#me and francis joy

[flownintothesun]

𝐀 𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐄-𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐅𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐈𝐒 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐈𝐒 𝐔𝐍𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐃 & 𝐒𝐀𝐃 :

Content Warnings for mentions of NPC death ; early-onset Alzheimer's, memory loss.

At the age of sixteen — two years after his mother was diagnosed with early-onset Alzheimer’s, and about a year before his violin tutor (and mother’s employer) Valéry died — Francis, with Valéry‘s help, was cast as none other than (the) William Shakespeare in a small local theater group’s production of Something Rotten! (Shh, is this possible, probably not, is it fiction, yes! Also, lest we forget — Francis’s very first love was the bard.)

To hide the news and production from Henri (Francis’s father), Valéry changed Francis’s ‘tutoring’ schedule and the four of them (Francis, Valéry, Valéry‘s husband Michel, and Francis’s maman, on her good days) kept the whole thing a secret, managing to sneak him around to most rehearsals. This is one of the crowning moments of Francis’s entire life — not because he slayed the role (he did, tight pants and all) or even because it was one of the increasingly rare times he was truly and authentically himself — but because his real ‘family’ was there opening night with so many flowers, cheering loudly as though it was a big-name production. It was one of the last big hurrahs with his mother before she was moved into a care facility with her condition gradually deteriorating, and before Valéry‘s condition took a turn. There was nothing in the world that could stop them on that night, it was well and truly a happily ever after.

His mother gave him kisses and told him how proud she was, how proud the Bard himself would be, and Valéry had spoken to him about queerness and identity following that, a glass of champagne in hand. Francis had felt so seen, and utterly loved at every level.

To this day, Francis has kept that memory close to his heart, and a secret for all of these years. He keeps a photograph of his ‘family’ in one of his books — The Complete Works of William Shakespeare. While most of Francis’s books are in pristine condition — this one is well loved, and so is the concealed picture of him in his costume, glowing like the sun alongside his loved ones.

(by the way ; here’s the role.)

[e-wwis]

milkman nation rise up ‼️‼️‼️

[remyfire]

[wexhappyxfew]

guide and guard

(a/n): the silver bullets girls before heading off on the schweinfurt-regensburg mission (and their chaotic early-morning discussions). also featuring annie x brady (if you squint... haha) as well as the general camaraderie of the silver bullets crew! :) please enjoy! this was a fun one that i've had on the brain for a while! :D

"30 more minutes of this fog and I'm gonna lose my mind." Carrie admonished through their comms system, her voice crackling over into Annie's ears, snippy and quick, with a bit of a kick behind it, "20 past six in the morning and it feels like it's midday."

"What the fuck is up with your internal clock?" Kennedy called back through comms, "Are you….God, what's it called, nocturnal, yeah, you nocturnal, Lieutenant? Oughta let the world know about that one."

"Alright, alright…." Francis called as Annie snickered in the cockpit, "nocturnal or not, the sun's barely risen, Carrie, how you think it's already midday?"

"Just feel like it, you don't feel it?"

"'fraid not." Francis called back.

"I'm still trying to work that coffee into my system, it feels like it's three am or something," Vivian said, stifling a yawn out to follow, "if it were midday, you'd be bouncing off the walls, Lieutenant."

"That's actually not entirely accurate, Ratcliff, but I appreciate your enthusiasm," Carrie called, "I'm just saying, this bombsight's ready to get her target, and drop those bombs. Sitting on a foggy tarmac ain't gonna do a thing."

"Hey, shit like this rolls in off of Lake Michigan and you thank God you're in your house and not outside. Kid brother said he saw a ghost one time." Margie called through the comms, munching on something from above - probably peanuts, she always had those things shoved in a pocket somewhere.

"A ghost?" questioned Judy, "That ain't a thing, Margie-"

"Oh yes it," Margie said quickly back, as a string of sighs echoed over the comms, "I swear to you all. Listen, listen, ghost, a deer, whatever, creepy as all get-out. He swore to it though."

"Should I even ask how old you were?" Francis said, leaning back against her co-pilot seat, eyes shut, attempting to nap, but listening to the symphony of the conversation running about.

"15, Lieutenant," Margie answered, "Jem was 6 - but hey, listen, that's not the point. The point is this fog is spooky shit and you start trying to fly in it, you'll disappear like…man, what - hey Viv, what was that pilot's name-"

"Amelia Earhart?" Viv offered, "Margie, you said 6-"

"6 I tell you!" Margie said, "But yeah, yeah, Earhart - I'm glad they grounded us here. Don't gotta risk our necks flying in a soup like this."

"With Bradshaw though, I'd trust her to fly us to hell and back if I'm being honest," Bessie called, "nothing a little fog'll do to Bradshaw, isn't that right, Annie?"

"Quite an ambitious thing to say, Bes, but I'll take the compliment." Annie called back, a few chuckles ringing over the comms at her words.

"You hear that? Lieutenant Bradshaw taking a compliment. Never thought I'd live to see the day, Lieutenant." Paulina called and the comms broke into chuckles.

"Hey, Bucky told Bradshaw she was a good pilot the other day and all she did was nod at him and pat his back, so," Marianne started, "I'd consider that the Lieutenant has bested Bucky Egan himself."

"Gotta admit, Lieutenant," Margie called over comms, "that was pretty damn funny."

"Humility never hurt a soul." Annie called back and the chuckles that broke out through comms were far more entertaining then they'd be in days.

"Neither does humbling," Carrie called, "well-"

"Hey, Margie, I think I see your ghost now!" Judy called.

"Judy! I thought you were on my side at least!" Margie said, with a chuckle, as Judy giggled again.

"Nah, that's just Brady," Kennedy called, "what the hell does he want?" Carrie snickered over the radio and Francis cracked an eye.

"He's come to see his lady." Francis said with a smirk over the radio. Annie's cheeks flamed and her eyes grew wide and she shoved Francis' shoulder, laughter echoing over the comms.

"He's just a friend." murmured Annie, trying to distract herself from her cheeks and the thought of Brady coming towards Silver Bullets, and for what reason, she didn't know.

"Howdy-do, Lieutenant Brady, what can I help you with?" Margie's voice echoed over the radio, "Or actually better yet - can you help us? Are we wheels up yet?" Whatever the response was no one heard, except for Margie's snort of laughter and a slap on the knee.

"Lieutenant Bradshaw!" Margie called, "Lieutenant Brady is in dire need of your assistance!" Annie watched as Francis snickered - to which Annie shoved her shoulder again and she slid past the top turret which Margie had swiftly removed herself from and dropped below, landing beside Margie, before crouching and seeing Brady's head just past the open latch.

"Hey," Annie said, and Brady, grinning, nodded to her.

"How's it going?" he asked her and she briefly caught Margie staring her down, Bessie and Carrie peaking out from the nose, curiously watching her.

"Good, good, what's up?" Annie said, before her mind seemed to recalculate a few things and she nodded at him, "Here, let's talk outside."

"What? And have us miss out on all this, Lieutenant?" Margie whispered to her as she sat on the edge of the latch. Annie gave her a look, to which Margie promptly laughed at, and then she disappeared, jumping down onto the tarmac. Looking up, in the incredibly dense fog that she could barely see much farther than in front of her with, she found Brady there.

"Whatever Margie said, I'm not a part of it," Annie said, with her hands up, as if in surrender, "that's just Margie for you." Brady chuckled and then nodded to her.

"She might've said something along the lines of that you were just itching to get off of the ground," Brady said, "that you needed someone to talk you off the ledge. I told her that didn't sound like the Annie Bradshaw I knew, but." Brady smirked at her expression and she shook her head with a laugh, watching Brady's eyes through the fog for a moment before nodding.

"That's not what you're really here for though, right?" Annie said, looking at him from underneath her own peak cap, before tilting her head, "Checking up on us?" She watched Brady smile, in that uncontrolled way where he didn't even seem to realize he was looking as happy as a lark, but then he seemed to come around and fess up, and nodded firmly.

"Yeah," he admitted, before chuckling, "I was trying to, I don't know…"

"Find a way around that…. in a way?" Annie said with a small chuckle and he shrugged his shoulders before crossing his arms.

"And also, just to say, it's our longest mission yet, deepest into Germany, so….if you all gotta bail out, just….try and keep your numbers. You don't know what they could do to you if you drop into Germany. As a pilot." And as a woman, Annie thought, but she didn't want to ponder that too hard. Annie watched his face change for a moment as he mulled it over and then nodded.

"But I know you'll all be fine though, Silver Bullets is always ole reliable," Brady said with a smile, looking back towards the plane, before looking to her, his voice growing serious and firm, "best of luck to you, Lieutenant." Annie smiled at him, her heart feeling warm from his tender gesture and she stuck out a gloved hand, to which he shook firmly, his touch lingering a bit longer than what any average handshake would've been.

That's not to say she's complaining though.

"You too." she said, before they dropped hands and she gripped her straps of the webbing and smirked at him, "See ya in Algeria!" And with that, she turned, glancing back over her shoulder with a wave and watched him disappear with that grin into the fog. Her heart pounded a bit, she thought she could've said something better, but she didn't ruminate. Heading back towards the B-17 standing in her foggy, silhouetted beauty, she smiled to herself before she began to hear footsteps somewhere behind her.

"Hey…Annie, wait up." she heard Brady call from behind her. Annie came to a pause near the nose of Silver Bullets, and turned to see Brady coming towards her. She caught his eyes, trying to dissect a bit of that worried haze in his eyes and found him instead, coming up directly to her, and wrapping his arms around her in a hug that engulfed her into his being and knocked her peak cap right off the top of her head, with a plonk onto the ground.

For a moment, she froze there, realizing every inch of him that touched her being, his breath in her ear, his pounding heart against her own chest.

Realization and the weight of everything seemed to kick in and she wrapped her arms around his form and found a brief moment to let herself smile into his touch and his want. The want for human touch in a moment that seemed distant.

Their friendship hadn't really gotten to this level - sure it was dancing, the crosswalk between laughing and flirting (maybe), the smiles, the buying each other drinks (he always did), even those looks that lasted longer than they should've - they had never initiated this. And it made her heart race. In an instance, Brady pulled back and held her by the shoulders, and gazed at her eyes for a moment.

"You okay?" she asked, taking her hands onto his arms and rubbing them gently, smiling slightly, "You scared me for a second there, running up behind me like that."

"Yeah, yeah," he said, smiling at her, and then rubbing her shoulders, "just….figured you needed that. You and I both, ya know." She watched him and then slowly nodded with a small smile.

"Thanks." she said softly and he smiled briefly before looking to her head.

"Shit, sorry," he said, breaking from her touch to reach down to the ground and pull the cap up, before placing it on her head, his fingertips lingering back her ears and cheeks, "sorry about that." Annie smiled and adjusted it slightly on her head before looking at him.

"Don't you worry your pretty little face about that, okay?" Annie said, before patting his shoulder, her face falling a bit as her heart shuttered a few misaligned beats, "Be careful up there, alright?" Brady nodded at her with a smile and then placed a hand on her shoulder and held it there for a moment longer.

