenage boys. They were crouched behind the fence that surrounded the court, shoving each other. You gave them a frown, confused. Once they realized they were caught, they stood up straight with nervous smiles. You looked back to your mother only to discover she was gone. Great, she’s given up on you and now you had two weird boys staring you down. You heaved yourself off the ground and took a few steps until you could clearly make out their faces.

“Yes?” You ask, trying to mask your annoyance with a smile. Had they seen your awful display of tennis? Now that you were closer, you could tell they were handsome. The thought aggravated you more.

“You suck at tennis,” the brunette informed you, a hand weaving through his hair. Your jaw falls, shocked at his bluntness. The blonde one reaches over and smacks him instantly, eyes wide.

“Patrick! Why would you say that?” He turns away from you as if that motion would somehow make his words quiet to your ears. The two exchange a series of looks, the blonde one coming out on top when Patrick rolls his eyes and puts his hands up in surrender. The blonde turns back to you, a placating smile already working its way onto his delicate face.

“I’m really sorry about my friend here,” he gestures to the boy he called Patrick. “He’s not good at talking to girls,” Patrick is rubbing his ear, grumbling but lets the insult fly past him.

“I’m Art. Donaldson. I’m Art Donaldson,” He points to himself as if you’d somehow get the wrong idea and think he was someone else. You smile, finding it endearing. “This is Patrick,” he gestures to his friend again. Your eyes scan Patrick’s face.

“You’re a dick,” you pointedly inform him. He grins, all carefree and beautiful.

“I’m a dick who’s good at tennis,” he says, a smirk playing on his lips.

“Tennis isn’t my thing,” your eyes narrow and Art disappears from your mind. All you could focus on was this boy and his annoying smile.

“Why not? Your mom is a star, those genes didn’t get to you?” He gestures in the general direction of the door where your mom exited. You give him a tight lipped smile.

“I’m not good with a racquet. My strong suit is sewing,” you gesture to your outfit. “Home made.” You do a spin, pleased to see the way their eyes follow you. Being your own designer meant your ass would always look good in skirts.

“I’m good with a racquet,” he leans closer until his face is nearly pressed into the fence. “So is Art,” he waves to his friend. Your eyes dart to the locked door. Before you could talk yourself out of it, you run to unlock it. That’s how you spent the first day you met Patrick and Art. Smushed between them as they tried to show you all the tennis skills they were bragging about. It became apparent early on that Patrick was the expert between the two. He had a stance that your mother would praise and he knew it. Art was good but whenever he caught the cocky smile Patrick wore, his step faltered.

“You got it Art,” you were seated in the shade, your back against the fence, watching them play. He turned to give you a smile. Your eye caught on Patrick, who’s face had darkened. Art threw the ball and served with such strength, the ball didn’t even touch Patrick’s racquet before bouncing and flying behind him.

“Ace!” Art yelled, grinning. Patrick smiled at the display fondly before rolling his eyes. The game continued and Patrick came out on top. The two rushed over to where you still sat, your hands now occupied with a needle and thread.

“So?” Patrick plopped next to you, Art following immediately. You looked up from your project, confident enough you wouldn’t poke yourself.

“What?” You asked, confused. The boys exchanged looks, seemingly speaking to one another through those looks. Finally, Patrick makes a noise that could only signal defeat.

“Your number. We want your number,” he points at your phone sitting in your lap. You raise an eyebrow.

“Both of you?” Your eyes fall on Art before going back to Patrick. They nod eagerly. You stop sewing long enough to gesture between them. “Would joining this make me third place?” The moment the words leave your mouth, Art already has an explanation to shut it down.

“There is no this. Number?” He fishes his phone out of his pocket and drops it in front of you. You oblige, tapping your number in. He nods, satisfied and knudges Patrick to do the same. You hold your hand out for his phone but he instead reaches over to grab your phone. He gestures for you to unlock it and for some reason, you do.

“I’ll give you my number instead so when you’re thinking about me at 2 am, you can tell me,” he has the audacity to wink and your stomach has the audacity to flip. Art has a crumpled look on his face before he smooths it quickly. The boys stand up and leave, wiggling their fingers in goodbye. You look down at the new number in your phone, the only number in your phone at the current moment and smile. Being god awful at tennis finally did something for you, besides putting you on gossip sites. Maybe tennis wasn’t that bad.

hello! tbh i didn’t like this as much as my other writings but the show must go on😭 also it’s obvious but i kinda forgot my tennis terms, high school tennis wasn’t enough for my brain to remember apparently. please enjoy, i hope it’s obvious that this is about patrick.

#challengers #challengers fic #challengers drabble #challengers imagine #challengers headcanon #patrick zweig x reader #artydonsgf

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starhvney · 6 months

Note

HelloI hope you’re having a good day! Can I request a one shot of a reader that has a crush on Gene and kawaii-chan sets them up on a date?

𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐂𝐔𝐏𝐈𝐃!

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: mystreet gene x fem!reader

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: accidentally telling your romance-crazed friend who your crush is sounds like a terrible mistake… but maybe it’s not so much of a mistake after all

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒: pure fluff, kind of awkward conversation from the reader(real), ft. wingwoman nana ashida (and aph), reader is shy and exasperated

𝐂𝐖: none!

𝐀/𝐍: i took so long to write this for no reason but i actually really like how it turned out

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

you should’ve known she was up to something again.

“want to go to the cafe for some coffee and snacks this morning?” nana had asked you in the doorway of your room, holding a bundle of her clothes in her arms and rollers still in her hair.

“oh, yeah! like, now?”

“um, in an hour… i need to leave early and run some errands before and then i’ll meet you there,” she says with a small nervous giggle. “oh, and wear something cute! i have another friend coming!”