"You too. Just….stay safe." he said and she smiled at him with a wide grin, before squeezing his shoulder and stepping away towards the latch to the belly of the B-17.

Annie couldn't force herself to watch him walk away because then a part of her would go with him and she couldn't focus on that now. She had a fort to position over Germany to drop bombs on the enemy.

Pulling herself inside, she heard Carrie yelling about something over the headset, Paulina yelling back, which made her chuckle. Pulling herself back into the cockpit, she saw Francis smugly watching her as she settled into the left side.

"What's that look for?" muttered Annie, strapping herself in and adjusting on the headset.

"-and I swear to you, Dougie was trying his best, but it was damn-near pathetic alright?-" Annie pulled one ear of the headset off as Paulina went to counter and looked to Francis who was still sitting there smug as anything.

"What'd he want, huh?" Francis asked, "C'mon, spill, or else I'll be bothering you as we head up. So, what was it?"

"He just wanted to tell us to be careful. Long mission and all, deep into enemy territory. He was just being nice." Annie offered, "It was sweet of him."

"So was that hug." Francis said with a snicker and Annie shoved her shoulder, before flipping her the bird and shaking her head, "Alright, just kidding, I think we'll be wheels up soon anyway, so, we should wrangle them all in, huh?"

"That's right," Annie said, popping on the two headset ears and adjusting properly, "hey, everyone, listen up. It'll be wheels up soon. Stop arguing about whatever Dougie was pathetically doing, we've got a fort to fly!" Francis looked over at her with a smirk, before nodding and looking ahead.

"When we're set, I'll give everyone a checklist, countdown, alright?" Francis said.

"Yes, ma'am!"

"Yes, Lieutenant." Annie looked forward and slowly narrowed her eyes towards the foggy sky.

Guide and guard, she seemed to whisper to herself in her head like a mantra - over and over.

[helianskies]

hear me out. hear me out. the one good thing to have come out of brexit:

look at that shit-eating grin. oh my days

[sacrosacred]

Jerott Blyth is gay and I really believe that

[britneyshakespeare]

my cousin throckmorton???????

[moon932]

here’s an au that has been living in my head rent free yes yes

[par-slayyy]

Burning hill but it's my relationship to my passions and burn out

[reikoknshii]

Perhaps...a Date?

Francis Mosses - Milkman

꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊˚꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊

Its been weeks you've been working for the D.D.D. , you stayed in your work station and do the usual works.

However, those days passed, you got yourself a motivation whenever he check in. Who? The famous milkman of town, Francis Mosses.

What makes him special? Was it his tired eyes? His soft and deep voice whenever he greeted you for checking in? You have no idea..

All you know you were smitten for the exhausted milk delivery man, and you can tell if he is the real one or not. Though there are times you almost let in the doppelganger because on how they almost perfect their form of Francis, either way you never let it in or else you'll be in trouble for cause of death of the apartment residents.

This day he's one of the listed entry resident, perhaps you can have a longer conversation with him?

You inhaled and exhaled as you open the metal window to start your work.

Angus...

Izaack...

Elenois and her Twin Selene..

Where is Francis?

You grew impatient after checking in four people and making sure they're not a doppelganger. Atlas Francis arrived, Tired as usual as he shows his entry request.

Odd...

' Perhaps he's a doppelganger? '

You tapped on the window trying get his attention , when he noticed you questioned where is his Id.

"My Id? My apologies, i forgot to show my Id" He said softly and audible for us to hear from the other glass side of the window.

' looks like everything is in check..wait hold on a minute '

You decide to double check his appearance and his ID, soon enough checking his files and you found the false thing about him.

"I don't remember Francis having a Mole"

"FUCK!" Cursed the doppelganger as he grew angry. This isn't the first time they would be angry, they almost got it perfect but fail because of a small detail.

"I didn't take that into account.

You're not easy to fool.

That makes me want to devour you even more." You shivered as they banged on the protected glass window , you immediately closed the metal cover.

"Can I visit you at night while you sleep? " the doppelganger said from the other side as they continue to hit on the metal cover.

"Yeah no thanks pal, I'd let francis in but not you" you jokingly said and dialed the D.D.D. services.

"Oh? Looks like the stationed guard is hoping for a mutual feeling, ill get you next time.." You immediately regret saying that, especially to a doppelganger, Knowing full well they would use the information they know against you.

You heard the D.D.D. services arrived and waited for it to finish. Soon the cleaning services opened the metal door telling you the 'operation cleaning is done and you may resume your work.'

You felt like a stupid hopeless romantic, now the doppelganger knew you're into Francis and would take that into their account to try getting in.

Soon enough, the real Francis arrived.

He showed both of his ID and Entry request.

ID and expiration date? Good.

Entry Request? Seem Accurate enough.

Appearance? perfect.

Your hands shakes as you checked the list as Francis waited for you to speak.

"Is it all good?" He asked with his usual tired voice as you nodded your head and waited for you to open the door.

"I-" you stammer wanting to say something as Francis stared at you.

"Yes?."

"...i-i well..." You started as you scratch the back of your head. "P-perhaps a date ? Only if you're available" you asked as Francis tired eyes widen abit from your offer.

"..That wouldn't be bad, tomorrow sounds good?" He asked with a slight smile , making your face go red from the overwhelming joy and excitement.

"Y-yes! Please!" You blurt out and realized you look so eager in front of him.

"Alright, mind opening the door for me now?" Francis asked as he carried his ID and work bag , You covered your face embarrassed on how you react to his answer and opened the metal door for him.

"See you Y/n "

[jojikawa]

Beauty and the Beast

An event where you are a woman in the 50s trying to turn the head of your neighbor, Francis Mosses when you are stalked and pursued by his evil counterpart.

Art by ilameys

Zettai Zetsumei • Co shu Nie

Word Count: 5.7k

⚠️: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT ♥ Manhandling, Slight body horror descriptions, descriptions of blood, himbo!doppelgänger!Francis Mosses, Yandere Behavior, Mentions of Stalking, sexualization of the female MC by Fake Francis, SMUT(CNC, mentions of a "rape kit"), and monster cock.

I write for free, but if you wanna further support me > Ko-Fi 🎀

Life was somewhat boring for you as a woman in the 50s. Despite being sought after by a lot of the men in your apartment complex, you had your heart set on one man. You only got to see him once a day. Francis Mosses. When he would deliver milk to your door in the morning. No matter how cute or cherry you were, it seemed like his mind was set on other things. The man always looked tired but you thought he was handsome no matter what. Maybe even more handsome…it was just something about hot men being tired that made them so much hotter.

You had hoped that eventually, he’d notice you and finally take you on a date!

But that hope soon faded when you read the newspapers. They talked about how doppelgängers are becoming a lot more frequent and the D.D.D. would be installing new units everywhere to ensure that no evil counterparts are making their way into the homes of others and killing people. You were able to tell if this made you feel safer or a lot more scared. What if someone made a mistake…?

Well, you didn’t have a chance to feel anything really, as the D.D.D. was extremely secretive about this kind of threat. After some time, it became normalized and it soon left your mind. The Doorman job seemed to be pretty effective as you had never seen any monsters before and were very much alive. It was rumored that the creatures would murder and eat any person they encountered if they succeeded in passing as humans. This is another reason you had your heart set on Francis. You felt as though he could protect you at a time like this. Maybe it was naive of you but after all, you were just a girl.

“Good Morning.”

Upon hearing the small knock at your door, you went to greet him. Francis stood tall, rather confused about you coming to get your bottled milk so quickly.

“Oh, good morning…” He replied flatly, gripping the strap of his milk bag. You thought that maybe he had a mutual crush on you and was too shy to act on it. So, you could take that step for him.

“How are you this morning? I hope that life is agreeing with you today.” You stepped outside of your apartment door with your glass of milk in hand. Francis shrugged. “I suppose it is.” He then yawned before saying “What’s wrong? Are you looking for another?”

You blinked. “Huh?” Your eyes then darted down to your hands. “O-Oh…sure.” You smiled attractively, causing him to break eye contact with you. He reached into his milk carrier and revealed and took out another. “You’re only allowed to get one every day but you can have mine.” He walked up to you and placed the bottle into your free hand.

“Th-Thanks!”

“Don’t mention it.”

After he disappeared around the corner, you were filled with joy! That interaction was such a good sign. He gave you his milk bottle. You had to make him something for dinner tonight as a gift!

Thunk!

You almost jumped at the sound of glass falling on the carpet at the far end of the hallway behind you. It looked like an empty milk bottle if you squinted hard enough. There was a shadow as well. It made you feel uneasy and quickly made you retreat into your home.

You wanted to try seeing if you could have more time with Francis. There was a job opening for the D.D.D. Doorman of your building and you instantly took it. Being able to meet with Francis when he wasn’t busy might have your conversations with him take a turn for the better. You really appreciated his selfless gesture. So, seeing him at least twice a day would make your life so much brighter. Francis was the complete package. Tall, handsome, quiet, and most of all, soft-spoken. You’d be a good wife to him.

On the first day of the job, you didn’t receive any proper training. You were given an informational video and a set of instructions that you scrambled to memorize as a long line of your neighbors awaited their inspection outside. The job was easy at first and you did it well. It was a chore but those are easy. You let in the right people and you called the D.D.D. when you found a doppelganger like you were instructed to. Unfortunately, at the end of the day, Francis didn’t pay you any mind. You gave him a soft smile through the glass before asking him about his day. 

“I hope work is treating you well.” You pitched your voice up to sound cuter. Your graceful hands moved swiftly as you sifted through the many layers of documents, trying to organize them before your next neighbor. “Yeah, I suppose.” He answered, blinking rather slowly. Your smile widened. “Any days off soon? I’d like to see you outside of your uniform.” You winked at him and he just shrugged. “Dunno.”

“Well, maybe, sometime after your hard work, you tell me a day you’d think you would be free?” 

You waited with anticipation for his response. He seemed rather confused and it was rather adorable. Then he said “I don’t really know. I think I’m busy but I’ll let you know if that changes.”

Your smile faltered just a little but you were good at faking emotions. “Oh, no worries.” You waved him off in a playful manner before pressing the button to allow him inside. Your shift ended and you thought that you should probably get to making that dinner for him as a ‘thank you’ for the free milk. As you began to clean up, the pressure of your job began to set in. This wasn’t something that you could just quit if Francis were to reject you. Ignoring all the unexplainable noises, the dark figures, and the constant feeling of being watched, it would be very awkward seeing him every day after that.

It was a new day. Francis came to check into the building and you let him go without chatting with him because you didn’t want to seem like a bother. But…then you saw him again.

“Francis?” You cutely tilted your head. The way he looked at you was much different than usual. The Francis you knew could barely make meaningful eye contact with you but right now he had no problem burning holes into your skull with his eyes. Not only that but he was visibly bigger as well. Taller and more masculine. His arms were big and veiny. This was NOT Francis Mosses.

“I-ID…?” You gave a nervous half-smile as you tried to hide your stutter. The humanoid creature gawked, a subtle sense of happiness washing over its face the longer it stayed there. “Don’t have it on me.” It replied plainly. You picked up the clipboard before exing out the box that was labeled “ID.”

“W-Well, you seem to look a lot like someone who’s already checked in. Please, give me a moment to confirm.” You flashed it a close-eyed smile. Upon seeing it, the fake Francis moved closer to the window, fogging it up with its mouth breathing.

You pressed the big red button to close the shutter before dialing the number to the D.D.D. 

The representative told you someone would be over right away to dispose of the doppelgänger. It only took about a minute before they’d arrive. Normally, the shutter would open on its own after being reset by the D.D.D. member but for some reason, it didn’t You figured that now would be a good time to open it to help the last neighbors but when you did, you were not met with the hazmat suit you were so familiar with. 

In front of you was the same fake Francis from before, now covered in some blood. His expression was one of annoyance and the veins in his arms were pulsating as if he were trying to contain some kind of anger.

“E-Excuse me, but you need to—!”

“Let me in.”

Your heart dropped. It talked! And it sounded just like Francis too. 

You shook your head. “N-No! I’m not letting a monster in.” You reached for the number to re-dial the number again.

“But I think you look so pretty today. You wore that just for me, huh? I’d love to t-tear it off of you.” The creature’s neck involuntarily cracked its neck, twisting it in a demonic way. You screamed at the sight, pressing the button once more to close the shutters so that you wouldn’t have to see it. As they went down, the doppelgänger tried to stop it by putting his hand under it. It got caught in the track, causing it to get stuck on the track and it was open halfway.

“Come on, Darling, I know you’re not about to call those bastards again. I don’t want to have to hurt anyone else.” The large man-creature crouched down. You could see his fanged canine teeth poking out of his mouth. You backed away from the window with the telephone in hand.

3312…

You listened to the dial tone for a few seconds before the receptionist answered.

“Hello?”

“P-Please send help!” You cried over the phone. Tears began to spill out of your eyes upon hearing the squeal of metal as the predator stretched and bent it to his will. The glass was the only thing left that could stop him from entering.

You saw how abnormally long his tongue was when it glided over his lips. “I just want to taste you…”

The receptionist dispatched another group of workers to help dispose of the doppelgänger. They arrived almost instantly. It was only then that the fake Francis moved away from the window. You sighed in relief, trying to calm yourself down from the events that transpired. You ran over to the tempered glass. The mental door looked like sheet paper.

You saw no trace of the Hazmat people but you also didn’t see the fake Francis anymore. You quickly gathered your things and rushed to leave. You opened the door to let yourself out. You planned to run to your room and lock the door but as soon as you had left the room, you bumped into a stiff, toned chest. The figure grabbed you by your neck and forced you to look at them. The gloved hand was covered in blood and it stained your skin and the collar of your dress.

“Where do you think you’re going, Princess?”

His grip around your throat was so tight that you weren’t able to form words. It was completely covered in blood and in its other hand was a knife dripping with blood as well. It kept the violence to one side of the room so that you weren’t able to see anything unless you completely left the screening room.

The light clank of the knife hitting the ground could be heard and its newly free hand grabbed your waist. The doppelgänger hugged you to its masculine chest. Its head rested itself on top of yours before it planted its nose in the crown of your head before inhaling your scent deeply. The blaring sound of the alarm continued to go off and it was deafening.

Your nose was overloaded with the scent of fresh blood. The pure shock didn’t let you resist his touch. His grip loosened and you dropped everything you had in your hands on the floor, staining it in with the red substance

“P-Please.”

You felt its large hand around the back of your neck and you feared that it would snap it and kill you any second. You held your breath as you felt it set the other hand on your waist as well, rubbing it gingerly.

It felt like the doppelgänger was sizing you up to see if you’d be a good enough meal for it.

“He-ey, beautiful. It's… okay…” 

The doppelgänger’s speech was somewhat disconnected but it was fluid for the most part. At first, it was clear he was a fake but the more he kept talking, the more it sounded like the real thing…like it was learning in real time.

Your heart rate accelerated when you felt its hand travel ever so slowly from your waist to the collar of your dress. The inhuman smile on its face widened and it suddenly ripped the cloth that covered your torso. You gasped, instinctively covering your now exposed bra.

You wiggled out of its grip and used the opportunity to run. You kicked off your pumps and ran barefoot to your apartment. All you could do was hope that more of the D.D.D. would come and solve the issue before anyone else could get hurt. The emergency alarm was still going off so the authorities should be there soon.

When you arrived at your door, you tried to scramble to look for your keys so that you could get inside but…

…you remembered that you dropped them along with the rest of your possessions.

The sound of heavy footsteps approaching behind you. The large shadow engulfed your smaller form.

“Allow me.” The stranger said, calmly. Their large fist went through the door handle, shattering the lock and making it completely useless. You were too shocked to try running again. It found you.

The doppelganger shoved you against the door, swinging it open and causing you to fall forward inside of your home. You hit the floor with a soft but swift thud. “I see the way you look at him.” Its voice was laced with venom—anger but left more to be desired. It was playing with you awfully long for a creature that was trying to kill you.

“But you’d never look at me that way…”

The Fake Francis entered the apartment making sure to secure the door behind it so that you couldn’t run anymore. You cried and whimpered as it took its sweet time pushing your bookcase in front of the door so no one would intervene with what was supposed to happen next.

“I-I don’t know what you’re—” You couldn’t even finish your sentence as it smashed its lips into yours. Its tongue was like that of a serpent, slipping its way into your mouth. You tried to push it away but any attempts just resulted in your lips connecting once more. It was too strong. 

You were terrified but it passed so much for the real Francis.

“Tell me you don’t like it ‘n I’ll stop.” It whispered into your mouth before it French kissed you once more. You kissed it back, unable to resist his appearance any longer. When it pulled away, a string of saliva connected between both of your mouths. It’s warm breath hits the surface of your face, eyes full of lust and horror.

It’s soft lips attached themselves to your neck, biting and sucking until your skin slowly began turning red. “Mmm.” It hummed deeply, traveling lower and lower until it reached the cavern between your breasts. “You’re sensitive here, aren’t you?” It placed kisses in the valley of your chest, waiting for a reply. You were unable to form words at this point. It wanted to ravage you and steal your innocence. It took your idleness as consent, continuing on with satisfying itself and by extension, satisfying you.

It took the delicate hand you had been using to drive a wedge between the both of you. You thought that at this point it was going to break your arm! You squeezed your eyes shut, ready to endure the pain but…it didn’t. You felt the heated bulge beneath it’s bloodied white trousers. It throbbed. 

That’s when it finally clicked for you. It wasn’t playing with you like you were food. It wasn’t trying to taste you and pick it’s teeth with your bones. It wanted to be with you. To breed you.

“I—ah~♡!” You bit down on your lip to contain the pretty moans that left your mouth. Your bra was removed, fully exposing your breasts. Its tongue touched the tip of your nipple and its mouth enveloped over your entire areola. It licked and sucked on the bud until it was nice and hard. The other hand was subtly slipped under your dress.

It took barely any strength at all to rip the fabric, showing how inappropriately wet you’d become from this activity. It craved the essence that was oozing from your tiny cunt.

At the feeling of the cold wind, you brought your legs together just to have them forced apart again. The creature made you feel so small and vulnerable. It used force when it felt necessary but overall, it was….soft. Licking, kissing, biting but no drawing blood, taste, loving.

It salivated at your legs, raising one and nuzzling the side of its face into the smooth skin. “So…gorgeous.” It pulled you forward. “When I saw you, I knew I wanted you.”

“Y-You did…?” You squeaked. It’s touch sent goosebumps from your limp to the rest of your body. “Two years I’ve been watching you. It was so damn annoying seeing you talk to that piece of meat.”

Piece of meat?

“I don’t know who you mean.” You shied away from the perfect creature. Could it mean…

“F-Francis?” You knitted your eyes together in confusion.

“Yes—HIM!” The doppelgänger dropped your leg and pulled you by your thighs to its crotch. “…I could never decide what skin would be the best to pursue you in. But then I’d see the way you look at him.” Pre-cum was beginning to show from its member inside. You could feel the wet fabric on the lips of your hot cunt. “So, I became him…but better.”

You heard the subtle unzipping sound of the pants and it took out its thick cock. It was larger than normal and didn't look like the standard male genitalia. You’d need to use both hands to hold it.

There was no denying this thing could perfectly replicate a human man. Before you could even react, the big “man” picked you up by your hair.

“Get on your knees.” He commanded and you felt obligated to obey him. You’ve never been in a situation where you were being held up by a man like this.

“I’m gonna split you in half with this cock.” He pushed its large tip against your cheek, straining it with warm cum. “Open your mouth.”

Your lips parted for a moment but you hesitated. There was no way that whole thing could fit into your mouth. Your eyes traveled up to his for guidance. He only stared down at you with hard, tired eyes. The corner of his mouth tugged upward into a smirk.

“I said…open your mouth.”

He spoke through his teeth as if it were a threat. You were reluctant but tried to ease it in. You kissed his tip, causing him to grunt and tighten his fist around your hair. “Open.” He growled, yanking your head back. His cock was so close to your face that you could truly take in its side. It was nearly the length of your skull. 

You opened your mouth out of fear and he shoved it inside. He was kind enough to let you get used to it in your throat by going soft and slow…or maybe he was just distracted by the imprint showing on your throat. 

You grabbed his hips to keep yourself from falling backward. Even a bit of force made you lose your balance. “Good girl.” He sighed, relaxing into you, pushing the limits by pushing it deeper. Your choking and gagging only made him feel pleasure.

“You struggling with my dick in your mouth is so hot.” You heard him mutter under his breath. Your eyes began to water from the choking, causing tears to carry mascara down your cheeks.

“Keep sucking.” He fucked into your throat and gentle too. “I’m close.”

 Both of his hands found themselves on the back of your head. He sped up his pace until a loud groan emitted from his chest and a mysterious liquid found its way down your throat.

The doppelgänger let go of your hair. You fell back on your bottom and he crouched down. “Hey.” He called, grabbed both sides of your face with one hand. He squeezed your cheeks together. “Swallow.”

You swallowed what was left and once he knew it was in your belly, his lips crashed into yours. His tongue wormed its way into your mouth and explored every cavern.

You felt yourself get lifted again but this time to your feet. He walked you over to your dining table and shoved you into it. “Bend over.”

You didn’t really get a choice. When you tried to stand, he forced you down to the table with his hand on the back of your head. 

You expected him to say something, but he stayed silent. You felt him explore your backside from your hips to your exposed ass. The wind was so cold but his hands were so warm.

He chuckled darkly, spreading your ass cheeks and sticking his shaft in between. His dick was so much bigger than you that you would definitely have a belly bulge because of it. He wanted to experience it for himself.

You waited with silent anticipation for him what he would do next. You weren’t too sexually active anymore because you wanted to reserve that for the real Francis, if you ever got the chance with him, so you were really nervous about having something so big inside.

“Uah!” You squeaked, feeling a wet, warm muscle enter the deepest part of your cunt. It was his tongue!

You whipped your head around to see that his face was buried in you from behind. “Mmm.” You heard him hum vibrations into you. He consumed all of your juices as they came out. It must’ve tasted so good coming from a pretty human like you.