“oh…kay?” you barely agreed before she had darted back down the hall.

you should’ve known. it was too late, though, when you looked up from nana’s last-minute canceling text and your eyes met his. you repressed a groan when you saw realization dawn in his dark blue eyes.

recently, the two of you had reconnected after bumping into each other while running errands around town. your jaw had dropped at how much he had changed since you last saw him.

not only had he somehow gotten even taller after high school, he looked… better. naturally, he had matured further into his features, as did you. but you noticed a completely different change in him. it was something deeper than skin, you realized, when he had begun to apologize for how he had acted in high school as soon as you looked open to conversation. his expression was genuine and his eyes were full of regret.

deciding to leave the past in the past, you both agreed to have a second chance at friendship. over the course of the past month you had bonded and grown closer, and you couldn’t help but admire him for how much he’s grown. then, slowly, that admiration snowballed into… affection.

sure, you always thought he was attractive, but the irregular beating of your heart against your rib cage was something new. suddenly you started paying more attention to his features. how one side of his mouth turned slightly down as he smiled. how his dark black hair was somehow always perfectly messy and attractive despite his clear lack of trying. or how his sleepy and bag-ridden eyes would squint and light up when you managed to say something funny. did he always have that little freckle near his jawline?

this is what you get, you internally scold yourself, for letting your feelings slip in conversation the other night. katelyn nearly passed out from high blood pressure, complaining about how you were way above his league and could do way better. but aphmau and nana couldn’t stop squealing and teasing you about it until you finally managed to retreat to your room for the night. you should’ve known it would be only sooner or later that one of them would pull something like this.

“…hey.” he greets, the deep rasp in his voice almost physically startling you out of your thoughts. “i thought nana wanted to meet me here to talk about a job at their new cafe, but…” he trails off, lifting up his phone with a shrug.

you quietly clear your throat, trying to ignore the heart rising against your cheeks. “um, she asked me to come this morning to hang out, but she just canceled, too.”

gene’s eyebrows pinch together, before looking back at the cafe counter in thought. “well, wanna get something to drink since we’re here?”

“oh, yeah, sure,” you reply, trying to control the nervous warble in your voice.

after ordering, you two finally take your seats, sitting across from each other.

“you said nana was talking to you about a job?”

“yeah.. she said you highly recommended me, actually.” gene leans forward on the table, his head tilting as he rests on his laced hands.

“well, you said you were looking for a new job… so i mentioned you, is all…” you trail off, your eyes nervously darting away to land on… a very familiar-looking duo in poor disguises.

your roommates’ light pink and black hair stuck out from tightened hoodies, paired with sunglasses that were completely conspicuous for a cafe in the morning. nana only gave you a cheeky smirk, while aphmau cheesed and held a thumbs up.

oh wow.

“…you good?” gene questions, his head beginning to turn in the direction you were looking.

“uh, yeah! no, i’m fine, aha! just thinking. um, if you would take a job at a maid cafe. it’s just a little funny for me to imagine, i guess.”

he smiles in amusement, shrugging his shoulders. “if it pays well, why not? besides, i’m open to trying something that might not be expected—“

“order for gene!” the barista calls out, setting your orders on the counter.

“i’ll get it.” gene announces with an almost inaudible click of his tongue, quickly leaving you to your fried thoughts.

you send a glare at your friends mouthing profanities and a baffled look in their direction. they merely twirl their hoodie strings, looking away innocently. you can only bury your face in your hands, lowly groaning.

“are you sure you’re okay?” gene’s voice approaches you, followed by the sound of your drink and pastry sliding onto the table.

“yeah… just annoyed that nana canceled at the last minute.”

“well geez, i didn’t think you’d be this upset at being alone with me, but—“

“that’s not what,” you start, head whipping up to see his teasing smirk. “ugh, i just mean it’s not professional. i’ll be sure she hires you.”

his smirk melts as he lets out a soft chuckle. “just as sweet as always, huh?”

you release a sigh, shoulders sinking as you take a sip of your drink to relieve you from your stressed rambling. "i guess..."

“hey… speaking of which…” gene starts, head tilted down as he looks up at you through his dark lashes.

“order for… cupid?” the barista calls out with a questioning tone, causing gene to stop what he was about to say. you watch nana and aph out of the corner of your eye, giggling at each other as they go up to get their order.

…unbelievable.

“i’ll take that as a sign, i guess…” gene mutters, turning your attention back to him.

“what…?”

“listen, i,” he runs his fingers through his hair, eyes narrowing at you as if he was trying to read your mind. “do you like me?”

you’re sure your heart nearly bursts through your throat as your eyes widen and your jaw drops. you stutter out some sort of noise, but before you can form any coherent sentence or thought, gene continues.

“because i really like you,” he admits, his voice sounding almost unsure of himself for a moment. “and, i hope i’m not reading this wrong, but it kinda seems like you feel the same.”

a beat passes. and then another. if you didn’t feel like you had tunnel vision in this moment you might have noticed the poorly disguised duo shaking each other in excitement as they shuffle and lean closer to try and hear the conversation.

“…yes, i do.”

gene leans back, a look of relief passing over his face before his usual laidback and confident demeanor has returned. it’s like he never sipped up in the first place.

“yeah, you’ve never been good at hiding things. you may not say anything, but your face says everything i need to know.” he leans forward again, brushing a strand of loose hair behind your ear.

he leans even further, his lips dangerously close to the shell of your ear as he whispers, “your roommates aren’t very good at it either.”

he leans back with a grin, before turning to look at the two culprits behind this whole ordeal. they freeze in place, nana nearly dropping her phone from where she has clearly taken a few pictures of you two. they scramble to grab their drinks before sprinting out the door, whisper-shouting “abort mission, cupids have been spotted! go go go!”

“i guess i’ll thank them later.”

“… i’m gonna kill them.”

#aphmau #aphmau mystreet #mystreet x reader #x reader #aphmau gene #gene x reader #mystreet gene x reader #mystreet gene

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snarky-magpie · 8 months

Text

“Potter.” The name contains all the exasperation in the world, yet James could swear it’s laced with a softer emotion, too. An undetectable hint of fondness hugging every consonant, kissing every vowel.