With every moan and whimper that left your mouth, it made his dick grow harder and harder. He didn’t stop until you had creamed all over his tongue. So much came out that it got all over his face too.

“I-Is that it? Is that what you want…?” You asked, but you were only ignored.

“Pick a hole.”

“Wh-wha—“

“Pick a hole, or I will.”

Pick…a hole…?

His large thumb massaged your asshole while his knuckles, now sleek with your cream, was stimulating your pussy.

“Um…I—“ 

“Both it is!”

Your eyes widened. “Wait, what?!”

You felt his thumb sink deep into your ass while he struggled to get his large tip into your pussy. “Damn you’re fucking tight.” He growled through his teeth. His free hand grabbed your ass, fingers sinking in so deep they’d leave marks. 

“W-Wait, you have to go slow!” You cried, face heating up from being touched in such filthy ways. “I am.” He grumbled, pushing the limits of your vagina by forcing himself inside. Despite going at the pace of a snail, the pain of trying to fit himself inside didn’t decrease at all. You helplessly clawed at the table beneath you. It didn’t matter how wet you were. He was too big.

It took a moment but he was able to get it. It slipped in with much ease on his end but the difference inside made you gasp so hard you needed to cover your mouth.

The doppelgänger began thrusting without warning, quickly overstimulating you. You could feel him in your stomach too. You reach back to push him off of you but he just grabbed your arm and kept it. There wasn’t much you could do to get someone this big off of you. You would only take it.

“P-Please…I can’t take it!” You gapped out, drool escaped your mouth as you tried to form words. He was fucking you so hard you couldn’t even think. All that could be heard around the room was the lewd slapping of his filled balls against the bottom of your pussy. 

“Beg for it then. Say you love me.” His breath hitched. “Say you want me and I’ll let you go.”

“I—“ Slap! 

You tried to speak. “I wa—“ Slap!

It seemed that when you tried to comply with him, he’d remove the hand playing with your asshole to leave a rough, skin-reddening slap on your ass. Your struggling amused him. He couldn’t help but smile.

The doppelgänger has been stalking you for so long. It was hard getting into your apartment normally because of the last doorman but he couldn’t resist you once you were sitting at that desk.

“What’s wrong?” He teased, his deep voice going soft. “My dick isn’t in your mouth anymore…so what’s the issue?” He chuckled. “Beg.”

“I want you!” You blurted out.

“You…want me? Say there’s no one else. Say you love me!” It was like music to his ears, really. It was helping him reach his climax.

“I…I love you—“

“FUCK!”

Your belly bulge quickly became bigger as his cum painted your walls and womb. Even with his dick growing more flaccid, he continued to fuck his cum into you so that you both knew who you belonged to now. Tears spilled out of your eyes as you squirted onto his cock, mixing your juices together.

“I love you too, Princess. More than you could ever imagine—“ Before he could finish, his ears perked up almost like an animal. His attention turned towards your door that he had destroyed before. “Here they come.” He muttered, putting his member back into his pants.

You weakly lifted yourself from the table. Your hand placed itself tight below your navel. It was so sore now. “Who’s coming…? What are you talking about…?”

The doppelgänger ignored you, its horns flesh and bones began contorting and changing color. Its physique turned from that of a huge masculine man to the familiar form of that of a D.D.D. member. Yellow suit and all. 

It ran to the door, opening it, and sticking its head out. “I found her, she's in here!” Its voice changed to a generic man as well. Not at all like the deep gruff from before.

Your legs felt like jelly, you fell to the ground as soon as you were able to stand. They were numb from the pleasure, leaving you unable to walk.

What happened next went by as a blur. The D.D.D. Reinforcement Team took you to a hospital where you were taken care of and given rape kit. You were unable to refuse it once the forensics team found semen at the scene. In order to maintain faith in the D.D.D., your assault was largely covered up but only those who were in the apartment that day knew about it.

After the commotion of filing our paperwork and giving information, you were sent home. You didn’t sustain any life threatening injuries but you were asked to come in periodically to see how your body would react to having the semen of a doppelgänger inside of you…so now you were a bit of a test subject to them. You quit the job after that but you were quickly replaced by a new guy. 

You hadn’t seen the doppelgänger the entire time. Or at least, you thought you didn’t. You wanted to process the situation but you were more confused as to why it craved so much validation from you. It wanted you to say you loved it. It wanted you to say that you wanted it. It said that it’s been waiting two years to be this close to you. It looked like Francis.

You had just arrived back home. Carpenters quickly replaced your door before you got home and you decided to continue life as usual by making dinner for yourself. Your heart still aches from the fear you felt when you thought you were going to die. And so did your vagina. It didn’t bleed, thank god, but it was sore to the touch from how big that monster was.

“Man, I thought you’d never come back.”

You were alone in your kitchen when a voice emitted from behind you. The familiarity in the voice made your heart drop. You quickly turned around to see the doppelgänger from before, masquerading as Francis again.

“What are you doing here? What do you—“

“Shh, princess.” He strided through your small kitchen, stepping so close to you that you were against the counter with nowhere else to go. You placed your hands on his chest, giving you the illusion that you could push him away. He grabbed your arm by the wrist before kissing the inside of your palm. He kissed your fingers and then the back of your hand before making you cup his cheek, which he nuzzled into lovingly.

You wanted to rip your hand away but his grip was so strong. You blushed. Was it wrong to admit that he…it, was attractive? 

“Why didn’t you kill me and eat me? Why did you do that to me?” You questioned meekly. His eyes were closed, enjoying your warm touch with a smile before they opened. His eyes were like hunter's eyes. “Because I love you.” He replied flatly. 

“I don’t know what that means…” 

You opened your mouth to speak again but you were cut off by a knock at your door. 

“I’ll get it.” The doppelgänger quickly said and in a mere second, it shapeshifted to turn into…you. It was able to mimic you in all your glory, including the hickeys, bites and bruises from your attack.

“No!” You blurted out. “Don’t do that.”

The doppelgänger allowed you to move away from it and your arm fell to your side. You went to get the door but you made sure to check who it was before opening.

It was Francis!

“It’s him!” You hurried to your bedroom to find your cardigan to cover your tattered clothes before answering the door.

“Francis? What brings you here?” You forced a smile but your eyes looked just as tired as his. You couldn’t hide anything from him.

“I heard what happened. ‘m so glad you’re okay.” Francis sighed, quickly invading your personal space. He hugged you to his chest. You blinked “F-Francis…?”

“I felt all torn up when I thought you died but when I heard that you were just fine, I just had to come see you myself.” Your stomach burned with delight. Francis was worried about you?

Francis let go of you and you pulled away. His face was red like he was blushing and you couldn’t help but blush too. Your lips curled into a smile. “W-Well, I’m a lot tougher than I look.”

He wanted to smile back but he couldn’t. He saw the marks on your skin. You were hurt. “I know you are.” He masked his sadness with a weak smile. He rested his hand on your head and ruffled it a bit.

It would probably be inappropriate for him to admit that he’s actually had feelings for you all this time, so he’d save it for another day. Hearing the news about the doppelgänger through gossip during his job of going door to door made him realize he could lose you at any moment. But today, he settled with placing a kiss at the crown of your head. “Stay safe. I’ll check on you again later.”

For a moment, everything in your life went still. Even after he had walked away and left you standing there, it didn’t feel real. This more or less confirmed he had a crush on you as well. No man just does that and doesn’t see you as more than just a neighbor.

Your heart fluttered as you came back to reality. You slipped back inside of your home. You need to get cleaned up! You had to bathe and find something suitable just in case Francis wanted to come inside upon your next meeting.

But then….

“You look awfully happy.”

The doppelgänger was still here. You gulped, seeing his much bigger form. He grabbed the sides of your face with his hand again. He didn’t bother crouching because of your size difference, leaving you standing on the tips of your toes.

You were too shocked to try defending yourself, so he continued. “I saw everything so don’t even try to lie. That bastard is so lucky that I have to lay low until the D.D.D. gets their claws out of you or else I would’ve…”

“Don’t hurt him!” You tried to beat and punch his arm to get him off but he didn’t budge. “Why not?!”

“Because…I’ll be sad. And you don’t want me to be sad, do you?” Your voice was unlabeled and lacked confidence. It was a Hail Mary but you’d do anything to prevent Francis from getting hurt.

“Shit.” The doppelgänger let go of you, setting you back on your feet. It seemed…conflicted. He paced around your living room briefly. It had a soft spot for you but you could tell it has trouble processing emotions like a person. It was just imitating a person to get what it wanted.

“You don’t want him. You just wanna marry a guy. I’ll marry you.” 

You shook your head. “No. Y-You can’t. You’re not him.”

“Of course I am.” His expression became mischievous. A smirk settled on his handsome face. “You can even call me Francis in bed if it fancies you.” 

You felt your stomach do a flip!

“No! I’m not calling you that. Even though you look just like him…wh-what do I call you anyway…?” You retreated inward, hugging yourself and looking quite nervous as if the situation was beginning to dawn on you. You were currently desired by one of the most dangerous beings in the world.

“Francis.”

“Stop! I’m never using that name for you.” You got angry enough to shove him but he didn’t move an inch. You quickly realized that you shouldn’t push too hard or else it might change its mind and kill you. 

“Mmm….” You pursed your lips, avoiding eye contact with the monster. “Wh-What about Franz? Is that good enough for you…?”

Franz, huh?

“Perfect.”

Tagged Folks: @z3r0art @chilifrylizard2

[afeelgoodblog]

The Best News of Last Week - November 28, 2023

🐑 - Why did Fiona the sheep become a mountaineer? She was tired of the "baa-d" jokes at sea level!

1. Pope Francis dines with transgender women for Vatican luncheon

Pope Francis hosted a group of transgender women — many of whom are sex workers or migrants from Latin America — to a Vatican luncheon for the Catholic Church's "World Day of the Poor" last week.

The pontiff and the transgender women have formed a close relationship since the pope came to their aid during the COVID-19 pandemic, when they were unable to work. Now, they meet monthly for VIP visits with the pope and receive medicine, money and shampoo any day, according to The Associated Press.

2. New York just installed its first offshore wind turbine

The first wind turbine installation at South Fork Wind, New York State’s first offshore wind farm, is complete.

The 130-megawatt (MW) South Fork Wind will be the US’s first completed utility-scale wind farm in federal waters.

3. Anonymous businessman donates $800k to struggling food bank

But this Thanksgiving, a longtime prayer of food bank leaders was finally answered: an anonymous benefactor donated the full $800,000 they needed to move out of a facility they've long outgrown. That benefactor, however, preferred to stay anonymous.

"Very private company, really don't want attention," said Debbie Christian, executive director of the Auburn Food Bank. "It's a goodhearted person that just wants to see the work here continue, wants to see it expand."

4. Empowering woman saving hopes and mental health of suffering Ukrainian kids

Kenza Hadij-Brahim is at the forefront of promoting Circle of Toys

Hadj-Brahim is helping to launch the Circle of Toys initiative. A project that provides Ukrainian children in need of some normality with preloved toys. This new initiative connects people with old toys they might otherwise throw away, with Ukrainian families in need who want to provide some comfort to their children in this distressing time.