“I don’t gush.” Regulus' announcement rings with finality, so James is completely taken aback by what comes out of his mouth next.

“I’m physically incapable of it. The Black family extricates the gushing gene from every baby at birth to save us from embarrassing ourselves in front of rival quidditch players.” He finishes putting his clothes away and turns to James, face a blank mask of politeness, but there’s a twinkle in his eyes, the barest glint of humor James would never expect from him.

“Regulus, did you just… make a joke?”

“Nonsense,” he makes a dismissive gesture. “I’m unfamiliar with the concept.”

#these two #they have my heart in a chokehold #jegulus #regulus black #starchaser #james potter #dead gay wizards #the marauders #ao3fic #my writing #you gotta let the enemies bicker before they turn to lovers

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chvoswxtch · 9 months

Note

Girl I have been silently reading and praising your stuff from my sisters account. Like liking all you stuff for safekeeping. The whole thing crashed and now I am trying to do the whole interacting thing. I am so embarrassed and scared that my idea is shit so this I am anonymous. But listen - I check your blog every day for updates. I luv u.

Okay my request is a bit messy. But like an angsty/fluf fic with Frank and a woman who is like small but indestructible - you know like a super power or x-gene thing. You cant see any wounds on her body they´ll just heal or something. And all she wants to do is protect Frank and he is just not having it.

If this is shit and not duable I get it! And if I missed somebody writing something simular please share the link - I would love it! Rant over...sorry...and thank you <34567

hi nonnie!

firstly, welcome. there's no need to hide in the shadows, or to apologize or feel embarrassed or any of that. i'm happy you're here and felt comfortable sharing your idea with me! I actually got a somewhat similar request, so I ended up combining the two to get the best of both worlds :)

also if you're into frank x powered reader, I highly recommend @grippingbeskar! she has an entire completed series called salt, ice, and fire that is phenomenal that I can't gush about enough

I hope you enjoy!

warning: swearing, mentions of guns & blood word count: 1.4k

bulletproof.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“What the fuck are you doin’?”

Frank’s thick brows were angrily bunched up in the middle of his forehead, a trail of crimson slowly leaking from the cut that covered the bridge of his freshly broken nose. His jaw was harshly set and he scowled deeply at you while switching out the cartridge on his rifle by muscle memory, not even having to look down.

“I told you-“

“No, I told you to take the goddamn stairs to the roof while I took out-

“I had it under control, Frank!”

Frank scoffed and let out an exasperated puff of air through his lips while shaking his head and gesturing towards you loosely with his free hand.

“Under control my ass, look at you. If you had fuckin’ listened to me, you wouldn’t be bleedin’ right now.”

Frank’s voice had risen in volume, and the timbre of it carried through the empty space between the two of you with a subtle growl. He might have been pissed at you, but you were fucking furious with him. You’d lost count of how many times the two of you fought about the exact same fucking thing over and over, and you weren’t arguing about it with him anymore.

The heavy sound of approaching footsteps and yells caught Frank’s attention, but as he began to march towards the open loading dock of the abandoned warehouse with purpose and a raging vendetta burning in his eyes, the metal shutter door suddenly came barreling down with a wave of your hand. It collided with the concrete floor, a loud thud echoing around the space, not only preventing Frank from getting out, but anyone else from getting in.

Frank instantly paused, snapping his head to look over his shoulder at you with an expression of pure annoyance covering his sharp features. Your eye color had shifted to an incandescent shade, glimmering like two deep red rubies caught in the sunlight. There was still a flickering scarlet glow around your right hand as you kept the door shut, and Frank could tell by the look on your face that you were incensed by his behavior, but he refused to back down anymore than you did.

Grabbing the hem of your top with your left hand, you hastily lifted it upwards just as one of the bullet holes above your right hip began to close up and heal. Frank’s narrowed gaze dropped downwards to watch, and his features softened just a sliver, only to harden once again when he looked back into your illuminated eyes.

“I can heal, Frank. You can’t. So when I tell you I have something under control, that doesn’t mean you fucking jump in front of me guns blazing. That bulletproof vest can’t protect you from everything, and I swear to whatever God you believe in, if you pull that shit again and get yourself killed, I will find a way to raise you from the dead just to kill you myself.”

Frank didn’t visibly react to your words, even as your voice rose in a hysterical volume and filled the empty space surrounding you both. Any other person might have been fucking terrified to be alone with a woman that had glowing red eyes and could trap them somewhere with her mind. Then again, anyone else probably also would’ve been scared shitless to be alone in a room with the Punisher himself.

But Frank wasn’t afraid of you, just like you weren’t afraid of him. You both knew what the other was, and you loved each other anyway.

That was the root cause of your recurring argument. Frank wanted to protect you, and you wanted to protect him. Despite him knowing about your abilities, he still felt responsible for you. He didn’t like seeing you get hurt, even if it did heal. He didn’t want anything to happen to you if he could prevent it.

Letting his rifle drop by his side, Frank let out a deep exhale through his broken nose, his eyes wandering over your figure slowly before meeting your gaze.

“You know how much I hate seein’ you get hurt, baby. You know what it does to me.”

The sudden change in his voice to a softer and more sincere tone had your eyes shifting back to their natural color, and your previous anger began to instantly cool. You did know. If someone so much as bumped into you on accident, Frank was ready to tear them to shreds. He had always been extremely overprotective of you, and knowing his traumatic past, you couldn’t blame him, or stay upset with him for very long.

Letting out a soft sigh of your own, you ran one of your hands through your hair before taking a few steps towards him, your heeled boots echoing along the cement floors. Despite the three inches of height they gave you, Frank still towered over you completely. The size difference between the two of you was nearly comical, especially considering he was the “big and scary” one.

But you were the little witch that had a nasty temper.

“You think I enjoy seeing you get hurt? I’m the one who has to fix you up, remember?”

Neither one of you paid any mind to the incessant banging on the shutter door, or the sound of ricocheting bullets and yelling coming from the other side. When you brought your hands up to gently grab Frank’s face, he leaned down to nuzzle into your palms and instantly melted into your touch, his attention solely focused on you.