Find Refuge said : “The endeavour is driven by a sincere purpose: spark joy, foster play, and bring a hint of normalcy back to the young lives in Ukraine.”

5. TWO LOST CITIES HIDDEN FOR CENTURIES WERE JUST DISCOVERED IN BOLIVIA

Researchers have found these areas not only housed structures and pyramids but it has been uncovered that there were advanced irrigation systems, earthworks, large towns, causeways, and canals that cover miles.

Dr. Heiko Prümers from the German Archaeological Institute, who was also involved in the study comments that “this indicated a relatively dense settlement in pre-Hispanic times. Our goal was to conduct basic research and trace the settlements and life there. The research sheds light on the sheer magnitude and magnificence of the civic-ceremonial centers found buried in the forest”.

6. Sheep dubbed Fiona rescued from cliff in Scotland where she was stuck for more than 2 years

And at last, some positive climate news:

7. Three positive climate developments

Heating

When the Paris Agreement was adopted, the global reliance on fossil fuels placed the world on a path towards a 3.5C rise in temperature by 2100. Eight years on, country commitments to reduce their carbon footprints have pulled that down slightly, putting the world on a path for a 2.5C to 2.9C by the end of the century.

Peak emissions

Annual greenhouse gas emissions responsible for climate change have risen roughly nine percent since COP21, according to UN data. But the rate of the increase has slowed significantly. Recent estimates by the Climate Analytics institute find global emissions could peak by 2024

Rising renewables

Three technologies—solar, wind and electric vehicles—are largely behind the improved global warming estimates since 2015.

---

That's it for this week :)

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Buy me a coffee ❤️

Also don’t forget to reblog this post with your friends.

[notmyneighbor]

a new neighbor | francis mosses x female reader

chapter 3

words | 5k

cw | explicit sexual content. cheating, fondling, oral sex

ao3 link

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

Francis doesn’t sleep that night.

He’s too anxious, his mind wandering. Thinking up his next batch of excuses for upcoming absences, granting him more to spend with you.

It’s the freedom of you he really craves. That notion that you represent youth and possibility. A future that had been squandered in his own timeline. But being with you is like a second chance. Stolen. Undeserved, maybe. But he can’t resist that kind of temptation.

He’s on the couch tonight, the springs creaking as he tosses and turns. He thinks about you one floor above. Dressed in some frilly, feminine thing. Hand shoved beneath the waistband of your pajamas, touching yourself like he’d told you to. Biting your bottom lip, turning and burrowing your face into the side of your pillow to keep silent when the pleasure got to be a little too much. The milkman recalls the taste of you, the feel of your mouth on his. Your fingers wrapped around his cock. He wishes you were there right now. Pinned beneath him. He’d wanted to fuck you right then and there in the stairwell earlier. Take your virginity for his own.

He’s not even guilty when the idle strokes of his erection beneath the sheet draped over him become more intentional and deliberate. He spills over his hand, hips spasming. His face is tucked into the side of the couch, braced on either side by the pillow below his head and the cushion beside it. It’s only when he’s blown that load that he finally feels some of the tension ease. He can sleep now.

***

“I’m going to stop at the store to pick up some things we need.”

Francis stands at the kitchen sink later that morning, rinsing his coffee mug. Nacha glances over at him from her position behind the stove. “Thank you. That would be really helpful.”

“I’m going to take Ana to the park tomorrow, too.”

His girlfriend sets the fork down she’d been using to fluff the scrambled eggs, shutting the stove off and moving the pan to a cooler burner. She smiles, a gesture that seems to come easier these days. She’s really enjoying being out of the house, pursuing her passion. He truly is glad for her newfound joy.

Now he wants his turn.

“You know,” she begins, moving to stand beside him at the sink. “The other night was a lot of fun. More like the old days, you know?” She reaches for his bare arm. He’s still wearing pajamas. Their daughter isn’t even awake yet.

“Uh, yeah.” He doesn’t meet her gaze. He doesn’t want to reflect on that moment, when he’d been pretending the mother of his child was actually the babysitter. Leaving her to finish herself, because he’d given up trying to figure out what she actually needed to achieve that goal long ago. You though. He would always make certain you’d get off with him.

The freckle faced woman is now behind him, wrapping her arms around him. He can’t help but tense up. He doesn’t want this. He’s not hers, he’s yours.

“You’ve been trying. I can tell. Helping out more. I appreciate it. Maybe…” She kisses his spine.

Francis gently pries her hands free. “Ana…” The old standby excuse of being caught by the young schoolgirl is always ready, always plausible.

“She’s dead asleep. Snoring.”

“Nacha. Nacha, listen to me.” He turns to face her. “This is never going to be…we’re not really engaged. Not even dating.”

“Well of course, I know that.” She shakes her head, the sleep tousled curls bouncing with the movement. “But that doesn’t mean…”

“No,” he says, and the word is such a sharp, vehement denial that the woman actually takes a step back, her different shaded eyes widening slightly. “No,” he repeats more gently. “You should be with someone that can give you what you deserve. The whole package. The emotional components, too. We should both try to find that,” he adds.

“But Francis, we can’t. The entire point of living together and telling people we’re engaged—”

“—is so people didn’t ridicule and codemn you. So Anastacha could have two parents instead of one. I’m not saying to give any of that up. I’m just saying…” What was he saying?

“You want to see someone else.”

“Someday,” he says vaguely, suddenly very interested in the cup of coffee he’s poured. They’re out of sugar. It’s bitter.

“Did you meet someone else?” He can hear how she tries to make the query light and airy, as if his answer isn’t all that serious. He knows better. He’s making her suspicious. This conversation is heading into dangerous territory.

“No, of course not. Who would I meet? I never go anywhere.”

“You see people everyday, Francis.”

“For work.”

“You’re telling me there’s not one attractive housewife out there that’s caught your eye?”

“Now you’re encouraging me to have an affair with a married woman?” He nearly chokes on his heated beverage.

“Relax, I’m teasing. I know you’d never do something like that.” She nudges his arm playfully and the dark liquid almost spills over the edge. “I’m going to go wake Ana up now.”

He watches her exit the kitchen and sets the mug back down on the counter, his eyes flicking to the clock on the wall.

Your piano lesson begins in four hours.

***

The neighborhood you’re taking your music lessons in is nice.

Well manicured lawns. Houses kept in good repair, with fresh coats of paint. He wonders briefly what it would be like to dwell in one of these residences. No longer having neighbors just on the other side of thin walls. No longer hearing the constant noise of the city. Fresher air. A proper yard for Ana to play in.

More privacy.

Already his thoughts are shifting. He squirms in his seat, adjusting the fabric of his slacks slightly, trying to relieve some of the tightening pressure. He cranks the window down for air and he can actually hear you playing through the parlor window that’s also been lifted. The weather was holding, warm and fragrant with spring flowers. He shifts again and he can just make out your profile, those delicate hands working over ebony and ivory keys. Of course you’re talented. He’s not surprised by the smooth melody that seamlessly issues forth. He wonders if you’d had a piano where you’d lived before. It must be difficult not being able to practice at home anymore.

The song ends. He hears the murmur of voices. You emerge and he straightens in his seat, reaching for the key in the ignition.

You look puzzled at first. The car. You don’t recognize it. He doesn’t need to remind you to tap out the secret knock today. Your fingers work against the doorframe, the other hand clutching the book of sheet music to your chest, your brow furrowed.

“Did you think I was going to pick you up in the delivery truck again? With no seat for you? Get in here and give me a kiss.” His fingers drum the correct sequence back over the steering wheel.

Relief washes over your features. You slide inside the car and the older man pulls the book from your hands, tossing it on the back seat. “Hi.”

“Hi.”

The urge to kiss you, onlookers be damned, is overwhelming. Instead he focuses on reversing out of the driveway.

“How was your lesson? I could hear you playing. You’re very talented.”

“Good, yeah. I miss being able to practice at home, though. Now I can only do it at school.”

He hums sympathetically. “Put the window down if you want. I know it’s warm today.”

You grab the crank and rotate it, the glass partially retracting from sight before you settle back into the padded seat.

He can’t resist reaching towards you, tangling his fingers with yours. “I like your dress.” He thinks you could wear anything (or nothing, even better) and it would look wonderful on you. This one has some tiny print, the same image repeated over and over. Flowers? Cherries. Little paired bits of juicy red fruit and emerald leaves.

“Thank you.” Your cheeks are slightly flushed. You’re looking at the hands joined together. “I didn’t know what to think when I saw this car, I admit I was a little scared for a moment there. Silly, I know. As if a doppel would know to kidnap me from my piano lesson.”

“It’s good you’re being careful. What did your dad say about you getting a ride?”

“He was okay once he found out it was you picking me up. I said we were going shopping together.”

The irony of that first statement isn’t lost on the milkman. Two truths that shield a greater lie. Your father trusts him.

“Is Nacha home with Ana?”

“Yes, that’s why I was able to borrow her car. She’s not going out today.”

The hand entwined in his suddenly pulls free and Francis glances over at you. Did the mention of Nacha upset you?

“This is her car.”

“Yes. Is something wrong?”

You fold your arms tightly. The scowl is back. Darker this time.

The driver sighs. This was becoming an issue with you. This jealousy. There was no point to it. You had absolutely no reason to feel this way. He remarks as much out loud.

“It’s not the same for you. You don’t have any competition. I’m not living with a boyfriend.”

“We’re not really dating.”

“Not really engaged, either.”

“No.”

“Never sleep together either, right?”

“I spent last night on the couch, as a matter of fact.”

“I mean fucking,” you snap, and his face jerks to regard you.

“I told her we should see other people this morning.” His voice is deathly quiet.

“You did?”

“Yes.”

“What did she say?”

Francis had been driving without any real destination in mind. He won’t be picking up groceries just yet because perishable items would just spoil while he spent time with you. He’s reached a less savory part of town. These houses unkempt. Yards overgrown. An abandoned family run grocery store that had failed due to competitor's prices and selection of goods has a large lot in the back, where he parks the vehicle now. The asphalt is crumbling, weeds already poking through in stubborn reclamation. A shopping cart rests forgotten against the side of the brick building. Perhaps not the most impressive place to bring you. He really should prepare better. It’s just the other, more lustful thoughts always take hold and steer his brain away from common sense. He shuts the engine off and turns to face you.

“Look at me.” You stubbornly stare through the windshield. “Look at me,” he repeats, more firmly, and your eyes reluctantly meet his. “She didn’t say much of anything. That’s my entire point. She doesn’t care. Not really. It’s not real. It’s an illusion. You’re letting yourself be duped. You have no reason to ever think you’re in competition for my attention.”

You’re still silent. It’s so soon in the relationship to be this attached, to be this possessive. Maybe it’s your youth and inexperience making you feel that way.

“I am doing everything I can to spend as much time with you as possible.”

“I know,” you reply quietly.

“This isn’t going to get any easier. It’s only going to get more difficult. You’re going to have to keep lying. Over and over and over again. And you’re going to have to pretend. That you don’t have an issue with Nacha. That there’s nothing between us. Are you sure you’re ready for that? I wouldn’t blame you if you’ve changed your mind.” He’s giving you another out. Another chance to clear his conscience.