“I know.”

Brushing your thumb lightly along the violet bruise that began to bloom on his right cheekbone, you took in the cut along the bridge of his nose and frowned softly with a sigh.

“Your nose is broken again.”

“Ain’t the first, won’t be the last.”

“Can I try something?”

Frank arched one of his thick brows in question, glancing over his shoulder momentarily at the shutter door before looking at you again.

“Right now?”

“You have somewhere to be?”

Rolling his eyes, Frank let out a soft chuckle and gave a slight nod of his head.

“Alright. S’pose they ain’t gettin’ in no time soon.”

A proud smirk was all you offered in return to his comment. Taking a deep breath, you removed your right hand from his face and let your index finger hover over his wounded nose. Focusing intently, your hand was once again glowing, and you traced a crimson line in the air from the top to the bottom of his nose. All of a sudden, the cut on the bridge of his nose sealed up, and the indigo patches that had blossomed around it vanished.

Frank blinked a few times in dumbfoundment, wiggling his large nose and glancing down at it in a mixture of confusion and awe. Your own eyes widened in surprise, and your mouth hung open in shock before your lips parted into a wide grin. Frank looked at you, his features twisted up in wonder and puzzlement.

“Holy shit. How the hell did you do that?”

“I…I don’t know. I just…wanted to see if I could, and…focused really hard. I can’t believe it actually worked!”

Frank stared down at you incredulously when you said that.

“The hell you mean you can’t believe it actually worked? You didn’t know it would? What if you had given me a tail or somethin’? Or put my ass where my nose was?”

“Oh, well then I could never kiss you again.”

Frank actually looked offended by that, and you couldn’t help but laugh at his expression while you gently patted his shoulder and stepped around him to face the shutter door, brushing your hair off your shoulders.

“Alright big guy, let’s wrap this up. I’m starving, and there’s a Gilmore Girls marathon waiting with our name on it.”

Frank’s plush lips pursed in an adorable pout as he cocked his rifle and aimed towards the shutter door, keeping his narrowed gaze locked on you.

“You and I are gonna have a serious talk ‘bout this magic shit when we get home.”

tags: @day-dreaming-goddess @kdogreads @heimtathurs @mars-rants-a-lot @casa-boiardi @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @hazallem @avencol @neverlandcity @charmedkim @queenofthenoobs @stilldreaming666 @mattymurdock1021 @bubuslutty @ninejlovebot @purrrfect @pennylovey @firesunflamed @oscarisaacsleftknee @ameliaswife @vane28282 @kmc1989 @messymissy @dark-academia-slut @strawberry1042 @utterlynuts

#frank castle #frank castle x you #frank castle x reader #frank castle request #frank castle fic #the punisher #the punisher request #the punisher fic

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pretty-purple-pages · 5 months

Text

𝓲𝓽'𝓼 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓶𝓮, 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽'𝓼 𝓶𝔂 𝔀𝓱𝓸𝓵𝓮 𝔀𝓸𝓻𝓵𝓭

synopsis: grayson davenport hawthorne is sick. luckily his beloved girlfriend is there to help him.

pairing: grayson x reader (implied f!)

content (genre and warnings): reader's gender is not specified but 'girlfriend' is used once, fluff 100% fluff, banter, sickfic, grayson folds for reader, just grayson getting the love he deserves

word count: 0.5 k

"Gray?", you called out sleepily, half awake, but fully aware of the warm, shirtless body beside you. Grayson's hand was firmly wrapped around your waist, pulling your back even closer to his chest, if that was possible.

"You feel hot", you continued, propping on your elbows to look at his face properly. His normally perfect hair was dishevelled, but he still managed to look perfect. The kind of perfection which gave you butterflies.

"I know you find me hot, darling, but it isn't a reason to break our peaceful slumber in the middle of the night, is it?", Grayson answered, half annoyed, half amused, his voice even deeper than usual. He opened his eyes to look at you properly, running his hand through his hair.

"Not like that!", you gasped, as your cheeks burned red. "I'm saying, I think you have a fever."

"What?", your boyfriend asked with pure confusion painted all over his face. He looked absolutely adorable; it was an extremely rare sight.

"A Hawthorne doesn't get sick", he scoffed, as if you had told a dad joke. He was now fully awake and fully annoyed.

"Being a Hawthorne doesn't mean you're immune to diseases", you countered, exasperated, which was justified due to his utterly ridiculous statement. "Unless your sadistic psychopathic grandpa altered your genes to make you immune. Wouldn't be surprising, actually."

Grayson threw you a look and you rolled your eyes. You put your palm flat on his forehead and flinched back.

"You're burning!", you said, concerned, lines etching on your forehead. You stood up and rummaged through the bed-side table, and retrieved a thermometer with a victorious smile.

"Here", you tossed it to him. "Take your temperature, I'll be right back with some medicine."

You quickly ran and brought the paracetamol with a glass of water. He protested, but swallowed it once you glared at him. Yes, the all feared Grayson Hawthorne folded at your one glance.

"Now rest up", you ordered, getting into bed beside him, sitting up against the headboard. He took your hand and patted his head. You sighed, moving his head onto your lap, running your fingers through his hair, just how he liked it.

"Who would think that Grayson Davenport Hawthorne cannot sleep without his girlfriend playing with his hair", you giggled and he blushed from embarrassment. Oh, how you wanted to snap a picture right there and then, and then trade it with Jameson or Xander for some "Hawthorne gossip".

"Oh shut it", he mumbled as he snuggled closer to you, drifting asleep.

tags: @reminiscentreader @shuhuaspookie @loife1m @that-multi-fandom-hijabi @moondust-on-the-hijabi

#dividers by cafekitsune #mini writes—◈#the inheritance games #grayson hawthorne #grayson x reader #grayson davenport hawthorne #the hawthorne legacy #the final gambit #the hawthorne brothers #writers on tumblr #writerblr #writers #writeblr #creative writing #writerscommunity #orginal story

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darlingmbappe · 2 years

Text

Oh, Baby | Kylian Mbappé x Fem reader

Summary: When the condom breaks, it’s a race to get you a Plan B. In the meantime, Kylian gets to thinking about your future together.

Warnings: Mentions of sex and nudity, broken condom, potential pregnancy scare, taking contraception, cussing, google translated French, English is not my first language. Let me know if I missed anything.

Note: I posted this on my old account before I restarted with this one. I didn’t have any other ones there so I just decided to repost this one here! :)

Kylian lazily kissed your neck, his weight now engulfing you, the synchronization of your panting turning into giggles.

“Tu es incroyable.” You’re incredible, he mumbled, his member softening inside you. You smiled sheepishly just thinking about how roughly he took you just now. He praised and used you so perfectly, and now he pressed loving smooches across your face, smiling against your lips when he felt yours curl up. “Je t'aime.” I love you.

It seemed hilarious now thinking about how hard you tried to talk yourself out of dating this man when you first met him two years ago. Thinking about your life without him seemed so wrong and depressing, it was almost impossible to do.

“I love you, too.” You whispered against his lips.

He grunted lowly as he lifted his body off you a bit to pull out of you, but his face turned from love stricken to panic in half a second. “Merde…”

“What? What happened?”

He rolled off of you and looked down, you followed his gaze as well. Now, your face matched his.

Oh, fuck.

The condom had ripped. It only held onto him by the bottom seam, the rest is a goddamn mess.

“How…” you gulped, “how did that even happen?” Both of you were aware that you weren’t on birth control. You tried it at the beginning of the relationship but it lowered your sex drive so much amongst other tricky side effects, it seemed unnecessary having so many other options for safe sex.

“I don’t know, chérie.” He huffed, taking it off and running to the bathroom. “Fuck…”

You quickly follow, putting on a T-shirt that was on the floor. Kylian had his hands on top of his head and began pacing, clearly stressed about what had just happened.

“Hey,” you put a hand on his chest, feeling the rapid thumping of his heart through his skin, “it’s okay, bébé. I’ll just go get a plan B. It’ll be fine, alright?”

He looks at you and nods, letting out an exasperated huff. “Yeah. Of course. It’ll be fine.” He takes the bait, rubbing your arms, kissing your forehead, but not sounding too convinced.

Neither of you were ready for a kid. His career was in full speed. He had commitments constantly and barley found enough time to spend with you. Juggling all of this seems unhealthy for a young couple, but in this relationship, that worked. You moved to Paris to kickstart your own career, and now, you were finally on the come up. Both of you had a good rhythm going and understood how important your respective jobs were. Add a baby to this mix? The whole system is fucked.

You hopped in the shower as Kylian called his personal assistant to get you the pill and bring it to his home. As soon as he hung up, he opened the shower door, hopping in without even asking. His arms snaked around your waist, holding you close as his head rested against your neck, the hot water battering your back. The stress radiated off of him like steam. It was like you could hear his mind whirling.

“You just raw-dogged me, Mbappé.” You giggled, trying to lighten the mood. He looked up, sneering at your with a grin he couldn’t hold back, shaking his head at your vulgarness. You took his face in your hands, kissing his pouty lips. “Look, the pill is, like, 99% effective, or something. We don’t need a mini Kylian running around. Lord knows that thing would be a kicker, too.”

He smiled sweetly. “That’s what I’m worried about. Knowing my genes, my sperm is the fastest sperm on earth. What if you’re already pregnant?” You laughed at his cocky comment, letting go of his grip and grabbing your loofah, but not before jutting out your stomach and rubbing it like you were with child.

“I think your right.” You joked. He stared at you in admiration, loving that you were making light of the situation. One of you had to think rationally. “I feel a little Ninja Turtle forming already.”

After the shower, you both got dressed comfortably, lying back in bed and turning a movie on. Kylian cuddled at your side — his head on your chest, his hand on your stomach tracing patterns under your shirt periodically.

Eventually before you dozed off, you heard a knock on the door. You shot up, not having a chance to feel bad about shoving Kylian off of you and made your way to the door. His assistant smiled and handed you a brown paper bag. With a quick and genuine ‘thank you’, you make your way to the kitchen to grab a glass of water.

Kylan lingered behind you, leaning against the countertop. “Is that it?” He took the bag from your hand, opening it up and pulling out the individually packaged pill.

“Yep.” You reached over him to grab a glass, then turned to read the back of the package along with him. “Look,” you point to the small print, “Efficace à 97% si pris dans les 72 heures suivant la fin.” You read out loud. 97% effective if taken within 72 hours of conception. “See? We’re gonna be okay.”

Kylian was quiet as he looked at the words written on the flimsey cardboard. You pour yourself some water, filling his glass too, and take the package from his hands, opening it and putting the pill in the palm of your hand. Just as you were about to put the pill in your mouth–

“Wait!” Kylian grabs your wrist, stopping you.

“What?”

“What if… you don’t take it?” He cheekily asks, bringing himself closer to you.

You furrow your brows in confusion. “Then I might get pregnant? That’s kinda the whole point of–”

“No, no. I know. But, what if you don’t take it?” He asks again, now placing both his hands on your hips, hugging you loosely.

“Are you trying to suggest that we have a baby right now, Ky?” You ask gently, but your tone full of surprise. He shrugs, a smile making his way full force across his face. “I don’t get it. You were just freaking out about the broken condom.”

He shrugs again, rubbing your hipbones with his thumbs “I’ve been thinking about it…”

“…for, like, thirty minutes…”

“More like forty five.” You roll your eyes at his correction, but let him continue. “(Y/N). I love you, so, so, so much. I want a life with you. A full life — one that has a little-mini-version of the both of us running around. We could be a family. I mean, we have so much room in this house, we’re financially stable, we’re so in love with each other. It’s perfect. Maybe it’s a sign. We could start the rest of our lives today.” He sensed your apprehensiveness. “If you want to get married first, and all… we can do that. I know it’s probably not how you planned it but, it’s definitely not how I did either. Why don’t we just see if anything happens?”