He doesn’t really want you to take it. Isn’t really bothered about the smudge on his soul, as it were.

“I want this.”

“I don’t want to spend our time together arguing. We have so little of it. Let’s not waste it.” He leans towards you and captures your lips. You’re still a little stiff, tense and miffed. But then you melt, your body surrendering to what it wants. Your hands come around his shoulders and your tongue touches his. Instant sparks surge through him. He has to have you. He has to. “Did you do what I asked you to do last night?” His voice sounds ragged.

“Yes,” you murmur beside his cheek.

“Good girl.” His hand dips beneath the edge of your dress, sliding along your thigh. “I couldn’t sleep last night. Couldn’t stop thinking about you, about this…” He’s reached your panties. Your hips grind back against the vinyl as you widen the opening, making room for him between your legs. “You’re always so hot and wet and ready for me.” Unsure who gasps louder when his fingers streak across your damp sex. Your kisses grow fiercer. You nip at his bottom lip and lick the arch of one cheekbone. You hum against his neck and dig your fingers into his scalp. That urge to suck your throat until the fragile vessels beneath the skin surrender and burst washes over him again. Marking you. Claiming you. A secret he has to keep, denying this dark desire for now.

The console between your body and his is annoying, constantly impeding his movements. “Get in the back with me,” he implores, swiping one last teasing stroke across your clit before he moves back, panting and hot, too hot, the upcoming summer with you will destroy him.

Once you’ve both made your way the rear seat of the car the milkman shoves your sheet music book carelessly to the floor, his hands seating heavily on your hips, tugging to indicate he wants you to move. You’re just able to crawl onto his lap, your head bent so you don’t hit the roof of the car. His hands are already back under your dress again, buried beneath that lightweight, fluttery material with its tempting little fruits.

He strokes your thighs and you lick the sweat from his brow. He mashes his face between the breasts still hidden from sight, inhaling that clean soap and powder scent. Everything about you is so fresh and new. Pure, until he makes you otherwise.

His hands cup the curves of your buttocks now, squeezing the soft globes of flesh. His appetite for the taste of that sweet candy mouth of yours is insatiable. It doesn’t even matter if anyone were to see you together now. A patrol officer, Nacha, your father, hell even the DDD or one of the doppelgangers themselves could be just outside the window and he’d tell them to fucking wait because he’s not giving you up, not for anyone or anything. Had he thought you too possessive earlier? He understands the notion completely. He wants you to be his. Only his.

“I want to taste you,” you breathe against his skin.

Oh, does that make his cock rise to full mast. He wants that, too. But it’s not going to be easy for you. A lot to take. And the actual flavor, once he bursts on your tongue…

“It’s not delicious like you, baby girl,” he cautions.

“It’s you. I want it,” you persist, and his prick lurches in agreement. Well, far be it from him to deny you.

You ease back off of Francis’ lap and sit beside him. He watches as you open his pants. No belt today. He’s made things slightly easier for you. Once that flushed organ is revealed there’s the slightest beat of hesitation. Suddenly reminded of his size. But there’s no turning back now. Your face is already bending. He hastily gathers your hair as you descend, mostly getting it out of the way, keeping his view of you unobstructed. Your tongue darts out and he hisses, his hips already rising to meet your mouth. It’s going to take every ounce of willpower not to deepthroat you, to roughly fuck that wet tunnel until he reaches the nirvana waiting for him. He’s shaking with the effort of it. You’ve managed to engulf the head of his cock and for now, that does just fine. A bit of a scrape with your teeth, but he knows you’ll adjust. A fast learner at everything.

He feels the moment your jaw loosens, slackening a bit, relaxing to ease more of him inside your mouth. Still barely reaching a third of the way, but it’s progress. Wet, warm progress. Your tongue digs into the slit as if seeking more of the precum that had escaped earlier. Your fingers curl around the base of the shaft but he pushes you away from that nest of dark curls. He just wants your mouth and nothing else right now. Those sweet lips spread in an inviting ring for him to pop in and out of. Narrow, but nothing like your pussy would be the first time he violated you.

No, don’t think about that. He doesn’t want to cum this soon.

Your mouth releases him and you gasp for air. He can see your lashes are wet from the strain, your lips already swelling. He imagines there’s some tingling, there and elsewhere. Drooling for him in more than one opening. You spit a wad of clear lubrication on the crown and stroke your saliva up and down and it’s just about the fucking hottest thing he’s ever experienced. Where did you get these ideas from? Did you gossip with other girls? Sneak a dirty magazine from somewhere? He just can’t envision you doing something so naughty. Then again, you’d been asking to suck his dick. And doing it so, so well.

Francis doesn’t hesitate once your mouth closes over his turgid member again. He’s fucking your mouth, still much shallower than he’d like, but enough to really test your gag reflex. He loves the lewd sound it makes, that moist suction with every collision. He’s pulling your hair more than guiding your head but it’s really gone beyond any kind of tenderness now. Forget holding back. He wants to fill that pretty mouth with his sperm and he wants you to swallow it all down. Every single drop.

“So good, baby girl. You feel so good.”

You moan. Maybe a protest. Maybe a bit of wonton desire. Perhaps a little of both. The older man continues to fuck your teenage mouth. He’s close. He’d give you a warning but he doesn’t want you pulling away at the last minute. He jerks your head back so he’s balanced on the edge of your tongue, so he can see your face when he floods your mouth with his seed, ropes of thick cream that pool along that muscle. You flinch and he tugs harder, making sure to keep you in place.

“Stay right there. Swallow it, honey.” He wipes his cock off on the corner of your mouth and your lips close. A grimace as you taste the acrid fluid, holding it for the briefest of moments against your taste buds before gulping it down.

Fuck, you were perfect. Every depraved action performed so well. Still innocent and yet not. Moving a little further along that path of depravity he’s leading you down.

You’re much wetter when his hands return to the soft flesh beneath your panties. It doesn’t take long for his fingers to coax an orgasm from you, working feverishly against your partially hooded bud. He doesn’t relish the taste of his jizz in your mouth but the flavor dissipates soon enough and there’s just your flavor again, that honey taste accompanying those siren moans as you achieve your release against his prodding digits, making him want you all over again.

But there simply isn’t time. He really does have to do the shopping, then return home to put it away before going to the bowling alley for his first time out with the neighbors.

“Are you still coming to the park with me and Ana tomorrow?”

Francis is back behind the wheel again and you’re in the passenger seat.

“Yes.”

“We’ll come by around noon. Have lunch there.”

“Okay.”

“Did you have fun today?”

Another nod. More words of praise for you. A few last kisses. Then the milkman drives to a different grocery store, to one of the larger chains that had put the abandoned one he’d been parked behind that afternoon out of business, leaving that silent witness to the affair behind.

***

Francis digs a quarter out of his pocket for the rental later that afternoon at the bowling alley, finding shoes that match his size. He doesn’t really like wearing something that’s been on countless other bodies. Not everyone was clean. But those were the rules.

He’s never been much of a fan of bowling, the craze that was sweeping the nation baffling him. It was on television multiple nights a week. There were so many competitions. The evolution from needing pin boys to reset the field, emerging from behind the curtained flaps to line them in a profession that was more than a little risky if the timing was just the slightest bit off, to the convenience of faster moving automated pin setters that put those same youths out of work, had really elevated the popularity of the sport.

There was quite a variety of age groups in the alley that afternoon. Maybe he should have brought you here. He wouldn’t be able to touch your or kiss you. He’d have to pretend, and that was hard enough in front of Nacha and Ana and your father. He barely knows his partners for the evening, Izaack and Angus and the Peachman brothers.

Only for you would he go to this much effort. Securing a plausible alibi for a future time with you. That softens the unpleasantness a bit and he studies the shellacked wooden floor. That was part of the trick of it, or so he’d heard. Something about the interaction of the slick floor coating and the texture and weight of the rubber balls making them easier to roll and collect a strike. Of course, there was still skill involved. He doesn’t quite have the flow down, the correct arch of back and swing of arm to really send his ball towards the targets at precisely the correct spot eluding him. The floors are slippery and he doesn’t want to land on his ass. This is awkward enough as it is.

“Have you met the new neighbors yet?” Angus directs this question to anyone within range, marking his score on the card. The salesman was good, but so far the reporter was further in the lead.

“Who?” The younger of the two brothers looks puzzled.

“You know, the ones on the second floor.” He nudges the other shoemaker and the redhead stares until he comprehends what his older sibling is trying to discreetly imply. Of course there was only one way to snag an apartment in the building these days. The previous tenant had come to an unfortunate end. It’s a sobering thought that leaves the small group silent for a few moments before Albertsky speaks up again.

“So who are they?”

“A college professor and his daughter. A high school senior. Mother deceased.” Izaack divulges the information with the same clinically detached voice he uses when delivering the newscast on the local network, not even looking up from the small notepad he’s scribbling in. No doubt at work on some new feature he’ll be presenting in an upcoming televised report.

“How come you know so much?”

“It’s my job,” the raven haired man says with a tired sounding sigh of resignation. Something he probably has to remind people of often. The milkman doesn’t envy him his career.

“She’s pretty. I’ve seen her in the elevator. Nice body on that one,” Angus murmurs, his teeth flashing in a feral grin.

Francis slips and the ball lands in the gutter. Robertsky barks a laugh and he glowers at him, his ire shifting to the bachelor salesman.

“Whoa, if looks could kill, you’d be dead right now, Angus,” Albertsky quips.

Izaack looks up from his work finally, the foot crossed over one knee freezing, no longer jostling in some gentle rhythm. His blue eyes lock onto Francis’ features. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing,” he says through gritted teeth. He sucks in a deep breath to steady his nerves, aware that he’s caught the attention of the entire group now. You just…you shouldn’t talk about her like that. Imagine if it was your daughter being leered at like that.”

“Sure, except I don’t have a daughter.”

“I would kill someone that looked at Ana that way,” he says vehemently. Another awkward silence stretches between the men. He means it. He’d do anything for his daughter.

Of course, it’s not your virtue that’s making him defend you right now. It’s jealousy, rearing its ugly head. Another emotion he’d condemned you for experiencing earlier, burning in his gut and cleaving his tongue to the roof of his mouth. He’s livid, seething. Most of all because the very accusation he’s making hits so close to home. He’s guilty of far more than just lecherous thoughts of you. He’s acting on them. The very worst sort of person. Suddenly all his justifications feel thin as gauze. Ephemeral. He can claim he’s just trying to find the affection and happiness he’s been denied for so long all he wants. The end result is the same. He’s corrupting you, little by little.

And he has no intention of stopping.

“Ah, he’s just being a protective parent,” Robertsky says dismissively, breaking the silence at last, scratching at his moustache nervously as he waits to see how this response will be received.

“She’s eighteen,” the cleft chinned reporter murmurs, and Francis directs his withering gaze at the suited man. Great, now he was encouraging him.

“See? There you go. Not really a child anymore. Legally an adult. It’s hardly a similar comparison,” Angus protests.

“Drop it.” The milkman slouches on the seat next to Izaack, watching bitterly as the ball Robertsky’s sent careening down the lane neatly knocks over every one of the ten pins.