Your heart melted with his words and the way he was looking at you. “Kylian… I don’t know. It takes a lot more than just a little bit of thinking for a decision this big. I mean… it’s a baby. An entire baby.” You reason, setting down ur glass of water and hugging him back, making sure your words came out gently. “These things cry and barf and scream and shit their pants daily…” He chuckled. “And then they grow up and start sticking their fingers in electrical sockets… and then they grow up even more and get all, you know, angsty, and… not to mention that we’d have to put our careers on hold for a while. And we don’t even live together yet. You really think we’re ready to have a baby together?”

“Then move in with me.” He blurts, ignoring the rest of your reasons. Your eyes widen, opening your mouth and shutting it quickly. “I’m serious, chérie. Come live with me here. You basically do already.”

His eyes were twinkling with love, and you look right back at him with the same expression. “Kylian,” you chuckle excitedly, tightening your grip on his stomach a bit. “You’re not just asking me because you think I’m pregnant right now, right?

“Non, non, of course not, bébé. I’ve been wanting to ask for a while.” He begins swaying both your bodies back and forth slightly, clasping his hands behind your back.

They way you’re looking up at him makes him swoon. “You also kind of just proposed to me.” He laughs at himself, hiding his face in your shoulder. He tends to get carried away, only sometimes. When he decided on spontaneity, he goes all or nothing. “But…” You move so his blushing face looks back at yours, “Okay.”

His eyebrows shoot up. “Okay?”

“Yes, okay.” You smile big, just like him. “Yeah… to the moving in thing.” You specify, reaching up and kissing him. “How about we just start there. We have so much time to figure out the rest.”

He nods, giddy like the day you agreed to be his girlfriend. “We have the rest of our lives.” He kisses you once more before you let go of him, grabbing your water.

His face, while smiling, seemed a little disappointed. You know Kylian would never make this decision for you but you were happy to have this conversation. You’d talked about a future together before, sure. But, this one felt very real, not like some distant thing that eventually you’d get serious about.

“I love you so much, Mbappé. You know that, don’t you?” You stared at his features, your heart skipping at the man in front of you.

He hums sweetly in response, watching you down the pill.

“What happens if we’re the 3%?” He asked, taking your empty glass and setting in the sink for you.

“What do you mean?”

“It said 97%…” He leans in once more, getting close to your face and putting his warm hands on your stomach. “I feel like my sperm has a chance.” You roll your eyes as his hands travel down and back to grab two handfuls of your ass, squeezing suggestively. “We’d make the cutest babies.”

“Mhm,” you nod in agreement, wrapping your arms around his neck. You two would make really adorable babies. “Why don’t we go get more practice making one… or test out the rest of the condoms for any holes… Cant be too safe, now, can we?”

He squeezes your ass again, shuffling you back out of the kitchen and toward the bedroom. “I was just thinking the same thing.”

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twilightsagasworld · 5 months

Text

Paul x Reader

Imagine

Requested by @littlemissvenom0

It disgusted you to a deep degree, and Leah had warned you long before you started dating that Paul was a loose guy, never being able to fully commit to something.

It wasn’t that your relationship even felt real. Paul was incredibly distant and avoided doing anything that put you two in the same space for too long. Like he was some royal who couldn’t even entertain the idea of mingling with poverty.

You were again reminded of this when you and Leah hung out today. The weather was cloudy and the remnants of earlier rain was still around, making everything wet. You and Leah were out in the forest near the river border of the tribal grounds.

“I don’t understand why you just don’t break up with him, (y/n). You guys haven’t even acted like a real couple for months”

You sighed while rolling up your vest sleeves, shifting your position on the damp clump of rocks you two were sat on. Distant laughter was in the background, coming from the Black residence.

Leah’s head turned to you, waiting patiently as you puffed your cheeks before letting the air go.

“Yeah, I know, I know… “ you took a pause, tossing a pebble down to the river below you, “I geuss I just hope he’ll come around before I do decide to break it off”

Leah rolls her eyes, “I can’t believe you’re holding on to some slim piece of hope that he’ll maybe turn into some prince charming or whatever, its not”

You frown slightly, “You obviously don't think I should''. Your cousin gives you an exasperated expression, “All I see is him flirting with every girl within a few feet of him, while you stay back all embarrassed all the time, it's getting frustrating and I keep having to listen to him think about it everyday. You have to do something about it”

You look away, biting the inside of your cheek as you listen to her talk. Truth be told you knew your relationship with Paul could only go one of two ways, either you break up with him, or he miraculously turns from his ways and realises how much he actually loves you, if he even does love you.

“You’re right Leah” you stand up, pulling your cousin up with you. “I think it’s time I have a serious talk with him”. You two make your way to the Black residence in a matter of minutes, just as the rain comes pouring down around you.

You and Leah made it just in time to see Paul getting it on with a brunette you absolutely didn’t think you’d see again. “Isnt that Jessica?!” You hear Leah from a few feet behind you. You couldn’t believe it, Paul knew you didn’t like Jessica at all, she was as pretentious and bratty as they come and seeing Paul make put with her under Billy’s porch roof just triggered something in you.

Your breathing got heavy, a heat like you’ve never felt before started spreading though your veins, Leah’s eyes got wide and she called for Sam who came rushing out of the cabin, Quil and Embry on his tail.

“Hey! (Y/n), calm down!”

Sam was standing a bit back. You couldn’t focus on him right now, steam was pouring off your skin and you winced and yelped as you felt your skin and bones move inside you. Leah rushed away from you just in time as you recklessly shifted into a medium sized salt and pepper toned wolf. You stumbled as you threw yourself off balance and landed disgracefully in the muddy grass. No one moved, Paul had already started making his way down when Embry held him back.

You didn’t wait to see or hear what was going on as you stumbled and ran into the forest, Leah’s hollering voice yelling for you to wait and come back.

•••

“ I thought she didn’t have the wolf gene in her?!”

“ I know, im pretty sure everyone here thought so”

The wolf pack, along with Billy Black all crowded Billy’s small living room. The rain was still going hard and you had left the grounds 10 minutes earlier. Sam and Billy were in a heated talk.

Paul threw his hands up,and pushed himself out of the chair, “I’m going after her-“ Leah grabs Paul’s arm, “No way! You think she wants to look at your ugly face right now? You’re the reason she turned !”

Paul got in Leah’s face, but she wasn’t intimidated, “What did you just say?!”

“Enough!”

Sam’s authoritarian voice broke them apart and a silence filled the room, albeit tense. Billy cleared his throat and spoke to Sam, “I think you should be the one to go look for (y/n), she trusts you, and you’re the only one who could handle another accident”

Paul huffed and stormed out, no one bothered to stop him.

•••

“(Y/n)!”

Sam had been searching the woods for hours, but it was futile, he didn’t think she’d have gone so far from the reservation.

Sam shifted into his wolf form as a last attempt to find her.

He stood still in the dark forest. Listening.

Help

His ears twitched to the front.

Paul

Help

Its so cold

Sam didn’t hesitate now as he ran forward towards the mountains. Wherever (y/n) was, she was in trouble.

It wasn’t long before he reached the base of a mountain, rain falling hard around him and mud splattered through his wet fur. He stuck his nose to the ground as he took a deep sniff, letting the aromas and smell of the forest drift through his senses until he latched onto a sweeter scent, perfume. He followed the scent, leading closer and closer to a rushing river where he finally found her.

(Y/n) was back human now, and unfortunately in the nude as far as Sam could tell. But he acted quickly, coming to his senses as he rushed to (y/n), laying half in the river and on the riverbank. As gently as he possibly could while in his wolf form, Sam pulled her completely put of the river. Her body had turned from a tanned olive to pale and sickly. He brushed past the fact that she was bare and pawed at her to wake her up. Moments later her eyes fluttered open slowly, she looked sluggishly up at him and struggled to push herself up as best she could. Sam laid flat to allow (y/n) to slide herself onto his back.

•••

Leah rushed out of Billy’s house as soon as she heard Sam’s thoughts. The rest of the pack behind her.

They all gathered outside as Sam came jogging through the treeline, still in wolf form. A pale body hung onto him and he came to a still infront of the group. Paul ran forward and scooped (y/n) from Sam’s back, pulling her protectively into his body as he and Leah entered Billy’s place.

Billy motioned for them to take (y/n) into Jacobs old bedroom as he rolled to a linin closet and took out heavy blankets to give to Leah. “Thanks Billy” Leah took the pile and pushed Paul out of the bedroom, he looked offended but didn’t push it and went back into Billy’s living room where only Sam was waiting, now human and dressed in jean shorts.

Billy sighed, “Leave her be for now, go home” Sam nodded and moved to leave, Paul stayed sat, Billy stared pointedly, “You too, Paul”. Paul stayed put, leg twitching, “No way, not until she wakes up, I have to see her open her eyes Billy”. Not wanting to make a scene Billy let Paul be.

•••

(Y/n) didn’t wake up that night, or the next day.

It took a week for her complexion to return.

And when she did wake up, Paul was by her side, tear uncharacteristically streaming down his face as he grabbed her hands and kissed them.

(Y/n) frowned, “Paul?… where am I?”

“You’re at Billy’s place, you were asleep for a week, I thought… “ Pauled rubbed his eyes, “Forget it, how do you feel?” He let go of her hands as she sat up, she popped her back, no longer bare as Leah had gone to fetch clothes for her.

Paul stepped back, guilt covering his face. “Whats that look for Paul?”. (Y/n) sat on the edge of the bed, sluggish and confused.

“Im so so so sorry (y/n)…”

Her eyes went wide. This was a Paul she had never seen before. She kept quiet.

“I screwed up by doing what I did, but it was because I was scared”

“Scared?” She gave him an umimpressed look.

He nodded, “Believe it or not, I thought I could push you away because I was scared of what I was feeling for you, I never expected it to happen with you”

She frowned, standing up slowly and steadily, “What? What didn’t you expect Paul?”

His words froze her in her place.

“I imprinted on you (y/n)”

And apparently that was all it took for her to collapse back on the bed, tears coming to the front.

She struggled to find the words, but Paul seemed to hear what she was thinking.

Paul spent the better half of the night explaining to (y/n) what happened, why it happened and why he did what he did. He got a scorching red hand print on his cheek by the end of it, along with a heavy scolding. But not forgiveness. (Y/n) explained that she couldn’t forgive him right off the bat, although his intentions were understandable, he did wrong by her and to her by what he did with all those women, especially Jessica.

She needed time.

And Paul gave her that, without a word against it.

•••

It took (y/n) 3 months to fully forgive Paul.

Another 4 months to agree on dating.

And all the while Paul was respectful of (y/n)’s wishes and compromises.

Leah gave him an earful telepathically and verbally almost every chance she got.

But by the end of the year, they were happier than they were before. Although their relationship was far from perfect, and they argued still, they were happy. Paul no longer went out of his way to apite her and make her jealous and (y/n) put her foot down alot more.

Leah held a grudge against Paul a bit longer but eventually gave in.

Sam and the pack helped (y/n) integrate into the wolf pack and train her.

For now, all was well.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••

Thank you dear reader.

And thank you to littlemissvenom0 for requesting this.

#twilight #twilight saga #twilight x reader #jasper hale #twilight carlisle #edward cullen #twilight-x-reader #alistair+twilight #carlisle-cullen-x-reader #alice cullen #paul lahote x reader #paul lahote #wolf pack #leah clearwater #Spotify

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suzukiblu · 11 months

Note

Guessing game: Farm

Context: a familial soulmates AU is happening to newly-decanted baby clone "Superman" and Ma and Pa "it's free alien baby" Kent.