A score he knows he’s never going to be able to achieve.

***

It rains the next day, ruining Francis’ plans to take you and his daughter to the park.

He knows he’s sulking and he doesn’t really care. Last night had been sheer torture. He’s got a headache and he just wants to shut himself away for the remainder of the day to brood.

Instead he gets ready to go to your apartment, because your father has invited the milkman and his girlfriend and child over for dinner. His appetite for food has abandoned him again, but his hunger for you is never really sated. It’s an awkward mix of desire and reluctance propelling him to your door, Ana’s small hand clutched in his, his culinary gifted roommate on the opposite side. He’ll have to make small talk. Not let his eyes linger on you too long.

How the hell is he going to make this work?

You open the door, clad in another dress he hasn’t yet seen. This one a solid color with a more demure neckline. He still likes it, admiring how put together you always look. Nothing out of place. You set the table while everyone else converses in the living room. It’s no use. He just can’t come up with any contributions to the current discussion, the idle chatter. He suddenly rockets to his feet, insisting on helping you, grateful that Nacha has Ana in her lap, keeping her occupied. He doesn’t want his daughter tagging along. He knows he’s being obvious already, or maybe that’s just the paranoia haunting him.

You glance up at him midway through setting a fork down, the steel cutlery glinting in your hand. “You shouldn’t be in here,” you murmur softly.

“Why not?”

“You know why not,” you hiss back. He follows you into the kitchen. The room he’d first kissed you in. God, he really shouldn’t be thinking about that right now. Lifting you onto the counter. Rubbing his cock against your pussy…

“You told me we had to pretend.”

“Yes.”

“You’re not pretending. It’s written all over your face.”

“What is?”

“Francis, we can’t both be…” You turn, the exasperated sound dying in your throat as you see his expression. That raw, naked, desperate want.

“Can’t both be what?” He’s crowding you back against the sink again. Your eyes dart to the open doorway.

“One of us has to be the voice of reason.”

“I got robbed of my time with you earlier. I don’t really give a flying fuck about reason right now.”

“Francis, no…”

“I need you,” he says, planting a rough kiss on your lips, his palm following the curve of one hip.

“Please. Not now. Not here.”

“When, then? Where?”

“Tomorrow, after I’m done watching Ana, you can walk me back, my dad will be at work.”

“No. Sooner than that.” His grip on you tightens.

“Francis, I don’t know…”

“Don’t you want me?” He’s practically whining. If you asked him to kneel and beg right then, he’d do it. He’d actually do it.

“You know I do,” you whisper, your voice thick with emotion.

“Are you ready to serve our guests? Need a hand?” You’re father’s voice carries from the living room.

“No, dad, I’ve got it. Francis is helping me,” you call back, shooting him a pleading look. “Later, then,” you promise. “We’ll figure something out.”

Somewhat placated, the milkman steals another kiss before he moves away.

Later.

[beerok23]

D: And then he came to offer you the part in Good Omens? M: Yeah, well, we became friends and we would, you know, whenever he was in town, we would meet up. And then eventually he started. He said, you know, I'm working on an adaptation of Good Omens. I remember at one point Terry Gilliam was going to maybe make a film of it. And I remember being there with Neil and Terry when they were talking about it. D: Were you involved at that point? M: No, I wasn't involved. I just happened to have met up with Neil that day. D: Right.

M: And then Terry Gilliam came along and that was the day they were talking about that or whatever. And then eventually he sent me one of the scripts for an early draft of, like, the first episode of Good Omens. And he said, we started talking about me being involved in doing it. He said, 'Would you be interested?' I was like, 'Yeah, of course I would. Oh, my God.' And he said, 'Well, I'll send you the scripts when they come.' And I would read them and we talk about them a little bit. So I sort of was involved. But it was always at that point with the idea, because he'd always said about playing Crowley in it. And as time went on, as I was reading the scripts, I was thinking, I don't think I can play Crowley. I don't think I'm going to be able to do. And I started to get a bit nervous because I thought, 'I don't want to tell Neil that I don't think I can do this'. But I just felt like, I don't think I can play Crowley. D: Of course you could play Crowley. M: Well, just on a sort of - on a gut level, you know, sometimes you have on a gut level, you go - D: Sure, sure. M: I can do this. D: Yeah. M: Or I can't do this. M: And I just thought, you know what? This is not the part for me. The other part is better for me. I think. I think I can do that. I don't think I could do that. But I was scared to tell Neil because I thought, well, he wants me to play Crowley. And then it turned out he had been feeling the same way as well, and he hadn't wanted to mention it to me. But he was like, 'I think Michael should really play Aziraphale'. And neither of us would bring it up. And then eventually we did. And it was one of those things where you go, 'Oh, thank God you said that. Oh, I feel exactly the same way'. D: Yeah. M: And then I think within a fairly short space of time, he said, 'I think we've got David Tennant for Crowley.' D: *Chuckles* M: And we both got very excited about that. And then all these extraordinary people started to joining up. And then off we went. D: The other thing about Neil, he collects people, doesn't he? So he'll just go, oh, yeah, I phoned up Francis McDormand. She's up for it. Yeah. And you're 'What-Wait-What?' M: I emailed John Hamm. D: Yeah. M: And you realize how beloved he is and how beloved his work is. And I think we would both recognize that Good Omens is one of the most beloved of all of Neil's stuff. D: Yes. M: And had never been turned into anything. D: Yeah. M: And so the kind of responsibility of that, I mean, for me, for someone who has been a fan of him and a fan of the book for so long, I can empathize with all the fans out there who are like, oh, they better not fuck this up and this better be good. And I have that part of me, but then, of course, the other part of me is like, but I'm the one who might be fucking it up. So I feel that responsibility as well.

D: But we have Neil on site. M: Yes. Well, Neil being the showrunner - D: Yeah. M: I think it takes a massive difference. You feel like you're in safe hands. D: Well, we think. Not that the world has seen it yet. M: No, I know. D: But it's been a joy to work with you on it. M: Oh, my goodness. D: I can't wait for the world to see it. M: Well, I mean, I've done a few things where there are two people. It's a bit of a double act, like Frost-Nixon some more, and The Queen, I suppose in some ways, and I've done - Amadeus or whatever. This is the only thing I've done where I really don't think of it as my character or my performance as that character. I think of it totally as us, the two of us. D: Yes! M: What I do is defined by what you do. That was such a joy to have that experience. And it made it so much easier in a way as well, I found, because you don't feel like you're on your own in it. Like it's totally us together doing this. And the two characters totally complement each other. And the experience of doing it was just a real joy. D: Well, I hope the world is as excited to see it as we are to talk about it, frankly.

M: You know. Having talked about T. S. Elliott earlier, there's another bit from The Waste Land where there's a line which goes, "These fragments I have shored against my ruin". And this is how I think about life now. There is so much in life, no matter what your circumstances, no matter where you've got, what you've done, how much money you got, all that. Life's hard. It can take you down at any point. You have to find this stuff. You have to find things that will. These fragments that you hold yourself, they become like a life raft. And especially as time goes on. I think as I've got older, I've realized it is a thin line between being surviving this life and going under and the things that keep you afloat are these fragments, these things that are meaningful to you. And what's meaningful to you will be not meaningful to someone else. But whatever it is that matters to you, it doesn't matter what it was you were into when you were a teenager, a kid. Doesn't matter what it is. Go and find them and find some way to hold them close to you. Make it go and get it. Because those are the things that keep you afloat. They really are, like doing that with him or whatever it is. These are the fragments that have shored against my ruin. Absolutely. D: That's lovely. Michael, thank you so much. M: Thank you. D: For talking today and for being here. M: It's a pleasure. D: Thank you.

This podcast is so underrated. I heard it tonight for the first time, and it blew my mind. The episode was published back in April 2019 (recorded after a photoshoot for Good Omens season 1). Listen to these babies, starting to knowing and respecting each other *_* Of course, Michael Sheen was probably the greatest fan of Neil and Good Omens out there, but the joy and the excitement was already there to feel, from both of them!

And Michael saying "The Two of Us" 4 years before July 2023... My heart - just - can't.

[agendabymooner]

ollie on thin ice(man) || ob8 (+ kr7) scenario

ollie bearman x raikkonen!ofc (ft. dad!kimi raikkonen)

EXTENSION TO ICE ICE BABY (SMAU)

ANOTHER RECOMMENDED READ: STOP THE WORLD I WANNA GET OFF WITH YOU (KIMI R. SMAU)

Summary: It was the Formula 1 summer break, meaning that The Iceman’s two driving children, including his beloved Romania ‘Aroma’ Raikkonen, were home. This also meant that a certain Ollie Bearman would make his presence known to the Raikkonen household- which was unpleasant for Kimi’s part.

Content warning: Dad!Kimi being protective, Andrea Kimi Antonelli is addressed as ‘Kimi’ by the Raikkonens but is addressed as ‘Andrea’ in narration, humour, wooing, Ollie wanting to cry really bad, Antonelli x Raikkonen!OFC (Rooney)

Note: this might not make sense to most but… enjoy regardless xx read the recommended fics for more context.

a - n masterlist // o - z masterlist

if you’d like to get on one of my taglists, check this post out

For Kimi, it was never a problem to have people over.

 He was retired and he pretty much had nothing all day but to spend some time with his kids all while his wife, the Academy Award winning director Vera Coppola, worked on days end while she travelled to New York for a week. 

It was a life he loved to live, really.

To have people over was a usual case for the Coppola-Raikkonen household, as Kimi had three children that were at the age when friends and peers were important. 

Kimi and Vera always thought that it was much better that they allowed their children to have friends over than having them go out and about at night— better be free at home than rebellious and endangered, right?

It was now the summer break of this year’s F1 season, which meant that his two children were also home and didn’t need to be travelling with their mum to wherever the next race was.

It meant that they didn’t need to do their schoolwork on the plane while their private tutors sat with them on the way to wherever. 

It gave the two young racers the break they needed from competing, anyways. If there was something that Kimi knew, it was that his eldest daughter and oldest son had the same drive as him. 

Though, if he was being honest, his son was more like him in terms of interviews and personality in front of the camera. But still… both were racing out of pure joy.

Thank goodness, their mother was a Coppola and Kimi made millions before this. 

“Dad, Kimi’s here,” Johann-Lauri Francis Coppola-Raikkonen, or simply Jo, announced as the fifteen year old walked into the living room where Kimi and his two younger kids sat. 

Andrea Kimi (whom Kimi was never confused with whenever Jo or any of his children said the name ‘Kimi’ as they addressed their dad as ‘Dad’) made his presence known to Kimi as he waved, “Good afternoon, Mr. Raikkonen.” 

“Ah! Andrea,” Kimi nodded. “Nice seeing you. When did you get here to Italy?” 

“Hm… We just got back from Nice two hours ago,” Andrea replied with a purse on his lips, “Mamma and Papa made sure I got here in time. I even brought an overnight bag.”

“Okay,” Kimi said with a nod, “Johann, did you clean your room?”

“Yes, dad,” Jo replied.

“Do you want me to order food later?” Kimi asked.

Just the mere utter of the words ‘order food’ had Kimi’s second daughter running from the home library to the living room.

“Dad? Why is it that every time Kimi’s around we always order food? Why can’t we order food when Kimi’s not here?” 

Rooney Italia Coppola-Raikkonen, at the age 17, never once enjoyed the presence of Andrea. But that was because they were both at that age when pissing each other off was just a phase. Now here she was, complaining about Andrea getting a special treatment.

“Bwoah, he is a guest, Roo,” Kimi answered plainly. “Mama isn’t here right now, and I’m sure you’d like some pizza too, no?”

“For dinner?” Rooney whined. 

“You can order off the menu and tell me later,” Kimi negotiated, making Roo jump excitedly. 

“Nice,” Roo said with a grin before she glared at Andrea, “You suck, Antonelli.”

“Rooney Italia—“ Kimi was about to scold his daughter, but she had already sped off to the home library once more.

Kimi sighed, watching the two teenage boys head upstairs to Jo’s room. Kimi looked down at his little boy and his toddler girl. Both little kids were less of a menace than the older ones, thankfully. 

Betty-Elina was suckling on her pacifier when she looked at Kimi and raised her comfort blanket up to Kimi’s chest level.

“Thank you, kulta,” Kimi told Betty with a grin. He turned to where his youngest son was. 

Henrik was snoozing on Kimi’s lap, not even minding the noise that his big siblings were making just about now. 

God. What a life he was living. 

Somewhere in the mansion, rather down the hall of the east wing, was a quiet muffling sound of a girl who was speaking to herself. Well, Romania Eleanor was barely speaking to herself.

She was streaming. It was her first stream ever since F2 had gotten to her system. 

Having to fight her friends to keep her second position before the season ends told her enough about how taxing racing could get. Thus she did the second best thing to racing and streamed cozy games to her fans.

Aroma, once she heard a knock and a creak of the door, looked over to see her younger sister Rooney. She paused her game, trying to see what the girl wanted all while her stream remained running.

“What’s up?” Aroma asked.

“Dad‘s going to order food,” Rooney started but was quickly cut off.

“Let me guess: Antonelli?” Aroma quipped.

Rooney huffed out, “As always.”

Aroma knew that the two, for some reason, hated each other’s presence. Or rather, Andrea Antonelli was simply amused at the one sided beef Rooney had with him. 

But regardless, the ART Grand Prix driver chuckled as she nodded. Aroma said, “If Dad is ordering from Signora Leona’s restaurant, can you ask if I can have some seafood fettuccine Alfredo?” 

“Got it,” Rooney raised a thumb up before she left the room. 

Aroma watched Rooney leave and shut the door behind her before she sighed, proceeding to play her Animal Crossing as she spoke to her stream, “It’s like I’m watching a cringe version of enemies to lovers.”

Ollie Bearman was never scared of anyone.

Anyone but one person that wasn’t his parents: Aroma Raikkonen’s father, Kimi.

He’s heard stories about The Iceman and how he couldn’t care less about anything that didn’t involve him nor his children.

Sure, for most people it wasn’t a scary thought. But in some ways, the British man was involved with Kimi Raikkonen’s eldest daughter. 

That alone was a scary thought. He’s had a crush on Aroma since they started racing together, back when Aroma raced around Europe while her mother Vera took her to travel. Ollie was a welcome face to everyone in the Coppola-Raikkonen household. 

But god… People called Kimi ‘The Iceman’ for a reason, Ollie thought. 

Kimi’s icy stares and cold demeanour were always directed to Ollie and no one else. Ollie knew the difference between ‘icy’ and ‘indifference’ especially when it came to Aroma Raikkonen and her ‘wholesome’ father. 

News flash: Ollie called bullshit on Kimi being a sweet man. Kimi’s stare could burn holes and Ollie could rot on them— so much for being the ‘Iceman’. 

Now here Ollie was in Italy, hoping to hang out with Aroma…

To sum it up: Ollie and Aroma had some sort of thing going on. One that Ollie wouldn’t dare show to Kimi because god only knows what the Finnish driver could do to the Brit. 

Anyway.

Ollie patiently stood in front of the Coppola-Raikkonen home, his posture still calm. He had just rung the bell, now he was patiently waiting for anyone to answer. 

He didn’t expect for the patriarch to answer the door, his brown eyes meeting Kimi Raikkonen’s blue eyes. 

Ollie grinned and politely greeted, “Mr. Raikkonen-!” 

“-You’re not the delivery man,” Kimi stated bluntly. 

Well… Ollie stood there awkwardly and nodded, “I am not, sir. I am here for Romania.” 

“…Bwoah?” Kimi asked, his head tilting as he watched Ollie nod in confirmation. “I was not told.” 

“I- uh,” Ollie’s demeanour grew awkward and uncomfortable as he stammered, “She- she didn’t tell you?” 

Now this could go two ways: The British driver would have to go back to his accommodation in Milan and wallow in self-pity because Aroma Raikkonen had completely forgotten about their plans during the summer break OR he would die in the hands of Kimi Raikkonen because Kimi’s daughter had forgotten to tell her father about the said plans. 

Either way, Ollie knew he was screwed. 

Kimi stated, his typical indifference seeping through his voice, “I can check with her.” 

Ollie sighed in relief and smiled politely, “Thank you-“

Kimi had already shut the door on Ollie, making the younger man sigh and wait by the front porch for five minutes…

Then five turned to ten…

Then ten turned to fifteen. There was no sign of Kimi. No signs of Aroma either. 

Ollie sighed and took his phone, trying to ring and text Aroma. There was nothing. So he did the next best thing and rang the only other guest in the Coppola-Raikkonen household. 

“Ciao, Ollie,” Andrea Kimi Antonelli spoke from the other side of the call, in the background was a multiplayer game of FIFA.

“Hey Kimi, listen,” Ollie started and looked around while he spoke, “You’re inside, yes?”

“Yes,” Andrea said shortly as he let out a ‘Idiot! Johann!’ “Anyway, why do you ask?”

“I’m outside—“

It seemed like Ollie was distracting the boy from an intense online game with him and Kimi Raikkonen’s eldest boy Jo. Because the next thing that interrupted Ollie was a, “Andreaaaa! What did you do?!” 

“Listen, if you’re looking for Aroma she’s streaming— okay, ciao!” Beep.

Ollie was on the verge of tears; Being left alone in front of the house of the girl he was wooing (supposedly) by her father wasn’t in Ollie’s bucket list this summer break. He could have sworn that Kimi Raikkonen hated him. 

Now he did the last best thing: pay his way into the house.

[OLIBEAR8 HAS DONATED €5: “i just spent money so you can open the gate for me] Aroma listened to her text to speech donation as she was preoccupied from playing her game and paused briefly. “Huh?” She asked and looked at the text. 

She didn’t even realize who it was until she saw the donor. It was Ollie. 

“Ollie..?” The moment she peered down on her phone she saw the countless notifications on the screen. 

oli 🐻: hello 👋

oli 🐻: miss maam 🤓🤓 i’m downstairs

oli 🐻: if u see this i’m stranded downstairs. i can hear ur little siblings laughing at whatever ur father is saying

oli 🐻: if u see this i’m also prolly dead lmaoooo plz come downstairs

5 missed calls from oli 🐻

oli 🐻: aroma 😭 please i’m begging

“What the hell…” Aroma trailed off before asking aloud (particularly to no one), “Did Dad not even realize you’re at the front?” 

But it seemed like she was heard by a certain individual who remained watching her stream at the front porch since he donated once more.

[OLIBEAR8 HAS DONATED €5: “he did but he doesn’t like me”]

“Oh my goodness,” Aroma muttered and paused her stream, standing up as she said, “Dad needs to stop with the Iceman act already!” 

“Dad!” 

Maybe her father had good intentions, Aroma thought, but she knew better. Her father might be reserved half the time, but it didn’t mean that he had a hidden agenda when it came to her dating life. 

So much for being a ‘cool father,’ right? 

♡ moony’s reminder 🅶 (general): @hiraethrhapsody @avaleineandafryingpan @enhacolor @roseandtulips @woweewoowa @magnummagnussen @happy-nico @architect-2015 @hiireadstuff @biancathecool @scorpiomindfuck @stinkyjax @youdontknowmeshh @hyneyedfiz @decafmickey @lightdragonrayne

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86: Richie Jerimovich x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @lostinwonderland314 @fallout-girl219 @wabi-sabi1090 @morgthemagpie

Companion piece to:

One Night Stand (NSFW) - It was never meant to be more than a one night stand.

Old School - Richie and you prefer to do things old school.

Safe With You - Richie still has nightmares about how he found Michael.

Joy - The stabbing leads Richie to confront some of the doubts he has about himself.

All The Good Ones Are (NSFW) - Richie has never thought of himself as one of the good ones.

Happy Anniversary - Richie fucks up your first wedding anniversary.

Gift (NSFW) - Richie has always thought of you as a gift.

It’s set to be a busy weekend at The Bear, something Richie’s pleased to see as he studies the schedule in front of him. His finger runs down the list as he mentally catalogues the patrons, mentally arranging birthdays, surprises and all the other fun shit their patrons love. He’s halfway down Saturday’s guest list when a familiar name jumps out at him. His brow creases into a frown, his jaw clenching as he turns towards Sugar and says “We’re 86ing this jabroni.”

Sugar tilts her head as she studies the name before her gaze flickers up to meet Richie’s.

“That’s a two grand table.”

“And he’s a million dollar asshole.” Richie informs her as he hands back the book. “He’s out.”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me?” Sugar responds, putting a hand on her hip. “It’s not like we’re rolling in money here, we can’t afford to 86 that amount of cash.”

“You said we each got a veto.” Richie reminds her, crossing his arms over his chest. “Francie Fak is yours and Peter Garbucci is mine.”

“You know what Francie Fak did to me.” She reminds him, her tone turning sharp, the way it always does when Francie’s name comes up. “What did this guy do to you?”

“Not to me.” Richie says, his palm rubbing over the back of his neck. “To Joy, he’s her ex-husband.”

“Oh.” Sugar says with understanding because the two of you have talked about your previous marriage, how soul destroying it was.

She can’t imagine what it was like being an afterthought to your husband, to be the thing that he forgets about until a dinner or a gala comes up and suddenly he needs to wheel you out for an appearance.

“You know the terrible shit he did to her.” Richie says quietly, his voice rough because he fucking hates that son of a bitch, that he made you feel anything less than the brilliant beautiful woman that you are. “The only way he eats here is over my dead body.”

“Agreed.” Sugar says as she scratches his name from the leatherbound appointment book and picks up the phone to cancel the booking.

When Richie comes home that evening he doesn’t tell you about Peter. He doesn’t want your ex-husband to infringe on the life the two of you have built together. You’re happy these days, a strong, confident woman with an infectious laugh and a smile that could light up the whole room.

He’s a little feral when he fucks you that night, his mouth ghosting over every inch of you as he chases your ecstasy with a persistence that borders on pathological. He spends hours building you up, making you climax against his mouth before he finally takes his pleasure.

“You’ve ruined me.” You tell him in the aftermath and he smiles against your lips because you really are the world to him and he’ll spend his entire life making sure you know it.

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