The waitress comes back with the drinks and asks if they're ready to order, and then they have to actually read the menu. She leaves them to it. The Zesti does taste really good, but Superman has a hard time concentrating on the menu and barely resists the urge to glance up at Jonathan and Martha every five seconds.

"Oh, wait–can you read yet, kiddo, or do you need some help with that?" Jonathan asks with a faint frown as he glances up at him himself, and somehow the question doesn't sound judgmental at all.

Weird, Superman thinks again.

"Yeah," he says. "Um–Cadmus was educating me with information uploads. I didn't finish them, but I can read and write and do, like . . . well, some math, anyway. I got through trig and precalc, mostly. Uh, and some chemistry and biology. And, like, I can speak English and Spanish and a little Mandarin, and I know basic ASL. I don't think I'm actually as smart as they thought I was gonna be, though, some of it's kinda . . . confusing, to be honest? And they only ever showed me stuff once, I think they just thought I'd . . . you know, get it."

"You're two weeks old!" Martha says with an exasperated huff. "Those damn morons, you're gonna need a lot more than two weeks' worth of yellow sun before you're going to get the eidetic memory or the enhanced intelligence."

"The–what?" Superman blinks. Jonathan and Martha glance at each other, oddly, and then back to him.

"Superman had perfect recall," Jonathan says. "Hyperthymesia. A photographic memory, you might call it."

"Oh," Superman says, blinking again. "Uh–I didn't know that."

"I don't know how much most people ever thought about it, so far as his powers went," Jonathan says with a shrug. "Not quite as flashy as the heat vision or the flying. Actually it's a surprise you can fly this quick, come to think."

"I'm sort of . . . cheating," Superman mutters, ducking his head. "My Kryptonian physiology isn't developed enough to give me the real powers yet and they didn't know how long it might take for them to come in, so they sort of . . . there's like this . . . field, kind of, that the original Superman put off? Subconscious telekinesis, I guess. Skin-tight force field, basically. It's why bullets weren't ripping up his suit all the time and why he could, like, pick up a whole freaking bus or whatever one-handed and it wouldn't just break in half from the fucked-up–uh, the messed-up support. The field would just wrap around whatever he was touching and reflexively keep it together. So Cadmus just kinda . . . copied that and cranked it up to eleven, for me. So I'm telekinetic, kind of?"

"Huh," Martha says, looking a little puzzled. "You know, that never even occurred to me, but it certainly explains a few things."

"It only works when I'm touching something," Superman says, fidgeting uncomfortably and feeling kind of like . . . well, he guesses his powers not being the same as the original Superman's were yet isn't gonna disappoint the Kents, right? Like, why would they care? "It's tactile-based. But I can always use it on myself. So I can fly and pick up real heavy shit and hit like I've got super-strength and make it look like I'm invulnerable. No heat vision or ice breath or X-ray vision or, uh, eidetic memory, though. Or super-speed or super-senses."

And definitely, definitely no enhanced intelligence.

"So you mean you're going to be stronger than Superman was?" Martha asks with a little frown, and Superman . . . blinks.

"Uh . . . I don't think so?" he says uncertainly, not sure where she got that idea. "I don't know how the hybridization of my DNA will affect, like . . . any of the Kryptonian powers. They might turn out weaker than his were, since my genes are sort of already adapted for a yellow sun."

"I don't know, being primed to process yellow sunlight might make your powers end up stronger, on that logic," Jonathan points out reasonably. "Once you grow into them a bit, anyway. And either way you'll have the telekinesis enhancing your strength and invulnerability, and that might get stronger too. And, well, at least some hybrids have a tendency to turn out bigger and stronger than their parent species."

Superman tilts his head. Blinks a couple times.

"Huh," he says.

Well, there's a really freaking cool and absolutely fucking terrifying thought.

"How do you know all that?" he asks. "Are you a biologist or something?"

"I'm a farmer, son," Jonathan says wryly. "I'm talking about mules and wolfdogs."

"You're a farmer?" Superman repeats in absolute bemusement.

"We both are, dear," Martha says. "All our lives. We live out in Smallville, actually, we're just here visiting . . . well. Clark's fiancée. Her name is Lois."

"Where's Smallville?" Superman asks, still bemused.

"Kansas," Martha says. "We have a little farm out there. And . . . well, we'd very much like to take you in, obviously, though I don't know where you're staying right now."

"Just, like–wherever, right now," Superman says awkwardly, trying not to sound as pathetic as he's pretty sure he does even as he wonders how that's supposed to be "obvious". He's not, like, a little kid or anything. It's not like he can't take care of himself. "Like, it's not really . . . just wherever."

Jonathan and Martha glance at each other. Superman feels embarrassed. It's not like it matters where he's staying, and like, he'll find a place, eventually, just . . . he hasn't quite figured out how to do that yet. That's all.

Cadmus, unfortunately, did not prepare him to ever live . . . well. Outside of Cadmus.

"Would you like to visit, at least? Take a look around?" Jonathan offers. "It's not too far a flight from Metropolis."

"Um . . . maybe," Superman says, really not sure what he'd ever do on a farm of all places. Like, in what way is a farm a "Superman" kind of place to be?

Though he guesses it'd be politer than making Jonathan and Martha come to Metropolis. And if they actually . . . if they really want to see him . . .

He could swing by sometimes, that's all. He guesses he'd have to be careful about doing it because probably the Kents aren't gonna want anybody to know they're his soulmates, given the whole "being civilians" thing. Maybe he can just . . . just pretend to be . . . he doesn't know, exactly? Just–maybe some random distant relative or something. Maybe they have some cousins or whatever. Or just . . . something.

Superman actually has no idea how many people hang out with their extended family members like that, to be honest, but it's the best idea he's coming up with right now.

#kon el #superboy #ma and pa kent #superfamily #rinfic #kamkong #long post #wip: jon and martha professional soulparents

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